It's Just Turkey

I've never really been one for Thanksgiving. The holiday, that is. As for the art of giving thanks itself, well I try to do that all year long. But the holiday?

I truly don't care that much for turkey and while I do eat it, leftover turkey just seems like a chore I can live without. I've heard people say how Thanksgiving is their favorite holiday ever. Really? I never understood that.

Maybe it's because growing up, my extended family didn't have big family gatherings at Thanksgiving. (There were just so many of us and we were all spread out.)  My dad traveled for work and was often gone over Thanksgiving. My mom slept all day because it was her shift at the hospital that night. Even on the off years she didn't have to work, we didn't make a big to-do out of Thanksgiving. One year we painted the basement and ate deli turkey sandwiches.

Another year my mom and dad decided to take us to Chicago, to visit the museums. We lived in northern Indiana, and Chicago really wasn't all that far away. Traffic on I80 was pretty decent on Thanksgiving day too. After the museums, we ate dinner in China town. My father ordered the duck. Fa-ra-ra-ra-ra. We had so much fun, it became something we did often on Thanksgiving.

Other than wearing stretchy pants so you can overload on carbs and binge-eat a plethora of desserts with family, I'm not sure what the hype is. I mean, don't we do the same thing at Easter? I know I do.

Perhaps it's the Football, or Macy's parade, or the annual turkey shoot that gets your adrenaline going. I think for me, honestly, the best part of Thanksgiving is having a FIVE day weekend!

So, here's another thing I don't get: people getting upset when others choose to set out Christmas decorations before Thanksgiving. Whenever I hear, "Christmas decor already? It's not even Thanksgiving yet!" I think, "Really? People are upset we're not giving Tom Turkey his "fair share" of the spotlight? They do know Christmas is about Christ, right?"

Besides, if we are truly celebrating the holiday as it was meant to be, then we should have a spirit of gratitude in our hearts to those who came before us, trailblazing the way for our life of opportunities and freedoms, and grateful for our bounteous blessings, and all that other stuff. Correct me if I'm wrong, but that sort seems, well, Christian. Doesn't it?

And I get that it's the commercialism of Christmas people don't like to see started so early. But, if decorating one's house and playing festive music makes them feel the charitable spirit of Christmas, then I say, go for it! Decorate before Thanksgiving!

This year, we are traveling to my parents' house (now in NV) for Thanksgiving. I plan to pack my stretchy pants, and knowing them, it's likely we'll eat Chinese food at some point over the weekend too. But being gone means I won't have the long weekend to decorate my own house for Christmas.

So, if you should happen to see the Christmas lights on before Tom Turkey has made his debut, just know that I will still enjoy my 5 day Thanksgiving weekend, I will still try to have a spirit of gratitude, and I will still overload on carbs and binge-eat desserts.

Bottom line, I will still enjoy Thanksgiving, and maybe even more so, knowing I won't have to come home and put up Christmas decorations.

Reject Persecution of ANY Kind (and teach your kids to do the same)

My father was raised Amish.  The majority of my family on my dad's side has remained Amish or belong to the similarly doctrinal based Mennonite or Church of the Brethren faiths.  Very few have strayed.

My mother's family attended a variety of churches as a little girl, mostly non-denominational or pre-denominational. Today, most of her side of the family remain non-denominational followers, with a few Catholics and Southern Baptists thrown in the mix.

I belong to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, otherwise known as "Mormon."

Tracing my family's lineage, we are primarily white folk.  We come from Germany, Switzerland, Wales, England, and Ireland.  Although we've had lots of other ethnicities marry into the fold over the last couple hundred of years.  Native American, Japanese, Filipino, Polish, Jewish, Latino, African American, etc.

While many of my adult relatives are married, others have been widowed, divorced, never married and/or living with a life partner.  We have cousins with deformities, physical disabilities, and even mental handicaps due to disease, birth defects, and genetics.  My family tree has all kinds.

I was raised by my parents to be loving to all of them.  It did not matter that my grandparents drove a horse and buggy and spoke another language.  I never felt embarrassed when we'd take my cousin with severe cerebral palsy out in public even though she couldn't walk and it took us twice as long to interpret what she was saying because she wasn't always easy to understand.

Perhaps it was because of my kaleidoscopic upbringing that I was raised "color blind" to many of our differences.  I never looked at my relatives and saw, "Fat, Thin, Black, Brown, Gay, Divorced, Deaf, Learning disabled, Catholic, or Mormon."  I saw, Grandma, Grandpa, Cousin, Aunt, Uncle, and so on. I think this is how it should be!

As a result, when I entered Kindergarten, I didn't think twice about the demographics of the kids in my class; all I saw was a room full of new friends.  My mother recounts a time when I wanted my new best friend to come over and play.  I talked about this friend non-stop.  I told of how tiny and cute she was. I told how funny she was and how we'd play together at nearly every recess. It caught my mom off guard a little when my friend finally made it to our first play date, as she had some obvious facial disfigurement and she was completely bald.  My mom wasn't shocked at my friend's appearance, but rather the fact I had never mentioned it.  Another time she was surprised when a dark-skinned boy knocked on the door and asked if I could play.  Again, it wasn't the fact that my friend wasn't white that caught her off guard.  It was that I had talked about this boy many times, and never mentioned his ethnicity.  Things like that just didn't occur to me back then.  I think this made my mom proud, not to mention it's a great compliment to my parents for how they raised me, and that was more than 30 years ago!

One would think that in 30 years tolerance and acceptance for our differences would have vastly improved.  Yet, there is still a long way to go.

The father of my older three children is Filipino.  Perhaps that is why they are easily accepting of those who are different.  Of course, I secretly hope I've had a positive influence in that field as well.  I'll never forget the time an uppity woman from church called me early one morning to "share" her concern with me over my oldest son's choice in friends.  He was 16 at the time and she "noticed he was hanging out with other boys who did not go to our church".  She thought this was a bad thing because "they might lead him astray." (We lived in a predominantly LDS neighborhood at the time and a majority of our neighbors went to the same church.) I was LIVID.

The phone call woke me from a dead sleep, so hearing this just lit my fuse. I answered  something to the following effect:

As a matter of fact, you are right. Not all of Keenan's friends are Mormon.  Isn't that great?! [overly enthusiastic tone on my part]  Actually, two of his friends are LDS and they just live over on the west side, so they go to church there - not that it matters.  Two of his other friends are devout Catholics, and one of those two actually lives around the corner from you. I'm surprised you didn't already know they attend mass religiously every week. Literally. And his other friend is Buddhist.  Well, his mother is Buddhist, so I don't know if that really counts, but well, I just think it's wonderful!  What a great thing that these teenage boys can embrace their differences. This gives Keenan an opportunity to share his beliefs with others and at the same time learn about theirs in a respectful manner.  And after all, isn't that what Christ wanted?  Isn't that how Christ lived his own life?  Wasn't it Jesus who said to love everyone?

She hemmed and hawed and said she just wanted to make sure I was aware.  And then, not in my most gracious moment, I hung up on her. Like I said, I was livid. (I've since repented.)

Fast forward to last year, when the hubs and I got married and I became a step mom to his little first grader.  A few months into it, we were planning his 7th birthday party.  I asked my step son who he wanted to invite to his party. He mentioned he sort of wanted to invite a certain boy, but he also sort of didn't.  Upon further questioning, I found out that my stepson did not want to invite the other boy because the boy was not a Mormon (gasp) and he was under the impression he was only allowed to have Mormon friends.  I was shocked.  My husband is not like that at all.  And I am way not like that. So we talked about it and learned that it was a conclusion that he had formed in his little 1st grade mind since up to that point all of his friends had been Mormon.  Well, gee, we live in a cookie-cutter predominantly LDS community, so most of his friends probably are LDS.  And he did not have enough life experience under his belt yet to learn about other faiths, religions, and that different doesn't mean bad, it just means different.

How many other children falsely think their parents believe things like this?  Do not assume your children know what you believe or expect unless you tell them! And if you are one of those parents who forbid your children to play with other children solely based on race, religion, ethnicity, disability, familial status, social status, etc. then Shame On You!

This year, we had a new experience.  At my youngest's school they have a birthday celebration lunch each month.  The students having birthdays in that month can invite a special guest to come and eat lunch with them at the special birthday table in the cafeteria. My hubs took our youngest and while there, a few of his classmates came over to sit by them.  In the course of the conversation, one of the other little boys says something to the effect of, "...at my other mom's house... because I have three moms."  My son was of course curious, and the other boy explained, "Yeah, cuz my first two moms got a divorce and now my second mom is married to my 3rd mom."  And of course, what does my stepson blurt out?  "That's weird."

Thankfully, my husband gently corrected him saying, "It's not weird.  It's just different."  To which the other little boy responded to our son, "I know you have two moms, right?  Your mom who died and now your new mom who married your dad."   I love that this other little boy was not offended, and instead tried to find common ground.

We did have a more in-depth conversation with our son that evening.  We talked about our lifestyle choices in comparison to others.  We discussed that even though we are all different and make different choices, we are all children of God, and therefore deserve to be treated as such and to treat others as such.  We talked about our cultural attitudes, religious beliefs, and personal opinions.  We talked about the golden rule. It's okay that we're different.  It's okay that some of us are a little "weird", because in the end we are probably more alike than we are different.

In our church's semi-annual general conference this past weekend, one of our Apostles, Dallin H. Oaks said it best:


"On the subject of public discourse, we should all follow the gospel teachings to love our neighbor and avoid contention. Followers of Christ should be examples of civility. We should love all people, be good listeners, and show concern for their sincere beliefs. Though we may disagree, we should not be disagreeable. Our stands and communications on controversial topics should not be contentious. We should be wise in explaining and pursuing our positions and in exercising our influence. In doing so, we ask that others not be offended by our sincere religious beliefs and the free exercise of our religion. We encourage all of us to practice the Savior’s Golden Rule: “Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them” (Matthew 7:12).

When our positions do not prevail, we should accept unfavorable results graciously and practice civility with our adversaries. In any event, we should be persons of goodwill toward all, rejecting persecution of any kind, including persecution based on race, ethnicity, religious belief or nonbelief, and differences in sexual orientation." 

Love that.

I Was a Handful (Who Knew, Right?)

I don't know why I thought of this today, but the memory brought a smile to my face, so I figured I'd blog about it.

I am the second of seven children.  One might think when I came along things were still pretty easy for my mom.  Wrong.  I was a colicky baby, only happy if I was held or given a bottle, or better yet -- both!  Although I eventually grew out of the colic, apparently I was a bit of a handful as a toddler.

*Allegedly* I liked to have certain things a certain way (my way) and would cry if they didn't occur in that way.  The phrases, "Go to your room, Emma" and "If you're going to cry, go to bed, Emma" were phrases I heard on a daily, if not hourly basis.  In addition to the whiny-cry-baby terrible two's, I was fidgety.  I couldn't sit still, or be content for very long and from the time I started talking I was an incessant chatter-box.

However, the "difficult" child in me did not stop my mom from having more children right away, nor from having them one after the other. 3 children under age 3 and pregnant.  That is where this memory begins.

I can only imagine the chaos of getting 3 under 3 ready for church in the morning, then once there sitting quietly in our pew.  When I was older and there were 7 kids under 8, people would tell my mother, "Your children are so well-behaved in church."  I used to think, "yeah -- because she's threatened us with our lives." Haha.  But as a 2 year old, I don't really know what people thought or how we acted.  I know I must have been a handful though, because I was allowed to sit with other people.

The Bournes.  The Bournes were a young, married couple that went to our church.  They did not have any children for quite a few years, and for some reason took a liking to me.  I remember turning around in the pew, my eyes searching the congregation for them each Sunday.  As soon as I spotted them, they'd wave for me to come and sit with them.  I would nudge my mother, point in their direction and wait for her approved dismissal, which was always a nod and the whispered admonishment, "fold your arms".  Dutifully, I'd fold my arms and walk as quietly as I could to their bench and sit with them the rest of the service.

Then, there was "Chid".  Sharon Chiddister was a single woman, close to my mom's age whom didn't have children of her own.  Many Sundays she'd sit near my parents and I remember quite often sitting on her lap and her rocking me to sleep.

I don't recall how often those "helpers" in church came to my mother's rescue, but it happened enough for me to remember.  The Bournes eventually had their own children and moved away.  Chid remained in the area, and over the years has always found a family to sit near in church and help with their children.  I remember one family moved in, with 2 small active boys.  Then, the mother was expecting twins.  Chid was there to help out every Sunday.  This was a huge blessing for the wife, because the husband had Sunday duties that required him to sit up on the stand next to the Bishop.  A few years after the twins were born, the wife became pregnant again - with another set of twins.  When I went back home to visit this past summer, I noticed that even though those kids are all teenagers now, Chid still sits with them and she is still like a part of their family, and their dad IS the Bishop now so I am sure she is a great help!

As a teenager, there was a family in our church with 8 kids, whom I babysat quite often. I started babysitting when # 6 was born, and instantly fell in love with that baby.  We sat behind them every Sunday at church, and I always held him or let him sit by me until I went off to college when he was about 4.  Truth be told, I didn't even realize he was a handful, until his mother said something to me a few years later, about how she was always grateful for me helping her out on Sundays because he was such a handful.

In church now I lead the music on Sundays.  I sit up near the organ and I can look out into the congregation and see who's sleeping (haha), which babies are crying, which children are acting up and which mothers are struggling. I do notice a few childless couples or families with teenagers sitting near families with smaller children and offering their help whenever possible.  I can always tell that the mothers are grateful too.  But, I've also seen a few others in the congregation shoot disapproving looks towards some mothers - as if to say, "Get your kids under control!"  I was thinking this past Sunday when I saw one woman give such a glare, wondering if anyone ever thought that about my mom while I was being "out of control"?  Made me grateful to those "Angels among us" who offered to sit near us and help out where they noticed a need.  That is true Christianity right there, and of all places we should be living and carrying out our religious beliefs, you'd think one place would be church, right?

We don't know what always goes on behind closed doors, and although *WE* may think we know how this mother or that mother should discipline her children during church, and while we wish she could keep her kids "under control", don't you think that idea hasn't already crossed her mind too? I mean no mother in her right mind WANTS her child to act up and make a scene, right?

My kids are older now and aside of the occasional elbow-to-the-ribs or whispering or giggling with each other, they can pretty much manage themselves at church.  Because I lead the music and sit up near the organ, and because I am a single parent, they sit up there next to me each Sunday.  At first they were not thrilled with the idea, though I think they are okay with it now.  I have decided through this experience, that when the time comes that I am not sitting up there leading the music, perhaps I can find a young mom with her hands full to sit near and be a "Bourne" or a "Chid"-- pay it forward or something like that.  

Oh -- and for being such a "difficult" child, I think I turned out pretty well, if I do say so myself!  :)

Christmas Spirit

What is it, exactly?

Some might define the "Christmas Spirit" as the feelings of joy one gets from the holiday music or the rush they get from the hustle and bustle of trimming the tree, hanging the stockings, shopping for the perfect gifts, attending the best holiday parties, or baking the best-ever pumpkin pie.  And while those things can surely bring Holiday Cheer, the Spirit of Christmas runs a bit deeper than that.

If the true meaning of Christmas is Christ-centered, then it would make sense to assume that the true Spirit of Christmas is also Christ-centered; to live Christ-centered lives.  I've heard it said before that service is the one thing above all others that can bring us closest to the Savior, and cause our souls to become more like Him.  It would make sense then, that if I am a true Christian - which I profess to be - then I would have a desire to be like Him and to serve others.

As a kid I remember singing Christmas Carols with my youth group at the nursing home.  In college, I helped serve up warm food at the local shelter.  As a young mom, I took my kids with me to shop for other families less fortunate.  Anytime we'd pull into a retail parking lot with a bell-ringer, I'd clear out my cup holder, giving the change to my kids to drop in the red tin pail before entering the store.  These things make us feel good, and not because we feel like we are such goody-goodies; but I believe that when we serve others, we are more open to feel of God's love, and THAT is what brings us joy -- for THAT is the true spirit of Christmas.

The last few years, we haven't been able to shop for other families less fortunate because, well, as a single-working-college-student-mom it's just not in my budget.  In fact there have been times throughout the past 4-5 years that I have had to learn to swallow my pride and be on the receiving end of things.   It can be tough because often times I have sat wondering, "What can I possibly give?  What do I have to offer?" Nevertheless, I have still tried to think of ways to serve and to teach my children to serve so they too can feel the true Spirit of Christmas.

This year my oldest used some of his own money to buy a toy to donate to Toys for Tots; and it wasn't just some cheap toy either.  No, he really got excited and put thought into it, trying to think what he would like if he were little.  Makes a mama proud.

As I have thought about what I want to do this year to "serve" others, I've come to the realization, that serving doesn't always pertain to monetary or physical needs, although having those resources surely makes it easier.  I have really tried to think about the Savior and most of all how He treated people.  I have recently felt the need to push myself out of my comfort zone, to friend people I may not normally associate with, and to really understand them and their story, because let's face it -- we've all got a story, right?

It's amazing to me, that as I have done this, I have really come to appreciate people better and I've come to have a greater love for humanity in general.  It's like I've morphed into something greater, or at least evolved into someone more loving and understanding, and less cynical.  There is so much blecky-blahs in this world, I want to focus on the nice-itie-nices.  I have to say that even if the people I have met don't turn out to be people I spend a lot of time with and even if they don't become my next best friend, I have learned something from them; gleaned something good from the opportunity in getting to know them.  I've also learned that what we see on the surface doesn't always accurately reflect what lies beneath.  Some of their stories are heart-breaking or tragic and I feel blessed for knowing about them.  If nothing else, other people's stories and trials surely seem to help me put my own in perspective.

Some might call it karma, but I believe that when we strive to serve others, somehow our own needs get met and suddenly what little we have becomes "enough".  I have already witnessed first-hand the generosity of friends and neighbors this holiday season, for which I feel blessed and truly grateful.  And suddenly, what I have is becoming "enough".

The most I can afford this year is to buy a few toys to place in the Toys for Tots bin, and let my younger kids drop my spare change in the bell-ringer's bucket every time we run into Tarjay or Walmart.  But the best I can do is try to love people the way the Savior would; see them as He would and hopefully become more of the person He already know me to be.

For me, this is how I have come to feel the true Spirit of Christmas this year.

Sunday Sentiments: Daughters of a King

I had this idea for a video project when I served for the Young Women at church about 5 years ago.  We had a talented filmmaker in the neighborhood and after telling him my vision for the project, he came up with this awesome video.  We then showed the video at a dinner for the girls and their parents.

Many of these girls have graduated and married already.  The youngest of the group are now in High School and many of those are about to graduate.  I found my copy of the video recently and decided to upload it to YouTube as a way to share the insight of these beautiful young women, who truly are Daughters of a King.

It's about 15 minutes long, but it's worth the view.  Wishing you a blessed Sunday!