Mirror, Mirror

I just want to preface this post. This was not easy to share. While I am 90% the kind of person to just chuck this in the air and get on with it, there's 10% that is screaming at me... "what the hell do you think you're doing?" 90 weighs more than 10 - so 90 wins.


Body image feels different to everyone, I get that. Weight feels different. How we feel I think is intensely personal. I am merely sharing my feelings, I hope that that is all it is seen as. I'm not trying to offend sensibilities. This is just me, being me and being straight with you all. The fact is, I dug myself into this hole, I have to dig myself out. Although it was much easier, and tastier getting in this hole. Ha!

You know how some doctors display a molded thing of fat and disgustedly you ask, "what the heck is that?" They explain, "that's just five pounds of fat." Welcome to my version of - below are pictures of 140lbs. Enjoy. Hope you didn't eat anything. heheh

Last April (2010) I weighed 147 lbs. I am only 5'3" and maybe a quarter inch or two. My driver's license says I'm 5'5" and that I weigh 118 lbs - now I was wearing heels at the time, and I was 18 when I got that license. I was 122 lbs when I got married. I never gained the freshman 15. I don't recall having ever been on a exercise/diet regime. I didn't have to watch what I ate. It was a great life.

March 2010 -147lbs +/-, probably + 

(please note the belly flop, and the stretchy yoga pants I wear to the gym normally)

Last year I gained a ridiculous amount of weight when I went on a crazy baking, cooking binge. It was good food. Always from scratch, always the freshest, best ingredients. I live in California - food just is better - the only place that has us beat is Hawaii, who wins that hands down. So I gained... a lot of weight. It wasn't like it snuck up on me - I was consciously, perhaps subconsciously enjoying my food, and tasty treats ... a bit too much.

April 2010 - still 147 lbs +/-  (notice the same pants - for the gym!)

For a food lover like me who loves the play of flavors, tasting something new, and exotic, sometimes comforting... it is hard to resist. There are simply so many recipes, a myriad of food to savor...there isn't enough of me to try it all. Oh, but I did try to taste it all.

Hanging out in my hometown of Cupertino with my sister, brother and our parents. 

The cousins got to splash outside the Cupertino Library. Beautiful library.

So what happened?


I felt... uck. St-uck, g-uck, m-uck, d-uck, b-uck? Okay, the last two were for fun.


If you know me - I am pretty damn confident. I, frankly don't give a rat's ass what people think. (because we all know that those that get their skivvies in a knot aren't worth your time)

I love this picture.

I do, however, care a lot about what I think (perhaps, a trait of every blogger). I could feel all that extra weight on me and it felt miserable. Like an extra sweater or two that your mom makes you wear when it's cold outside, but it's not that cold and you're just itching to get it off, because it's a knitted sweater out of wool, but you can't because your hands are stuck in these bright red mittens.


I knew I had to do something. So I started exercising, regularly (sporadic exercising doesn't quite do it). I stopped cooking/baking like a madwoman. I started to work on getting back to what I felt was comfortable, what I knew was me.


I know many people worry about how they appear to others. That's not me. For me it's all about the crazy woman living in my head (there's more people, but that's another post). I blame her for all the inappropriate jokes and expletives that occasionally pop out of my mouth... willingly.

September 2010 with my lovely friend the greek goddess 

(even my Boden dress can't hide it from me, and I am wearing make up here.)

Right now, I'm at 135 lbs. It's not where I want to be, yet. It's an improvement. My husband shakes his head when he hears me frustrated with working on my weight/health - and tells me I don't need to do it. He then compares me to other people - which, while I understand he's trying to be kind, supportive, etc... he just doesn't understand it's not about comparing myself to others. It never has been. It's about comparing myself to the image I see in the mirror.


Granted this can be complicated as, depending on which mirror I look at (the gym, my closet, my bathroom, or any shiny surface), the image can still be distorted. 


So what do you do?


It's easy for me to say thank you to people who compliment me - but what runs through my head as I thank them? It's usually an immediate dismissal of their kind compliments.

So who, or what do you trust?

 October 2010-9th Anniversary. 

I can't remember how many lbs. But I can see it. (make up occasion)

Don't get me wrong. I have my moments. Fleeting moments where I'll think - "dang girl... you're looking sassy today." Quite often, I think, "dang girl... we still got a lot to work on."


Which is why I don't have a problem running around all day, every day without a stitch of make up on my face. Not because I think I am naturally gorgeous, blah, blah. But because, I don't like the feel of make up every day, and I don't care what other people think of how I look. I like to look clean, decent and happy - but unless it's Church or a special event, occasion where dressing up is required, I just can't be bothered with it.


Beauty - is complicated. It's hard to pinpoint. I know I have my own issues to work out, with the girl in my head. I think I prefer my brand of crazy, to worrying about what others think of me.

June 2011 140lbs. 

Look how different it looks from a picture taken just four days after, 

when I went dancing with my friends, below.

A few notes. If by few, I mean... several.
1. I've never had a guy, in my entire life seek me out. Which is probably why I enjoy stories where the male simply can't resist his desire for a woman. Let me amend that, never had a guy that I found attractive/had a personality that I also wanted to spend time with seek me out/ask me out first. Don't ask me why. I have no idea. Maybe too quirky? But man, don't we all love being fiercely desired? Mr. Firth-Jackman-McAvoy text me. (heh)


2. My first kiss was at 19. It was... not what I expected, imagined, nor wanted, and it was a lot more wet, sloppy and goopy than I thought it would be. That first kiss was not a good one. However, subsequent kisses with other people, and my delicious husband were scrump-diddly-uptious. I love kissing. I have kissed four guys in my entire life.


3. The only times I've been hit-on (that I can remember, significantly) were after I had been to the gym, still in my sweaty gym clothes, in contacts, and stinky. I don't get it. Pheromones? If so, folks, I have just given you a secret potion. (post edit: also, I should mention I was married, and had two children... where were they when I was single???)

4. I am far too gifted in the thigh muscle department. Also the "baby got back" trunk too. Neither of my parents have this. I have spent much of my life trying to decimate them. Wish me luck. Also, my legs look much better upside down. (I am always looking for tips to shrink them... they are mostly muscle - so how do I shrink them - tell me!)

5. Earlier this year I was at the gym trying to get advice on eliminating my sexy thighs. Two instructors, at two different times asked me how much I weighed - when I told them I was 140 lbs at the time, they both had the same reaction. Stunned silence, then mumbly, verbal recovery. They told me I needed to run. I hate running. Hate it. Unless zombies want to munch on my brain, why do I need to run? I'd much prefer to kickbox their brains out.

6. The truth is, I miss my lithe body. I wish I could go back in time and tell that girl a couple things. First, you feel/look fantastic. Second, do your old self a favor and start an exercise regimen. Starting in my mid-twenties sort of put me behind the eight ball. I'm making up and paying for it now.

7. When I go exercise and my daughters ask me why - I tell them, that I exercise to be healthy, strong and it makes me happy. I don't explain that it makes me happy after I kill myself at the gym... but they'll learn that when they're older. Endorphins rule. For now, all exercise is fun for them. I work really hard not to talk about how "fat" I feel around them. I am not always successful - but I am trying not to warp them.

 June 2011 - taken four days after the picture above. Still 140 lbs.

Crazy huh? I'm the second from the left, fyi. (make up occasion)

Stuff like this totally messes with me in my head.

I wrote this post for my friend, the greek goddess. She's working on putting together ideas for beauty.


I wouldn't say I am beautiful. I'm too modestly Asian for that. I will say that I'm beautifully quirky. I do believe that. I don't have a face that lends itself to the proclaimed, agreed upon beauty. I have my moments of shine. I know I am aging...because the calendar says so, but I don't feel it, or see it. Or am I unwilling to see it? I do find some in my hair when I have to get it highlighted because more white hairs are showing up. But I just don't feel my age. I don't know if time has bent, but I feel like my 20s were just yesterday. Today, I just happened to have two little girls, growing up in mere seconds before my eyes. I suppose that's why, since I don't feel old - I don't feel like I should "act" my age. Maybe that offends people - I don't give a damn. It makes me ridiculously cheerful and full of energy. Perhaps that's the secret of life. Teasing, tricking our brains to act the way we want, not what the world dictates we ought to be.


You're welcome, that's two secrets I've shared with you. 


Maybe we really can... become what we think about. Maybe true happiness is simply living and defining the life, and all those other conundrums, like beauty, the way you, and you in your head want to be.


One of my favorite quotes all through high school and college was by Helen Keller. "The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be touched or even seen, they must be felt with the heart."


Perhaps, I should answer myself... "you", when posed with the question, "who's the fairest of them all?"

Taken from my closet's mirror. July 2011 137/135lbs...and counting... down I hope. 

And for those of you that do care... I don't care that you get to see my messy closet. *grin*

Cheers!

Bonus Features:

A post on beauty that I love. By a great man. You should read it. You should share it. We should all commit to doing a better job at being gentler on ourselves. I'll need reminders. I am forgetful like that.


A post I enjoyed - I love the idea of tailoring clothes to fit our different body types. I would love to have my own, inexpensive mind you, tailor. When I was at BYU studying broadcast journalism, buying suits for on camera work was a pain. In fact, it was what I thought was a oddly proportioned body that messed a lot with the woman in my head. I had to buy a size 4 suit jacket and a size 6 skirt/pants. So I could never, ever buy a complete suit set. Or if I did, the top would be too big for my tiny boobs. Now they're tiny, and deflated. But they're mine. They're glorious for providing an endless supply of milk. I missed my true calling as a nursemaid.


These last couple days I've seen articles on the vainest cities - funny as I was working on this post for a couple weeks now. "You're so vain... you probably think this song is about you, don't you..."



ps. I shared my weight. Do you know how big that is? (pun, intended) Now, don't go spreading it around. Ha!

Choose Your Own Adventure

From this site.

...and make it yours.

Much has been made about Amy Chua, her Battle hymn of the Tiger Mother, and the mountains of thoughts, articles, blogs, interviews following her "controversial" excerpt in the WSJ.

So really, what is there left to say?

Does it even matter?

Something that keeps nagging me, as I read all the opinions and comments is how human beings are so self-involved. (...and I blog, so I know how I should smile wryly right now)

What does it matter what someone else does? What are you doing?

Ultimately, it doesn't matter how some other mother or father are parenting their children (barring anything truly heinous), what matters is how you parent.

It seems there is so much time expended with people comparing this and comparing that. I truly believe that deep down inside, we know. We know if what we're doing is right, wrong, giving it our all, or just doing the minimum. We often talk about how we just don't have time. It can be true. But usually, we don't have time for those things we don't prioritize. And I hope, that when it comes to parenting, given that parenting involves children, that the children are our priority. If that's the case, I think with love mixed deeply into that formula, we'll create our own family adventure.

Why does it matter what someone else does? Why do you need to be measured by the someone else's metric? Why can't we choose our own metrics?

This topic has also made me think about how so often women (as I don't know many men who blog who do this) read a blog that they decide makes them feel x,y,z and then get upset with the blogger. They then begin to slap labels on that blogger because of how they feel when they read their blog, see the pictures, etc.

Frankly, don't get it. Why does it matter what someone else is doing? Why does it matter how someone else lives their life? You have the power to live your own. You have the power to determine your reactions, choices, attitudes. Why are so many people so quick to compare, to put an arbitrary value on how people live their lives?

I don't believe in wasting my time on jealousy. I don't. There are so many other emotions I'd rather spend my time on; being grumpy, feeling silly, being happy, getting nervous, etc... I am booked from morn' until eve'n, and sometime I never make it to staring into the abyss. I simply don't have time for envy.

If we truly, to the core of our souls know who we are, and how powerful we are, we don't waste our time on debilitating comparisons. I am grateful for the women that I learned from, who didn't know who they were. They taught me how imperative it is to truly know who I am, so that I can be independent of positions that easily shift and change with time.

It's liberating. I don't waste my time on people that I simply don't need in my life. I don't waste my time feeling useless emotions that only prevent growth. I define who I am, I have power to make my life what I want it to be. I get to choose. No picture on a screen, no words, nothing has the power to define me, my choices and my family. Nothing.

I don't believe in excuses. There's nothing more infuriating than hearing, "well, that's how I was raised."

I am convinced that no matter how we were raised, we all have a choice to either stay that path, or change it. Perhaps that's naive. But I live it and I know it. Each day I choose my own adventure.

The Voice

I am an expert at talking myself out of anything.

Yesterday, I knew that today was the last day this week I'd be able to breakaway for a work out. I knew this, but I listed a litany of excuses in my head, to myself.

1. You had a migraine this afternoon. All the bouncing around tomorrow can't be good for it. Plus, you have that horrible cough...not good to exercise when you're sick, right?!
2. You are tired. Yes, you're often tired, but you forgot to take your iron/vitamin B for the last few days, maybe you need to wait until it's back in your system.
3. Your house is a mess, you have filing to be done, you need to get things in order, or you could rest. Darling, you need a rest.

Today... that conversation was persistent, nagging, like a horrible millstone around my neck. The voice was at once soothing, and pernicious.

I had to listen to this voice the entire evening, and this morning, but I did it. I won. I made it to the gym.

I felt good.

Then I needed to tackle the bills and filing.

The voice started again.

1. You hate bills. They stress you out. Why don't you go take a shower, and rest a bit first.
2. That mountain of filing is going to give you another migraine. Take it easy today, you can do it tomorrow.
3. Have you seen the rest of the house? You need to do the laundry, straighten up the kids' messes, and there's baking to be done, menus to plan.

I knew to succeed I had to blow off that sinister voice in my head. Every suggestion from the voice had merit, but I knew I had to oppose each suggestion it made to succeed. So I sat down for the uninterrupted hour I had to myself and worked.

I was able to get so much done, even though it stresses me out, and though I think ignoring it will go away... which it doesn't.

I beat that voice.



After picking up the girls from school I needed to make dinner. I had decided what I was going to make, but the voice returned.

1. It's cold. You should just crawl under the covers and get warm, or rest.
2. You could go shower right now. Enjoy a nice, long, hot shower you love and then rest a bit.
3. Doesn't it seem like a chore to make dinner right now? I mean, you've done so much already, you've exercised, filed and paid the bills, you deserve to take a break.

That voice was so close to succeeding, because I hate being cold. Also, I really need a shower. I'm tired. It would be so much easier to just succumb to the voice.

As I was making dinner, I had an image of myself, clean, cozy in bed, sleeping dreamily away. Instead dinner is in the oven. To that voice... screw you - I won.

Some days are like this.

When it's dreary and cold outside, that little voice that wants to strangle my ability, my nerve, my responsibilities. The voice is seductive. It soothes, it persuades, it gently tries to steer me off my course. The voice doesn't stop, it is persistent, consistent and always present, even as I work to foil that voice's plan. There are days I fall to it's siren like song. Then there are days I struggle to overcome, and today was one of those days.



I don't feel particularly perky, or superhuman today. I feel tired, in desperate need of a shower, but I also feel a bit lighter. It's like the millstone has been removed, if only, for a moment.

That voice is really good at talking myself out of anything. Doesn't matter what it is. The voice knows me so intimately.

Sure, the times I overcome the voice may be few, but those are days worth fighting for, and worth getting up to do it all over again tomorrow.

Things that make me go...

photo from blogs.theage.com.au

Huh???

Spirituality. I think this is something intrinsically personal. It's not something you can see. What we see, is not always what is real. It's a bit baffling to me when people judge a person, family, group as intensely spiritual because they are dull as dullards, serious as spoons... and simply as chalky white as they possibly can be.

Maybe it's me... and maybe my idea of spirituality is so vastly obscure and eccentric as I am - but I believe that spirituality can walk hand in happy hand with people who are joyful, exciting, intriguing, captivating, warm, loud, funny and sassy. We don't have to walk around with a sourpuss look on our face to prove to everyone else that we are spiritual. Isn't that what the Pharisees and Sadducees were famous for? Showing people how pious they were by praying in public, marking themselves with ash and sackcloth to make everyone see just how spiritual they were?


What do you think?


My hubby has a friend who likes to argue about politics and ideas. The latest discussion his friend is proposing is that all white people should feel guilty about Jim Crow laws and slavery. My husband says people should only feel guilty for the bad things they do, not for things they had no control over, or things that didn't happen in their lifetime. My husband disagrees with his friend who says all white people are inherently racist.

In this case, I totally agree with my husband.

I believe in the second article of faith, where we are accountable for our own sins, not for Adam's sins, not for our parents, or our ancestors, or anyone else. We are responsible for ourselves.

In addition, some people think that some giant entity, gov't, org, group, etc... should compel us to donate money, reduce our footprint in this world, or even conform to a certain group's idea of piety or righteousness.

I think, there should be no compelling involved. I think we should be anxiously engaged, of our own initiative in good causes, if that is what we choose (D&C 58:27). Forcing others to do so undermines our purpose on earth utilizing the gift of moral agency, and our country's foundational code of liberty.

hmmmm....

Like our Father

On Saturday we drove to Apple Hill for our yearly Fall excursion.



Although... it's still hitting 90-80 degrees in October. You can still get sunburned, so remember your sunscreen.



I love apples. Apple pie is my favorite pie. So Apple Hill is like... endless farms of gluttony. (think a multitude of variety of pies, apple donuts, apple fritters, caramel apples, apple cider, a million varieties of apples, apple butter, etc, etc, etc) They also have tri-tip BBQ, and CHILI! Now I'm craving more.



On our way up my 4YO couldn't reach her cup of milk. She resorted to moaning, groaning and pointing to her cup.

She was the one that requested a horse ride... the face, is because a boy was leading the horse, and Daddy called her a cowgirl. She was adamant that she was not.

So I simply grabbed the cup and put it next to me, and told her she could have it if she used her words.



It takes a while to get to the farms at Apple Hill, and we had to fill up with gas... she simply did not talk to us the rest of the way, and would not ask. Stubborn is her middle name. She gets that from both me and my hubby.

The sisters who need each other, take care of each other and... mess with each other.

The entire ride I was thinking, dude, the milk will spoil. All she has to do is ask and I will give it to her. I was anxious to give the milk to her, have her drink it and be happy. She wouldn't. She finally did, after we'd gotten to our destination, and even then I had to say the words for her to repeat..."Mommy, may I please have my milk?"



On the way home from Apple Hill my oldest, the 6YO, out of nowhere busts out, "Mom and Dad, thank you so much for spending money on us today and taking us to all the fun at Apple Hill and for this yummy caramel apple."

My girls spend most of their maze exploring holding hands...

Just like that my eyes watered with tears. And we both thanked our daughter for thanking us. She's the daughter that often says, "Wow, Mom it's not easy being a Mom and Dad. You have to work all the time and pay for everything. That's hard."


All of this got me thinking about our Father-in-Heaven.



So often the help we need just out of grasp. He's there, anxiously waiting for us to just ask. It's such a simple thing, and yet, sometimes we are so wrapped up in ourselves we spend too much time, moaning, groaning and unwilling to humbly get on our knees to accept His willing hands to help heal, teach and guide us.


Sometimes it's a maturity thing, a thing that comes through experience, but I imagine our Father-in-Heaven weeps happy tears when He hears and sees our gratitude, our understanding of His role in our lives.


Each day I am grateful for the daughters He has entrusted me with. They are two brilliant lights in my life. They can be infuriating, and profound. They try me and they teach me. I am so lucky to be a Mother. I am grateful my Father-in-Heaven knew what role in life was best for me.


I have much to learn. He is teaching me step-by-step, simply, through His children. Perhaps one day... far, far, far into the future and the next life, I can be like our Father.

Be Still

The Light of the World - Art by Greg Olsen

I felt like there was so much. So much this weekend at conference that I have simply not had the time to soak it all in.

One thing really resonated for me. Be still and know that I am God.

Sometimes I feel like as a society we believe we need to be constantly, effortlessly on the go. I used to feel that that was what life ought to be, when I was in college, when I was working in my career, pre-kids.

Then I had kids.

I discovered how little I could do.

It's amazing how exhausting you can feel when all of you (physical, emotional, mental) is on alert to care for these amazing, miraculous babies.

So I learned to simply, be still.

My girls would sleep until 9 or 10am when they were little, if I got lucky 11am. I reveled in it. I did not feel guilty. I felt grateful. Some weeks - we'd stay home for half the week doing nothing but hanging out, playing, feeding, teaching, learning, hugging, laughing.... nothing of note to the world - but precious to us.

We were still.

I miss that freedom.

Now I have to follow the school's schedule.

But... I make sure to find time to simply, be still.

I don't over schedule my girls. I am doing my darnedest to dig in my heels and fight that instinct to put my kids in a million activities that so many parents feel are imperative to their kids' lives.

I believe that kids ought to have time.

Time to relax, create, imagine and come up with their own interests. There are plenty of opportunities to come that will require them to be busy, stressed, pressured, crazy... for my kids, I want them to first, have a foundation of peace.

Be still also applies to us.

Be still and know that I am God.

Do we?

If we do know He is God. If we know that He knows the end from the beginning then why do we run around like chickens with our heads cut off? Why do we think the world's views need to be accommodated? Why do we think our thoughts are higher than God's thoughts? Where do we get the idea that the world's arrogance should be our own when it comes to the Lord's anointed?

When the Lord has made clear, time-and-time again what the family unit is, why do we insist that He will one day approve man's changes to the family? Why do we think that any man-made changes will make it okay in God's eyes? How is it possible that we believe we can shape an infinite God into our finite lives? Do we really think that we are that "enlightened"?

I love General Conference. I sustain, believe in and love our General Authorities and our Prophet. I support them as they have the keys to lead, guide and teach us.

Goodness knows, I have an endless list of things I need to work on. General Conference reminds me of the things I need to do better at, and reminds me of the things I am doing well. I may not have a lot of obvious talents - but I do have the gift of faith and standing firm. I may be a screw up on certain principles, but when the doo doo hits the fan, I'm there shoulder-to-shoulder with the Brethren in defending Truth.

The world may be making allowances and accommodations for any type of possibly anticipated sensitive feelings - I appreciate a Church where there are clear standards. I appreciate people who understand the message, and recognize that spirit that our leaders share with us. I appreciate those without the world's chip on their shoulder. I am grateful for a Church that is an anchor in a constantly shifting world. I am grateful that there is a compass to guide me safely home.

In this world with endless distractions, messages, noise levels which are incredibly overwhelming, I am grateful that as a member of this Church I am blessed with the choice to grasp onto that iron rod and be still.

During this past conference clear messages of faith, family and following the Prophet were emphasized and repeated. When the storms of life, and the tide of popular opinion runs contrary to what we know the Lord has delineated, it will be our faith, our families and our choice to follow our Prophet that will keep our heads above water.

Instead of joining the throngs of those that would curry our favor straight into that great and spacious building - we simply need to be still and know that I am God.


ps. I'm reading this article by blogger Connor Boyack.

Compass

image from this site

Sometimes I feel like I am walking in a hazy place where everyone has turned into zombies. Zombies that for some reason or other are deaf to my logic, reason and screaming and jumping to get them to return back to their former selves.

Sometimes I wonder if we've become so immersed in the world, in conventional thought that we have forgotten why we are here. Do you remember? Do you know why you're here? Do you remember that you have a mission? Do you know how powerful you can be for good or ill? Will you wake up and focus on the goal?

I've mentioned my intelligent, brilliant friend Jon Wilson before. He recently wrote a post about "Why the New Mormon Feminism Will Fail". The title was intriguing. It referred to another post by Tresa Edmunds titled, "The Next Generation of Mormon Feminism". I read Edmunds post and was incredibly disappointed, and concerned.

Her whole premise is that women should continue to do the things they feel is right, even if it goes against what inspiration our Prophet has taught, because if we keep going against them for what we want - eventually we will wear them down and what we want will become acceptable.

Can I get a homie say what? What?

Apparently there are women sitting at home fuming that they don't have the priesthood. Seriously? Are they still beating that horse to death. For some reason these women still determine equality as what the world defines it, what is popular in our culture. They can't seem to see the perspective of eternity because their line of sight is only as far as what the media and pop culture tell them it should be.

In a more thoughtful manner, Wilson's post, he says:

"Trying to receive the priesthood by rejecting the guidance of the Lord’s authorized servants is a contradiction because the oath and covenant of the priesthood itself requires that we receive his authorized servants."

It strikes me as arrogance to assume that we know God's will better than God does. The attitude that Edmunds is displaying is a blatant demonstration that she doesn't support, believe in or sustain the Prophet and leaders of our Church.

I see this attitude more and more in the Church. Where people really do think they know better than God. That God's will, his Church/Kingdom will bend to their conventional wisdom and "modern" thinking. Really? Really?

In Edmunds post she writes about the YW she interacts with:

"Many of them have become adept at interpreting statements from general authorities to fit their viewpoint, secure in themselves and what they want out of the world, and assuming that everyone else feels the same way."

First of all - each of us is incredibly powerful with our ability to influence and guide. I take this role incredibly seriously with the YW. I prefer to turn the girls I work with over to God's will and not mine - because, to be frank - I make a lot of mistakes. So it worries me that according to Edmunds, "her YW" are all feeling her own discontent.

It strikes me as completely contrary to the gospel when we, as Edmunds states her YW are "...adept at interpreting statements from general authorities to fit their viewpoint..."

I believe we are here for a mission - to become like God - to seek His will - not to distort statements and bend them to fit OUR will. Isn't this life about submitting to God's will?

Robert L. Millet once taught in one of my leadership meetings at BYU - that when we come to recognize our own insignificance, and how incredibly vast that chasm is between us and God, that is when we humble ourselves, submit ourselves to Him - and that is when we become close, become one with Him. The whole thinking in Edmunds post is about power grabbing, taking over, being in charge - taking the priesthood power by any means possible - defining equality by the world's standards and not God's. Gee whiz - does this remind you of anyone's way of thinking at say... the grand council of heaven in the preexistence? Anyone, anyone, Bueller?

Edmunds also talks about the choice she believes the YW have to make:

"Do they shrink themselves down and become less to fit in the prescribed role, or do they turn away from what they have been taught?... I am firmly of the belief that it's because the vision we give them of their future is not a future they want."

Shrink? Does Edmunds not understand the plan of salvation? Does she not understand the new and everlasting covenant? I believe that if she did understand it she would not belittle it. It is an honor. A divine calling. Righteous mothers and fathers play a symbolic role of Christ in a gospel-centered home.

I recently spoke about exaltation, families, the kingdom of God and it is mind-boggling that the very basic principles of the gospel, of our purpose here on earth is lost on Edmunds. That she is so caught up in the eyes of the world she's forgotten the perspective of eternity. I truly hope that her thinking is only a small percentage of women in the Church ...otherwise we are in worse shape than I hoped to be. How sad that so many have forgotten their purpose here on earth.

Let's be perfectly honest and frank. WE are either serving God, or we are not. We are either building up His kingdom, or we're not. We are either walking towards Him, or we are not. There are not ifs, ands, buts, feeling moderate today, lukewarm, wishy, washy, maybes, etc... In this day in age you are either cold or hot - and with each choice, each statement we place our feet on a side.

I truly hope that there are more wise women, who find their strength in God, than there are foolish ones who determine their internal compass on the whims of the world.

Wilson wrote:

"I am not advocating submitting to an abusive husband or to unrighteous dominion by priesthood leaders. But I am advocating submission to the counsel and teachings of the prophets and apostles, even if you disagree, and keeping your disagreements generally private, trusting that the Lord hears your prayers, and relying on the Lord to correct his servants if they should be corrected, and trusting Him if he does not.

This approach requires that you believe that the Lord is real and guides His church, that the priesthood is real, that the prophets and apostles of the church are in fact His servants, that he hears and answers your prayers, and above all that he loves you."

I believe God is real, that He loves me. I believe that the plan of salvation, the goal of exaltation is still viable and in effect. I hope there are more of us that will stand together, with courage to simply do what is right.

ps. If you are not an LDS reader - sorry - I didn't take the time to explain anything because I am so fired up. If you have questions you are always welcome to email me.

Doing God's Work...Magnificently

I love Elder Jeffrey R. Holland...and I love how he tenderly encourages, loves and provides hope for mothers everywhere.




Every evening around 11pm my hubby and I get the girls up to visit the bathroom. I remember my Mom doing this for us as kids, when we were little ones. I am grateful to have a husband who assists me in this little service for our girls. My girls are completely asleep when we take them to visit the bathroom. They are also incredibly cuddly, and cute in my mother bear opinion.

It's nice to know all these seemingly small, insignificant acts of service, and love we do for our precious little ones add up to doing God's work. Knowing that as a mother, and as a father working to do our best, we are essentially doing His work is magnificent, stunning, HUGE!

When it comes down to it, nothing else really matters, or even measures up to this simple, profound role. I am a mother...and that rules!

Following Him in Faith

Recently in a combined YW lesson a young Beehive (ages 12-13) bore her testimony.

She's one of those girls who always thinks of others. She's the one that skips break time at school to help out the special needs kids. She's the one that pays attention to my daughters, and is a real friend to them. She's beautiful, responsible, intelligent, sweet...and possesses a very clever, witty humor about her.

She began her testimony explaining that she'd be searching for a real, solid testimony. She said that she didn't think she'd be able to find one. So she had been praying, and after making an appointment with a member of the bishopric, she had met with him that morning. She said that after that meeting, and feeling the spirit of the lesson that day, she knew, she knew she had a testimony.

My eyes would not stop welling up with tears during her short time in front of all of us, sharing her pure testimony.

I admire her.

I admire her because she has decided at this very young age that she wants a testimony.

I admire her because she searched for guidance from a wise steward, a member of the bishopric.

I admire her because she used prayer to ask her Father in Heaven to help her.

Is it any wonder that this generation of souls is here at this time, in this place?

This kind of young women increases my faith. Enforces my persistence in enduring, in obeying, in standing firm, in my testimony. I am grateful for that.

Come Follow Me by Dan Freed

We are in a day and age where grown-up members of the Church think it's okay to air out their doubts, accusations, and criticism of the Church and it's leaders because... I guess it makes them feel better, seem more cerebral, enlightened to their peers. Or, perhaps because they think that that is how they will gain a stronger testimony. These people assume that because we choose to follow our leaders, to stay in the safe zone, that we are without questions. They are wrong.

Just because we choose to follow the Prophet doesn't mean we have all the answers we want. Following our leaders and the commandments of God doesn't make us perfect. It just means that we've made a conscious effort to choose God's ways, and eschew our human, imperfect, unknowing ways. That's all.

Well, I guess I shouldn't dismiss it that easily. That's a big deal. It takes courage. It takes faith. It takes a willingness to put God's needs, and wisdom above our own.

No matter how uncomfortable, difficult or seemingly, unsympathetic a choice we are asked to make is to follow our Prophet and God... I know that if I want to be obedient, I will turn it over to Him. My very limited human eyes can't see the eternal perspective. Knowing this, makes it a much better choice, in all cases, to choose following the Prophet, our leaders, and ultimately, God. I know that one day I will understand, but for now, I will follow Him.

...perhaps that's why we are asked to have faith as a little child.

Offering our hearts, minds, souls

I know... I know. It's been a while. I've been busy living in moments with my family. Pursuing dreams and ... dreading spending hours sitting on my rear end staring at a screen...watching my time disappear. Twitter and FB I can do from the bathroom... with an iPhone... I guess I could blog that way too...but... it would be too much balancing in a precarious position for me.

So I guess it takes a lot lately for me to really fire me up.

I also have a slew of family stuff to chat about... that will come... but first...

Last Sunday one of the Laurels gave the lesson on sacrifice. Our kids know what it is to sacrifice. It might seem odd to say that, given the fairly stable, middle class neighborhood we live in. These kids seem to have everything they would need...and want in most cases.

They aren't called on to sacrifice their hunger, their physical well-being... but they are asked to sacrifice their reputations, their pride...and to be honest, their safety amongst peers. Frankly, we aren't asked to sacrifice like Prophets and believers were in Old Testament times. We do not have to voluntarily, go roaming in our fields for a perfect, unblemished male animal to sacrificeLeviticus 1:3) on an altar. But we are asked to give our Lord a broken heart and a contrite spirit (3 Nephi 9:20).

In a world that often looks at those who follow God willingly, as "blind sheep", it can easily be a source of pride and self-satisfaction when some knowingly disagree or work against what God has asked. I don't understand it. I get frustrated. Our sacrifices will require actions we don't understand. Just ask Abraham, or Adam. (Moses 5:6 - I love this verse "I know not, save the Lord commanded me" isn't that enough?) Our sacrifices will include following God, even when we don't know the "why". Our sacrifices will require us to choose faith, and leap. Our sacrifices include suffering some persecution and base, deplorable behavior. We may not be asked to leave our homes, trudge in horrible conditions to find the promised land... but our souls, our faith will be asked to expand, our pride will be asked to shrink... to sacrifice our own, feeble opinions, ideas for the very simple principle of obedience.

Sacrifice of Isaac by Caravaggio

If there's one thing I know... it's that popular opinion, generally, should require us to be more wary, vigilant. Whenever popular opinion, or trendy behavior starts to breed... I tend to dig in my heels. Which is why, when I hear loud voices justifying, rationalizing a brilliant crises of faith, or right to vandalize places of worship, careers and terrorizing families, I recognize exactly the source of that kind of behavior and power.

While people like that disappoint me. It also fires me up. It rankles me and makes me want to plant my foot firmly where I stand and be as immovable as I can. As a parent I am constantly trying to teach my children the wisdom of obedience. Is it me or is wisdom becoming a lost art? When I teach a principle like, looking both ways before they cross a street, will keep them from getting smashed by a car... I want them to obey that principle, because I love them. I don't want harm to come to them. They may not understand why it's important to always look, even when it seems like there aren't any cars... but by listening to me and doing what I ask, my kids show me that they trust, love and appreciate me.

Sure I am often a murmurer. I complain when things are unexplainable. But when the lines are drawn, you'll find me there, clearly delineated because... I know I'm not in charge. For a type A gal who loves to be in charge, that's kind of a relief. Frankly, I'd rather follow the Lord wherever he leads, because I trust, even when I don't understand... I still trust because I know He loves me. I know He has a plan. I know He sees eternity, where I can barely see a sliver. Sometimes sacrifice is as simple as saying... "here, I will let you guide me." That act of handing over the reigns of our life... because God asked us, may just be the greatest sacrifice we can give. Christ did. He gave His life for all of us, because Heavenly Father asked His son to atone for us. Is there any better reason to give our lives over to Him ...other than simply, He asked us to...

"It worked." - Juliet

"I don't believe in a lot of things, but I do believe in duct tape." - Miles
"He's worse than Yoda." - Hurley
"Let it go." - John Locke

I have been watching LOST since it's pilot. I would have never even considered the pilot if it wasn't for my brother. He's a fan of all things JJ. Abrams - and I am hooked as well.

LOST is one of few shows my hubby and I watch together. My hubby is more of a skeptic. I believe it brings him great joy to find holes in stories, inconsistencies... like so many others.

I'm the type that goes with the flow, if I find the characters, their stories, emotions matter to me. That's what I love about LOST. I loved getting to know the characters, their flaws, strengths and ability to change. Yes, when Jin and Sun went down in that submarine, my body was wracked with sobs.

Sure, I'd have liked to receive more answers about excess details - but I found the finale, the entire series perfectly delicious and satisfying. I imagine that in the end of my life, all the questions that might seem so important right now, might not matter at all when compared to my relationship with my little family. In terms of LOST what mattered to me was the simple symbolism, the journey of faith, trust, loyalty. I enjoyed how these characters struggled, worked, toiled, and then received peace.

One of the most resonant themes was when Jack in the first season said "we either learn to live together, or we'll die alone." The finale demonstrated how well they had learned to live together. They were able to be with the people they chose to care about most, and die (move on) together.

I think it's fascinating how time in the sideways world is not relevant. Time is very much a human condition. When there is no end to time, when eternity is difficult for our minds to fathom, it makes sense that time, the way we view it means nothing.

I loved the symbolism of sacrifice that rang throughout the series. I believe that all things denote there is a God. It always tickles me that even pop culture can't escape this simple fact.

Last night as I watched the finale with my hubby, I could not stop exclaiming... "I LOVE THIS SHOW!" each time a familiar face was awakened, united... or shared familiar one liners, nicknames, conversations... I just wanted to hug everyone.

I'm one of those people that enjoys symbolism, and meanings below the surface. It reminds me of parables. Those that are willing to hear it, will choose to. Those that are not willing, won't. That's what's great about reading and finding great shows like LOST - if you choose to allow something to enrich your life, you will find it. If you choose not to, you won't. So I don't begrudge those that dismiss the finale, or even choose not to watch the series, because we're all at different stages of life and enlightenment. Some of us will read a book and take it at face value. Others of us will be able to see brilliant rays of symbolism jumping out at us on a page, enriching our perspectives... after all life (LOST) is all about choices.

...I just wish Charlie, Desmond and Penelope were in that photo of the cast above. How great was it to see Charlie with Claire and Aaron again? Pretty great!

This is my wistful farewell to LOST. Loved the journey, it was beautiful.

Choices

I just finished the Mistborn trilogy by Brandon Sanderson.

He also wrote Elantris and Warbreaker - both of which I also enjoyed.

I love the way he writes strong women heroines. They remind me of Sydney Bristow and her kick-a ways. I like to think that if I didn't have any real responsibilities I'd be out, kickin-a in the name of truth, justice and general awesomeness.

The first book of the Mistborn trilogy, the heroine Vin basically believes that you can't trust anyone - because they will always break that trust. I related to her. There have been so many people in my life that I have trusted, only to discover that they were never worthy of that trust. So it is a challenge to believe in people. Yet, I have this need to seek out people I can trust...even if I often am disappointed.

There's also this character I liked, Sazed. He's a religious scholar who studies the world's 300-some religions... most of which have died out. He experiences a crippling depression when he finds that he can't logically find a religion that he would believe to be true. Eventually, he learns that belief is more than what is logical. It's about trust, faith, hope... and most importantly, choice.

I'm discovering this is a simple, yet challenging concept. Life has always been about our choices. Choosing a path and then accepting the journey seems so simple. I suppose we just find ourselves distracted by other, seemingly complicated ideas along the way.

I choose my faith. It's a conscious decision. It's not one I made because everything was answered, proved and measured out for me. It's not a choice I made based on coercion - it's a choice I made, because what I believe brings me trust in God, faith, hope, redemption.

I choose my current role in life. I am a wife and mother. I would never walk away from this role I choose, no matter how crazy each day may be. I understand that choosing this role means that I am required to give of myself, daily. It is not easy. But it is what I chose.

I choose my personality. I choose to be an effective, confident woman, with real opinions. I remember what it was like to be a blown by the wind kind of girl in crowds. Too terrified of what other people thought about me to ever voice my own thoughts. I know what it is like to follow the whims of society, and its ever-evolving trends. Been there, done that - I've chosen to follow my own path instead.

With our choices... sometimes when things become difficult, filled with trials and the drudgery of living in this sphere...sometimes the hardest thing to do is to realize that the choice for hope, happiness, faith - is ours. We may wish to be saved, rescued in a blink of an eye, or told what to do - but oftentimes it's about the choice of reaction, attitude...and that's hard.

Life would be a lot easier if the choices were all laid out for us. That's why there are rules, guidelines, commandments - they help us make informed decisions. It's hard enough making a choice... imagine not having any reference in which to make them. Chaos!

There are times I have a difficult time choosing to, or wanting to, react well when the storms of life rage around me. I'm more aware of it now. I recently heard a talk about how the speaker thought it was better to be nice than right. As someone who likes truth, honesty, sincerity... that just totally rubs me the wrong way. Or maybe... I'm reacting the wrong way... I don't know... I'm starting to ramble.

The Mistborn series opened up my eyes a bit more - bringing me awareness that while people may scoff, mock, doubt, or ridicule what I believe, or do, there's power knowing that what I believe is not an unconscious, robotic behavior. I also don't do things because I may earn praise, agreement or adulation, I do it all regardless of public opinion. I do what I do because I choose to - it's my choice, and I own it.


p.s.
Just like the mists in the mistborn trilogy... lately I've had a lot of thoughts regarding choices swirling in my head... reading these three books this past week sort of uncorked it all at once. I am not sure if what I'm feeling, thinking translates through the words I type... but I chose to get it all out before I lose this train of thought.

Love to Laugh

It makes me laugh.

It really does.

When people state carte blanche that they don't gossip, or don't understand people who get offended, because they themselves never, ever get offended...I giggle uncontrollably. Well, the funny people inside my head do. They giggle so hard that they forget to make my face move out of its stunned mask.

You know that with either of those statements, that that particular person totally gossips and totally gets offended, and/or extra sensitive...also, crazy.

So I don't make those sweeping statements about myself.

Why?

Because I am human.

Which means I experience human emotions, which I am not ashamed of.

The key is to feel them, recognize them, and then choose to do something about them.

Feeling ashamed, or making totally asinine comments deriding any emotion, serves nobody, but to create a flimsy mirage of how superior you want people to think you are, while simultaneously allowing them to see how sad you truly are.

As for gossip, there is a difference. Sometimes people think that sharing any information at all, opinions, thoughts, first-hand experience is gossip. They are incredibly ignorant about it, and paralyzed into thinking any sharing, baring of one's soul is forbidden.

But that's just me. I think there's a difference from what you observe about situations, people - versus belittling them to make yourself feel superior. I'm a fan of truth. So often I see things and it irks me to no end because we're not allowed to say the truth about people, for fear of singed feelings...etc...

I hate the tiptoeing around people who are extra sensitive, or new to a group/organization ... it's like we're enabling the weak. It annoys me when squeaky wheels always get the oil, while healthy, functioning wheels are completely ignored. Negative reinforcement... is king.

And why... why do people who have had a very colorful past, pretend to people who didn't know them back then... that they are wholly innocent? I don't understand it. It smacks of deception to me and I hate deception, period.

...have you also heard when people tell you that you need to not feel an emotion, but then immediately tell you that they can't, or won't change how they feel because that's just who they are? You kind of want to see how long it takes before they recognize how hypocritical and hilarious it is, that they think they have a right to tell you what to change, but then say that they refuse to. Wha---??? What loony asylum did I enter?

While we're at it... one more laughable comment I hear a lot, "there's no one right way to..." yada, yada, yada. Sure, there may not be one right way, but there often is a BETTER way. So... are we people who like, and encourage mediocrity, or are we people who keep our eyes focused on what is possible?

Of course, when referring to better - I recognize that we are in different stages of life, and the energy level to accomplish things is different, etc. I am not referring to those. I am referring to ...when we have gained the knowledge, ability to strive towards the better, are we merely content to celebrate the stagnant place we, or others are in, or do we instead choose the better? I'm a fan of good, better...best.

Whew!

...now my belly aches... too much laughing like a loon.

Skin Deep

This morning I'm headed to the temple to assist as the Young Women do baptisms for the dead.

I always think it's interesting how in the temple, we remove all of our jewelry, labels, colors of dress, quality of dress, to wear simple white. Everyone wears the simple, modest white. In the temple it isn't about how we appear, how society dictates what is acceptable or not. In the temple we focus on what is inside our hearts, minds, souls. Maybe that's why it's a place I find the most peace, other than in my own home.

Recently, on yet another post, on the same blog in the blogosphere about Mormon women and plastic surgery, specifically, elective surgery I made yet another comment. It is actually a comment I'd been planning on posting on my blog as it's own, stand alone post... so here it is, with a few edits:

My take on plastic surgery is in a general sense. As in every situation there are exceptions (health reasons, etc...). I understand that. It’s personal – I get that. At the same time, I do believe there are ideals to be preserved. I believe that elective surgery should be used as an exception, not the rule, not a graduation gift, not a community effort, and certainly not promoted as the norm. That's where I worry... that it is becoming more a norm...than an outlier. I think if we were honest, we'd agree that going under the knife is never the ideal... I think if we could achieve the same results in another manner, we'd wish there was another way.

My views on plastic surgery comes also from the issues I had to deal with as an a lone Asian girl in Bountiful, UT. Let’s face it…in nearly all my Church congregations, still to this day… I’m often the lone Asian girl that sticks out.

As a kid I HATED. I absolutely HATED how different I was. I hated my yellow skin, my slanted eyes, my coarse, thick hair. I had massive self-esteem issues. I was surrounded by beautiful blond, brunette girls with blue eyes, white skin and …they didn’t wear boy hand-me-downs. They all fit in.

When I was in 10th grade I gave a speech touting an imaginary soap that would make you any ethnicity you wanted. Want that blond, white body… bam… shower and you got it. Want a tan, exotic look… just hop in the shower and voila!

Luckily, for me, no such drastic surgery was available. Michael Jackson might disagree with that statement… but for me… it wasn’t. I learned a lot over the years coming to terms with how I looked on the outside…and how I felt on the inside. Those trials, working with who I was, made me strong, and helped me appreciate, and relish who I am.

In fact, in college I could have easily done what so many other Asians did. They purposely segregated themselves by going to the Asian wards. I didn't want to blend in with the crowd. I wanted to be where I was unique. I loved the foreign language ward. I discovered that intelligent, ambitious people from different backgrounds, walks of life and cultures inspired me. I reveled in their unique qualities, as I reveled in my own. I had learned that being unique was something I rather liked at that stage of the game, and still do. I am grateful for the trials, the internal soul-searching that allowed me to finally arrive at a stage of self-acceptance.

I think about my ancestors in China. The breaking, wrapping and confinement of foot binding for all young girls at the ages of 3-6… for a standard of societal, economic beauty is quickly denounced, derided and abhorred by each of us. In those days, in that culture, a girl would either rise economically out of poverty with perfectly tiny, deformed feet, or suffer in squalid poverty for not conforming to society's standards of beauty.

Luckily, in our western society that kind of drastic lifestyle doesn't exist. So … what is the difference between the binding of feet that we instantly, disdainfully, judge (rightly so, in my opinion) as completely, utterly, wrong…and our western sensibilities in regards to slicing, nipping, cauterizing, and stitching? What makes one easily judged wrong, and another judged as anything goes? What of agency? In China, there was agency, to an extent. It was very clear from the get-go what the consequences to that agency was. In today's world, what are those consequences? Are people willing to accept those consequences to their agency, or simply rail against any stigma that may arise from our choices?

I understand there are many issues involved. Not every woman who pursues elective enhancement is insecure (and I am not addressing those)… but the vast majority are. And… I wonder how long that band aid really, truly heals what hurts inside. What of the lessons that need to be learned, the work needed to be done to accept oneself, as opposed to a "quick fix"? If we never learn how to accept, and love that scared little girl inside, how will we truly be happy?

And who is to say what the "perfect body" in the next life is the societal ideal we've come to believe in? Who is to say it's not an ample lap for children to sit and listen to stories in, or arms that embrace with a soft, all encompassing cuddle? Maybe I'm naive, but I still cling to the belief that God doesn't make any junk... I believe that what we believe in terms of perfection, and ideal physical appearance will be blown out of the water when we finally reach our eternal Home. Why do I think that when we reach that point, all that skin deep stuff we're so preoccupied about on a nearly, daily basis, won't even cross our radar when we're happily reunited with those we love most?

ps. Sure, there are things I'd like to change about my own body, but like I had to learn to love my outer, Asian self (now I love standing out) - I am learning to understand, love and appreciate my physical imperfections. I am hoping that I learn that lesson, in this stage of my life.