One day at a Time?

As I sit down to write about one thing today, another comes into my head.  We'll see what comes out.  Giving myself time to think and read and pray is both a blessing and a curse.  Maybe that 's why I avoid it so often.  Without thought--both on what I read and what I experience, there is no feeling.  Without expression of that feeling, there is no pain.  That's why really praying--sincere, heartfelt praying hurts.  Numbly stumbling along without thought or feeling is easier.  Of course it is.  That's why so many people choose to live there--even if they know there is more to life than that.

We had 2 talks in ward conference Sunday.  Both good.  Yes Keith, yours was very good.  I read it again this morning.  There's a problem for me, Michelle, in hearing the two of them together though.  I tend to be a compartmentalizer.   In my world, these 2 things cannot coexist.  One talk was on being perfect and one was on being happy.  I'm not very good at either one.  When I try to be more perfect is when I see more weaknesses and unfortunately I don't immediately see that weaknesses are good and that I have them so God can help me. 

When I was 8 years old, I refused to be baptized because I thought after baptism I had to be perfect and I knew I couldn't be.  I wrote a letter to the prophet at the time and told him of my dilemma.  I got a nice letter back from President Kimball and was baptized, but that feeling of needing to be perfect and being a failure at it lingers.  To this day, I can't imagine a person feeling like they are good enough to be in the same place with God.  I know that there are lots of things I can be perfect at, but right now the thought escapes me of anything that I am perfect at.

The happy talk was a little less overwhelming, but still it's an intangible that has to be maintained over time.  Plus, it's the lack of personal perfection that messes up my happiness.  I'm happy with my husband, my home, my overall station ...you know, except for that one giant whole in my heart where Ian should be. 

He said there were 4 keys to it and used scriptural examples.  To be happy you need to work, keep the commandments, recognize blessings and avoid contention.  Well, that's sounds easy in 4 neat little steps, right?

I remember a gimmick used in NH to get us all to read the Book of Mormon in a determined amount of time.  They gave out a chart and said we would read the assigned number of chapters and look for only one topic as we were reading and mark every time that topic was mentioned--something we needed to work on etc.  I chose being happy.  I remember how shocked I was at how often I found verses on it.  How many conditions were put on it and how badly the Lord wanted it for us--in fact stating it was the entire reason for our being.

Both of these things remind me of how alcoholism is described.  One day at a time.  You can be perfect--even me, for an hour or a day, but how do string those hours together?  And when you slip, you are right back where you started.  How do you get a 30 day chip on perfection or happiness?  I guess your gut urges that nag at you have to be those of wanting to be happy or perfect. 
If you're are focused on one, how can you be focused on the other?  I guess if I could manage perfect, I would be happy. 

Wait, let me go back.  I don't want this post to sound like I am fundamentally unhappy.  I'm not.  I expect more of myself than I give.  That fouls up the quest for both of these attributes.


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I Miss Snow--and Ian

This is what January should look like. 
Snow, snow and more snow. 
Keith and Ian with their snowman in Manchester, NH. 
Just a few months after we moved in--before we got the black shutters for our blue house.

Back to Thankful

I'm thankful for:

food that lends itself to chopsticks
good jokes
days where you can drive with the windows down
comfy shoes  (I'm wearing Ian's Crocs today)
finding lost stuff
random facts that impress my kids
newly painted walls
the invention of the telephone--not necessarily the cell phone
pistachios--literally translates to "happy nuts" in Chinese
school being close since I make 2-4 trips per day

Approaching 18

Ian almost 18 months old

There's another milestone looming--not even a real one or an important one--yet it is there.   Next week it will be 18 months.  A year and a half. 

That's the amount of time I was away from Keith after we knew we loved each other.  My mission.  Even though I was serving  and having the time of my life and enjoying just about every minute,  it seemed like an incredibly long period of time.  I missed him horribly and longed to be with him.  I was so excited to see him that we met in the San Francisco airport on my way home to Salt Lake.  It was a grand reunion.  That was one 18 month block of time.

That's 2 pregnancies.  What could possibly feel longer than that?  I've always said that it's the mother who is delivered, not the baby.

The last 18 months have been the worst of my life.  Painful and raw and draining and confusing.  So confusing.  How can the worst time of your life fly by so quickly?  How can it possibly have been a year and a half since I saw my baby?"  (No Ian,  I'm not calling you a baby.  I know you hate that.  But, you'll always be my baby.)  It's unfathomable. 

There are people around me that don't even know I have 3 children:  all the new members in our ward,  new teachers at school,  the ladies at Mikey's gym who probably wonder why I look so depressed sitting there for 2 hours every week.

Keith and I went to a work function in San Francisco a couple of weeks ago.  Food suppliers fly in from all over the country for these things and we dress all up and pretend we enjoy meeting each other.  I was seated by a man I had never met and since I don't work, people always ask me about the kids.  That's part of the reason we haven't gone for so long.  I should have prepared my answers in advance, but I didn't and I've felt weird ever since.

Guy:  "So, how many children do you have?"
Me:  "3."
Guy:  "How old are they?"
Me:  "11,  14,  and 17."
I turned to my food at that point.
Guy:  "So, the 17 year old is a junior then?"
Me:  "Yep."
Back to my food.  Conversation over.

Later that night I was talking to a woman at our table about how many pair of control top pantyhose she was wearing.  We were laughing and having a good time.  Then she asked about the kids.  I felt so disgusted with myself about the first conversation that I told her the truth.  She pulled the face.  She felt horrible.  I tried to continue the conversation, but it was over.

Why do I feel like I both betrayed Ian and turned myself into a psycho?  After 18 months I figure I should know what to say.  I think I should be able to have a little control over my emotions.  Not so much.  Still fresh.  Sitting in a chair a few days ago, watching TV,  I thought to myself,  "Does this mean he needs another cath?"  I remember asking the doctor that in April or May.  I'm still trying to reassure myself that I did all I could.  I actually considered emailing the doctor the other day and asking him what the life expectancy is for a baby with heterotaxy syndrome.  I thought maybe if he said 5 or 6 years old somehow that would make me feel better about the "bonus" time we got.  Stupid.

I got 10 full 18 month blocks of time with Ian.  They went so fast.  This block without him  has gone fast too, but the minutes and the hours haven't.  The 18 we should be approaching is years--in time for the election  Ian was going to vote out Obama!

Thankful Again

I'm thankful for:

idiots in the world that give us interesting things to talk about
the past being the past
recognizing that 2 people can be right at the same time
car air-fresheners
rain--I hope it comes tonight
nights when Keith is at home
indoor, flushing toilets
being able to worry about obesity instead of starvation
colored markers and scotch tape
cheapo reading glasses

Things I Want to Remember



Classic Ian with one of the many cow sculptures  in San Antonio


I told Mikey he should write some memories of Ian down and as we were talking these are 2 he came up with.

Ian--"What do you call a man with no arms and no legs in an elevator?'  What?  "Elvis."
We laughed harder at his attempt at a quad joke than almost any other joke over the years.

Mikey quickly added that he redeemed himself with,  "What do you call a man with no arms and no legs in the produce department?"  What?  "Barry."*

The other memory that came up tonight was Ian being in charge of family home evening treats.  He was never much of a fan of sweets.  Not cake, not ice cream.  He said we were all having glasses of water for treat.  It caused quite a stir.

It's fun to share memories with the kids.  It makes us all smile and laugh.  It makes him near.  Over the next few months, I'm going to complete the photo albums of the last 3 years.  They've been waiting for me.  I was working on 2009 early last year, but when I got to Ian's birthday there were pictures and I couldn't remember what he had done.  It made me so sad, I put it all away.  But now, we need those memories, all in one place where we can open them and look at them and smile and be in the moments we had.  The ones we didn't record with pictures will have to wait until we talk to Ian again.  Pretty safe bet he didn't forget what he did for his 15th birthday.  I miss my son.  Soon it will be a year and a half.  That's too long.

Another smile.  I have been wondering about famous people in the spirit world and whether they are still hounded and need special treatment.  I know, it's weird, but whatever.  Mikey asked tonight at the dinner table if Michael Jackson only had half a nose and we laughed and decided people wouldn't recognize his spirit.  Ian didn't think much of MJ anyway, but he may have snuck into some VIP spirit lounge to see Elvis by now.

*Quadriplegic jokes were a big part of Keith and I getting to know one another.  We have about 25 or so.

Messages Don't Wear Out

My scriptures are pretty worn out.   I'm not sad about it.  It makes me happy that I've used them that much.  They are 20 years old this year.  The writing is all worn off on the spine of my Book of Mormon and the binding is all loose on my Bible.  The pages slip up and down on the threads.  Yesterday though, the wear and tear proved serendipitous.

I got out my Bible during the sacrament and let it fall open to a page that was nearly falling out.  I began to read as the bread was being passed around the chapel.  The first verse at the top of the page started like this: 

 51 I am the living bread which came down from heaven: if any man eat of this bread, he shall live for ever: and the bread that I will give is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world.

 52 The Jews therefore strove among themselves, saying, How can this man give us his flesh to eat?

 53 Then Jesus said unto them, Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except ye eat the flesh of the Son of man, and drink his blood, ye have no life in you.

 54 Whoso eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, hath eternal life; and I will raise him up at the last day.

 55 For my flesh is meat indeed, and my blood is drink indeed.

 56 He that eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, dwelleth in me, and I in him.

 57 As the living Father hath sent me, and I live by the Father: so he that eateth me, even he shall live by me.

 58 This is that bread which came down from heaven: not as your fathers did eat manna, and are dead: he that eateth of this bread shall live for ever.

 59 These things said he in the synagogue, as he taught in Capernaum.

While I do not think that it was miraculous that I turned to that page, I do think it was very meaningful for me.  It was the right message at the right time and really made me think about the symbols and the meaning behind them in a special way. 

Then I turned to look at the first of the chapter.  It was about the loaves and fishes and the miracle of feeding so many with so little.  I scanned the pages and started reading again where I had some underlining.

 28 Then said they unto him, What shall we do, that we might work the works of God?

 29 Jesus answered and said unto them, This is the work of God, that ye believe on him whom he hath sent.

 30 They said therefore unto him, What sign shewest thou then, that we may see, and believe thee? what dost thou work?

 31 Our fathers did eat manna in the desert; as it is written, He gave them bread from heaven to eat.

 32 Then Jesus said unto them, Verily, verily, I say unto you, Moses gave you not that bread from heaven; but my Father giveth you the true bread from heaven.

 33 For the bread of God is he which cometh down from heaven, and giveth life unto the world.

 34 Then said they unto him, Lord, evermore give us this bread.

 35 And Jesus said unto them, I am the bread of life: he that cometh to me shall never hunger; and he that believeth on me shall never thirst.

 48 I am that bread of life.

 49 Your fathers did eat manna in the wilderness, and are dead.

 50 This is the bread which cometh down from heaven, that a man may eat thereof, and not die.

I know I cut up the chapter and put it out of order, but that's how I read it.  That's how it fit for me while partaking of the bread and water myself.  It was a good sacrament.  Symbols are important and the bread is a good one. 

I wish we still got to eat the sweet delicious home-made bread of Sister Blakes, then again, she's not the only person in the ward I wish wasn't gone.

Thankful 4

I'm thankful for:

Well, is it okay to be thankful for all things/problems I don't have.  Do I have to knock on wood if I say them?  Is it proud or braggy?  Oh well,  I'm thankful that:

my kids aren't on drugs or mentally ill
Keith made it back to good employment very quickly
we've loved moving around the country and not been homesick
we were able to have kids--even though. . .
we found each other in the first place
we aren't divorced and worrying about all that goes with that
I've been able to be at home
we didn't have to compromise on beliefs--we have the same ones
even though we live in the "most miserable city in America,"  we're ok
the 4 of us are healthy--the rest of that thought doesn't apply here

I knocked on the desk before posting!

Thankful 3

I'm thankful for:

the 363 days a year that I don't have to go to the dentist
mind-numbing TV program--that numb my mind
liver and onions
learning Chinese
long, strong fingernails
my piano
seeing the ocean
grandmothers' jewelry
dreams--good or bad, it's cool to have so many
modge-podge

No Small Hiccups

I hope someday I will get back to the old me--at least the me who can function.  In my world now, there is hanging by a thread or falling apart.  There isn't anything else and each little, seemingly insignificant event or problem sends me from the one to the other.

I went into 'knot in my stomach'  pacing this morning over our dental insurance changing.  I was so annoyed when I saw on caller-ID that the dentist's office was calling for the third time to confirm our appointment.  The first time it was automated, yesterday it was a real person on the answering machine and then again today.  I almost jumped in first to say, "Yes, we are coming.  Leave me alone,"  when her polite little receptionist voice came on.  "Mrs. Gleason, I just called to verify your insurance for your appointments and Aetna said your policy has been terminated.  Do you have other coverage?"  I didn't have a clue.  Catching me off guard isn't the best thing these days.  "I'll have to call my husband and see,"  I said.  Then I realized he wasn't in the office this morning.  Big sighs and churning stomach.  I caught him on the cell phone and he didn't know the coverage had changed.  He'd have to make a call.  While I was waiting I punched out our new medical insurance cards and looked at them to see if they said anything and then put them in my wallet.  When I took the others out, I made sure to keep Ian's from 2010 in there with the rest.  How do I chuck it?  His whole life depended on it.  I can't even write that without sobbing.  Anyway, it's gonna stay in my purse  probably forever.  Keith called back;  gave me account numbers and group numbers, but still didn't know if our dentist was going to be in-network.  That would be more than I could stand.  I would rather have my teeth rot out than find a new dentist.  I can't even change our TV provider without major anxiety. 

When he read in his directory that our dentist is covered at 100%,  I had to quickly get off the phone so I could break down with relief and bawl.

I want things to be different.  I want perspective.  I want things not to build to where "Wow, I haven't cried for three days, doesn't mean I'm going to break over our dental coverage.  I want small hiccups.

Thankful 2

I'm thankful for:

lilacs
everything bagels
The Middle--the best family program on TV
antique stores
mom teaching me to cook
hot showers
spending time outside
unexpected letters or emails
old photos/videos
Burt's Bees

classic music I can sing to
headphones for others' music so I don't have to hear it
mornings without trains
Lucy attending seminary with minimal complaints
magic erasers
turtle necks
other people who put their foot in their mouth
dishwasher--and when the kids unload
answers to my "why" questions
Mikey letting me kiss him goodbye

Thankful

I've tried in the past to do a type of gratitude journal.  It didn't really work too well.  Daily journal doesn't work for me in general.  Many, many of those entries started at the top with,  "Ian is still alive."

In 2012 I'm going to push myself to be grateful, whether I like it or not and hopefully, I will then like it.  I figure if I am able to come up with 365 things I'm thankful for in January then I can just spend the rest of the year reflecting.  Sound Good?  I think some of the things will be surprising or relatively insignificant.  That's okay. 

I don't really know how to start the list--obviously not with my former number 1, so here goes.

sunny days
candles
columbine wildflowers
red heads
fresh apricots
rides in the car
crossword puzzles
good books
jokes
oatmeal soap
kohler sink cleaner
electric blankets
Charlie the dog
Snow

These are obviously some fun things.  They are cake to the following obvious things.

Keith--the best, most unselfish husband
Ian
Lucy
Mikey
Mom and Dad
My brothers
My grandparents and aunts and uncles
Keith's family
Keith's job and his willingness to go to it--that's not something every husband does
Our home
Confidence in my faith and all that includes
The places I've seen
My education
My mission

That's enough for today.  More later.

Fast Food

I read a great blog today. 
I loved the idea. 
I don't want to steal it,  I'll just share it without tweeking it. 
Just go there and read it.

Really Cool Foods

There is a particular verse in the scriptures that I will never read the same way again.  Keith has forever given it meaning to me.  That's why I include it as a scripture that I own--a scripture that I've inherited from my very wise husband.  It is 2 Nephi 32:3
"...feast upon the words of Christ; for behold, the words of Christ will tell you all things what ye should do."

Now,  let me just say, Keith is the food man.  It's his business.  He has to be sure things taste good and will sell in a national grocery chain store. New products.  Improved products.  Salads.  Ribs.  In fact, over the years, he's covered almost every category of  food.   He also knows a little about feasting.  He likes good food--cool food.  Tasting it.  Tweeking it.  Enjoying a meal.

Besides food, he has some other loves,  the scriptures being one of them.  He can see, as the bishop, that the youth haven't all fostered that love in their lives.  Last year for girls camp, he got sporks for all the girls and wrote the reference for the feasting scripture on them with a sharpie.  He talked to the girls about feasting on the word.  It was a great object lesson.  This year before general conference, he talked to one of his suppliers from work (Really Cool Foods) about getting him some notebooks with the name of their company printed on the front.  He gave all the youth a notebook and a pencil and told them to record some of the words of Christ they had feasted on while listening to the prophets speak.

Keith and I both love the scriptures.  We both love learning things we haven't seen before and listening to the kids read from the words of Christ.  I credit our reading the Book of Mormon together as the instrument that made it possible for Ian to become a good reader and actually like reading books himself.  Harry Potter didn't hurt either, but the blessing came through our obedience in reading scripture.  It changed Ian's life to be able to read better.

There really are cool things to feast on in the scriptures.  Sometimes we nibble.  Sometimes we snack.  We hope to get 3 squares a day.  But we also need to feast more often.

Correction, Extension, Explanation

I had some time today to be alone.  I wasted part of it--as usual.  On a normal day I would think that taking a long bath and reading was wasting the other part of it too, but I really needed time to read the scriptures and think for a while.  So I'm going to say that it was time well spent.  I was hoping to read something that really inspired me and gave me something new to write about, but what I got is something old that I've been ducking for about a month or more that seems to be a barrier to my pondering anything new.

In November I posted about being an instrument in God's hand in 76 Trombones and have been bothered by what I said ever since.  I really do want to be the shiny vessel, the loud, showy instrument, even the tool that's necessary for every project.  BUT,  that's the world's way.  That's the natural man--1 Cor. 2:14 says,    "But the natural man receiveth  not the things of the Spirit of God:  for they are foolishness unto him;  neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned."  I don't want to be the natural man.

There are so many references I have seen since writing that post about how we don't want to have (or be) treasures that that can canker or rust.  That's part of the reason I haven't written this--because I need to find the verses, and I made no note of them.

There are also many references to being the clay in the potter's hand and letting him mold you and be what He wants you to be.  I even started reading a book called I am the Clay by Chaim Potok which I have had on the shelf for years and thought I had read, but haven't.  I thought since all his books have religious overtones that it must be related, but I've been substituting sudoku for my nightly reading lately, so I don't know yet.

Today I read in  Doctrine and Covenants 1 about the "weak things of the world" and   the "gospel might be proclaimed by the weak and the simple" and again had the same feeling about how wrong it is to want to be something other than just that.  I love the story in the Book of Mormon about Alma wanting to be able to have the voice of an angel so he could shake the earth and make everyone listen when he spoke and then realizing that his wish was actually sinful and that he need to be happy with the blessings and strengths he did have and use them the best he could.  It's a great lesson for dummies like me who can't see the eternal nature of things. 

I think it's really hard in this world of power and prestige, where all facets of success are measured and lauded--right down to the Christmas letters that are meant to send the message that "my family is better than yours,"  to not get caught up in wanting to be recognized for something.  Let's face it,  I'm not going to get Mother of the Year any time soon and what else am I?  I guess, at least it's good that it's God that I want to be rewarded by, but,  I sin in my wish.  The scripture says that some vessels bring honor, whether they are are made out of earth or not.  I should be able to see and know that I am unique to God whether I am recognized  for it or not.

This may be one of those posts that only the writer can understand--I've read those kind occasionally, but one point I do want to make clear is that I certainly don't want some position or calling of any prominence.  That's not it at all.  And I think may be I'm cured of wanting to be shiny and desired.   After all, those who don't decide humility is good, find themselves being compelled to be humble.

Rough draft--very rough, but I haven't really been posting much at all lately and want to get going again.  So, this will have to do.