Abandonment

This is my Easter blog. I know the title leads you to think, “Are you kidding me?! How morbid is that?!” But, trust me; it’s just a means to an end….

Now, this is going to get kind of deep, so if any of you hate spiritual topics or have a tendency to depress easily or just think I’m always too long-winded (which is quite possibly true) - I’d stop reading now. For the rest of you, carry on.

What does the Atonement mean to me?

Well – the answer to this question has changed at different points in my life. But I want to talk about what it has meant since Malia was born. Most of you are aware (because I talk about it too much) that Malia had colic for the first 6 months of her life. Ok. Wait. She didn’t just have colic. She had severe colic. The kind of colic that had the pediatrician patting me on the head and hugging me whenever we visited. The “screaming-24-7-never-sleeps-more-then-1/2-an-hour-even-at-night-won’t-somebody-muzzle-this-child” kind of colic.

Now, I am the first to admit, at the very least, she was an otherwise healthy, gorgeous child. Other then a brief bout with jaundice at the start, she was perfection. She had all her extremities, senses, and never spent a single night in the NICU. However, lest those who’ve experienced even 5 minutes of colic will disagree, I will say… it was THE hardest period in my life.

As proof of that superlative, I am now going to expose one of the weakest moments in my life. This is an excerpt of a journal entry from when Malia was about 4 months old (it has actually even been edited to protect me from, well, myself):

“I’m at the end of my rope. I haven’t slept in so long. I’ll be honest. I feel as if God has completely abandoned me... I have tried over and over again to practice faith in Him. I am doing everything on my own that I possibly can to help my child – and begging and pleading for Him to fill in the holes. But He refuses. I don’t know why. I am in so much emotional pain and my spirit has never been this weak… ever! ... Why does God just sit back?! I have been told a ridiculous number of times that I should trust my intuition, i.e., God’s inspiration, but I have none!"

What does this have to do with Easter?

When Jesus Christ walked on this earth, He knew things. What I mean is that the veil was so thin, if not even completely gone, for Him. However - there was one time He didn’t have that access… and it was the time He needed it the most. In Gethsemane, He suffered, He sobbed, and He was wracked with pain. You tell me that if there wasn’t one time the Savior desperately needed His Father, it was then. The irony? It was the one time Heavenly Father had to leave Him to Himself. But did the Savior ever accuse the Lord of abandoning Him? No. Of course not. The answer to that is obvious, right? So why is it we, having to suffer only a fraction of that, subject the Lord to such complaints and accusations when life is hard?

Now, we are only human, and I’ve had to remind myself many times since those dark nights, that I am imperfect. In dealing with the repentance process over some of the things I said to the Lord in those trying times, I have had to teach myself to be a little kinder to me…. to realize the Lord knows I was very tired and… well, very tired.

But now I want to speak as the parent, and no longer as the child. Instead of seeing God as my Father and feeling as if I’m a disobedient daughter, I want to talk about Him as a parent and what I can learn about Him now that I’m a parent. Malia is only 2, but I have already experienced those moments when I need to step back and let her make choices and grow and experience.

When she did have colic, the hardest part wasn’t the screaming itself… it was the fact that I could do absolutely. nothing. about it.

How hard must it’ve been when the Savior asked His Father to let the cup pass? And the Father had to sit back and allow things to happen to His own Son that we can’t even imagine? How hard was it for the Savior, who must’ve felt so abandoned? But, even more so, how hard must it have been for the Father to have to watch, in silence?

This Easter, remember all your blessings, and when trials arise, acknowledge that the Savior's death and resurrection are a perfect example of how He can empathize with those feelings. Remember that the Father is not abandoning you. He wants nothing more then to come to you, kiss it better, and send you on your merry way. However, He knows what’s best. He knows that suffering is a part of it. For as He watches you, He suffers too.

Be grateful He knows better.

Malia learns to whistle.... backwards

P.S. Please don't think I'm a bad mom for the fact she still has dinner on her face... it was part of the charm of the whole thing.

Joy

My daughter is so many wonderful things. But, more then anyone I've ever met in my entire life, she encapsulates joy. I'm not referring to the joy she gives me, which is boundless and inexplicable. I'm referring to the joy she has within herself. She is pure "take-life-by-the-reins-and-ride" happiness.

Obviously, some of you are thinking, "Well, she's 2. Of course she's happy. She has no worries."

I have to explain to you, as her mother; as someone who spends every waking hour with her; as the one person on this earth who knows her best.... it's more then that. It's the nature of her beyond what I can nurture. It's who her spirit is.

When Malia was screaming 24-7, I had an incredibly inspired bishop once say to me that I needed to know to separate the spirit of my child from her body. She was in pain, and her body wasn't being very nice to her. However, her spirit was desperately fighting to please her parents and make them happy.

Even when she was a tiny bundle of loud wailing and agonizing sobs, I could see it in her eyes; in one of those quiet moments when the post-partum depression and sleep-deprivation were not in control of me. I connected with her, spirit to spirit. And it was as if she said, "I really am a good girl, Mommy. Just give me chance. I have so much to offer you."

And now that she is flourishing and able to really enjoy this life, that's exactly what she does. Enjoys. Completely. Whole-heartedly. No qualms or cares. But it's beyond a sense of being carefree... she is more then just a happy child. I watch other children around her, and while she may be a bit... loud, she overpowers them with her extreme elation. As if she knows a secret that is so yummy and none of us have heard it yet.

In her nature, her God-given nature, she is full of more joy then the average person. I think God sent her to me specifically to teach me to find joy beyond my search for mere happiness.

I now know what it means to have the roles reversed... for child to become teacher.

And I'm trying very hard to learn.

Ok. I just wanted to do this one.

I've seen this on a few friends' blogs now, and no one will tag me for this specific one. So, I'm doing it just 'cause I want to and I'm a brat that way. Truth be told? I can't imagine anyone actually cares about my answers to these, but I enjoy reminiscing and looking back on what I've accomplished. It turns out that I'm not only a brat but I'm self-serving and narcissistic as well. Wow. Poor Dave.

20 years ago: It makes me feel old to say I that was alive 20 years ago. But it was 1988. I got baptized that year. There are 3 things I remember about my baptism. 1)I was promised banana splits afterwards. 2) I was annoyed that I hadn't dried off better because my pretty white dress was sticking to my body. 3) I was kind of annoyed that I had to share my baptism day with another girl in my ward because she had been out-of-town during her month. This was also the year I decided to be like my mom and got an identical haircut and perm. Problem was, it was a style meant for older women. I looked lame. Brian Maloney called me "Orphan Annie" & "Poodle-head."

10 years ago: 1998. Now I really feel old, because I have to officially acknowledge now that my 10-year high school reunion is quickly approaching. Go Class of '98! Woot! This was a big year. I had gone from having kissed only 2 boys in the first 18 years of my life to this specific year when my serious boyfriend of almost a year broke my heart (for those of you who haven't heard.... he cheated on me with an 8th grader. So lame. I know). Then I had a rebound relationship with a guy almost 10 years older then me. I moved out and started college, and met a Jehovah's Witness boy and we had a very dramatic, tumultuous relationship (driven by the fact his parents loathed, I mean loathed, Mormons). Good times.

5 years ago: Ugh. I am so glad I didn't have to write about some of the stuff between '98 & 2001. Phew! Although... there were good times, too. I'm just sayin'. OK, so 5 years ago, I was beginning my 2nd year of marriage to my wonderful husband. I had just completed teaching a year of high school and I was exhausted and ready to finish college. I wanted OUT! (of college... not my marriage). I also did a record 4 shows that year.

3 years ago: This was a very big year of change for me. I graduated college this year. We went to NYC for showcase where a casting director offered me 2 jobs, right there, on the spot, but I had just found out I was pregnant (after fearing for 2 weeks I might lose the baby due to possible ectopic pregnancy). I had morning sickness ALL DAY & NIGHT for 3 months. Then I had a lovely 2nd trimester and we took a big, fun CA trip with some friends, where they rode all the roller coasters... and I held their stuff (so lame). Then I got kidney stones during the 3rd trimester. And then after 18 hours of labor, I had to have an emergency cesarean. But through all that, the greatest joy of my life was born. Malia Renee entered my life 3 years ago. She's only 2, but she entered then... you know.... I mean.... if you count it up.... oh never mind.

1 year ago: We'd been living in CA for David's new first job post-grad-school, for a little while, and were finally beginning to settle. It was a very anticlimactic year... which can be nice, to tell you the truth. (except for that whole "moving-company-being-over-a-month-late-with-our-stuff-so-I-stayed-at-my-parents'-house-while-Dave-slept-on-the-floor-of-our-new-apartment-for-3-weeks" thing). Oh, and I tried out for "Wicked" and got called back for Elphaba, but had prior obligations and had to turn things down. Kind of sucked.

So far this year: Did a game show. Bought a house. Malia turned 2. Took on some voice students. Just got called with David to teach the CTR 5 class.

Yesterday I: Shaved my legs (hey - that's huge for me, sometimes). Went grocery shopping. Washed the sheets because Malia peed on them because she didn't have a diaper on because I was letting her rash air-dry. Watched LOST.

Today I: Ran some errands. Videotaped Malia doing gymnastics and singing on our bed. Ate some ice cream (bad. BAD!) Bought David some junk food for his game night. Got ready for bed.

Later tonight: I'm about 10 minutes away from brushing my teeth and going to bed.

Tomorrow: David's grandparents will be stopping by. Then David is going to the temple with a friend, so I'll probably just take Malia to the park, or something. Then, somewhere in there, I'll practice the song I'm supposed to sing in Church on Sunday.

This year I hope to: Be involved in a theatrical production in some way or another. (I'm DYIN' here). Oh, and I wouldn't mind getting pregnant... although, the fact that I just announced that desire means it won't happen. Maybe we should get a dog...

I tag: Whoever wants to do it. :D

Hug Tag

So, a couple of weeks ago, Malia just started running back & forth between her room, (where Daddy was playing with her) & the office (where Mommy was briefly checking her e-mail). For about 10 minutes, she would come and give me a hug and then she would turn around, yell, "Daddy's turn!" and run to him and hug him. Then she would yell, "Mommy's turn!" and the cycle continued.

I didn't want her to stop doing it in the time it would take for me to get the video camera up & running, so I just grabbed the still camera and got these shots. It's not near as cute as it is in person, but I thought I'd share anyway:

This is what happens when I think alot

Just thought I would share this little short story I wrote the other day when Malia was sleeping and I was dwelling on my decision to not pursue "the performing thing" for now. I thought many of you would appreciate the perspective... and probably empathize:

THE AUDITION

“I’ve never been so nervous…” I stuttered to the stranger in the chair next to me. I let out an awkward chuckle, wringing my hands. He gave me a polite smile.

“… and sweaty,” I added. Again, a polite smile; but this time, he scooted over.

I decided at that moment that any conversation was going to perpetuate my anxiety and decided to focus simply on making sure that my pieces were memorized. No use ruining my chances before even having the opportunity to be seen. I was doing a comedic monologue -typical for me - filled with sarcasm and slapstick. It seemed to me that was the best way to go. Distract them from any possible mistakes by using my gift for dry wit, goofy faces, and over-the-top antics, I reminded myself. My song was a more dramatic piece, and I could usually overcome any lack of effective emotion by sheer volume.

I looked around the room. There were a lot of girls who looked a lot like me which was interesting. I was so used to being surrounded by the supermodel types for these things. However, the ones here were not stunning, by any means. But they had that quiet beauty. The kind you see in girls who are good-looking enough to make it in the door initially, but then have to compensate for anything they may be lacking with oodles of talent.

“My kind of girls,” I laughed to myself.

My neighbor looked over and laughed. Oops, I hadn’t realized I’d said that out loud.

“I’m nervous too,” he offered. “Not every day you have to go through this big of an audition.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, grateful for the interaction. “And not every day the payoff is so important.”

“Seriously.”

He had a warm smile. I gave a thankful smile back. That was something that was so different about this audition. No cold, jealous stares. No sharing of resumés, trying to one-up each other. Just genuine, good people who were all as nervous as I was.

A name was called.

My new friend stood. “Well. That’s me. Wish me luck?”

“Good luck… er, break a leg? Well, either way, I wish you the best.”

“Pray for me?”

I laughed… but then I realized that was the best I really could do for him.

“I promise.”

I watched him walk into the room, and felt myself get nervous for him. Ugh, I can’t do this. I’m nervous enough for myself! It got really difficult at that point. I felt very alone all of the sudden, and as I rehearsed in my head to pass the time, the lyrics to the song I was going to be singing started getting jumbled, which was weird, because I had it down cold. Come on. You know this. You’ve been preparing for this for a really long time. You’ve got the talent; you just have to be sure you have the confidence.

After what felt like forever, my name was called. I stood up, very nervous. The others in the room smiled and gave me reassuring nods. I breathed in and out, and handed my resumé to the man at the door.

“You don’t need that.”

“Right. Of course.”

When I walked into the room, to my surprise (and relief) my nerves completely vanished. I was overcome with peace. I felt… home.

I stood on my mark and removed my glasses, which had become a habit. I couldn’t see him at the other side of the room, but I could sense he was there. Darn it. Why couldn’t I just ever invest in some contacts?

I gave a big cheesy grin, a typical default icebreaker for me. My cue was played, and I began to belt it out. A fairly flawless performance, I began to feel my confidence coming back, and I finished with precise execution. He seemed impressed and I could feel him nod in approval. The monologue didn’t go so bad either. He even laughed a little, as if he understood me and my quirky sense of humor.

When I was done, he spoke gently. “You are very talented.”

I blushed. “Thank you. Or should I say thank you?”

Then, in a more firm but, somehow, still very gentle voice he asked, “What exactly did you do with all of that talent?”

Here was the hard part.

To my surprise, I started to choke up, not sure if it was nerves or simply the overwhelming importance of the question. I was very afraid my answer wouldn’t be enough. Oh well. Nothing I can do about it now. Here goes…

“Well, a lot, I think. At least, I tried to. I mean, I was by no means a celebrity. And it was hard not to pursue that kind of life. It looked so glamorous and seemed so… in my reach. But, I did play the piano for Church whenever I was asked to. I even volunteered at times they were too afraid to ask. I sang in the choir. I served faithfully in the Primary when called, and even as a substitute. I sometimes choreographed little numbers for the Young Women. I sang in Sacrament Meeting frequently and tried to do so only with the Spirit in my heart. I spent hours and hours at the piano, teaching my children to love music. They do… I think. I mean, it really wasn’t a lot. I didn’t ever really feel completely fulfilled. I always wanted more, but tried to stifle that feeling by serving my family and my friends, and always worried it wasn’t enough; that I could’ve been something more…”

He came closer, and despite my tears, I could see his face, very clearly. At that moment, the fear that I wouldn’t recognize him, or that he wouldn’t know me, vanished. He embraced me, and kissed my head.

“It was enough.”

I hugged Him tight.

“Well done, my daughter,” He said, and with a kind smile, He added, “You’ve earned the part.”

RE: "The Audition"

I decided not to go.

So many of you were incredibly encouraging and there was even the occasional ego boost (thanks for that). Up until Sunday morning, which was the day of the audition, I still had no idea what I was going to do. I was even trying to figure out how to schedule in signing in, then driving back for Church, then putting Malia down for a nap and preparing & popping food in the fridge for David & Malia for dinner, and then heading back, hoping by then they'd be through with Equity auditions and starting in on Non-Equity.

Here's the beauty of Sundays:

Going to Church, I sat through a fairly average testimony meeting. However, amid the droning on of "story-monies" & "lecture-monies," there was a certain girl; someone I didn't know (we've only been in the ward for 2 months... gimme a break). She bore her testimony about the blessing the Church has been in her life as a member (she's just shy of a year... a convert at age 19). That is something those of us who've been members all our life take for granted. I mean, I have never been without the gospel. My "rebellious" phase consisted of a 2 month period during a summer where I watched a few R-rated movies and said a couple of swear words beyond my normal few... scandalous, I know. But it wasn't even her appreciation of the Gospel so much as it was her simple attitude of gratitude in general.

I am grateful God has given me the talents that I have. And I am even more grateful I receive the occasional validation of those talents. But the brief happiness I get from praise, applause, and the rare monetary compensation is nothing compared to the quiet joy I feel when Malia says, "Miss you" when I was only gone for 45 seconds to use the bathroom. Or those moments when Malia is in bed and I bring out chocolate chip cookies for David and he gives me the first real smile I've seen since he came home from a grueling work day.

A simple attitude of gratitude... especially for the simple things in life.

I am, by no means, ever going to be a "star." I have to accept this, graciously... and be okay with this. And count my multitude of other blessings. Yes, admittedly, that "what if" will be lingering, probably for the rest of my life. And in another year or two, I'll face the same dilemma, over and over again. But, ultimately, it's about perspective. And I know Heavenly Father couldn't care less if I ever pursued my professional performing dreams again. But He will care big time if I was there the night Malia had the flu and needed her Mommy more then anything. Or the night that David comes home after one of those days when he's just had it, and needs his companion to buoy him up. If my nights were, instead, filled with adoring fans and adulating applause, then the people who I'm most important to would lose out... just so I could have a few months of "what I want."

I don't want that.

Admittedly, I'll probably be looking for another opportunity like this in a year or so, but at least now I have this blog to refer back to & remind myself. Hopefully it will suffice enough to succor the craving.

...PLUS, David & I were just extended a calling that would kill David off if I wasn't going to be there 100% to perform it with him...