Living my Religion

What Mormon College Students Do For Fun

One of the things I am asked often is how I have any fun whilst practicing my religion of Mormonism. As most of you know, we have some pretty strict codes of conduct, including abstaining from coffee, alcohol, and tea.

I, like many others (including millions of recovered alcoholics) understand that there are so many clean ways to enjoy life and have fun while remaining in control of my faculties and praising my God.

Here is just one really good example of a bunch of people having some good clean fun. I love it that the BYU fans were able to support their team in such a unique way during all this Brandon drama.

Scarlett Jam

I recently read The Scarlett Letter and I couldn’t help but compare its fundamental depravity in judging others and outcasting people over the higher law of chastity with what has just happened with BYU basketball player Brandon Davies. Most of you may not know, but one of the key players was kicked off the team mid-season for admittedly having sex with his now pregnant girlfriend. BYU basketball has had an epic year and it was even rumored that they might take the first seed in the NCAA tourney. That is huge, but now they lost one of their most pivotal players.
Apparently BYU is one of the only schools left on the planet that actually makes college students live up to an Honor Code.  Part of me is proud to be part of church with a University that enforces higher personal standards, and the same part of me is ashamed. When reading this article tonight in the BYU newspaper I was taken back by it’s reference to justice. I guess I tend to be the kind of person more worried about mercy.
Originally I had written in this post that I wished that the University could have let the kid finish out the season so he would not have had to be living such public shame. I felt like if he does ever come back to play, they may as well iron a big old Atlanta Brave A to his jersey. It’s not that I didn’t think he should experience the ramifications of his disobedience and that he should repent. I have personally known many others who had to put their education on hold for a bit while working through their worthiness issues. I just don’t think that it was to anybody’s good to make such a public display of a man’s very personal life.

It’s such a sad thing for me to think about. It’s one of those things where two important principles seem to clash. Yes, let’s have a high standard, and yes, let’s love others, but how can we do both of these simultaneously? I feel like Brandon Davies has become a Hester Prynne and that just like the uptight community of the Puritan days, BYU sold him out to dry. My husband said that it wasn’t BYU that did this to him but his own actions and the media. He knew the standards he had agreed to when he signed on at the school.

When rethinking the option of letting Brandon Davies finish out the season, that would require the school to treat him with preferential treatment. As they kick all Honor Code offenders out immediately, it’s not that Brandon Davies should somehow be exempt.

I guess I am gonna be the kind of girl that stands at the Pearly gates and begs God to let in all the sinners. I  think that I need to study it out some more WHY God has standards in the first place and why I resent being controlled and others being controlled. If anything this news-story has been a lesson to me that our actions are never just about us, but they are also about our significant others and the people who observe us. But mostly it’s about us and our relationship with our Lord, and I hope that Brandon Davies will remember that while experiencing such severe punishment and horrible scrutiny. I pray that His Lord will carry Him through and allow Brandon to feel an extra dose of God’s love to counterattack everyone else talking about him negatively.

And let the record be made known that I would be best friends with Hester Prynne, well at least I would be until her demon child yelped at me. Hester’s kid is portrayed really scary in the book and it kind of freaked me out.

And that is my rant to go along with such an enticing church sign that can be found directly down the street from me right now. It’s like there are Scarlett Letters screaming at me everywhere. LG and I even watched that movie A+ last week when there was nothing else new at Redbox. It was kind of good. Too much language and sex, but doesn’t that make it just like every other movie out there? And if LG and I actually watch these movies, does that make us like Brandon Davies or Hester Prynne? And, aren’t we all like them? Isn’t that really the point  most necessarily understood by us all…we all fall short of perfection so really we should give each other grace? I’m glad I never went to BYU so I can criticize the way they have thrown a good young man who made a mistake out to the wolves of society. 
Meanwhile, I am going to make jam with fruit, and I have no idea whether or not it is forbidden.

Not so glee

I have this problem.
I can hardly admit it.
It’s an addiction that a Mormon doesn’t like to talk about.
We try to keep it in the closet as much as possible.

Once in a while it just comes bursting out though.
I need to rid myself of the guilt.
The Glee induced guilt.
It doesn’t feel glee.

Yesterday I was sitting watching the show after school.
Hulu is my best friend, ever since Caroline lost our digital converter remote.
The girls gathered around.
I always get nervous about this.
I know I shouldn’t let them watch such trash.
This episode was particularly trashy.
I try to justify saying it gives us an open communication
about the evils of today’s world.

Well the show was all about under-aged drinking.
Just as the girls gathered around,
the main characters were gathering at a party.
Before I knew it, they were all drinking heavily
and doing stupid things associated with intoxication.

I said, “See kids, this is why Dad and I won’t allow you to go to parties where there is drinking.”

Later, Bella wandered off for an after school snack.
As she came walking back towards our TV viewing via PC,
she immediately noticed that the characters
had advanced to drinking at school.
Without missing a breathe, she hollars,
“See Mom, this is why you shouldn’t allow us to go to school.”

Work

My friend Aimee gave the women of our congregation 
a wonderful lesson on Sunday.
It was about the eternal principle of work.
Work is something I have thought a lot about lately. 
Which is funny given this quote I just read.


You cannot plough a field by turning it over in your mind.  ~Author Unknown


Looking at the quotes on the internet today allowed me to hang myself. I am guilty. I admit it. I think too much and work too little. Especially at times when I am under a lot of stress.
Maybe I should say that I eat too much and work too little. That might be more accurate.


I thought that you all may enjoy some of my favorite quotes about work. 


Some people dream of success… 
while others wake up and work hard at it.  ~Author Unknown


Be not afraid of going slowly; 
be afraid only of standing still.  ~Chinese Proverb


Things may come to those who wait, 
but only the things left by those who hustle.  ~Abraham Lincoln


Opportunity is missed by most people 
because it is dressed in overalls 
and looks like work.  ~Thomas Edison


The difference between try and triumph is a little umph.  ~Author Unknown


I am also attaching this cool little video. It’s inspiring. And let’s face it, I need some inspiration so that I can get off this computer, put the oreos away, and get the laundry done.

For those of you not familiar with the Latter Day Saint (Mormon) culture,
watch until the end when this kid goes on his Mormon mission.


Think about what it would be like 
to send your kid off for two years 
knowing you would only be able 
to talk on the phone twice a year.
And tell me that your mom heart doesn’t just burst into tears.

Inspiring people of my faith work and sacrifice every day. 
First of all, every position in our charge is filled by lay ministry (for lack of better terms). Nobody gets paid.

Our Bishops (equivalent to Baptist pastors) work full-time jobs, are married and usually have kids, and administrate and shepherd the whole congregation.

We currently have over 50,000 full-time missionaries 
serving 18mo-2year missions all around the world. 
And they work so very hard. 
I know because I was one of them.
We worked every day from 6:30 in the a.m. until 9:30 in the p.m.
The schedule was grueling.
Even on the Sabbath, missionaries didn’t get rest from their full-time missionary service.
We would take 8 hours of one day a week to accomplish 
letter writing, grocery buying,  laundry doing, and apartment cleaning.
We were lucky to sneak away an hour or two for actual rest, 
which I would usually try to find some kind of physical challenge. 
I was very happy when I had companions 
who liked to hike or play volleyball or basketball.
I need to rediscover the work ethic I had back then. 





Of course the only picture I have scanned is when I wasn’t actually working.
Hey, but at least there are no oreos in the photo.
Even though my vest and white shirt getup is making me obsess over the creme filled centers.


Man, I am stressed out.
It’s no wonder why I am avoiding work. I don’t want to do it.


I wonder why we could never get this guy to come to church with us. Check out his resemblance to Jesus.

I’m a Tennessee Mormon
So, we’re moving back to Utah.
I am experiencing a full spectrum of emotions.
I am sad yet happy.
I am depressed yet hopeful.
I am relieved yet stressed.
I am excited yet contemplative.
I have been planning and organizing yet reflecting and pondering.
No wonder why I just want to stay in bed all day.
My mind and body are exhausted, and I haven’t even started cleaning or packing.

We love our home in Knoxville, Tennessee.
We especially love being members of
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
in Tennessee.
Our fellow church members are close-knit.
It becomes cliche,
but we really are
family.
One great big family.
We have to stick together.
As we are attacked on all sides.
The other inhabitants of
The Bible belt
actually believe all kinds of falsehoods
about us.
So,
we are very much a refuge
for one another.
We know we are not polygamists.
We know we are not a cult.
But most of all
we know
We
are
Christian.
In fact,
if you ever visit
a meetinghouse
on the first Sunday of the month,
you will hear
some of the sweetest
testimonies
of
Jesus Christ.
And
you may be surprised
that these
awe inspiring
words and feelings
come from
the Mormons
in the Bible belt.
They will bear testimony
of their love of the Bible.
They will testify of
the Savior of the world,
Jesus Christ.
They will talk about
their love for fellow man
Christian and non-Christian alike.
They will also talk about their love
for one another.
And the support
they receive from one another
in their goals
of living
Christ centered lives.
So,
thinking about leaving
our home of
eight years
is very
heart wrenching.
It is here
where people
have planned
“it’s great to be 8”
firesides
just for our daughter
and her best friend.
As they were the only
kids in the congregation
looking forward to
that momentous
birthday
in the same year.
The year they are old
enough to accept baptism.
And take upon them the
name of Christ.
It is here
that we are
always kind of surprised
but absolutely joyful
when we run into
another member
of our church
while shopping.
It is here
where our kids
were sometimes
the ONLY
Mormons
in their whole school.
And sometimes
the only Mormon
that people had
ever met in their life.
It is here
in
Tennessee
that we
as a church family
and as a family family
stood strong
together
against
adversity
of all sorts.
And I now know that I
am going back to another place that I love.
But in that place it is pretty sheltered.
I worry about my kids
understanding the actual world.
I have to admit that when I think
about the fact that
I will only have two
people from church to check in on
instead of 6 on a monthly basis,
I am a little relieved.
I am downright ecstatic that I will
never have to wake up my teenage
aughters at 5 am
for their 6 am Bible study
before school.
In Utah’s highschools
they have this thing called release time
where the kids get to cross the street
during a period of the day and
study scripture
at the LDS church across the street.
I may never feel like the people at church
are really family,
as most of them actually
are surrounded by real biological family,
but I will also know
that I have a very vast support system,
even if they aren’t as close to me.
The news coverage
may all be
from a Mormon’s
perspective,
but I will also get news that
I want to hear about,
that I can’t get here.
I will get to walk into
Mormon bookstores
instead of Baptist ones.
And buying my kids
a modest baptism dress
or a CTR ring won’t be an ordeal.
In Utah there aren’t any
dogwoods,
or
wreckers,
or
magnolias,
or
Vol fans,
or
riding mowers,
or
humidity,
or
fireflies,
or
smoky hills,
or
snowdays,
or
awesome
Southern Storms.
I will
miss them all.
(well maybe not the humidity)
But I will appreciate the things
that Utah does have
that Tennessee doesn’t.
Like
snowplows,
and
sidewalks,
and
temples,
and
caselot sales,
and
rocky mountains,
and
smooth gardening soil,
and
great camping weather.
I am sappy lately.
I am gonna miss being different.
It’s gonna be hard to go back to
a place where I am just
like everybody else.
O.k not just like everybody else.
Cause let’s face it.
I’m an original.
I don’t totally fit in anywhere I go.
And I prefer it that way.
I am also gonna miss my
mother-in-law and my sister.
A lot.
My mother in law, Faye, is the world’s best babysitter.
and one of my best friends.
And Shannon, my sister, is my best cheerleader.
My entire life she has watched out for me.
Thank goodness for
webcams,
jetplanes,
cell phones,
with
unlimited long distance,
and
wait for it
…..
facebook.
God knew I couldn’t leave
without having those.

By Their Fruits (or Gifts) Ye Shall Know Him

For the past year, I have prayed like never before. It has been the hardest year of my life.

Since I was 20, I have felt very secure in my choice of religion, but during the past year I have found myself questioning. I guess most people would if given my circumstances. I felt faithless and I have been ashamed of myself.

Nonetheless, I have persevered in prayer. I have remained obedient, even when I felt like my prayer wasn’t being answered. I kept asking God to reaffirm my faith. I love God with all my heart and I would never want to dishonor Him by following an untrue path. But, for months I felt like He wouldn’t answer my prayer. I wasn’t sure why.

The other night Sophia kept ringing a jingle bell and we asked her to stop because she was driving us crazy. She said ever so nonchalantly while ringing the bell to her own ear instead of ours, “What? I don’t hear anything. Remember, we don’t believe in Santa. This should not be annoying you.” Thank you Polar Express.

Well, lately, I have felt like a non-believer. No matter how much I wanted to hear the bell jingle, it just wasn’t working. Others will say that it’s not true because I have always believed, but really, I wasn’t hearing what I felt like I should be.

Well, tonight I wouldn’t be more convinced of an answer to prayer if God himself arrived on my doorstep.

It has been said that God does his mighty works through other people.
It has also been said that “by their fruits, ye shall know them.”

Well, this Christmas, the works have come. And they keep coming. I can’t make them stop.

We have had so many anonymous gifts left at our door, that I have completely lost track. We have also had friends who have tried to pretend that their kids just wanted to get our kids something for Christmas. We have had other friends bring stockings fully stuffed for every one of our children. Every gift has been equally thoughtful and equally appreciated. It has been totally humbling, yet wondrous to behold.

The climax of the giving came the other night when while one friend was making a delivery, another friend doorbell ditched with more gifts and a gift-card.

Tonight, was the clincher for me. Someone left us a bag of multiple gift cards and some treats. They left us $40 in Chuck E Cheese bucks, a $50 movie card, and $50 to our favorite local used book store. My kids were going absolutely nuts. It’s been a hard year for them too, and this was just too much at once. It was like Christmas wasn’t even big enough to contain their excitement.

I had to walk back out to the van to cry. I didn’t want my family to see me lose it.
And lose it, I did. I poured my heart out to God and thanked Him with all my might.

I thanked Him for His love, and for watching over us. I thanked Him to be surrounded by such wonderful friends. And I mostly thanked Him for finally giving me my answer.
If my church wasn’t true, why would the people I surround myself with have such wonderful works?

Now, I also know that I have some wonderful Non-Mormon friends who may have been part of this Gold Christmas miracle, and for them I am also grateful. But, tonight, while I read the card with the aforementioned gift, I knew God was telling me that He has let me struggle, so that He could show forth His power, which lies in the people’s hearts…His love is a living force for good.

And let me tell you something. That love and power is described as light because there is no other way to describe it. It’s warm. It’s invigorating. It’s mighty. It’s the giver of life. It’s all-encompassing. The only way to receive it, is to let it consume you.

And after the crappiest year ever, and the months and months of prayers of mighty supplication, I all of the sudden found myself surrounded by the light. In fact, I was the light. In every direction I looked, all I could see was good. All I could see was love. And all I could see was the face of God. With a smile. It seemed to say, “I’m so proud of you for sticking in there Alice. Now go to Chuck E Cheese and enjoy some downtime.”

Oh, and, “Be still and know that I am God.”

What a year.
Posted by Picasa

So, here is your Christmas card.
If you are a diehard,
you can print us out and put us up on your wall
so you can prove to all incomers
that you really do have friends.

This year was the kind
that we didn’t have a professional photo.
We also didn’t want to spend for the
cost of printing and mailing.

To put it lightly,
our family has been tried tremendously.
To put it honestly,
we have walked through hell
and we are hoping that we are on our way back.

It was the kind of year that made me grateful
for a simple family snapshot.
Even if it was
as an afterthought,
and we ended up with a crappy backdrop,
and the sun was in our eyes.

You see
we were on our way to church,
together.

And together
is
huge.
It’s more than anyone can ask for.

This morning
I realized that I wanted a living record
of the end of this year,
as I looked at my daughters
and the love of my life.
We were all in the colors,
black, white, and red.

And I saw that as a great representation
of a very hard year.

We are all
still trying to do the right things.
Together.
And that pretty much sums it up.
God has held us together
in the palm of His hand.

And I am extremely
humbled
and
grateful.
And happy.

I look forward in faith.
Even if the sun has been blinding.
And what better Christmas message is there?

My daughters would not be any more beautiful
with a professional photo to prove it.
My marriage would not be as strong
without the trials and intense work.
My friends would not have reached out to us
in such love
without our pain.
Our gratitude for loving parents
would not be as deep
without the struggle.
And our testimony of a loving God
would not be as intimate.

I think we have every reason
to
rejoice.

Jesus Christ makes all things possible.
He is love and light.
He will blind you
if that is what it takes
to heal you,
to love you,
and
to know you.

And when you get through it,
you will be grateful for a sun so bright.
Even if it hurt temporarily.

Merry Christmas to you.
Especially if the sun is blinding your eyes.

Happy Birthday Jesus Christ

Thanks to my bloggy friend Sheila for this share.
It brought tears to my eyes and greater love to my heart.
There is something special about
this child’s narration to the greatest story of all mankind.

I love MY Jesus.
He is all mine.
And He is yours.
He is the Savior of all mankind.
Whether they accept it individually or not.

He condescended from the realms on high,
to be born in a stable.
And this year,
His lowly beginnings
have been a fervant reminder
that God wants me to know
that things don’t matter.

Only one thing is needful,
and that is Jesus Christ.
He is the way, the truth, and the life.

And I love the time of year when
people treat each other with greater kindness.
It’s the kind of birthday present we all can enjoy.
And that is so like Jesus.
He never asks something of us
that won’t make us happier.

Christmas Pageants

Every Christmas I try to read
with my children.
It is one of my all time favorite books.
Of course it consists of two of my most favorite things:
laughter and the Savior of the world.
I have the book that my Aunt Shirley
gifted to my family one year.
I treasure it.
My Aunt Shirley loves literature like I do.
I want to grow up to be like her one day.
She writes better than me.
I am of the opinion that Christmas Pageants
should only be given by children or professionals.
A few years ago they had LG dress up like a wise man
and I just thought it was pure mockery.
Especially since they had him dressed in the costume
that was obviously meant for an African.
He was one big white African King.
Well, anyhow, somebody forwarded me an e-mail
with a funny little Christmas pageant tale.
It showcases WHY exactly children are the ones to give any pageant.
THE CHRISTMAS PAGEANT
My husband and I had been happily
married (most of the time)
for five years
but hadn’t been blessed with a baby.

I decided to do some serious
praying and promised God
that if he would give us a child,
I would be a perfect mother,
love it with all my heart
and raise it with His word
as my guide.

God answered my prayer s
and blessed us with a son.

The next year God blessed us
with another son.

The following year,
He blessed us with
yet another son.

The year after that we
were blessed with a daughter.

My husband thought we’d
been blessed right into poverty.
We now had four children,
and the oldest was only
four years old.

I learned never to ask God
for anything unless I meant it
As a minister once told me,
“If you pray for rain,
make sure you carry an umbrella.”

I began reading a few verses
of the Bible to the children
each day as they lay in their cribs.

I was off to a good start.
God had entrusted me
with four children a nd
I didn’t want to disappoint Him.

I tried to be patient the day
the children smashed
two dozen eggs on
the kitchen floor searching
for baby chicks.

I tried to be understanding…

when they started a hotel for
homeless frogs in the spare bedroom,
although it took me nearly two hours
to catch all twenty-three frogs.

When my daughter poured
ketchup all over herself and
rolled up in a blanket to see
how it felt to be a hot dog,
I tried to see the humor
rather than the mess.

In spite of changing over
twenty-five thousand diapers,
never eating a hot meal
and never sleeping for more
than thirty minutes at a time,
I still thank God daily for my children.

While I couldn’t keep my promise
to be a perfect mother –
I didn’t even come close…
I did keep my promise
to raise them in the Word of God.

I knew I was missing the mark
just a little when I told
my daughter we were going
to church to worship God,
and she wanted to bring
a bar of soap along to
“wash up” Jesus, too.

Something was lost
in the translation when
I explained that
God gave us everlasting life,
and my son thought it was
generous of God to give
us his “last wife.”

My proudest moment came
during the children’s
Christmas pageant.

My daughter was playing Mary,
two of my sons were shepherds
and my youngest son was a wise man.
This was their moment to shine.

My five-year-old shepherd
had practiced his line,
“We found the babe wrapped
in swaddling clothes.”

But he was nervous and said,
“The baby was wrapped
in wrinkled clothes.”

My four-year-old “Mary” said,
“That’s not ‘wrinkled clothes,’ silly.

That’s dirty, rotten clothes.”

A wrestling match broke out
between Mary and the shepherd
and was stopped by an angel,
who bent her halo and lost
her left wing.

I slouched a little lower
in my seat when Mary
dropped the doll representing
Baby Jesus, and it bounced
down the aisle crying,
“Mama-mama.”

Mary grabbed the doll,
wrapped it back up
and held it tightly as
the wise men arrived.

My other son stepped forward
wearing a bathrobe
and a paper crown,
knelt at the manger
and announced,
“We are the three wise men,
and we are bringing gifts
of gold,
common sense
 and fur.”

The congregation
dissolved into laughter,
and the pageant
got a standing ovation.

“I’ve never enjoyed a Christmas
program as much as this one,”
laughed the pastor ,
wiping tears from his eyes

“For the rest of my life,
I’ll never hear the
Christmas story without
thinking of
gold, common sense
and fur.”

“My children are my pride
and my joy and my greatest
blessing,” I said as I dug
through my purse for an aspirin..


Yesterday at church
It was also a heartwarming tale.
which supports my idea of
children being the best actors for a pageant.

I cried as Wally the innkeeper
felt compassion and interceded with
“Wait, you can have my room.”

This made me ponder on what I am willing to give.
Sometimes I don’t even think I am smart enough
to give up my own room;
even when I have promised to give everything.

I will end this Christmas post with
my favorite
Christmas poem.

In the Bleak Midwinter – Christina Rosetti 1872.

In the bleak mid-winter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;

Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter
Long ago.


Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him
Nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away
When He comes to reign:

In the bleak mid-winter
A stable-place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty,
Jesus Christ.


Enough for Him, whom cherubim
Worship night and day,
A breastful of milk
And a mangerful of hay;
Enough for Him, whom angels

Fall down before,
The ox and ass and camel
Which adore.

Angels and archangels
May have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim
Thronged the air,

But only His mother
In her maiden bliss,
Worshiped the Beloved
With a kiss.


What can I give Him,
Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd
I would bring a lamb,
If I were a wise man
I would do my part,
Yet what I can I give Him,
Give my heart.

I hope that I can give Him my heart.
My whole heart.
Every day.
And be like Him.
More selfless.

I know
that
just how I enjoy
unexpected outcomes from
funny Christmas pageants,
He accepts
my best attempts at worship.
No matter how
unorthodox.
Or how
far from
perfection
they are.

Because the imperfect kind
are often the best
and most meaningful.