Stand Strong, Little Domino

I know you're thinking "what's with the domino?" If you're not, you should be, because the sweetness of this gift is all about the domino. It's a gift from a kind and busy woman. This week, one of the speakers in sacrament meeting had been talking about adversity, and afterwards my friendly acquaintance and I were talking about life's challenges and I shared my domino image.

When things get tough and it seems like things are hitting from all sides, I have a mental image that holds me together—dominoes. I see lines of dominoes all converging at a single domino. And then from that single domino come another set of domino lines, from which spring even more domino lines. The first set all fall one after another, and then stop at the single domino. That domino stands strong and doesn't knock over the remaining lines.

I'm not saying I'm Super Domino. I'm not. And something may happen down the line that topples the setup, but it won't be me. It won't be because I quit. I don't want to do hard things. I'd much rather life was fluffy and more picturesque, but it's not. And I have dominoes depending on me. Most of the dominoes that strike me are things or situations, but all of the dominoes that stand in front of me are people. People worth standing strong for, regardless of the pressures from behind.

So that's the deal with the domino (and the flowers are pretty too).

A Short One

Last month as I was sitting in my car outside of the dollar store, I witnessed an accident. One car backed into another. The driver at fault was an older woman. The other driver was a woman in her twenties.

I cringed as I watched them get out of their cars: Cat fight a-comin'. They looked at each other, examined the minimal damage, and then spoke for a few more moments. My window was down and I could hear their conversation.

"Are you OK? "

"Are you? Is your car hurt?"

"Is yours? I am so sorry, dear."

"It's fine. I'm just glad everyone's OK. Are you OK to drive?"

"Oh yes, I'm fine. Thank you, dear."

Then instead of exchanging insurance information, they hugged, got in their cars, and drove away.

Empathy

Just because I'm in a bit of a funk doesn't mean you should have to suffer Jami-withdrawal. Here is an older post of mine that applies even more today than the day I wrote it.

In the eighties, my sister, my mother and I, separated by hundreds of miles, had a bonding ritual. Each week we would watch "Star Trek: The Next Generation" then call each other to have a little trekkie chat. My sister and I were completely unified in our mockery of Counselor Deanna Troi, an empath, a really irritating empath. She'd stand on the bridge, stare out into space and look pained. "I sense confusion [pain/sorrow/negative emotion du jour]" We were fairly certain that a good laxative would take care of poor Deanna's constant suffering.

Recently, I've felt a bit like the well-intentioned, but infinitely mockable Deanna as I stare into the vast Internet and feel the suffering. I wander around peeking into the lives of amazing people, their marriages, children, jobs. Their tragedies. It hurts and a laxative has given no relief. The pain is spiritual: the death of a loved one, the loss of faith, mental illness, disability, unemployment, poverty, pregnancy complications, the sorrows of real people I have come to love.

I promised when I was baptized that I was willing to mourn with those who mourn, to comfort those who stand in need of comfort. When a local friend has a miscarriage, I can hold her, cry with her, bring her a casserole and some helpful herbs. When an Internet friend suffers a miscarriage, all I can do is cry and pray that someone will hold her, bring her a casserole, and maybe some helpful herbs.

Perhaps there is some wisdom in the concept of not becoming emotionally involved with strangers, but as I ponder the Savior taking upon himself all of the physical, emotional, and spiritual pain of the world, I have a have a hard time believing that emotional distance is how we become more Christ-like. So I pray and occasionally send a poem. It's really all I can do which is, I guess, better than what Deanna, the hand-wringer, would do.

Life is pain. The joy that the scriptures talks about is not smiling through the death of a child, or humming happily as someone relearns how to walk. It is an eternal joy that comes when Jesus who vicariously suffered for us, who knows and loves us, removes the pain, brings peace to the troubled, heals the scars, and makes us whole again.

Where Should the La Family Move? In Theory.

I want to move. Quickly and permanently.  I had a nice long post about all the reasons we ought to move, but let's just leave it at a simple my neighborhood leaves much to be desired. (Feel free back me up on this one, Wendy and Natalie.) It's not going to happen, but I like to dream. 

I'm looking for a good place to move and want your suggestions. Here's my wish list:

• sidewalks
• LDS church within ten miles
• children in the neighborhood 
• safe enough that responsible people let their children play outside alone
• reasonably priced
• casual
• no annual anti-Mormon events
• a good library
• higher education located within twenty miles
• no free roaming alligators or huge cockroaches
• low crime
• low community drug use
• a vibrant homeschool community
• mild winters
• normal everyday people walk and bike to their destination sometimes
• political, ethnic and religious diversity
• low unemployment
• neighbors who intend to stay in the area until their children are raised
• not located on a fault line, a floodplain or on the edge of a cliff

There are two or three local communities that fulfill most of desires, but that pesky "reasonably priced" doesn't bend. At all. And those great communities do not come cheaply. If I come into a half million dollars or the ability to pay for a $500,000 mortgage, I'd have it all under control, but so far I haven't and I don't. SO give me a name to match my dream, your favorite "nice places to raise a family." 

And Speaking of NieNie

Go read. (By clicking on the blue words. They'll turn grey once you've gone there. And that's OK.)

And now the post you have all been waiting for...

OK, so this may not have been the post you were waiting for, but it's one I've been looking forward to!
NieNie's book is ready to buy! Wahoo!

What? You have no idea who Nie-Nie is?

Where have you been? Really.

Go here.
Come back.

I'll wait for you.

You back? OK. Anyhow, I wanted to help. I wanted to make something and sell it to help Nie. Or buy something that someone else made to help Nie. But for heaven's sake, I am SO broke and I am SO not talented in the creation department. (Except for making kids which I excel at, but even then I need help.) Then Sue came up with this mighty fine fundraiser book idea!

And then she even chose one of my posts to include! (Don't hold it against the book. Some amazingly funny people made it in too: Finslippy, Eric D. Snider, Rocks in My Dryer, Big Mama, Sweetney, Daring Young Mom, TAMN, Heidi Ashworth, Crash Test Dummy, Shellie from Seriously Shellie, forty-three of us in all.)

Details. All proceeds go to benefit Stephanie and Christian Nielson. It's $19.60 for either paperback or electronic download. And you can

Buy It Here
(click the big bold words)

Go buy a copy. You'll laugh. A lot. I promise. What are you still doing here? Waiting for me to say it again? OK.

Buy It Here
(click the big bold words)

Now shoo! Go do something good.

In Case You Were Wondering How the DSL Installation Went

Yesterday, I went to the SureWest office to pick up my modem for the DSL. We weren't on the schedule. *twitch-twitch* But the kind lady still gave me my modem and told me I should have SERVICE by 8 PM. *smile*

Home again. Home again. Jiggedy-jig. J-Teen plugged the plugs. What a good and competent child he is! *smile* We began our OC checking of the connection. (Do we have SERVICE yet? Not yet. Do we have SERVICE yet? Not yet. Do we have SERVICE yet? Not yet. *twitch-twitch*)

At nine o'clock I called tech support and was placed on hold while someone walked the portable over to the tech guy in India. *twitch* When I had difficulty with Mr. Tech's accent, he was kind enough to repeat each instruction for me two or three times. Repeatedly he had me type "ipconfig" which he would spell out for me each time. [I as in India. P as in Paul. C as in Charley. O as in ornery. N as in nightmare. F as in ... failure. I as in India. G as in getting-nowhere.] He sent me hither and yon, through various files and secret spots within my mysterious machine. Finally, he asked me to get a pencil and paper and bade me write the numbers 20358. Ah, the key, a code to unlock my dormant DSL! *smile* Alas, 'twas but a ticket number; someone would be calling me tomorrow. He thanked me for choosing SureWest and hung up. *twitch, twitch*

After my tantrum, I connected to the Internet using my dysfunctional dial-up, posted the previous post, and brushed up on my Lamaze breathing techniques. *deep, cleansing breath*

At about eleven, after a bit more OC checking ("Do we have SERVICE yet? Not yet. Do we have SERVICE yet? Not yet. Do we have SERVICE yet? Not yet.), I decided to try tech support again. I was again placed on hold while someone walked the portable over to...Fresno! OMGosh! She speaks English. Clearly. Be still, my heart! Literally, five minutes later, she had me delete the dial-up connection from my Internet options. AND IT WORKED! I had SERVICE! *smile* Ms. Tech seemed a little nervous as I pledged my undying gratitude and love, but then she remembered her lines. She thanked me for choosing SureWest, and hung up.

I LOVE SUE!

(Not in a Prop 8 defying kind of way. Gee. One-track-mind-political-junkies!)

Even when I run into her and don't know it's her, I love her. So for those of you who missed the big unveiling, I present the following secret:

SUE IS CORDY.

And no, I didn't know:

1. that Cordy was fictional.
2. that Sue was writing it.
3. that people could get SO flipped out about a blog.

I was just sad that it was over. But it's not! She's going to back up and finish the story the way she intended. Wahoo!

Some advice for those who feel betrayed and angry—try a bubble bath and some chocolate. You'll feel better.

A Year Later, Looking Back at My Issues

During the October 2007 General Conference, Sister Beck's talk "Mothers Who Know" blindsided me. Sweet Sister Beck. I love her. I felt like a good friend had walked into my home and told me that everything I'd ever done was worthless. I flipped out. Flipped out.

That afternoon I went to a cub scout planning meeting and mentioned how upset I felt. My sweet beautiful friends looked at me as if I'd just spoken in Russian. They wanted to be there for me, but they couldn't. They didn't understand what I found so heartbreaking. They'd loved the talk. A lot.

So a year ago, the Monday after conference, I went searching online for women who understood. I found Kristine Haglund's very comforting post at By Common Consent. I found the Bloggernacle where smart and faithful LDS people discuss ideas that range from the petty to the profound.

Here is my first (extremely long) blog comment:

Thanks for a couple of laughs on the subject. I needed them. It sure beat the two cries I’d had on the subject. Although "Our Refined Heavenly Home" wins the most uninspiring depressing talk of the decade, this one came close.

This is a hard subject for me. Six kids, small house, homeschooling. We’re all here, all the time. And I’m trying. I really am. But if a clean house and neat children are required for exaltation, I’m out. Even trying my hardest, it’s a disaster around here.

IF I could fulfill the ideal she taught, my family and I would be happier. I like clean. I like organized. I like neat, reverent children. I like peace. I dream of these things. I despair of these things.

So Sunday, I’d stayed home, listening to conference, hoping to hear “the pleasing word of God, yea the word which healeth the wounded soul.”

Sabbath-breaker that I am, I needed to clean the “playroom.” So housework was exactly what I was doing when Sister Beck was talking. I stopped cleaning. I couldn't
decide if I wanted to send in my motherhood resignation, burn the house down, or ask to have my name removed from the records of the church. Love, civil duty and a testimony prevented me from following any of those knee-jerk reactions. Instead I just cried because one more fellow mom was judging her fellow moms one more time. I don’t know–maybe that’s the in the job description for GRS Presidents.

The points that stabbed most deeply:

(My memory of) Her definition of nurture. By “nurture” we mean housework, the physical upkeep of the family. (My dictionary says “Nurturing: 1. To nourish, feed. 2. To educate, train 3. To help grow or develop; cultivate.”)

And did she really say that it didn’t really matter how much education you have if you can’t keep your home properly? I must have misheard.

I’ve pondered “the wicked taketh the truth to be hard." Am I wicked? ‘Cause that seemed pretty hard.

Well, enough killing time. I need to go clean something, cook something and cancel some of my children’s outside activities.

I live to serve. Jami

Bitter? Me? OK, maybe a little. I'm better now. This year has been one of the most difficult of my life, spiritually and intellectually. Exciting. Invigorating. But hard. A good portion of my angst has come from my exploration of LDS issues, profound and petty, from participating in the Bloggernacle.

In spite of these growing pains, I celebrate this anniversary and my freedom to think and to write about those things which interest and concern me. I celebrate my pain because it has led to increased knowledge, to increased faith and to healing. Thank you, Kristine, for the post that started it all. As it turns out, I mostly like Sister Beck's talk too. That, however, is a subject for a different post.

Silver and Gold Have I None

...but such as I have, give I unto you. A blog post announcing...

Sue's Blog Book Project

to benefit Stephanie and Christian Nielson

Everyone in the blogosphere and the bloggernacle already knows that Nie-Nie and her husband were severely burnt in a plane accident two weeks ago, but for my non-blogging friends I just want to let you know that this wonderful couple is in need of our prayers. If you feel inclined to learn more about their family or to help them financially you can click here.

Sue's book will be a compilation of some of the wittiest and most amusing bloggers' take on the theme "Sometimes Life is Funny." You can enter a piece for consideration. The deadline for submissions is September 15th, 2008. You can send your submission to Sue at sometimeslifeisfunny at gmail dot com.

I can virtually guarantee that it's going to be an amazing book. When it comes out, you can buy a physical book or an e-book and all proceeds will benefit the Nielson family.

I now go to dig in the depths of my soul to see if I've got any giggles in there. Go and do thou likewise.

Life is Pain...Anyone Who Says Differently is Selling Something

In the eighties, my sister, my mother and I, separated by hundreds of miles, had a bonding ritual. Each week we would watch "Star Trek: The Next Generation" then call each other to have a little trekkie chat. My sister and I were completely unified in our mockery of Counselor Deanna Troi, an empath, a really irritating empath. She'd stand on the bridge, stare out into space and look pained. "I sense confusion [pain/sorrow/negative emotion
du jour]" We were fairly certain that a good laxative would take care of poor Deanna's constant suffering.

Recently, I've felt a bit like the well-intentioned, but infinitely mockable Deanna as I stare into the vast Internet and feel the suffering. I wander around peeking into the lives of amazing people, their marriages, children, jobs. Their tragedies. It hurts and a laxative has given no relief. The pain is spiritual: the death of a loved one, the loss of faith, mental illness, disability, unemployment, poverty, pregnancy complications, the sorrows of real people I have come to love.

I promised when I was baptized that I was willing to mourn with those who mourn, to comfort those who stand in need of comfort. When a local friend has a miscarriage, I can hold her, cry with her, bring her a casserole and some helpful herbs. When an Internet friend suffers a miscarriage, all I can do is cry and pray that someone will hold her, bring her a casserole, and maybe some helpful herbs.

Perhaps there is some wisdom in the concept of not becoming emotionally involved with strangers, but as I ponder the Savior taking upon himself all of the physical, emotional, and spiritual pain of the world, I have a have a hard time believing that emotional distance is how we become more Christ-like. So I pray and occasionally send a poem. It's really all I can do which is, I guess, better than what Deanna, the hand-wringer, would do.

Life is pain. The joy that the scriptures talks about is not smiling through the death of a child, or humming happily as someone relearns how to walk. It is an eternal joy that comes when Jesus who vicariously suffered for us, who knows and loves us, removes the pain, brings peace to the troubled, heals the scars, and makes us whole again.

SOCKS! for barefoot me

A long time ago, I signed up for a socks exchange. A crazy socks exchange. A soxy sox exchange. A sock exchange hosted by the one, the only, Elastic Waistband Lady!

Women who know...know that I don't wear socks. Pretty much ever. So what possessed me to swap socks? I guess I just don't get out enough, 'cause it just sounded fun! Shopping for crazy, weird socks for a total stranger. Getting crazy, weird socks from different total stranger.

I do have a sock-loving bunch of daughters, so I hid my membership in the girls-without-socks club and signed up. Then I went a-huntin' & found the weirdest socks in town at the Dollar Store and Big Lots. I shipped my bizarre finds out to Elastic, my sock buddy. Meanwhile, my other sock buddy, Glittersmama, searched the world over, travelling to the tropics to search for my socks, and then, like Dorothy, she discovered that there's no place like home for finding cool socks to go with ruby slippers.

Now,

without further ado,

I share the pictures

that I'm sure you scrolled down to look at

without reading my long-winded commentary:

Charming rainbow socks.

Black socks with white and pink stripes!

The stars and stripes go girly socks!

I also scored a nice card, some yummy lip balm and two pretty notepads.

Thank you for the goodies, Glittersmama!

Thank you for hosting, Elastic!