Saturday, April 26, 2008

The measure of my creation

Recently I got a chance to experience again Courtney Kendrick’s fantastic essay on infertility (which you can read here). The first time I read this essay, I was thinking about my own experiences with infertility. I still remember the pain and frustration of that time, but it was strange to me to look back on those days from where I am now. Between my days of infertility and my life now were some very hard years of post-partum depression and struggles as a young mother. My struggles with young motherhood were much harder for me than the infertility struggles, and yet—and yet, who can campare pain? When you hurt, you hurt, regardless of the reason. Anyway, when I read that essay at first, I thought about motherhood and the pain it (and the lack of it) brings.

This time, however, I was thinking about what I am too often thinking about: my current illness. And the words were like scripture to me. Because I am at the same place Courtney was—in the middle, confident that it will end someday, but still in the middle. And then I came to these words:

All bundled up in sweats and a wool hat, I was passing by my neighbor's home when I had an inspired thought, “I am fulfilling the measure of my creation.”


And I just wanted to cry. That’s it—my deepest yearning (probably it is everyone’s): to fulfill the measure of my creation. Can I do it while I feel sick?

The answer must be yes. Because God created me. God is perfect. His work (to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man) WILL succeed; it will succeed with me, if I let it.

How? How? My heart breaks open as I ponder this. Have I been hindering God’s work within myself? What exactly is the measure of my creation, and how can I fulfill it despite illness, despite weakness, despite all the ways I fall short? Courtney answered that question. She goes on,

Since interest in my body was no longer simply how to make it pregnant
[make it healed],
I felt empowered to do the Lord's work in other ways.


And that’s it. I have to find the other ways to do the Lord’s work. Which include allowing myself to be served, sometimes. Or maybe just smiling and nodding while my kids play in front of me instead of throwing balls outside with them. Or serving frozen food again, but doing it cheerfully instead of mournfully.

It’s worth spending more time in conversation with God about this. What is his purpose for me, since he’s put me in this situation, and how can I bring it to pass?

Thanks, Courtney, for the lesson.

Thursday, April 24, 2008

I think cats straddle the line between animal kingdom and plant kingdom.




I believe he spends about eighteen hours a day relaxing, meditating, sleeping, contemplating, lying low, ruminating, recharging, snoozing, pondering, napping, dozing, nodding, mulling, and letting it all hang out. And if there's a patch of sun to be had, that's the prime place for all this, uh, action. I don't mean to imply that his life is all easy. There is, of course, the necessity of moving when the sun moves to a different spot. And the horror of little boys who think they know how to pet. And the dreaded light-saber duels that haunt one's nightmares. This life has its trials, you know.

Yes, this is the same little tiny kitten I blogged about here and here. Sigh.

Saturday, April 19, 2008

2 Posts in One Day???? Really!

But I just couldn't wait until later to tell you that I met one of my silent blog audience today and it was soooo cool! I'm not sure she wants to be outed, so I'll just call her "D." Anyway, it was so touching to me to have her put her arm around me and tell me that she fasted for me. Like a little hug from God, I guess--that there was all this power out there in the universe being aimed at me because of the kindness of a stranger. I am so grateful to D for that little act of service to me.

It felt so good to have her ask me how I was feeling, knowing she had read all my posts here and knew the whole, whole story. I didn't mind at all standing there in Barnes & Noble and discussing the pros and cons of antidepressants. This, my friend, is why I am so open about things. And it's what I think the gospel culture is supposed to be like: we are supposed to be open, childlike about our struggles, so that we can look at each other and know the truth behind the smiles. So that we can square our shoulders and pick up a corner of the burden.

Anyway, D is carrying part of my burden and I'm grateful. She's a beautiful woman with a warm smile (and, of course, impeccable taste in blogs) and I'm glad to have met her.

So what about the rest of you, huh? Ready to introduce yourself to me?

AML: Not ready for the "Bring Out Your Dead" cart yet

Despite the poor attendance at events (possibly due to our poor publicity of them, which is possibly due to the lack of manpower and knowhow and budget on the board), reluctance of those who do participate to pay any dues, and lack of fresh blood as the older original members retire or go on missions or in other ways drop out of circulation, I haven’t given up on my vision of the future of AML as a thriving community.

Am I nuts?

It’s just that I have met them, usually through book groups in my wards around the country, or through friends of friends: LDS people who love the gospel, love their culture, love to read, and who long for more stories about us. Stories that put you through the wringer but make you glad, after it’s all over, that you belong to this church. Stories that nourish you (as opposed to dessert). Stories that make you grow. I know there are people like this out there. If I could somehow reach all of these people, show them what we’re trying to do, have them read what some of us have written as a result of knowing each other—I believe they would be interested in joining us.

They're out there. We just need to find them. Most of them are already on-line, hanging out at the blogs. The trick is to let them know what we are--no, what we COULD BE, given a larger membership. With universities establishing Mormon Studies departments and better and better books being written (have I mentioned "Bound on Earth"?), Mormon literature is on the cusp of coming into its own. I'm not ready to give up on AML yet.

WHY YOU SHOULD JOIN:

The clincher, of course, is that AML people are cool. After you hang with them for a while, you’ll see what I mean. These are the most intelligent, interesting, hilarious people I know, and I write for them, look for opportunities to hang with them, and consider it a great blessing to be considered one of them. If I could give you a taste of what it’s like to hang with these people, maybe have you sit in on a happening like our luncheon at the Annual Meeting a few months ago in which we could hardly chew our food for laughing so hard at Eric Samuelson’s presidential address about his brother’s great idea of having the family develop a family mission statement—then you would get it. No, it’s not for everyone. If you’re whiny about the church and want to hang with some people who complain about the culture, you might want to mosey on down the street to Sunstone. If you’re mostly interested in women’s stories, you might be happier with Segullah or Exponent II (although I have to put in a little plug for the creative writing you’ll find in Segullah). But if you love the culture, love literature, love to think and laugh, come on over to AML and check us out.

These days it’s hard to get the true flavor from our website or the List (we’re working that all out), but if you can make it to one of our meetings (or, even better, a social event like a reading or a night at the theater), you’ll be glad you did. Even better, if you care about improving and promoting quality literature for Mormons, volunteer! We’re desperate for someone who is internet-savvy who can help us improve our web presence. We need PR people. Even just people to help run errands. If you want to feel a part of something exciting, we can use you. Here are a couple of websites that will give you more information (but remember, we’re working some things out with these): http://www.aml-online.org , http://forums.mormonletters.org .

Sunday, April 13, 2008

Just Like Me

There is a woman in my ward who is convinced that I am sick because I am a perfectionist. (She says, “Because I was sick for years and finally found out through therapy that I had been making myself ill through unrealistic expectations of myself. And you’re just like I was.”) She is so wrong that it is laughable, but I didn’t feel that I could protest, because any protest makes me look more perfectionistic, doesn’t it? (Makes me look as if I cared so much about appearances that I would deny even this.) So I’ve been trying to think of just how a person would go about proving that she is not a perfectionist. Let’s see. There are all the outward things. There’s my dirty house. There’s my ridiculous yard and pitiful attempts at gardening. There’s my kids running around at church in hand-me-downs that are never ironed. And home-grown haircuts. There’s our dirty car. There’s me, sitting on the couch reading while there are dirty dishes on the counter. Sitting there with no makeup on and my gray roots showing, as well. (And we won't get into scrapbooking. Or homeschooling. Or COOKING!) And, of course, with all of this, there is me, managing to have a dang enjoyable life despite being aware of all these things.

Then there are the inward things—or, rather, THE inward thing—which is that, regardless of all the things I wonder about, one thing I am absolutely sure of is the atonement, and the fact that it makes it so that I can have joy and hope even while being aware of the ways that I fall short. I have not always been so sure about this, or about how it translates into my life. I spent some time as a teenager dealing with my misunderstanding of God (who seemed, at the time, a grim-faced, demanding judge continually rapping on a desk decreeing that I was not good enough). But I worked through that, became converted, revised my image of God and what he thinks of me and wants for me.

There are still some things that I am rather perfectionistic about, such as being unscrupulously honest and hating to be late. But I don’t think those things make me a perfectionist, do you?

How do you go about proving that you’re not a perfectionist?

And why does it bug me so much that she thinks I am one?

It’s not as if she’s the only one in my life who is convinced that I suffer from something familiar. My friend with Lyme disease is sure I have it; my friend with celiac is sure I have it; my friend with chronic fatigue is sure I have it; my friend with allergies is sure I have it; my friend with imbalanced hormones is sure that that’s my problem, my friend with under-corrected hypothyroidism is sure that’s my problem—there’s even a woman in my ward with MS who is convinced that I am pre-symptomatic MS. But this one woman, the “post-perfectionist” one, is the only one that bugs me. Maybe because perfectionism is more of a fault of will or character (or has seemed to be so, in my own judgmentalism), and the other illnesses are things people can’t help.

Which brings me to something else. What is it that makes people prone to believing that others have their same problem? I think I know. A big part is, of course, sincere and selfless desire to prevent or curtail suffering in others. Also, part of it is a not wanting to be alone. And some of it is a desire to make sense of your own affliction. Because if I have an affliction (say, chronic fatigue) that has made me miserable for years but for which I have managed to find something that helps, if I can manage to help someone else out who is suffering from it, I can take comfort in believing that maybe part of the reason I suffered was so that I could help others who suffer in the same way (by suggesting a certain herbal remedy or doctor, for example). It’s deeply satisfying to find what might be a reason for your past suffering.

All of those motivations are worthy. I feel only love from people who want to show me that my illness is just like theirs. So why am I irked more by the woman who wants to help me recover from perfectionism? I should see through her misunderstandings down to the depths of her soul, where there is a sense of loss about her years of struggle, and also there is a true desire to help me to avoid pain. I should decide to see only her love, and not her judgmentalism of me. I will try to do that.

Friday, April 11, 2008

New Play Project



I've been wanting to check out the New Play Project ever since I first heard about it a year or two ago. I finally got a chance last night. I'm really excited about what James Goldberg and his friends are doing down in Provo! I'm doubly excited because they seem to be succeeding, both in terms of the actual fare they're offering and also in terms of the structure of the project and the enthusiasm it is obviously engendering among those who are participating.

I'm not a theater person and I feel rather uncomfortable when it comes to writing formal reviews production. But I AM a passionate fan and advocate of quality LDS literature, and I would be stupid not to recognize what a valuable addition to Mormon Letters this New Play Project is. Here's the biggest value: audiences are being exposed to exploratory and innovative LDS-themed content. And here's the second biggest value: writers have a forum to expose the audiences to such. From what I can tell, both of those efforts are succeeding.

Probably most of the audience last night was made up of relatives, roommates and significant others of the actors and playwrights. But that doesn't matter; it was a good-sized audience, and all of those related supporters are future consumers of Mormon literature and theater, and worth impressing. As more and more students get involved, the audience will grow. I want to do what I can, though, to help NPP expand into a community project as much as a student project, because while it is mostly student-run, there is always the chance that it will fall apart as the founders graduate and move away. But there are some great benefits to the fact that it is mostly student-based. NPP seems to be almost a democracy in which anyone who wishes to be involved has a say in the decisions. James Goldberg and the other leadership of the project were enthusiastic about inviting participation, both immediately (they invited the audience to vote on which plays were best in order to determine which playwright would win a cash prize at the end of the run) and long-term (there were invitations and sign-up sheets everywhere--even passed around the audience--for people to come to the playwriting workshops or get involved in other ways).

It is this democratic, grass-roots base of the NPP that distinguishes it from other local theater companies similar visions of LDS-themed productions (Scott Bronson's Little Theater at the Covey Center, for example). Bronson's project is led by an artist with a vision for what he wants his theater to evolve into. Not to say that Goldberg isn't an artist (his play, Prodigal Son, was breathtaking). But it is apparent that he is very interested in the workshop aspect of the theater. I wondered at first, when I saw the number of students involved and the amount of support James has drummed up in the student community, whether Scott and James would benefit from combining forces. But I think they're better off (and we, as their audience are, too) by pursuing their separate paths to the goal of more quality LDS theater.

The production itself was thought-provoking and well-done. The individual plays varied in quality, probably according to the levels of experience of the playwrights. All had interesting comments on the Mormon worldview. All were enjoyable. As I mentioned before, Goldberg's Prodigal Son was especially impressive, with an intimate view into the anguish of a son who becomes converted despite a parent who has purposefully abandoned faith. (One tiny note: I did not like having the scene titles announced.) The acting in this particular play was superb. There were some great moments in the other plays as well, but this one stands out.

I'm so excited about what James is doing in Provo. I love the idea of presenting collections of short plays on different themes. I'm toying with the idea of rewriting one of my short stories to be a play, just to see if I can. The fact that there is a forum that I might, possibly, someday see my own play performed in is very encouraging to me as a writer. I'm sure it is more so for all the theater people out there (writers, actors, directors). I hope James gets a lot of support. Go on down there and check out what he's doing: you'll find it to be a worthwhile evening.

Here's the website: http://www.newplayproject.org . This particular run ends Monday, but there will be lots more exciting things happening all year long.

Sunday, April 06, 2008

Stones




Last night I got to see one of my favorite plays again, Stones, by my friend Scott Bronson. I saw it for the first time seven years ago and it blew me away. It was even better this time. First, because I am seven years older and wiser, and brought seven years more experience to the viewing. And second, because he has made a couple of quite small changes that actually dramatically altered the play’s impact for me. I’d like to recommend the play to everyone—but I can’t. It’s not for people who want their entertainment to be easy or relaxing. It challenges you. It is not a “downer,” but it is a true “upper” similar to true joy: it can only come when you have had your soul harrowed a little; it encompasses pain and growth. Also, one of the characters is Jesus, so if you are uncomfortable with the concept of Jesus being acted out (and some of his humanity becoming apparent), you might not like this. And yet I can’t help thinking that it would be good for you, even you who are uncomfortable, to see it. You don’t have to agree with Scott’s interpretations in order to grow closer to God through viewing this play. Because it generates thoughtfulness (the mark of great art!), and will cause you to ponder and clarify your own beliefs.

I’d like to get into more detail about the things I learned from the soul-searching this play inspired, but I don’t want to step on the possibility of your learning your own things from it. But in general terms, I’ll tell you that I learned a lot about submission to God’s will, about parenting, about the ways we learn (through experience, through “going through stuff” as much as through any direct lessons), about how God requires things of us that lead to our growth, about how we communicate spiritual knowledge to others who depend on us.

I can’t say too much about how I think art should be like this: a little bit uncomfortable, yet deeply satisfying and faith-building (optimistic, ultimately), something that makes you think and talk all the way home and for days afterward. This is the kind of art that we Mormon artists should be producing and are capable of producing (with a little guts). The trick, now, is to support it, to build the audience for it, to show each other that this is what Mormon art looks like, to convince the people around us that it is important to foster it.

So I’m writing this in hopes that you’ll go see it, if you’re in the area. It’s playing every Thursday, Friday and Saturday through April 26th at the Covey Center for the Arts in Provo (425 W. Center, 852-7007) at 7:30 p.m. It’s in a fantastic little theater in which there are no bad seats and in which you are just feet away from the actors—actors who, by the way, will knock your socks off. Tickets are $10 each (and worth it). If you go, let me know what you think.

Thursday, April 03, 2008

The results of your fast, so far

I've felt all along through this illness that I really wanted to be fully open about it here. I feel even more so now that so many of you have fasted for me (thank you, thank you again). You deserve to hear what's going on. And I've always been an open person, feeling like what this church needs more of is people willing to talk about their struggles, even their struggles with doubt. I think that openness makes people less afraid. So I want to report honestly about what's going on with me.

First of all let me say that through this whole thing (what, two years now?) I have been really good at playing mind games with myself. At the root of it is MOSTLY a desire to understand the workings of God, and a belief that he really is a loving God and wants what's best for me. But there are other little motivations at play, which become clear as time goes on. Pride, for example. As in me trying to reason with God that he should heal me because there is so much good I plan to do in the world. What about the volunteering I've trained to do but haven't had a chance to do yet (tutoring ESL)? What about the genealogy that my patriarchal blessing says will be such a big part of my life someday? What about the old people I visit? What about my kids???? He's got to heal me because there are some things that only I can do!!!!! And I have to say that it has only been in the last few weeks that I have begun to recognize and swallow that particular pride. The realization that God may want me to do good by suffering and letting others serve me, for example. And then the realization that God brings good to pass through almost every situation—maybe even every situation, even the ones involving evil choices—and that I am no better than anyone else that he works through.

Other mind games have included trying to figure out just what the purpose is of the priesthood ordinance of the healing of the sick. And how does it work? Would it work better if someone of a higher authority gave me the blessing? I don't think so, but then you hear stories about certain people (usually a general authority, or at least the stake president) blessing others to heal and then there is a miraculous healing. Is the ordinance itself the thing that brings about the healing, or is it just an inspired declaration of God's will? There are so many stories about people (again, usually GA's) who pray to know if they have God's permission to "heal" someone, and then proceed to do it. If that's the case, Roger get over here and heal me, OK?

Roger has always been so careful in his wording when he gives me blessings. And I have seen amazing things come to pass after he has mentioned them in blessings, so I have absolute faith in anything he says. So it bugged me that he always said I would heal, but never blessed me TO heal. What gives with that? We talked about that and wondered.

In preparation for my doctor's appointment this week, I asked for yet another priesthood blessing. This time it was different. This time Roger said something like, "I bless you now to be released from this. I bless you that in the next little bit, you will see great improvement and healing, and you will be free from this." This hit us both hard. Me because I had been thinking and praying and studying the scriptures so much about that particular word, "release." I had read and re-read in the past two days the account of the people of Alma, whose shoulders were strengthened and then who were eventually released from bondage. The use of that word was a little tender mercy (excuse the Mormon coinage) from God to me. It was just exactly what I wanted and need to hear. And it hit Roger hard because, as he told me after, he had not planned or expected to say such a definite thing.

Since then he has felt very cheerful, almost giddy, in the absolute knowledge that I am just about done with this. It's hard for him to remember that I still feel sick. For him, he says, it feels almost like it's already happened. "It's a done deal."

I went off to the doctor yesterday with high hopes and feeling, at least, better prepared for whatever. By "whatever," I meant that I knew the doctor might try to convince me to try some of the treatments I had been resisting for various reasons. And, having been so much more humbled lately, I was more willing to try them. But it was a very emotional doctor's appointment for me. The fact is that I have really bizarre symptoms that nothing explains. Various doctors have found various things wrong, but nothing that explains what I experience. I know what a doctor tends to do when nothing explains what's going on: he tends to suggest an antidepressant. I knew he would and, of course, he did.

Now I need to stop and say that since my teenage years when I benefitted from six weeks of cognitive behavioral therapy, I have never believed that a woman (or man) should be made to feel as if therapy of any kind (cognitive or with drugs) is against God's will, or a "cop-out." I absolutely believe that there is a physical situation that requires drugs in order to be overcome (and some require therapy instead, or in addition). I have always been a fierce advocate of people taking what they need without guilt. It is a huge pet peeve of mine when people insist that they are a failure if they require drugs to get out of depression ("the scriptures are my prozac" makes me so mad—the things it implies about people who actually do need the drugs). Etc. Etc. But I found that when it comes down to someone suggesting that my PHYSICAL problems could be mentally-based, I freak out.

Now I know that that is not necessarily what the doctor meant. He was saying that, in the absence of any other discernible cause and cure, it's worth a try.

And he's right, of course. If nothing else, I can tell that I have gotten into the habit of being sick. That is, each morning and constantly through the day I am evaluating my body, trying to sense if there's a new symptom that might lead to diagnosis, etc. I wouldn't be surprised if my mind is keeping me ill in some ways. And also, I know that some of these drugs have really alleviated syndromes like fibromyalgia, which is a very real condition and not "all in someone's head." I could have something that would respond quite quickly to these kind of drugs.

But, but. I just can't get over the fact that, other than feeling lousy physically, my life has never been better, or happier. My marriage is great, the kids are doing well, my writing is taking off and I've got exciting things going on. I am not depressed, darn it! Or, if I am, it's only because something is wrong with my body!

So I guess I've been feeling resigned about taking these drugs but only if I feel that the doctors have done everything, everything they can to find a physiological explanation. (It doesn't help things that the symptoms are so odd, and that some days and even weeks I will feel much better and decide that I'm just getting better on my own—and then I'll have a bad day or week after that. For example, sometimes I feel so sick I can hardly move—but then I go on trek or my cruise and do pretty darn well. What's with that? Does that mean it's all in my head? Or were those times just gifts from God?)

So this doctor agreed to do two or three final tests. And I agreed that after that, I will cheerfully and with great faith go on the antidepressant.

And that, my friends, is the story of my week. I am a little scared about the drugs just because I hesitate about any drug that a person has to be weaned off of. It feels like there's no going back. But I am very hopeful. I have absolute faith in the blessing Roger gives. All will be well soon. I can hardly let myself dare to imagine a series of days in which I feel fantastic, morning till night. I will never, ever, ever take health for granted.

And here is a poem for you:

How Long? (Chronic Illness)

I find myself Lehi, encamped in a tent.
It's pleasant enough here, with plenty to do.
Arise, retire.
Arise, retire.
Work and pray and dance.
Retire.

I could build a house here and let go the dream
of the swaying of camels, the saltwater lapping.

But I heard a voice—and its memory has me
stretching my neck at the dry desert wind.
Still I hear only whisper of sand and tent flapping.

Arise, retire, and I used to pray
at every new dawn, "Lord is it today?"
Arise and retire. I no longer ask
but remain in my tent. You know I'll obey.

I'll make it my work to arise and retire
and cling to the ghost of the voice in the fire.
But, Lord, there's the ocean.
And what shall I do with this lack of motion?