Mourning with those who mourn

I am running very late today, but also, I had to discard what I was writing, again, because the time does not seem to be right. Instead I want to share something simple that I have been thinking of.

Recently there was a discussion going on with someone who has struggled with depression, and she had found it very hard to get support for it at church, because there seems to be a feeling that we shouldn't be sad. We know that God has a plan for us, we are trying to do what's right, so shouldn't we be joyful?

In addition, in the regular blog I was writing about how some early experiences taught me that I should hide my feelings and vulnerabilities, but that led to me suppressing them, and that was not helpful either. There were some emotional wounds that cut deeper and injured more simply because I was trying to hide from them.

Of course we want people to be happy, and if we will do things to increase their happiness, at least refraining from being hurtful, that is good. If we instead focus on our discomfort, or try to cause guilt over the unhappiness, or invalidate the person's unhappiness, we are a part of the problem.

It seems worthwhile to examine these words relating to the baptismal covenant from Mosiah 18:

8 And it came to pass that he said unto them: Behold, here are the waters of Mormon (for thus were they called) and now, as ye are desirous to come into the fold of God, and to be called his people, and are willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light;

 9 Yea, and are willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places that ye may be in, even until death, that ye may be redeemed of God, and be numbered with those of the first resurrection, that ye may have eternal life—

We are asked to mourn with those who mourn. Yes, we can try and comfort them too, but sometimes they will be sad. We can take comfort in the sorrow not being permanent, but while it is there it is real, and it must be faced.

There is nothing contradictory about that.

Vonda

I bore my testimony this month. I don't do that often. I have a testimony, but I am usually not strongly motivated to get up there. This time I was.

As we get into the end of the year, it is common for me that the dead come more to mind. Perhaps it is because holidays are a time of remembrance, or that the life of the year is coming to a close, but often those who are gone will feel very present to me.

This year, starting about mid-November I think, I have not been able to stop thinking about Vonda. I felt like I needed to share my story there. I didn't know why I felt that, but not knowing why anything was a big part of the original story.

In my previous ward, part of my calling was creating the Relief Society newsletter, and part of that was the monthly birthdays of the sisters in the ward. When I first obtained the list and was going over it, I noticed about five women who were marked as letter contact only or phone contact only.

Well, this was going to be a letter, so it was legitimate contact, and an opportunity for contact. I felt like I should send the newsletter to everyone who had specified letter contact.

To not be too weird, I sent a note explaining what I was going to be doing that with the first newsletter, and then it pretty much just went into maintenance mode. If it was their birthday month (because I was tracking birthdays) I enclosed the letter in a birthday card, and I did use some Christmas cards in December, but it wasn't really a great effort.

When they changed our records to the current ward, that calling was ending, and I didn't know if the new person would keep it up. I thought I should send another note so there wasn't this abrupt ending. I sent a note to each of them explaining, and I included my contact information, because that seemed right to do. Having never heard back from anyone, it was unlikely that this was necessary, but again, it felt right.

I knew nothing about most of the names. One I knew was Laotian, and I felt a connection there, and one was Vonda. I had never met her, but I went to school with one of her sons, and I liked him. He was a really nice guy. I was happy to see that name, and it mattered to me that she was on that list.

A few weeks after sending the final notes, my phone rang, and it was a voice I didn't recognize on the other end. It was one of Vonda's sons (a different one) telling me that she had died. He told me that she had enjoyed the letters, and thought of me as a friend she never saw. I thanked him for letting me know, and expressed condolences, and then after hanging up I just fell apart.

I can't even fully tell you what the emotions were. I think there was grief and a sense of loss there, because under other circumstances maybe we could have been friends who saw each other. There were other things there too, including a sense of amazement at all the potential misses. If I hadn't sent that last note, or if I hadn't put a phone number in it, or if I hadn't sent the letters at all.

My first tendency would be to tell you that I never once knew what I was doing, but really it's more that I never knew why. There are probably still nuances that I miss on that. Mainly it reminded me that what I did mattered. It was not obvious that it mattered, but it did.

So I did not know why it was important to bear my testimony, but I did it, and several people have told me that it touched them. Maybe it was important for them. It feels important to write this post now, and I had something totally different that I was going to write for Christmas, but here it is, because it feels right.

We do not always know what matters or why, but I do believe in inspiration. I believe in the power of the Holy Ghost to tell us the things we couldn't know on our own, even if it may be only the bare basics necessary for what we need to do.

And most fervently if all, I believe that people matter. Our relationships matter, and how we treat them matters, because they matter. I matter. And you do too.

Less stressed Christmas

I worry that some will find this post impractical. I admit that our family is non-traditional. The fact that we have no children in even the extended family is different and it gives us more flexibility. That being said, we have changed what we have done so much, and it has always been fine.

Our family consists of seven adults among three households. There was a time when everyone gave everyone a present. As adults who don't need a lot of things, it got to where it didn't feel very useful. We switched to drawing names, where everyone only bought for one person. After a few years of that, we switched to getting together for a dinner where everyone brought a wrapped ornament and we took turns picking or stealing. Later the ornaments were changed to gift cards, and sometimes we just get together giving nothing at all.

At the same time, part of the unhappiness with the gift-giving had to do specifically with one household, and it's the one we see less, so the rest of us have had some years where we have drawn names to give a stocking, or small gifts, and this year the five of us are each giving each other a small gift.

I know traditions are an important part of the holidays, and giving should be the key to the Christmas spirit, but I see too many people weighed down. When I do my toy drive shopping, it is a lot of fun because I am picking things that look cool, and only spending what I think I can afford. When parents are buying for their children and trying to make things perfect, it is fun when they feel like they have succeeded, but there can be a lot of stress getting to that point.

It's not that their love for their children is not a wonderful thing, and that is a more rewarding relationship than I have with the unseen recipients of the toy drive, but there are expectations in place where the giving becomes work, and there is a burden associated with the blessing.

What I am trying to suggest is that it is okay to re-examine, and change strategies. Traditions can bring comfort, but change can bring invigoration. So if one year you decide that the family gift is a trip away, or to take a trip to the toy store and give everyone a budget to pick their own, or to only make gifts - and every single one of those ideas is something that would sound great to some and horrible to others - go for it.

If you feel like you are enduring Christmas instead of enjoying it, that's not the fault of Christ. He does give us labors, but he also makes them bearable and sets us free. So there must be some solution, in accordance with his spirit, that will do that as well.

None of the changes we have made to our gift-giving have ever ruined Christmas. If ruining Christmas seems possible, that is the biggest indicator that a change is necessary.

Less stressed Thanksgiving

I have written a little before about some of my holiday cooking practices, though it focused more on using the leftovers:

http://preparedspork.blogspot.com/2012/12/using-holiday-leftovers.html

One of my favorite things about the holiday cooking is that it has gradually become easier, but this was the first year that I realized how much of that credit goes to the upside down turkey.

It is mentioned in the leftovers post, but I cook the turkey upside down. The principle behind this is that gravity pulls the juices downward as the bird cooks. This would be wasted on the rib cage, but is great when the juices are all working their way through the breast meat. This is the bulk of your meat, and the part that dries out most easily.

One of the worst parts about the night before Thanksgiving was mixing the stuffing and then inserting it into the raw (usually still with at least some ice, no matter how carefully you had followed the defrosting instructions) bird. I liked my homemade stuffing, but generally only Mom and I would eat it.

When I considered dropping this step, I was trying to figure out what purpose the stuffing served, and as far as I could tell the purpose was to preserve some of those draining juices. This was not necessary; we had that covered. Having to go back and baste the bird was also a hassle, and I found it unnecessary. I remove the gizzards, neck, and the plastic thing holding the legs together, put the turkey (along with the neck) in a foil lined roasting pan, wrap that foil around the bird, and stick it in the oven. When it should be getting close to done I start taking its temperature, but that's it, and it comes out great.

I thought putting the bird upside down was only solving the issue of dry, white meat that no one really wanted, but really, it was making my life easier in other ways.

The other thing that was valuable was starting this process of deciding what was important and what wasn't, versus what was labor-intensive and what wasn't. The homemade inserted stuffing was a lot of work without much reward, so it could go. A Jello salad had traditionally been on the table every year, but there was so much other food that no one really ate it. Although it wasn't a lot of work to make, it could go. We can have that with other meals, when there aren't so many other options.

It can go back the other way too. For a long time the mashed potatoes had been made from the potato pearls that we would get at the cannery. These were easy and delicious. One year Maria wanted to try garlic-mashed potatoes, and everyone really liked those. Potatoes are more work now, because now they involve boiling, mashing, mixing in, and baking, but it is something that is wanted. (Also, we have started making them with shallots now instead of garlic.)

Traditions can be beautiful things, but they can also be burdens. Consciously choosing what to keep and what to discard can then be very liberating. There's nothing wrong with starting a new tradition.