Every once in a while, I get a glimpse into the anti-Mormon world.
Gotta say- creeps.me.out.
Most of these glimpses come through the internet.
There is a distinct feeling that comes with these glimpses.
It's dark. Really, really dark.
My insides instantly feel very heavy.
My heart pounds a bit harder and faster. Not much, but enough to notice a difference.
My feet even feel...strange and tingle uncomfortably.
I don't like it.
Thankfully, this doesn't happen very often.
I've learned to leave youtube well enough alone for all things religious. I've learned what sites are good to visit and a few which aren't. Comments sections are ALWAYS a risk.
But sometimes...the adversary is successful in blasting me with something. This has happened less and less over the years as I've come to recognize the distinct feeling and the "Don't, Lindsey. Don't click on that." feeling. Even things that seem completely innocent have been purposely misleading. But mostly where they get me is in those blasted comments sections.
I can't for the life of me understand why there are people out there that see me and my family as a danger to society.
I can't for the life of me understand why they feel driven to be so hateful and dark and cruel in their attacks veiled as attempts to "educate the public and the brainwashed Mormons" about the "truth."
I suppose that's not entirely true. I understand that Satan is behind it all and he has a purpose. But I can't understand why so many people are convinced by such hatred. Perhaps they don't recognize the difference feelings had between reading something uplifting and reading something evil.
After my latest incident this afternoon- I stared at the screen, very disappointed with the people who put such filth out there and desecrate sacred things, but reminded of things I am grateful for.
I'm thankful to know the truth. The real truth.
I'm thankful for the protection and guidance of the Holy Ghost. Where would I be without those warnings of danger or those teaching moments?
I'm thankful for the gospel of Jesus Christ.
I'm thankful to live in a time when the most "persecution" I endure for being a member of the LDS church are glares or snide remarks and that I've never had to worry about my safety or my family's. And that I can control most of what comes into my home and keep it uplifting.
I'm thankful that my sweet and innocent boys still have no idea what kind of evil lurks out there in the world (and I plan to keep it that way for as long as I can!).
I'm thankful for the knowledge that even though it's disheartening to see the world as it is and know it will get even worse, it won't always be this way. There is an end.
And in a completely unrelated note: I am thankful for danishes. Yummy:)
What are you thankful for today?
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Thursday, September 20, 2012
"The dearest day in all the year"
For this installment of Thankful Thursday, I'd like to share a blessing of hope I've been given in small installments over the past few months. Little reminders of things to look forward to and have hope in for this coming December. I can't express it as well as I would like, but here's my attempt:
While pregnant with Jonz and after he was born, I realized there are better times of the year than others to have a baby.
Jonz arrival was perfectly timed. I got pregnant at the end of the summer after a mere two months of trying (I know what a huge blessing that is). I was still in school and soon found that my due date would be the day after finals ended for winter semester. Perfect.
Not being pregnant during the hot summer months? Fantastic.
Having a spring baby and not worrying about him freezing or getting RSV? Awesome.
No holidays to contend with or miss out of the fun? Great.
I decided that I really liked spring babies and that the months of April-June were probably the best time of year to give birth. That led to deciding which time of year would be the worst- December, of course. A December baby mean pregnant in the summer, major restrictions on Christmas fun with others, and stressing about sickness and RSV. It also means poor kiddo will feel jipped out of birthday fun as everyone is excited about Christmas and has little attention for another party or resources for another present.
I was so concerned that December was just a mean time to have a baby, for mom, child, family, and friends, that I calculated possible birthdates while we tried for seven long months to conceive the second time. I was just about to tell Bret that we were done trying for a couple months, to avoid having a baby in December, when we found out I was pregnant.
Al and Goose were not so well timed as Jonz. They were due December 1st. I decided that was okay. Far away enough from Christmas and Thanksgiving that we'd be able to make the best of it. The boys arrived three weeks early, two weeks before our anniversary and Thanksgiving, were just six weeks old at Christmas (which passed us in a blur of sleepy holidary merriment), and both were taken down by RSV by two months of age.
Yay;)
I was now beyond certain that I never wanted to have a baby in the month of December; November was crazy enough.
Years later, prayers were answered and we started trying for another baby. I was sure that after waiting so long for an answer that the heavenly direction meant we would get pregnant as soon as we started trying and thought we'd have a baby by the end of October or early November.
Silly Lindsey.
Two failed cycles later I was confused, but sort of humbled (you know, as much as I ever get). Painful symptoms soon had me sure I was on the cusp of failed cycle #3. So sure, in fact, that I told my husband how disappointed I was that there would be yet more waiting...Until I remembered December.
"Whew! What a close break. We'd have had a Christmastime baby if we'd been successful this month."
...Only what I'd thought was a rough case of pms turned out to be pregnancy symptoms.
In the excitement of being newly pregnant, I pushed December out of my mind. A month in, Bret and I got the calendar down and counted 40 weeks...and landed on December 24th.
Oh. my.
A couple weeks later I called the doctor to make an appointment and was told my due date was not the 24th, but the 25th.
An ultrasound in July confirmed- due date is December 25, 2012.
Yes sir, people- God has quite a sense of humor.
I admit- I haven't been thrilled about the timing of this little one's arrival. But I keep getting little pieces of hope that brighten me up more and more.
There is a perk to having c-sections for me. I'm not allowed to go into labor so the doctor is planning on taking the baby out at 39 weeks. Meaning that not only will this baby be born before Christmas day, but barring complications (knock on wood-cross fingers-pray, pray, pray) we'll all be out of the hospital and home for Christmas.
I have worried a lot about being able to make this a happy holiday season for my family. I may not be able to bake as much, but I can still bake some tasty, traditional treats. And there's not much I enjoy more than a December evening watching a Christmas movie with my family. I should still be able to waddle about and help pick out a Christmas tree. I can place our loved decorations around our home. I can get all the shopping done before Thanksgiving...hopefully. We can still read stories and sing songs every night. And I can fill our home with the wonderful sounds of the season, hour after hour. I can even still take care of the inevitable sicknesses we'll have (pleeeeeeease don't let us get something horrible this year!).
We'll still have a lovely Christmas.
I'm actually excited for the hospital experience this time, too.
Well...you know, except for the i.v., the blood draws, the being separated from Bret during the most anxious time pre-surgery, the powerful drugs, the fire-like pain, the inability to move without said pain, trying to figure out nursing with my brand new crying machine in the middle of the night, and having an intern wake me up to check my vitals five minutes after I finally manage to fall asleep.
Except for all that, I AM looking forward to the hospital. I am better prepared to face it this time. There will probably be Christmas decorations. Everyone is nicer so close to Christmas (which means nurses will be more patient, right???:)) And I'll finally know who this little one is! Plus, with three kiddos, I expect that Bret's time off those first few days will be mostly taken up caring for the boys at home. Before, I needed/required/begged him to stay with me; even making him try to sleep on those uncomfortable fold out chairs. I am prepared to be alone this time around. So much so, that I'm actually excited for it. Think of all the alone time:) I plan on packing my laptop and some of my favorite Christmas movies. I will cuddle a new baby, listen to some of my favorite music, watch some happy movies, enjoy some regular chunks of solitude, and I think I may even try to make myself look presentable this time around.
My past two experiences, I have at least managed to shower in the hospital. But it took so much out of me that I would get right back into bed, wet hair and all. Saline and pregnancy swollen face, red and puffy eyes from lack of sleep, zero make-up, and air-dried hair (i.e. my many cowlicks left to roam free)= pretty, pretty girl. I am determined to at least try to look better this time around. Even if it means I just beg my mom to do my hair:)
While pregnant with Jonz and after he was born, I realized there are better times of the year than others to have a baby.
Jonz arrival was perfectly timed. I got pregnant at the end of the summer after a mere two months of trying (I know what a huge blessing that is). I was still in school and soon found that my due date would be the day after finals ended for winter semester. Perfect.
Not being pregnant during the hot summer months? Fantastic.
Having a spring baby and not worrying about him freezing or getting RSV? Awesome.
No holidays to contend with or miss out of the fun? Great.
I decided that I really liked spring babies and that the months of April-June were probably the best time of year to give birth. That led to deciding which time of year would be the worst- December, of course. A December baby mean pregnant in the summer, major restrictions on Christmas fun with others, and stressing about sickness and RSV. It also means poor kiddo will feel jipped out of birthday fun as everyone is excited about Christmas and has little attention for another party or resources for another present.
I was so concerned that December was just a mean time to have a baby, for mom, child, family, and friends, that I calculated possible birthdates while we tried for seven long months to conceive the second time. I was just about to tell Bret that we were done trying for a couple months, to avoid having a baby in December, when we found out I was pregnant.
Al and Goose were not so well timed as Jonz. They were due December 1st. I decided that was okay. Far away enough from Christmas and Thanksgiving that we'd be able to make the best of it. The boys arrived three weeks early, two weeks before our anniversary and Thanksgiving, were just six weeks old at Christmas (which passed us in a blur of sleepy holidary merriment), and both were taken down by RSV by two months of age.
Yay;)
I was now beyond certain that I never wanted to have a baby in the month of December; November was crazy enough.
Years later, prayers were answered and we started trying for another baby. I was sure that after waiting so long for an answer that the heavenly direction meant we would get pregnant as soon as we started trying and thought we'd have a baby by the end of October or early November.
Silly Lindsey.
Two failed cycles later I was confused, but sort of humbled (you know, as much as I ever get). Painful symptoms soon had me sure I was on the cusp of failed cycle #3. So sure, in fact, that I told my husband how disappointed I was that there would be yet more waiting...Until I remembered December.
"Whew! What a close break. We'd have had a Christmastime baby if we'd been successful this month."
...Only what I'd thought was a rough case of pms turned out to be pregnancy symptoms.
In the excitement of being newly pregnant, I pushed December out of my mind. A month in, Bret and I got the calendar down and counted 40 weeks...and landed on December 24th.
Oh. my.
A couple weeks later I called the doctor to make an appointment and was told my due date was not the 24th, but the 25th.
An ultrasound in July confirmed- due date is December 25, 2012.
Yes sir, people- God has quite a sense of humor.
I admit- I haven't been thrilled about the timing of this little one's arrival. But I keep getting little pieces of hope that brighten me up more and more.
There is a perk to having c-sections for me. I'm not allowed to go into labor so the doctor is planning on taking the baby out at 39 weeks. Meaning that not only will this baby be born before Christmas day, but barring complications (knock on wood-cross fingers-pray, pray, pray) we'll all be out of the hospital and home for Christmas.
I have worried a lot about being able to make this a happy holiday season for my family. I may not be able to bake as much, but I can still bake some tasty, traditional treats. And there's not much I enjoy more than a December evening watching a Christmas movie with my family. I should still be able to waddle about and help pick out a Christmas tree. I can place our loved decorations around our home. I can get all the shopping done before Thanksgiving...hopefully. We can still read stories and sing songs every night. And I can fill our home with the wonderful sounds of the season, hour after hour. I can even still take care of the inevitable sicknesses we'll have (pleeeeeeease don't let us get something horrible this year!).
We'll still have a lovely Christmas.
I'm actually excited for the hospital experience this time, too.
Well...you know, except for the i.v., the blood draws, the being separated from Bret during the most anxious time pre-surgery, the powerful drugs, the fire-like pain, the inability to move without said pain, trying to figure out nursing with my brand new crying machine in the middle of the night, and having an intern wake me up to check my vitals five minutes after I finally manage to fall asleep.
Except for all that, I AM looking forward to the hospital. I am better prepared to face it this time. There will probably be Christmas decorations. Everyone is nicer so close to Christmas (which means nurses will be more patient, right???:)) And I'll finally know who this little one is! Plus, with three kiddos, I expect that Bret's time off those first few days will be mostly taken up caring for the boys at home. Before, I needed/required/begged him to stay with me; even making him try to sleep on those uncomfortable fold out chairs. I am prepared to be alone this time around. So much so, that I'm actually excited for it. Think of all the alone time:) I plan on packing my laptop and some of my favorite Christmas movies. I will cuddle a new baby, listen to some of my favorite music, watch some happy movies, enjoy some regular chunks of solitude, and I think I may even try to make myself look presentable this time around.
My past two experiences, I have at least managed to shower in the hospital. But it took so much out of me that I would get right back into bed, wet hair and all. Saline and pregnancy swollen face, red and puffy eyes from lack of sleep, zero make-up, and air-dried hair (i.e. my many cowlicks left to roam free)= pretty, pretty girl. I am determined to at least try to look better this time around. Even if it means I just beg my mom to do my hair:)
But if perhaps I am not remembering precisely how difficult it is to raise one's arms to one's head and face after abdominal surgery and I am yet again shocked and drained by it- no cameras are allowed to be pointed at me. At. all. Just sos ya know.
There will be some special circumstances to worry about with this Christmastime birth, some for many years to come. But I have hope that this will be an enjoyable holiday season.
It is, after all, the most wonderful time of the year.
Our family will be getting an eternal gift this year in a new family member. And during a season where many people are thinking more on the greatest gift we've all ever received, to boot.
So stayed tuned. It's gonna be awesome:)
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Thankful Thursday
Here are things I'm thankful for lately:
September.
Temperatures staying in the 60s or 70s for most of the day.
Scriptures.
Old Navy maternity jeans.
Good men.
Imaginative, silly, sweet, forgiving, resilient, confident, wonderful sons (despite the intense bout of deafness they seem to be suffering from when it comes to my voice...).
Books.
Warm showers.
Anticipation of putting up my autumn decorations.
Quick responding policemen who stopped the crazy woman in the street.
That even though I can't lay comfortably anywhere else, my bed still offers a place of refuge for my achy self.
Prayer.
Cool breezes through open windows.
The smell of freshly cut grass.
That the third annual Family Celebration starts next week.
Cooked carrots.
Watching my boys run through the grass in the sunshine with smiles lighting their faces.
The satisfaction of watching clean laundry swaying on the line in a breeze.
Looney Tunes.
Applesauce.
and finally-
Heavenly Father for hearing me, Jesus for healing me, and the Holy Ghost for comforting me.
What are you thankful for today??????
September.
Temperatures staying in the 60s or 70s for most of the day.
Scriptures.
Old Navy maternity jeans.
Good men.
Imaginative, silly, sweet, forgiving, resilient, confident, wonderful sons (despite the intense bout of deafness they seem to be suffering from when it comes to my voice...).
Books.
Warm showers.
Anticipation of putting up my autumn decorations.
Quick responding policemen who stopped the crazy woman in the street.
That even though I can't lay comfortably anywhere else, my bed still offers a place of refuge for my achy self.
Prayer.
Cool breezes through open windows.
The smell of freshly cut grass.
That the third annual Family Celebration starts next week.
Cooked carrots.
Watching my boys run through the grass in the sunshine with smiles lighting their faces.
The satisfaction of watching clean laundry swaying on the line in a breeze.
Looney Tunes.
Applesauce.
and finally-
Heavenly Father for hearing me, Jesus for healing me, and the Holy Ghost for comforting me.
What are you thankful for today??????
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
*head-palm*
If there were grades for social graces, I would get a big fat F.
I'm so single-minded when I'm out and about (where are the boys? 1-2-3- good, let's get from point a to point b, 1-2-3, almost there, 1-2-3, stop four year old from running into street, 1-2-3, grab other four year old before he walks into the wall, 1-2-3 boys check....etc. etc. etc) that I make little room in my brain for other stuff that pops up.
That, and I need a few moments of concentration to process. Just a few moments is all I ask and the cogs in my brain will click into place. With pregnancy though, I need more moments than usual.
But I rarely get those few moments in the rush of life (both because life is rushed and I tend to rush along the slower things to make more time for the more rushed things).
Social grace, propriety, and manners usually fail me in such situations.
Case in point:
Took the boys to the library after picking Jonz up from school today (and stopping back at the house to get shoes for my barefoot twins). Wanted to get in and out quickly because I had laundry that needed hanging up soon before we miss the good light and breeze.
After getting into the library, Al manages to walk into the back of a woman (kid is fond of looking anywhere but the direction he's walking:)). She starts to apologize and turns around, recognizes Al and says, "Oh, Hi! How are you?" Then she looked up at me and my pregnant self and says something along the lines of, "Hi! Oh, how are you doing? And you're expecting another little one!" with a big, sweet smile on her face.
Then there's me. Train of thought goes something this, "Dang, this lady has me confused with someone. 1-2-3. I have no idea who you are. Got to pick up my books on hold before the boys pick something out. Wait, you look familiar. 1-2-3. Shoot, I should know her. 1-2...AH, oh whew 3. I've got to get that laundry on the line. Baseball; why is baseball ringing a bell? Man, I'm starving! 1-2-3. Let's get out of here so I can get home and eat something!"
All while making mindless responses like "mm-hmm, we're pretty excited. Yep, nice to see you." and walking away thinking "yeah, must have been a case of mistaken identity."
It wasn't until we were outside the library, headed to the car and loaded down with books and dvds that the cogs finally slipped into place.
Little league! Her son was on Jonz' team two years ago! We DO know each other.
And now I have guilt. I don't remember her name and we only crossed paths for a couple months two years ago, but good heavens Lindsey! She is, and always was, genuinely nice to me and the boys. I couldn't take two seconds to slow down and remember or even say, "I'm sorry, I know I should know you, but I just can't place...oh! Baseball! It's so nice to see you, how are you?!" instead of my disingenuious and awkward "mm-hmms" and lack of eye contact?!?!?
Gaaaaaaaah. Fail, fail, fail.
Goal #7,693 for the Improvement of Lindsey- worry less about point a to point b and take time with the people around me, whether I know them (or remember them) or not.
So I'm sorry kind woman from baseball who in all likelihood doesn't read here. I do remember you, I do appreciate your smile and the time you take to talk to me. Your boys have grown so much I didn't reconize them, either, but they look wonderful. Thank you for being more observant and having more social grace than me. I hope that life is treating you well and that I can cross paths with you again.
Please tell me I'm not the only socially inept one out there!
I'm so single-minded when I'm out and about (where are the boys? 1-2-3- good, let's get from point a to point b, 1-2-3, almost there, 1-2-3, stop four year old from running into street, 1-2-3, grab other four year old before he walks into the wall, 1-2-3 boys check....etc. etc. etc) that I make little room in my brain for other stuff that pops up.
That, and I need a few moments of concentration to process. Just a few moments is all I ask and the cogs in my brain will click into place. With pregnancy though, I need more moments than usual.
But I rarely get those few moments in the rush of life (both because life is rushed and I tend to rush along the slower things to make more time for the more rushed things).
Social grace, propriety, and manners usually fail me in such situations.
Case in point:
Took the boys to the library after picking Jonz up from school today (and stopping back at the house to get shoes for my barefoot twins). Wanted to get in and out quickly because I had laundry that needed hanging up soon before we miss the good light and breeze.
After getting into the library, Al manages to walk into the back of a woman (kid is fond of looking anywhere but the direction he's walking:)). She starts to apologize and turns around, recognizes Al and says, "Oh, Hi! How are you?" Then she looked up at me and my pregnant self and says something along the lines of, "Hi! Oh, how are you doing? And you're expecting another little one!" with a big, sweet smile on her face.
Then there's me. Train of thought goes something this, "Dang, this lady has me confused with someone. 1-2-3. I have no idea who you are. Got to pick up my books on hold before the boys pick something out. Wait, you look familiar. 1-2-3. Shoot, I should know her. 1-2...AH, oh whew 3. I've got to get that laundry on the line. Baseball; why is baseball ringing a bell? Man, I'm starving! 1-2-3. Let's get out of here so I can get home and eat something!"
All while making mindless responses like "mm-hmm, we're pretty excited. Yep, nice to see you." and walking away thinking "yeah, must have been a case of mistaken identity."
It wasn't until we were outside the library, headed to the car and loaded down with books and dvds that the cogs finally slipped into place.
Little league! Her son was on Jonz' team two years ago! We DO know each other.
And now I have guilt. I don't remember her name and we only crossed paths for a couple months two years ago, but good heavens Lindsey! She is, and always was, genuinely nice to me and the boys. I couldn't take two seconds to slow down and remember or even say, "I'm sorry, I know I should know you, but I just can't place...oh! Baseball! It's so nice to see you, how are you?!" instead of my disingenuious and awkward "mm-hmms" and lack of eye contact?!?!?
Gaaaaaaaah. Fail, fail, fail.
Goal #7,693 for the Improvement of Lindsey- worry less about point a to point b and take time with the people around me, whether I know them (or remember them) or not.
So I'm sorry kind woman from baseball who in all likelihood doesn't read here. I do remember you, I do appreciate your smile and the time you take to talk to me. Your boys have grown so much I didn't reconize them, either, but they look wonderful. Thank you for being more observant and having more social grace than me. I hope that life is treating you well and that I can cross paths with you again.
Please tell me I'm not the only socially inept one out there!
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Thursday
Looking back over the years, I can tell that my attitude has changed for the better.
Conciously working on gratitude has brought back and even improved the Pollyanna in me.
I like being Pollyanna.
But most people find Pollyanna annoying and immediately start rolling their eyes at the glad game.
Why?
What's so annoying about finding something to be glad about amidst the junk life throws at you?
I don't get it.
I often don't want to play the game myself, but I have never found it annoying when someone else does at those times.
And I find myself there in the past couple days. I would love to just let out a looooong rant and complain my little heart out.
The diatribe has been jumping on the back of my tongue, begging to come out.
But. It would serve no edifying purpose. At all.
And who would listen anyway?
I think I may write it out, though. Get the poison out and then have something physical to burn and enjoy a little destruction...Yep, there are some maniacal tendencies in me;)
For now, here's a little Pollyanna for me and you.
I'm glad it's September.
I'm glad ice cream exists.
I'm glad the sun is shining.
I'm glad my children get more self-sufficient every day (though it makes me juuuuuust a bit sad).
I'm glad my husband is handsome.
I'm glad Jesus heals as well as saves.
There we go:)
"Don't let's be gloomy." What are you thankful for today?
Conciously working on gratitude has brought back and even improved the Pollyanna in me.
I like being Pollyanna.
But most people find Pollyanna annoying and immediately start rolling their eyes at the glad game.
Why?
What's so annoying about finding something to be glad about amidst the junk life throws at you?
I don't get it.
I often don't want to play the game myself, but I have never found it annoying when someone else does at those times.
And I find myself there in the past couple days. I would love to just let out a looooong rant and complain my little heart out.
The diatribe has been jumping on the back of my tongue, begging to come out.
But. It would serve no edifying purpose. At all.
And who would listen anyway?
I think I may write it out, though. Get the poison out and then have something physical to burn and enjoy a little destruction...Yep, there are some maniacal tendencies in me;)
For now, here's a little Pollyanna for me and you.
I'm glad it's September.
I'm glad ice cream exists.
I'm glad the sun is shining.
I'm glad my children get more self-sufficient every day (though it makes me juuuuuust a bit sad).
I'm glad my husband is handsome.
I'm glad Jesus heals as well as saves.
There we go:)
"Don't let's be gloomy." What are you thankful for today?
If you don't know who Pollyanna is, what the glad game is, or where the quote
comes from...I hang my head in sorrow for your loss. You need to see this.
Skip to 7:29 if you don't want to watch the whole thing.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)