My conversation with my Bishop as related to RaeRae:
"Bishop, sometimes I don't ask for blessings because I know I could get answers to my prayers. So when I ask I feel like I'm saying to God, 'Can we just speed this process along, please?!"
Rae replied, "Stephanie, I'm pretty sure there is going to be a special place in heaven for your Bishops. Like, I'll be trying to walk somewhere and an angel will say to me, 'I'm sorry. This section is reserved for Bishops of Stephanie Harbour."
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Finally, something to say.
There are many things going on in my mind right now that are muddled, personal and inexpressible. It's the reason I've been so quiet--when I'm like this the worst thing I can do is speak too soon. Today as I was driving, however, one emotion and thought pattern became woven into words I thought I'd share.
The central focus of this blog is my life as a single, Mormon girl. Often I find that to be a lonely endeavor but more often I find it to be a path that allows serious reflection on my self and perspectives. Last week I started attending a 'Marriage and Family' class required by my Stake for all members. I found it to be wildly frustrating, alienating and it caused some bald patches from ripping my hair out. That state of mind oddly often leads me to a calm center where I ask myself, "Why do you feel that way?" And I discovered that it was because I want people to understand that singledom has, in so many ways, very close parallels to family experiences and I allowed myself to be frustrated rather than express that, sometimes, I think of myself as, say, a parent.
Odd? I don't think so. In my circle of friends we have one we jokingly call The Baby--who, as it turns out, turns 30 today. It's far less literal than that, however, because the roles rotate.
Often when I'm feeling as though I need advice I turn, first, to my BioMom and then, if nothing there is clicking, I go to the other women I respect and want to model my life after. And they usually have the answer or can lead me to it.
Beyond that, there are times that I feel things I can only equate to parental emotions. For instance, Rae's birthday. I love her so much that today I was torn up by not being able to give her a memorable, perfect day filled with everything she wanted.
This happens also when I see my friends making decisions that will harm them or impact their lives badly. I know that I can't put myself in the path, I can't do anything to stop or arrest their decisions. I can only advise from the sidelines, shouting "This way!" or "No! Not that way! Can't you see!" and then feel dread as they step wrongly or waves of blissful relief when the right decision is made.
It may seem odd to parents who read this blog. I acknowledge that I do not have a perfect understanding of raising a person from child to adulthood, knowing all their quirks. With my chosen family, however, I understand how it feels when I am in the darkest, blackest place and they know just where to shine the light. I know that the bond I share with them is one that my family can't perfectly equate. And I also know that as we mature, we are going to become closer and closer to the only family each of us have. We're at the age where parents are beginning to have fragile health and we've even lost our first one.
In those moments of loss and confusion we have always been there for each other and will continue to be. We've seen each other through things that we don't talk to others about--that only we know and only we ever will. The bonds that I'm forging with my friends, I suppose, have the benefit of mirroring whatever I'd like them to and then being stronger than I expected. After all, I'm building them to suit me. And they do. I just hope that the bonds are always strong enough to hold as each of us venture far from each other, allowing each of us to come back to those that are holding the line, shouting directions and loving each other so deeply there is no comparison other than someone born from my own body.
The central focus of this blog is my life as a single, Mormon girl. Often I find that to be a lonely endeavor but more often I find it to be a path that allows serious reflection on my self and perspectives. Last week I started attending a 'Marriage and Family' class required by my Stake for all members. I found it to be wildly frustrating, alienating and it caused some bald patches from ripping my hair out. That state of mind oddly often leads me to a calm center where I ask myself, "Why do you feel that way?" And I discovered that it was because I want people to understand that singledom has, in so many ways, very close parallels to family experiences and I allowed myself to be frustrated rather than express that, sometimes, I think of myself as, say, a parent.
Odd? I don't think so. In my circle of friends we have one we jokingly call The Baby--who, as it turns out, turns 30 today. It's far less literal than that, however, because the roles rotate.
Often when I'm feeling as though I need advice I turn, first, to my BioMom and then, if nothing there is clicking, I go to the other women I respect and want to model my life after. And they usually have the answer or can lead me to it.
Beyond that, there are times that I feel things I can only equate to parental emotions. For instance, Rae's birthday. I love her so much that today I was torn up by not being able to give her a memorable, perfect day filled with everything she wanted.
This happens also when I see my friends making decisions that will harm them or impact their lives badly. I know that I can't put myself in the path, I can't do anything to stop or arrest their decisions. I can only advise from the sidelines, shouting "This way!" or "No! Not that way! Can't you see!" and then feel dread as they step wrongly or waves of blissful relief when the right decision is made.
It may seem odd to parents who read this blog. I acknowledge that I do not have a perfect understanding of raising a person from child to adulthood, knowing all their quirks. With my chosen family, however, I understand how it feels when I am in the darkest, blackest place and they know just where to shine the light. I know that the bond I share with them is one that my family can't perfectly equate. And I also know that as we mature, we are going to become closer and closer to the only family each of us have. We're at the age where parents are beginning to have fragile health and we've even lost our first one.
In those moments of loss and confusion we have always been there for each other and will continue to be. We've seen each other through things that we don't talk to others about--that only we know and only we ever will. The bonds that I'm forging with my friends, I suppose, have the benefit of mirroring whatever I'd like them to and then being stronger than I expected. After all, I'm building them to suit me. And they do. I just hope that the bonds are always strong enough to hold as each of us venture far from each other, allowing each of us to come back to those that are holding the line, shouting directions and loving each other so deeply there is no comparison other than someone born from my own body.
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