But

When I was a little girl
My momma took me to church
and I learned the names for God and Jesus
I learned all the songs and how to pray
They told me to love my Heavenly Father
and I would be happy and go to heaven

So,
I am a child of God
God is love
And families are forever
I understand,  okay

When I was eight they baptized me
One dunk, and I was purified
They laid hands upon my head
and gave me the gift of the Holy Ghost
They promised His spirit would go with me
as long as I lived the way they said

But
I am a child of God
God is love
And families are forever
so that's okay

When I was a teenager
I didn't know if I believed them
I sometimes didn't do what they said
I was told I just had to repent
and I could be clean again
they always forgave me, and it was enough

But
I am a child of God
God is love
And families are forever
so that's okay

When I was a young adult
I lost my way entirely
I didn't believe them, they didn't care
I was pregnant and eighteen
They said get married, it will be okay
I pretended to believe them, and they let me stay

But
I am a child of God
God is love
And families are forever
so that's okay

When I was a young mother
I went back to the church
I took my baby girl, and then my baby boys
My children learned the names for God and Jesus
My children learned the songs, the prayers
And I believed we would reach heaven together

And
I am a child of God
God is love
And families are forever
and we'll be okay

When I was fully grown
I went to church each week, I served the people in my ward
I taught my children all their stories
I loved God and Jesus and I prayed
I believed what they said- most of it
And when I didn't, I convinced myself to overlook it-

But
I am a child of God
God is love
And families are forever
so that's okay

When I went through a terrible divorce
I went to church for guidance, for help
Nobody had time to talk to me, to comfort me
I was alone with three small children
So I turned to God and prayed and wept
I couldn't think of a reason they left me alone-

But
I am a child of God
God is love
And families are forever
so that's okay

When I was a wayward woman
The bishop pulled me in (he had found some time)
He told me that I was not forigven
He told me I was outcast
He ripped my heart out of my chest
He turned my soul to blackened ash
Repentance and forgiveness lost-

But
I am a child of God
God is love
And families are forever
so that's okay

em

Love. (See the period there?)

As a gestational surrogate (surrogate mother), I am often assailed with questions about how I could do this to my body, my family, yada yada.  The only answer I have is:  love.  When I see somebody hurting, I want to help.  When I see a woman/man/family that can not grow, it breaks my heart. 
When I realize how easily I could help them fix that, how can I say no? 
If you saw a wounded child on the side of the road, how could you not help them?
Would it matter if that child were your own?  Would it matter if that infertile woman was your sister?  Sadly, it would. 
And then I think of all of the other ways in which we, as a society, do not show love.  When we hate people because of their race, their religion, their gender, their sexual preference.  And I realize that even though we claim to love each other, we pretty much pick and choose who we want to love.
And then I get angry.
I was raised by a mother (and, I must give credit, a religion) that taught me to love everyone.  I was taught that every single human being is a child of God, regardless of anything else, and that was the most important thing.  I was taught "Jesus said love everyone".  I never thought to question that statement.  I love everyone.  Well, I don't love everyone, honestly, there are people I really don't like.  But I don't like them for personal reasons, not for anything silly like the color of their eyes.
I didn't realize at the time that most people teach "love everyone" to their children, and then, through their actions, teach their children who "everyone" really is.  Luckily for me, my mother really did love everyone, so I never learned how not to love everyone.
As I have grown, my view has changed on many things.  I don't know that I even know what God is anymore, so I don't know how well I can connect everything to Jesus, but I do know that whatever you believe God is- whether He is a She, Mother Earth, a pantheon of gods, a spirit that lives in each of us, the power of our own minds, the collective spirit of all living things, whatever- that that God is love. 
I no longer prescribe to any specific religious views.  The only principle that I really prescribe to is love.
I am going to love everyone I can. 
When I look at people- it will be through the eyes of love.
When I vote- it will be through the eyes of love.
I am totally, completely, undeniable, and irrevocably imperfect.  I  make bad choices all the time, but I live with them, and when I can fix them and apologize to those I hurt, I do.  I say stupid things all the time- and I apologize all the time as well (my husband perhaps may disagree, but overall...)

I guess the point to this entire rant of mine (written while some Indiana Jones movie plays and my husband and father in law chat in a decidedly distracting manner) is to convey my frustration with all the time our society spends on issues like immigration, racial equality, gender bias, gay rights, and so many other "people" issues.  We are all people.  Can we just put our common humanity above the many differences between us?  Can we not just look on one another in the way my mother taught a young and innocent me?
It's all about love people, it's all about love.

My grandmother

My grandma Mary died on Saturday.  She wasn't my biological grandma; she was technically my step grandmother.  But that sounds so ridiculous, don't you think?  In my heart, and in hers, she is my grandma.  Since I was ten years old, she has loved me, fed me, hugged me, taught me, and laughed with me.  She accepted me from the first moment I walked into her home.  When my daughter Katie was born, a relative stated that my Katie "wasn't really the first grandchild".  My grandma said, "oh yes, she is." 
When my son was born, my grandma flew down to visit.  She laid down on the couch with that baby, and she sang and cooed to him for so long I thought they would both fall asleep.
On the day she died, I felt so empty, so helpless and pitiful.  So, my daughter and I went and bought a beautiful candle and a candle holder.  We lit it in rememberance of our beloved grandma. 
I lit the candle
It was golden and beautiful
As I looked into it's flame
I realized that my grandma was a light
She taught us a love of good cooking
She taught us a love of travel
She taught us to live each day with joy
She taught us to chase our dreams
She taught us how to laugh
She taught us to be strong women
She taught us to stand up for our beliefs
She taught us how to embrace every day like it were the only one
She taught all of this by her example
She didn't just tell us stories
She lived them!
My grandma is a light
People were drawn to her because she shared that light
And now that light lives on
in the hearts of all she touched
We carry on her flame
it will never grow out.
As she dances with my grandpa Jack tonight, we remember not the darkness of her passing, but the bright, unending light she passed on to all of us.
Her flame grows brighter still.

Oh dear lady, how I miss you and love you.  I will hold you in the light and you will live forever in my heart and in the hearts of my children.  Three generations call you blessed, and generations to come will shine with the light you have left to us.

Sharing

Divorce never stops hurting.  I can't even count the number of times that I have said this sentence or had it run through my head.  As a child, the pain of not being able to be with both my families, of never having my whole family in one place, was sometimes overwhelming.  Perhaps this is why as an adult, when I have my husband, my children, and myself all together, I feel an overwhelming peace.  Maybe that is why, as an adult, when one of my children is gone, it is like a piece of my heart is missing.
I knew when I got a divore as an adult, the guilt and pain would be infinitely worse.  I KNOW what my children go through, and I know that it sucks.  I do the best I can, I will never leave them, and I will never move them away from their father.  But I know it still hurts them.
But it hurts me too.  Today brings fresh woulnds and new tears- but wounds that must be hidden and tears that must be held in.  Because, as a parent, I cannot let my children see how I hurt because that is unfair to them. 
I have been planning to take my daughter to Taylor Swift the next time she comes.  Yesterday, my husband told me to buy tickets.  Today, I found out her stepmother is taking her.  My dream.  My daughter.  Another woman.  Divorce never stops hurting.
Just when everything is going along just fine, just when everyone is getting along, just when I am accepting a life in which my kids have two families, just as I think everything will be okay, BAM.  Divorce never stops hurting.  So, all day, I hold in the tears.  So, all day, I stifle the pain.  So, all day, I tell myself I have no right to be upset.  I have no right to be selfish with my child's time.  I have no right to let her know how I feel.  I have lost those rights.  I have lost that dream.  I have lost that moment with my child. 
I am the every day.  I am the routine.  I am the safety.  The reliability.  The one who will get her to school on time.  The one who will make sure her homework is done.  The one who does the laundry.  The one who pays for the braces.  The one who shows up to everything.  The one who lets friends come over.  The one who always has food on the table.  The one who holds it all together.  And it is expected of me.  And I am glad to do it. 
But sometimes, I want to be more than that.  But that is wrong.  And I just remind myself that this is my fault.  That this is my doing.  That as long as she is happy, I will be happy too.  But that doesn't stop the pain. 
Divorce never stops hurting.

Nostalgia

Nostalgia- A bittersweet longing for someone, something, or somewhere from the past.

A ray of hope

I am a teacher.  It is, much of the time, a thankless, challenging, frustrating, and maddening profession.  I spend my day trying to teach children to comprehend everything they read, to analyze it, to turn it into something else, and to create new ideas based on what they learn.  I spend my day trying to teach them how to write legibly, understandably, and cleverly.  I spend my day trying to teach them to treat each other, me, and themselves with respect.  Basically, I spend my day bashing my head into the figurative wall and asking myself, "why, why, why do I do this?!?"  Because, much of the time, nobody cares about what I am trying to teach them.  Nobody cares about respect.  Nobody cares about figurative language or essays or Stephen Crane.  As school ended yesterday, all I could think of was how frustrating this year was.  All I could think about was that I didn't accomplish my goals with my students- I spent the year trying to get them to sit down and keep their hands to themselves for just ten minutes.  I felt overwhelmed.  Incompetent.  Angry.  Frustrated.  I didn't want to live through this hell again.  What did I get from it?  What good did I do?  And I remember sitting down last night thinking how thankful I was that the year was over.  I was so thankful for a respite from the difficulties.
And then today happened. 
I came home from work and found, amidst the junk mail, an envelope with just my name, and in the corner, the name of one of my students.  I recognized her unmistakable handwriting, and as I walked up my driveway, I began to read her letter.  In her letter, she told me how much she appreciated me.  How much she learned from me.  How much she enjoyed my class.  How much I helped her to understand about literature.  How I made her want to try harder.  How she wanted to come to my class.  How she will miss me.  Before I knew it, I was standing in my driveway with tears coursing down my cheeks.  Happy, beautiful tears of success and joy.
And in that few minutes, she changed my entire year.  Every bad day- erased (well, at least smudged mostly out).  Every difficult kid I couldn't reach- okay.  Because I helped one child.  Because I touched one life.  Because one person that came through my classroom left it a better person because of me.  It was all worth it.  All of it. 
And so tonight, I sit with a light soul and full heart. 
I became a teacher because I had this idealistic belief that "if I could change just one life, it will all be worth it."  After years of teaching, I realized this may not be a possibility.  Today, I  know it is.  For this student has inspired me to continue, to push on, to face the challenge.  She has taught me a lesson I tried to teach her class all year long.  Never give up.  The one thing that can never be taken from the human race is hope.  And as my own faith and belief in myself waned, this child proved to me that I had only to reach into my mailbox to find a ray of hope.

My very favorite poem comes to mind:
If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.
Emily Dickinson

My daughter is talented
my son is a genius
my son is amazing
my husband is warmth
my home a safe haven
my family is growing
my job is challenging
I have everything
I ever wanted.
my life is all
I could ever
ask for.
so why
do I
sometimes
feel
like I
want
more?

em