Dee's Baptism

On February 2, 2013, our oldest child and only son was baptized into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I can't deny that we, as his parents, probably had a profound effect on this event taking place, but it truly was his decision to do so. For several months we have been talking with our children, particularly Dee, about why and how we are baptized. We asked him if he wanted to be baptized, making it clear that we were not forcing him to do it, and he responded with a resounding "Yes!"...as long as Daddy wouldn't let him drown. :)

I am so proud of Dee for making this choice. By being baptized he has followed the example of the Savior, he has proven his willingness to try to choose the right, and he has become a member of the LDS church, the church we believe to be the true church of Jesus Christ. My hope is that this is the first of many choices he will make in his life that will bring him closer to Heavenly Father and happiness in this life and the next.





 

Saturday was such a great day! Lots of our family came to support Dee and our family. The baptism was held at our stake center. Brother Sessions from our ward's bishopric conducted. Dee's sister, Jeigh, proudly led the music, beginning with an opening song of "I am a Child of God". Grandpa R. gave the opening prayer.

Grandpa P. gave a talk on baptism, wherein he shared the experience of his own baptism which was done in his local high school swimming pool. Another kid that was being baptized that day had to be rescued from the deep end. He reminded Dee to find something memorable that would mark this day in his mind.

Grandma R. gave a talk on the Holy Ghost. She had many objects to help Dee know how to recognize the Spirit, one of them being his favorite fuzzy blanket that was given to him as a brand new baby. Dee listened attentively to the talks. I'm not sure if he was nervous or excited or probably both. He slightly bounced in his chair with a huge grin on his face through the entire meeting.

After the talks, Aunt Erin and I sang a special musical number, "Baptism". It has been a long time since I've had the chance to sing with my sister; we used to do it all the time. It was my way of sharing in and contributing to Dee's big day.

After the musical number, Dee and his dad stepped into the font and Dee was baptized by immersion with both of his grandfathers acting as witnesses. All the little cousins and children who had come to the baptism sat near the glass surrounding the font to watch. Jeigh started cackling as Dee was submerged in the water and that set several of the children off. However irreverent, they were just voicing the excitement and energy that could be felt in the room.

While Dee and Joe changed into dry clothes, the primary president, Sister Garside, passed out papers for people to write notes of congratulation, advice, or love for Dee. When they reappeared, dried and dressed, the confirmation took place. Nine men (Joe, Grandpa R., Grandpa P., Uncle Kip, Uncle Colin, Cousin Brandon, Paula (friend), Bishop Phillips, and Brother Sessions) who hold the power of the priesthood placed their hands on Dee's head and gave him the gift of the Holy Ghost. My husband, Joe, is a humble man who gives powerful blessings. I'm always amazed at the words that come from his mouth when he is acting as the mouthpiece of God. I know they are not his own. Among many other things, he blessed Dee to do well in school, to serve as a full-time missionary someday, and reminded him how much his earthly and heavenly parents love him. Dee gave awkward, yet happy handshakes and hugs to all the men in the circle after the confirmation.



Dee and his sweet Primary teacher, Sister Spears



Brother Sessions turned some time over to Bishop Phillips and then closed the meeting. The closing song, "I'm Trying to be Like Jesus" was led again by Jeigh and the closing prayer was given by Dee's five year old cousin, Kashus. We were slightly nervous when Dee wanted to ask Kash to give the closing prayer. Kash's prayers are often...creative...and always long. This one wasn't any different, but it was a great prayer. It was obvious that Kash had been listening closely to the baptism and confirmation when he repeatedly asked that things be blessed "by the holy authority". At one point, even he got tired during his long prayer and yawned a big, loud yawn. That was the point that Dee and I lost it. I had to clamp my hand over my mouth to stop from giggling out loud. It was a memorable prayer from one fantastic kid!

Once the meeting was over we made our way to our home where we served a luncheon. Dee had requested Chicken Noodle and Minestrone Soup. Aunt Erin made a Cheese Broccoli Soup for those who CAN have milk. With about 45 people, the house was full to the brim with family and friends. Just the way we like it!

This boy is blessed to have such great friends and family in his life. He is so loved! What a special day!







Grandpa and Grandma P.

  


Grandpa and Grandma R. (and cousin London)

 


Three generations

  


These girls sure are lucky to have such a great older brother!



 





Is There Life After "Mommy"?

As a devout members of the LDS faith (and yes, that makes me a Christian too) I am repeatedly exposed to...well, let's face it...cheesy music.

Music can be very powerful and moving and spiritually fulfilling. It is by far the most effective way the Spirit speaks to me. But when it comes to the majority of contemporary christian/LDS music...I can't help but cringe. It is so sticky sweet and predictable and just downright weird. (Are we praising God or making out with him?)

I'm sure the people who write and perform these songs have the best intentions. They are trying to express their testimonies and love of God and the Savior through music. My hat is off to them for even trying. I mean, really, how critical can I be? Have I ever written anything that remotely resembles music much less something that others find worthy of being broadcasted and performed publicly.

Still, I'd rather not listen to most of it.

For all my contempt for church music, there is one particular person who in my opinion has found the perfect balance between sweet and spiritual.

Janice Kapp Perry.

The other day my husband and I happened upon a television program about her. I had no idea how many of my favorite church songs could be attributed to her. She has written dozens of primary songs, hymns, and other musical arrangements that have become part of the LDS culture and faith.

And here is the kicker: She didn't even start until she was 40 years old! This is when she received her "two lucky breaks": a broken ankle and a broken television set. Before this she had been busy raising children and playing sports.

Hearing that someone like Janice Kapp Perry didn't even find her groove until she was 40 gives me a lot of hope. Sometimes I feel like I have lost myself in motherhood. I can't help but wonder who Evelyn is anymore? Don't get me wrong. I love being a mother. I really do. There's nothing more important and precious to me than raising these four children right now. But what happens when they grow up and leave, as I hope they will someday. And not because I want to be rid of them, but because I hope I did my job right and they are wonderful, capable people who are busy doing good things. Good things like making chubby little grandbabies for me to smooch.

I will always be a mom, but I won't always be busy wiping bums, cleaning up messes, and reading board books. Motherhood can be so dirty and grimy and tiring and micro-focused sometimes that it blinds me to life before or beyond it. I am more than mom...I think. I used to be at least and I have hope that someday I will be again.

I don't know what things I will accomplish beyond being a mom, but after learning that someone who has successfully spoken to my spirit through music didn't even start until after they had done their time potty training, helping with homework, and breaking up sibling brawls gives me the courage to go ahead and plan on accomplishing something monumental after I build the foundations of these little monuments-in-the-making here.

It's always nice to have a little hope on your side.

For the Love of All that is Holy

I have mentioned before on my blog that I am a Mormon.


In the Mormon religion we partake of the Sacrament (pieces of bread and cups of water that symbolize the sacrifice made by the Savior for all of mankind to pay for our sins both on the cross and in the Garden of Gethsemane) every Sunday. This is the primary purpose for our main Sabbath Day meeting rather appropriately named “Sacrament Meeting”.

In a typical Sacrament Meeting this is how the Sacrament ordinance would go:

The young men line up near the Sacrament table. One young man sitting at the table blesses the bread with an established blessing. Then the lined up young men take the bread trays and disperse amongst the congregation passing the trays down the aisles in a reverent and organized manner.

The members of the congregation upon being passed the tray take a piece of bread, eat it, and pass the tray down to the next person, all the while pondering upon the Savior and taking the opportunity to renew baptismal covenants with humble hearts and clear minds. This process is repeated for the water.

It is a special opportunity to think of our Heavenly Father and Savior and to partake in the power of the Atonement. It SHOULD be a sacred, quiet, peaceful time where hearts and minds are focused and open to the whisperings of the Spirit.

And then there’s how the Sacrament goes for our family:

As the Sacrament prayers are being given Jeigh is turned around almost standing on the pew to look at the people behind us. Elle is yelling, asking where her elephant has gone. Dee is whining that he’s ready to go home. Never mind that we have been at church a whole of ten minutes. The baby is probably the best behaved out of all four children…

Until…the trays come by. Then she is squirming, twisting, and reaching to grab a hold of the trays as they come down our pew. As I wrestle her back with one arm and hold the tray steady with the other I feel as if I know what it must be like to be a calf wrangler.

She’s simply a curious baby and this wouldn’t be so bad if Dee wasn’t taking his sweet time figuring out exactly which tiny hunk of bread is destined for his tummy and eternal salvation. He likes to study the tray, wiggling the fingers on both hands in the air with the anticipation. Obviously it is crucial to get the RIGHT piece of bread as sometimes he grabs one and tosses it back after a moment of examination. If I weren’t holding a near screeching baby back I would grab one for him and shove it in his mouth, but this is wholly impossible. Instead I choose to cast him a dirty glance, dripping with maternal meaning. Finally he chooses the one piece of bread that is farthest from him requiring him to reach over and around the tray, nearly knocking the entire thing to the ground.

The three year old is much faster at picking her bread. But in her haste and hunger she usually grabs a good handful of bread instead of the one piece and crams it into her mouth before I can stop her. Maybe she’s hoping to be forgiven of extra sins.

As I pass the tray back and try to bow my head and close my eyes hoping to salvage some of the opportunity to commune with my Heavenly Father, a finger pokes my side. I look over at Dee who has chewed up his bread and spread it all over his teeth like a set of those cheap Halloween hillbilly teeth. I just stare at him unsure if I should puke or punish.

After the water tray comes and goes Jeigh is loudly swishing her reserved water through her teeth. The baby is happily kicking the hymn books against the pew in front of us. Elle is still in a dire and vocal search for her toy elephant. Dee is slumped over and sulking after being pinched with church appropriate chastisement. My husband Joe is rolling his eyes and muttering threats under his breath. I have broken out in to a sweat from embarrassment and effort at “helping” my children to learn how to behave appropriately during this sacred ordinance.

As the Bishop stands up to announce that the Sacrament is over I am feeling anything but Christ-like. Quite the opposite actually. Every Sunday I find myself wondering if the Sacrament still counts when you have visions of knocking a few heads together in the middle of it. Surely there is some kind of addendum to the Atonement for mothers of young children…

P.S. Of course I say this all very tongue-in-cheek. In my heart of hearts I KNOW it is important for my children to be at this meeting and learning about the Atonement and the Savior. I KNOW it is important for me to be there as well, knocking heads together or not (I kid, I kid. Kind of...) One day we will get this right. And in the meantime, we have been given the wonderful opportunity to repent, partake of the Sacrament, and try, try again.

The One Where She Loses a Few Followers

I read something this morning that I wanted to share with you, my friends in the blog world. Whether I have met you in person or not, I consider you my friends.

So here it is.

"Wherefore the things which are pleasing unto the world I do not write, but the things which are pleasing unto God and unto those who are not of the world." ***

I can see you clicking the exit button now. Maybe rolling your eyes and thinking, "Oh great! Here she goes getting all churchy on us"?

Possibly.

But I want to tell you something about myself. Something that I haven't exactly kept hidden but that I haven't been very forward about either here on Hanging by A Silver Lining.

I am a Mormon.

Gasp!

There I said it.

I belong to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints and this means many things to me.

First and foremost, being a Mormon means that I believe in Christ.

I believe that the Savior died, being crucified on the cross, but rose again to live. Before all that He suffered in the Garden of Gethsemane for the sins of mankind. And you can trust that there was a big old rotten portion of my sins in there. I believe because He did all this that I can be forgiven for all the many things I seem bound and determined to do wrong while I live here on earth. Dang that natural man thing I got going on.

Knowing how easily I screw up makes me forever grateful that someone, an eternal and perfect being no less, would do that for me. Forever grateful, humbled, and in debt.

Because I am a Mormon I choose not to drink alcohol, take drugs, consume tobacco in any form, drink coffee or tea, and as of late I am taking it an extra step and trying to be committed to not drinking Coke and Dr. Pepper either. {whimper}

Because I am a Mormon I made the decision to not have any premarital sex, even with my husband when we were engaged and "practically married". I continue to avoid sexual relations with anyone other than my husband, who I plan to be married to for many years. Like eternity.

Being a Mormon I believe that dancing, singing, listening to loud music, playing rowdy games, watching football, bowling, camping, blogging, swimming, drinking root beer floats, watching Shaytards videos on YouTube, reading novels, eating turkey at Thanksgiving and ham at Christmas are wholesome, fun activities. Ones I often enjoy.

Being a Mormon, I believe the family is eternal IF and only IF we work in this life to live in such a way that we will be worthy to live together in the life hereafter. I believe this, but I confess, this terrifies me. I feel not only a dire responsibility for myself, but for my husband and each of my four children.

Being a Mormon, I knew I wanted to have several children that would not be separated from me even by death. Having LOTS of children is not a commandment, but something I chose to do. Just because I chose to have lots of kids doesn't instantly make me the perfect mom. It's something I have to work at not just daily, but minutely sometimes. Being a Mormon helps me to do that thanks to prayer, repentance, religious instruction and guidance, and support of church community.

Being a Mormon, I believe in the truthfulness and power of a certain book: The Book of Mormon. Although I struggle to find the time and dedication to read and study it daily, I know I should. And I know that when I do, my day just seems to go better; I am happier, I am more patient, kind, and sensitive to spiritual promptings. All good things that help me to be a better mom, wife, friend, and person.

I am a Mormon because I CHOOSE to be a Mormon. I am not a sheep. No one makes me believe in all this. I have had my moments when I have considered scrapping it all and doing whatever the he!! I want. But deep down inside, I KNOW that I have a testimony of this religion. I feel, believe, KNOW it is truth and light and happiness. And that it is right for me.

Being a Mormon doesn't make me perfect. It doesn't put me above anyone else. It doesn't mean I am "saved". It doesn't mean I am not going to screw everything up most days. It doesn't mean I won't say or do or write dumb things. It doesn't save me from cancer or debt or taxes. It doesn't mean I only listen to church music (I actually detest most church music) or don't go to the theater to see the latest movie or avoid chocolate (because I certainly don't).

But being a Mormon does mean something to me. And I wanted you to know that.

***1 Nephi 6:5 (a scripture from The Book of Mormon)