MoHo's

The other day I was with someone who was grilling me for the reasons why I left the church. Not in a bad way or even in making me justify the position but definitely in a way that demanded some reasonable explanation. We spoke for a long time and went back a few more times. I can't say whether my explanation of my issues would ever good enough for their acceptance but the wonderful truth of it is that it doesn't matter, it's my truth to own.

What happened though was the feelings, the old hard hurt feelings, and the unreasonable behavior that my family endured through and allowed without voicing a stronger and more verbal way to try and stop it seeped forward and I got angry all over again. There have been days when I just have wanted to list them, one after another, and ask; "would you stay"? Would you want to be there?

Then it happened, even though this particular issue wasn't spoken about, as my company was all sleeping through the bliss of the Trans Canada Highway through the Canadian Rockies, I started mulling over all we had gone through and I began to I fell vindicated. I felt at peace because this one issue alone was more than any family should have had to bare and we bore it through all four of my children.

What am I on about?

Let me tell you one part of our story.

There was a time in our history when the wonderful young people of the Calgary Alberta South stake had decided to nick name my oldest daughter, it became the standing joke as as she walked the hallways of her high school, stood in the foyer of our home ward. If there was a young Mormon near her then this most endearing term would be blurted out.

"Mormon Whore"

They said it in seminary where the seminary teacher - Brother Mandin - heard it and did nothing, parents of the worst offenders laughed and said my daughter needed to grow a thicker skin and it just never ended. No wonder she has no warm and fuzzy feelings about church.

Enter daughter 2 to the blessed high school with the first full time seminary and the cruelness that kept coming at us. It started out as "sister of the Mormon whore" and then the "sister" part was dropped. K2 was smarter - she literally had nothing to do with the Mormons but that didn't stop Brother Mandin from focusing in on her and perpetrating the label even more. Even with the limited amount of exposure to the Mormon youth those lovely "warriors of the last days" still taunted and haunted my daughters. 6 young women decided in their pursuit of the values of the young women program ( sarcasms here) to place a large sign on our front garage proclaiming the label. In this whole process it was the only time I saw a heart when our Bishop came to the house, saw the sign, and wept. Openly wept at the unjustified hostility. Just a few months later, she left too.

K3 was the third to have the title trust on her. She didn't have a chance. The label was there. She never bothered with seminary. Why would she, it wasn't a haven or refuge of peace. They was no unbiased, kind and compassionate seminary teacher there. It didn't matter who or what she did, there wasn't kindness or compassion available anywhere where Mormons were. I think by this time her Dad and I had split and the pain of his telling them daily of deserving the tile was gone. It didn't however stop the hostility and cruelty by youth that somehow were missing the point of all those lessons they were having at church.

D entered in Grade 12 having spent the first 2 years clear of the Beaverbrook environment. He wasn't there a minute before the label reared it's ugly head. This time however, there was a new seminary teacher. The horrible behavior only existed outside of the seminary building and for that I was grateful. What remained though was a group of kids with egos the size of elephants who let only the elect into the inner circle, it was a no brainer what was going to happen.

I have often wondered if I had been more vocal, more outspoken, even stronger would it have changed things. What is it about us that makes it right for others to treat us so badly? Where does anyone who claims to be LDS get off thinking it's okay to say things or address someone so abusively?

There I was, winding through the most beautiful country thinking through what could have been and then it hit me. All of that resentment, all of the hurt and pain really was such a waste of time. Why did I ever give power to such horrible people.

So fast forward a few weeks of sitting on this post. I was walking through the Costco parking lot, I am not sure why Costco is sanomoius to Mormons but it is for me and I got angry all over again. Is this what makes my favorite Talk show host on XM radio so vocal of the bully who terrified her all trough high school? Is this what makes people NEVER look back and ever want anything to do with their pasts. I get invited to Mormon weddings and mission farewells and homecomings and I never go, never. Why would I ever want to expose myself to the mentality of spiritual bullies.

I wonder in those ward meetings when they talk about in actives is the very members sitting in those meetings behavior ever called into question. I wonder if there will come a time when I won't be angry and I won't be hurt?

Lessons from the Momma Bird.

We have a bird's nest in the tree that is near are deck. It's a Robin's nest. It rests about 5 feet above our deck table and is, to say the least, beautiful. I knew we must have had a nest close as the two robins were around a lot but felt it was in the dense inner side of the large cedar bush. When W found it we thought just how lucky we were to have this in such close proximity. It was an omen of good luck.

Through out the weekend I painfully tried to catch a shot of the mom/dad hovering over the nest and in my patience I learned a life lesson from these tiny creatures and their parenting. It was, as I said, beautiful.


The nest is accessible, we can hear the little ones but they are still too small to see. The parents are skittish and when they see us watching them they fly away. They leave the nest, taking the attention away from the little ones and squawk, to the moon, to draw our attention away.

Mom and Dad tag team. That is so amazing to watch. Dad/Mom will rest on the power line while the other stays at the nest. Whoever is away will then search for food and when found will fly to the fence, make some noise and they will switch. There's no specific roles to follow, both working together as they raise they babies to flight.


As I watched these beautiful creatures and as they began to realize we weren't a threat I studied their movements mostly so that I could catch a picture. I soon started to realize that parenting, that mothering, whether done by humans or animals in most respects includes instinctual habits. These parents were protective, were stellar in their providing for the needs and in there way of trying in every way they can to keep the little ones safe. Is that any different than you and I as parents.

At some point, Mother and Father bird will be having to teach these babies to fly. This is where I say, as much as I miss her, I am glad Ping has passed. Hopefully Missy and Stano will be leaving them alone as well.


I can feel myself shifting back to stability again. I am searching for the truths found so much around me. Life has so many great lessons just waiting to be had.

The journey is just so wonderful, keeping focused on that will help.

So... added post note. This morning we realized Mom and Dad had been MIA for a few days. It appears the magpies were able to get to the nest. My heart hurts. Is this how all the Mom's in Oslo feel, how the country of Norway feels? Life is riddled with danger and just has the owl that killed Rocky was only doing what owls do somehow it feels empty somehow. I hate predators but understand they are all part of the plan. It just sucks!

Initiations

We woke up this morning to a sea of white. In defense of that statement, K2 did wake us up when she got in at 3AM to tell us something but W and I were so asleep we just agreed and fell back asleep. So, at 8 AM the puppies started to bark, I moved and found D and his friend T cleaning up the front yard.

I knew that this would be an inevitable outcome of his association to his band. It's a frosh initiations and happens to every first year member. They have a great rule, an unofficial rule, that if parents help clean up the mess the senior members will return and do it all over again. I LOVE THAT RULE!

It was interesting, as I saw what was really one of the best TPing jobs ever it brought back a flood of not so good memories. The time when our house came under attack for a number of years. If only it was TP'ing that would have been fine but it was accompanied by egging and traffic signs and Salvation Army donations strewn across the lawn. The motivation for that frivolity was not welcoming but hatred, resentment and jealousy. There was a significant difference between this TP job and those done at the Lake Bonaventure house.

I wonder how those kids feel now, over 10 years later about the acts of vandalism they perpetrated on our home. Every Sunday, after the Saturday night dance, we would go out as a family and clean the dried eggs off our home, even in -30c weather and then watch these same young men who did it bless our sacrament. It became increasingly harder and harder to not hate through this. Even to this day, apologies have NEVER come forth. Did they ever wonder if they crossed the line? Did they ever wonder why we were hurt? I mean, we welcomed them time and time again to use our backyard and they came and then we were rewarded with the acts of hatred almost every weekend for over 5-7 years. It became a nightmare, it became a way of life for us. As much as we tried to rise above it, it seemed to never end until we moved. The Bishop suggested we put into the stake bulletin that we were moving so that the kids could have a heads up so as to not do it to the new owners, he thought he was funny when he said it, I was just sad.

As I walked around this morning I was instantly struck by the difference. Before, it was about the intent. There was never concern for the property or the outcome. It was meant to be an act of feelings. Here, today, it was about welcoming. A strong and dedicated group of kids who wanted D to be one of them. You saw it most at the Grand baby garden where they could have damaged it so easily. In their haste, they could have pulled the fragile flowers out of their newly found roots and yet, they gently laid the toilet paper around the flowers and though it was, for sure, the best TP job I have seen in a very long time it was done gently and out of respect.

I think that's what the Momo kids lacked, RESPECT. I wonder if they have any now?

Frogs and Scorpions

One day, a scorpion looked around and decided that he wanted a change. He climbed over rocks and under vines and kept going until he reached a river. The river was wide and swift, and the scorpion stopped to reconsider the situation. Suddenly, he saw a frog sitting in the rushes by the bank of the stream on the other side of the river. "Hellooo Mr. Frog!" called the scorpion across the water, "Would you be so kind as to give me a ride on your back across the river?" But knowing all about scorpions, the frog said, "If I let you on my back, you will sting me and kill me!" The scorpion argued, "If I try to kill you, then I would die too, for you see I cannot swim!" Now this seemed to make sense to the frog. "Alright then...how do I know you wont just wait till we get to the other side and THEN sting me & kill me?" said the frog. "Ahh...," crooned the scorpion, "Because you see, once you've taken me to the other side of this river, I will be so grateful for your help, that it would hardly be fair to reward you with death, now would it?!" So the frog agreed to take the scorpion across the river. The scorpion crawled onto the frog's back, his sharp claws sticking into the frog's soft hide, and the frog slid into the river. The muddy water swirled around them, but the frog stayed near the surface so the scorpion would not drown. He kicked strongly through the first half of the stream, his flippers paddling wildly against the current. Halfway across the river, the frog suddenly felt a sharp sting in his back and, out of the corner of his eye, saw the scorpion remove his stinger from the frog's back. A deadening numbness began to creep into his limbs. "You fool!" croaked the frog, "Now we shall both die! Why on earth did you do that?" The scorpion shrugged, "I could not help myself. I'm a scorpion, it is my nature." Then they both sank into the muddy waters of the swiftly flowing river. ~Aesop

My Song

 "A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song."

~ Maya Angelo

Whenever I think of this amazing place I am visiting I think about completeness and home, in a much more visceral way, like it's you belonging spot, where my soul meets my peace. This is my safety, my healing sanctuary. I get why, I understand on so many levels why my heart is drawn here. Half my blood runs through the energy of the earth that moves and motions through the beaches, the roads, the trails. My father, his father and his father before him have travelled Comox Ave. My Grandmother walked these streets with me holding her hand. All of this is in me and when I am here, like when I am in Calgary, I feel serenity. This serenity however is tugging more and more with each visit I am here.

I am sitting on a bed looking at a basket in the corner of the room meant for my Rocky which I know my Missy will rest her head in. I listened tonight to my Dad tell me about his nearly 60th high school reunion tonight and how he WAS the oldest one there and I think how blessed I am to have my 83 year old dad still around.

Even in the pity party I have been having I have been able to surface to gratitude again. That is what my songs recalls here and that is what I needed most of all.

Thank you Comox, thank-you.