Heidi Has a Happy Hippo

Just in case you're wondering, this post has a lot to do with religion.

When I was in fourth grade, I was invited to participate in the program, Oddyssey of the Mind. In our radically eclectic skit, my character was a puzzle peice named "Happy." I thought it was fitting, seeing as my first name is Heidi, and like Stan Lee, I'm a sucker for a good alliteration, especially when it comes to names. "Happy Heidi."

A little while after that, Stephanie drew these little illustrations of animals for each of us. They had adjectives, too. We each had a different animal. Well, mine was a hippo. A happy hippo. I didn't like being associated with a hippo, but I really liked being named "Happy" once again.

I don't have anything especially exciting to report. My life is pretty routine. I go to work, I go home. I go to church, I go get groceries. I look forward to the weekend, and I don't love Mondays.

But, I am happy.

Sometimes, when I kneel beside my bed to pray before I fall asleep, reflecting on my day and my life, I am overcome with a sense of happiness. I am surprised by it. It is not fleeting. It is constant. I am truly, deeply, actually happy. (No matter how much I wish it were different, the only thing I really feel in the morning when I pray is sleepy. Oh well).

I'm not really sure how long I had been deeply unhappy, but I can tell you: I was. I was so busy with college, and dating (I figured it out. Since I was 21, I have had only 10 months of "singleness," 6 of which have been the last half year. That's exhausting, and admittedly, a little unhealthy), that I really wasn't keeping my self in check. And I wasn't happy. To be honest, I wonder if I was ever really happy at college.

The summer was a little strange for me. I felt sad, but I enjoyed it. After all, I have a right to be sad, . Being sad is a part of the human experience, and a blessing. I am thankful for ALL of the blessings that my Heavenly Father allows me to have.

Don't get me wrong. I wasn't wallowing: I've done that before, and it isn't productive. No, this was a productive kind of sad, and sad might be the wrong word for it (maybe contrite? But nobody uses that word anymore). Anyhow, being sad helped me think about my SELF and who I am, and most importantly, what makes me happy. (Leave a comment if you can think of a better word for this. I just can't think of one).

I started reading more again. I used to read quite a lot for pleasure, but at school, I couldn't really choose what I read, because I was reading, reading, reading what the professors assigned me to read. I love the way I grew as a reader and a scholar during school, but there was something missing, too. So, here I was at home, and wanting to read, so I went to the library and brought home a stack of books, all picked by ME. Then I read them. Then I took them back. Then I got a new stack of books. Which I read. It was awesome.

I started painting with watercolors, too. I'm not very good, because I'm a beginner, but I enjoy watercolors. I like to play with the colors, and mixing, and trying to get the shapes and textures on the page the way I imagine. I think of myself as an artist these days. My work with markers and color pencils is, in my opinion, inspired. When I paint or draw, I feel a sense of peace and trainquility.

I re-evaluated my relgion. This, to me, means I re-evaluated my relationship with God and His Son, Jesus Christ. I'm not saying that I re-decided whether or not to have this relationship, but that I decided to change the way I related to Them. I prayed more. I studied the scriptures, my patriarchal blessing, and my journal to re-discover the many tender mercies I am showered with constantly. I changed my journal writing to focus on them, and describe them, so that in the future, when I come to a similar place in life, I will have more material to study.

I worked in the garden. I hope I helped my Mom, working in the house. I made new friends and I made new plans for myself.

Being happy is fantastic. I don't have to be at a party or playing a game to feel it; that's not the same kind of happiness I'm talking about. I don't even need to be dating someone. It's a feeling of deep satisfaction with who I am, and knowing that God is also satisfied with who I am, too.

I have this theory about cycles: everything is a cycle. Life is a cycle. Each day cycles in and out, each week, each year -- and so, too, do our lives, in a way, through a cycle of self examination and self acceptance:

1. First, we lose ourselves, and become a stranger with the person we are.
2. Then, we re-discover ourselves, or discover our new selves for the first time, again.
3. Then we learn to accept and adjust to who we now are.
4. Finally, we change again, becoming a stranger to our selves once more, starting the cycle over again.

I don't think that's deep or profound, but it's beautiful, and I don't have anything deep or profound to say, except that I am happy. I may not be the same little girl with a painted, plywood puzzle peice costume dancing on a stage singing "Happy, happy ha-PPY!" but I still am (or rather, am again finally) "Happy Heidi."

Shame.

"You must be the change you want to see in the world."
-Mahatma Gandhi

Today when I was walking to work, I heard a woman sobbing.

I turned and saw here, crying passionately on the phone, and I wanted to do something to help her. I hesitated, and then went inside the building, deciding that she would be embarrassed to know that I knew that she was crying. At least, that's how I would feel, so I assumed that's how she would feel, too.

I stopped once inside, and stood there, struggling stupidly with my decision to ignore her. I changed my mind, and went out to help her, but found she was already gone. I felt ashamed.

I pray every day for opportunities to help other people, and I feel happiest when I can do just that. Is that not the essence of the gospel of Jesus Christ: finding joy in service to others? I don't always miss the call to action, but so often I miss my chances, and deeply regret my hesitance.

We all have our walls. Once I was boarding a plane in the JFK airport (or rather, the we-are-bugs-in-a-bottle airport), and I saw a man trying to communicate with two flight attendants. He was deaf, and neither of the attendants knew sign language, so the communication was laborious and frustrating for all three. I know sign language. Once again my desire to help struggled against my aversion to embarrassment, and I did not help.

The deepest regret I have of all is when one of my girls at efy was sick, and the health counselors, busy and inexperienced, didn't think that it was serious. Like Miss Clavel, I kept on saying, and feeling, that "something was not right," and I asked them to come visit her multiple times. I did not, however, insist upon further action. I wanted to, but I didn't want to make a "big deal" about it if I was wrong. So I didn't push. On the morning of the last day, she collapsed in the hall, and was taken by ambulance to the hospital, where she was diagnosed with type I diabetes, a condition I have myself suffered more than ten years. Why did I not insist?

There are many things to regret in a life; these are mine. Of course, they all are excusable, none of the woe or frustration in these situations were ever my fault. The woman this afternoon was a stranger, so was the deaf man, and my efy camper insisted she was fine along with the health counselor, and after all, I did make sure she was seen every day that she felt sick by the health counselor.

I just think I could do better.

A Day of Accomplishments!

1. I finally finished reading all 548 pages of Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austin! Wow, that only took me.... forever.
2. I got an honest-to-goodness, cancer producing sunburn! Yay for sunburns!
3. I fed missionaries! And I fed them real food, too! And it wasn't even poisoned!
4. I did one of those things that grown ups do to make little girls realize that they are loved, but never really comprehend exactly how excessive that love must be in order to actually compel a grown person to endure. You guessed it! I watched Monte Carlo with my 9-year-old cousin!
5. I wrote a blog post!

**********AND**********

6. I got a car.
7. I got a car!
8. I got a car!
9. I got a car!
10. I got a car!

Homework Home Work Home-work.

We are not selfish people. We believe in giving of ourselves: our time, our talents, and our energy. This means helping the poor and sick, the emotionally weary.

We also are a family people. We believe that the family is sacred, and deserves much of our time, dedication, care, and most of all, our love.

There is an unfortunate problem in the American home that is making children sick. It is distracting parents from loving their children fully, correctly, and healthily.

It is the problem of gender roles in America.

It has been said, and it might be easy to misunderstand, that a woman’s place is in the home. The first go-to document on family is “The Family, a Proclamation to the World,” which states that “Mothers are primarily responsible for the nurture of their children.” The definition of the word “nurture” is “to feed and protect; to support and encourage; to bring up, train, educate.” Within the “nature vs nurture” debate, we do know, for certain, that environmental factors play heavily into the identity of an adult, varying greatly between identical twins (genetically, with one identity) who are different in personality, morality, and stability of character due to different environmental factors.

Now don’t get me wrong, I actually do believe that a woman’s place is in the home when that is her choice. If a woman decides to stay at home, then that is exactly where her place is. I’m not trying to say that’s wrong.

My mother nurtured me well. As an adult, I am autonomous: I care for myself in every way, I interact healthily with other people, I have goals, ambitions, and I am financially responsible. She fed me, protected me within reason(I was physically safe, and introduced to the less savory aspects of human life at a reasonable pace, at appropriate times). She supported me in my academics by expecting me to do well, and allowing me to do so. I can remember not even once when my mother helped me with a homework assignment. I guess I always knew I could ask, and it’s possible that she did and I just don’t remember it, but the important thing is, I always knew that she knew that I could do it, and therefore did not need her help. She had high expectations for me. So did my Dad, I guess, because he certainly didn’t ask me “Heidi, did you do your homework?” every evening at seven. He did, on the other hand, make sure I fed the dog.

I try to imagine if, for some reason, my mother had been waiting at the door when I came home from first grade with my first homework assignment, and after she hugged and kissed me, and told me she missed missed missed me, and plopped a plate of cookies with glass of milk in front of my seven year old self, she ripped open my backpack, and began doing my homework assignment aloud. Suppose, then, that this was not a 24-hour affair with insanity, but the actual method by which my mother was “supporting, encouraging, and educating” me.

Does this show love? Maybe. Or dependence. Dependence is easily confused with love: does my imaginary mother, here, love me, or need to live vicariously through me, by taking her role as mother to a point where it includes living my, her child’s, life? How is this supportive, encouraging, or educational? It in fact does the opposite. It takes away my freedom of self: my freedom to chose to be responsible, growing, and educated. It undermines my basic, human value.

That’s not to say that no children need support, encouragement, and education in the home. No way! I also happen to know that my mother and father have helped siblings of mine who needed a different kind of parent, a parent who inquires after academics, and they have been those parents, too.

But they still don’t DO the homework. And we are better people for it: because that is real love, and real love is the kind of love that makes real people in the end. Real people contribute to society in a meaningful way and are able to give real love, too. By “‘loving” your children in the way that takes away their opportunities to grow up, including homework, you take away their ability to eventually contribute meaningfully to society and participate in real love with everyone -- including parents, spouses, and their own children. How is that kind? How is that possibly what our Heavenly Father wished for his children-mothers to do when he prescribed their role as mothers to nurture? How is that nurturing?

It is not.

It is a false love. It is the kind of love that inhibits growth, and it needs to be checked. It needs to be squelched. It needs to be exterminated from our behavioral vocabulary.

Children have a right to do their own homework: mistakes and all.

Also, I Forgot to Title This Before Publishing.

Sometimes I amaze even myself with my genuine absentmindedness.

Take the past two days, for example:

I am currently procrastinating a paper that I forgot about, which is due today, which is supposed to be about 5 pages. Brilliant, I know.

This morning, I remembered my work schedule as being in the farthest booth from the police station. I’m actually in the 2nd closest booth, but I didn’t remember that until I actually arrived at the farthest booth. Genius, I can hear you thinking it, I might as well say it.

Yesterday morning I had to leave work early for a guest lecturer, visiting from Calvin college, an author who we are studying in one of my classes. I have been excited for this lecture all week, but I totally forgot about it until my phone’s alarm went off 15 minutes before the lecture was scheduled to begin. I was still in my uniform and everything! So I rushed back, and made it just in the nick of time.

After class yesterday, I stayed on campus in the computer lab to do some work. I stayed there for about an hour when hunger finally overcame me, so I headed home. When I got there, I realized with a jolt that cleaning checks were tonight, plus the temple trip was tonight, and there was only an hour before take off! So I scrambled to do my cleaning (luckily our apartment is actually super clean, and the work needed for cleaning checks is basically a sanitation process that may or may not be visibly noticeable), changed into temple appropriate attire, and met for the carpool on time.

I ate something, too, but apparently not enough, because I got a low blood sugar while in the temple, which is not exactly embarrassing or anything.

I’m too young for Alzheimer’s disease, right?

"Continue in Patience."

"The lessons we learn from patience will cultivate our character, lift our lives, and heighten our happiness."
"Patience -the ability to put our desires on hold for a time- is a precious and rare virtue."
"Patience is not passive resignation, nor is it failing to act because of our fears. Patience means active waiting and enduring. It means staying with something and doing all that we can --working, hoping, and exercising faith; bearing hardship with fortitude, even when the desires of our hearts are delayed."

"Patience is not simply enduring, it is enduring well!"
"If we wait patiently for the Lord, He will incline unto us. He will hear our cries. He will bring us out of a horrible pit and set our feet upon a solid rock. "

"Patience is a process of perfection."

-Dieter F. Uchtdorf

Alive.

I know that worms are supposed to be disgusting (and bugs in general, I guess). But look at the texture of this wet worm, and the shape of his curl, and the lines of his body, and the color of his innards!

"I love to see the temple..."

"Down in the valley, valley so low- hang your head over, hear the wind blow! "

"Photograph" literally means "portrait of light."

I hope Brittany all the best as she serves in the Everett, Washington mission!

Whoever thought that ants could be so lovely?

They look like candies... candies with legs. They can walk down your throat.

"May we ever be exemplary in our homes and faithful in keeping all of the commandments that we may harbor no hidden wedges but rather remember the Savior's admonition: 'By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another.'"

-President Thomas S. Monson, The Peril of Hidden Wedges

"Directive."

-Eve, Walle

"You electrify my life. Let's conspire to ignite all the souls that would die just to feel alive."

-Muse, Starlight

2+2=4

I was having a delightful conversation with a Canadian the other day, when we mutually came to an obvious conclusion. The widespread obsession among teenage girls over the obscenely successful Twilight series is most likely a contributing factor in the Young Women presidency's addition of "virtue" to the list young women values listed in the theme. We remembered there being a logical chronology to the two events, and so investigated further. We found that the pinnacle of the first wave of obsession, the first movie release, was in November of 2008. The addition of virtue followed in December of the same year, thus solidifying our belief that the two are related.

So, let's see what our church leaders have said about virtue, and how Bella is not following their counsel:

What is Virtue?

Virtue “is a pattern of thought and behavior based on high moral standards” (Preach My Gospel). Elaine S. Dalton, the Young Women general president, expanded the definition saying, "It encompasses chastity and moral purity. Virtue includes modesty—in thought, language, dress, and demeanor"(Cherish Virtue, March Ensign 2009).

Bella isn't LDS, but Bella's author is. Because we assume that Ms. Meyer, practicing the Latter-Day Saint religion, would wish to create something "virtuous, lovely, of good report or praiseworthy"(Article of Faith 1:13), we then also assume that her book Twilight would indeed be virtuous, ergo the main characters, Edward and Bella, would exemplify virtue in their lives. It had been argued that Bella and Edward indeed ARE virtuous, due to the fact that they did not have sex until they were married. However, that is an antiquated definition of "virtue."

The Young Women Presidency has emphasized that virtue is more than simply being sexually pure, but it is taking the path that leads to chastity, also. Sister Dalton explained, "Sometimes we think we can live on the edge and still maintain our virtue. But that is a risky place to be"(Cherish Virtue, March Ensign 2009). She is not the first to warn us. The Prophet Joseph Smith said, “Happiness is the object and design of our existence; and will be the end thereof, if we pursue the path that leads to it; and this path is virtue” (History of the Church, 5:134–35).

We cannot call ourselves virtuous if we are not even on the path that leads to it. I propose that Bella and Edward, spending all night in Bella's bed together, being alone together for long time periods, and otherwise disregarding their potential to develop a round relationship with each other in favor of focusing on the physical aspects of dating, are not on the path to virtue.

But It's Just a Book!

The church published in 2001 a pamphlet designed specifically for the youth, keeping in mind the common challenges they face, including choices in media:

"Whatever you read, listen to, or look at has an effect on you. Therefore, choose only entertainment and media that uplift you. Good entertainment will help you to have good thoughts and make righteous choices. It will allow you to enjoy yourself without losing the Spirit of the Lord"(For the Strength of Youth, 17).

I do not believe that children reading about the kinesthetic responses Bella experiences while making out with Edward will not "help (them) to have good thoughts and make righteous choices," but rather encourage them to seek out similar experiences themselves.

Youth are prone to obsession. With obsession come emulation. I feel comfortable describing the general reaction of the young women of the church to the twilight series as obsessive.

ob⋅ses⋅sion

  [uhb-sesh-uhn] Show IPA

–noun

1.	the domination of one's thoughts or feelings by a persistent idea, image, desire, etc.

2.	the idea, image, desire, feeling, etc., itself.

3.	the state of being obsessed.

4.	the act of obsessing.

(from http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/obsession?qsrc=2446)

Edward dominates many young women's thoughts: he is a persistent image, a persistent desire. Edward and Bella do not live virtuous lives, and because of this obsession, the youth may be compelled to emulate their lifestyle, by living "on the edge," instead of in "the path of virtue." This is concerning. The Young Women Presidency is so concerned, in fact, that they have added virtue to the Young Women's theme!