Ahhhhh

Music, Kids and Me

I'm sure it was a good idea to write down this title then assign it status as a draft. Now, what was I going to say? Oh, yes. Saturday Heather, Sofia and I went to a Christmas concert at West Jordan City Hall. There were three groups performing, all volunteer community organizations. Two of my cello friends were playing. Sofia took a stick from her borrowed drum set with her. I love watching kids as they interact with music. Sofia stood on her mother's lap to watch. The choral group stood in the aisles at the end to sing the Hallelujah chorus. The bass section was closest to us. She couldn't keep her eyes off them as they sang. When the tenors came in she swiveled to see them standing across the room. What a joy to see her responsiveness. Each Sunday, I play the piano at singing time for the children at church. It is another highlight in my week. The children sing beautifully but you never know what they are going to say next. When they were asked who brought gold to the baby Jesus, one little guy piped up with "Joseph Smith". Music, kids and me, a great combination!

Schoolyard Labels

This morning I was thinking of a painful experience I had at recess many years ago. I must have been a 4th or 5th grader.

I remember being on the playground near a boy who was irritated. He was bigger than me and maybe older. I don't know if I had said something to him or if he was just angry in general. Anyway, he lashed out at me, calling me a "big-nosed _____." I can't even remember what the blank word was. It was not vulgar. Perhaps it was something like "freak". I was shocked at being spoken to in that way. I also had the thought that maybe he was right. So after my immediate flash of anger, I shut down, backed off, froze emotionally. As soon as I got home, I looked at a few profile photos my dad had taken of me recently. Oh, my gosh, I thought, I guess he was right. It was as if I had to reassess my whole identity because now I saw myself differently, through someone else's eyes. I made a faulty connection with the idea that maybe others could see more of the truth of who I was than I could. I was stunned and unable to integrate in a healthy way what he said with what I saw in the photos. I did not believe that it was okay to not have a small and perfectly straight nose and, bottom line, that I deserved to be spoken to with respect.

I've carried the pain of that day for too many years. So this morning I prayed for him and for his healing from whatever pushed him to attack me. And I prayed to allow myself, without shame, my naivety in this experience. It was okay to be unaware of what I looked like to others, it was understandable to be willing at that time to not only believe what he said, but to also believe that I was not okay, not enough, to be just as I was.

Just as I am. I couldn't help but cry for those two young ones so many years ago. It feels good to forgive him. It feels good to love myself as I am. It feels good to let go of the opinions of others. We all have the right to observe and form opinions. We also have the responsibility to give ourselves great compassion for our mortal condition--to give ourselves the love the Savior has asked us to give to each other. And without which we cannot truly love others.

I think this is why it hurts so much when I hear myself and others around me express such aggressive and judgmental thoughts and beliefs toward ourselves. It stings even if it is not directed toward me. Because I know if you inflict it upon yourself you will inevitably inflict it on those around you.

I know courage is needed in order to change. I know it is a process, not a destination. Courage comes from God and from a conscious, ongoing choice to accept the deepest truths about ourselves. And to realize that at our most flawed and vulnerable we are still infinitely precious.