It doesn’t matter if you’re eighteen, twenty-eight,
forty-five, or seventy-three, the truth is at every age, there are simply Things We Don’t Know We Don’t Know.
We learn a great deal from personal experience and through the experiences of others, but no matter how wise we are, we still have blind spots in our awareness. And sometimes those blind spots play a major role in the decisions we make, for better or worse.
One of my blind spots has been understanding the difference between hope and expectation, and how these two characteristics affect how we love others and respect their agency. Continue reading
I had a hard conversation with my adult son the other day. He has chosen to stop participating in church, as he feels betrayed and manipulated by our church leaders. He no longer trusts the spiritual experiences he has had because he no longer trusts the context in which they occurred. He doesn’t believe the church is true. He doesn’t trust our leaders. He doesn’t want his young children to go to church, but wants them to be able to “decide for themselves” later in life without “brainwashing” at a young age.
It breaks my heart. Continue reading
About six years ago I moved from Utah to Seattle. Our apartment complex sat next to a large outdoor mall that included a grocery store. I discovered that I could easily walk out the back door of my apartment and get to the store in less than five minutes, so I bought a wire grocery cart and spent the next two years shopping exclusively at one grocery store (supplemented occasionally by trips to Costco about twenty minutes away). I’m sure there were nearby stores with lower prices, but for me the convenience of shopping in one place, especially a store that offered child care while you shop, was worth limiting my options. Each week I would peruse the sale flyer for the cheapest foods and plan my menu around them, sometimes stocking up if things happened to be particularly cheap.
After Seattle we moved to a small town in Northern California. Again I found it easier to shop at just one grocery store once I found one that combined my ideals of convenience, price, and quality of foods. After a few months of living in California we decided to sign up for produce delivery from a local organic farm. Again, the trade-off of limited options came with the benefit of convenience and quality. Most of the time I loved planning my meals around the delightful surprise of whatever happened to show up on my doorstep that week (except for a particular week in January when we received spinach, kale, collard greens, chard, and mustard greens all at once). Continue reading
- Swedish Pancakes – photo by cookiedog
This month I am participating in Jana Riess’s “Flunking Sainthood” Gratitude Challenge on Facebook. The task is to come up with – and write down – five things everyday for which you are grateful. This hasn’t been be too big of a stretch. The process of developing an attitude of thanksgiving has lots of good benefits – for which I am, as you might suspect, grateful.
One thing I have noticed as I pinpoint things I’m grateful for is that I am just as inclined to be thankful for little things as I am for grand things. I try to draw no conclusions when I see that my list of five includes things as diverse as fresh raspberries in the fridge and the Atonement, or pinkie toes and my husband’s successful cancer surgery. I’m just writing things down and allowing the bliss of gratitude to carry me along during the day.
This morning over breakfast I was telling my son Chase (26) about this discipline I’m involved in. He then introduced me to another kind of value-driven challenge or “game” called Pancakes or Waffles. Continue reading
Maybe it’s because I’m so full. Because I just ate the entire pantry full of Trader Joe’s delicacy: chocolate covered almonds, chocolate covered pretzels, chocolate covered PEANUT BUTTER pretzels, and THEN, after all that, cut the chocolate with a few macaroons. So this food journal entry, I’m cataloging it because I think it might be the reason I’m about to say what I’m saying and my normal, hungry, full of denial, green eating self can’t be held culpable. Anyway, here goes.
But before I say that I have to tell you this: I was on a flight two months ago, from Oakland to Salt Lake City, and just as I was settling my toddler into the seeming empty seat beside me, a pretty blond woman rushed down the aisle, with her blown dry hair and carry-on baggage ribbons of wake behind her, and claimed the seat. She was really apologetic about taking up some of the space I obviously required for four children and all their various electronic accoutrement, and I was taken aback by her heartfelt kindness—I don’t usually get a lot of compassion on these types of flights. And so, this woman and I, we really started talking. It was the proverbial set-up that you think will happen to you on every flight into or out of Utah, when you suddenly find yourself knee-deep in a conversation with a really open-minded inquisitor of Mormonism.
Of course, I only tell you of this quick association and the accompanying candor of the conversation to display for you the gristle of it—the chewy part I choked on. Continue reading