I heard the word “strive” six times at church on Sunday. The idea of striving — of trying, of struggling — is a bulwark tradition of our faith. We are an industrious bunch, like bees in a beehive (except for those worthless drones.) Some of you will recognize one of the temple recommend questions in the words Do you strive . . .? I always cringe at the question. Because I know the “right” answer is Yes. But I can’t say Yes. I say, “No. I don’t really “strive”. It’s counterproductive for me. I simply nurture my divine desires and then I surrender to God the best I can.”
Today’s guest post is from Emily Ogilvie Sharp. When asked to tell us about herself, Emily said:
I graduated from Brigham Young University with a degree in Elementary Education. I currently use that knowledge as my husband and I raise two daughters, ages 2 and 4. I spend my days playing dolls and dress-ups, but am looking forward to playing cars and trucks as we are expecting a boy in September! We live in Southern Utah where we enjoy climbing red rocks and basking in warm weather. I sing in the Heritage Choir, train for local triathlons, and love to cook, read a good book, and write on my blog http://mormonmommymusings.
My body has always been what I like to call curvaceous. My husband tells me he loves my curves. That is wonderful, because sometimes I do not. After giving birth to my first daughter, I weighed over 200 pounds. My self-loathing, like my weight, was at an all-time high and I knew I could not be the healthy, confident mother I wanted to be unless I changed. I dieted and exercised and lost 60 pounds! Then I got pregnant with my second daughter. The weight came on fast and after nine months, I broke the scale once again. I trained for two triathlons, ran a half marathon, and ate every salad like it was my last meal on earth. I still had a little muffin top, but I was strong and healthy. Now I am pregnant with my third baby. Guess what? The weight is coming back on. It may have something to do with cravings for ice cream at 11 p.m., but who knows?
The other day, my neighbor came to the door. She must be a size 2. She wore skinny jeans with a belt cinched over a stylish cardigan, which accented her tiny waist. I stood there looking frumpy in my dirty sweats with a messy ponytail, a common outfit for a mother who chases down toddlers all day. I smiled and chatted, but after she left I did what any other self-assured woman would do: I walked into the pantry and downed six Oreos with a glass of milk. Maybe it is the pregnancy hormones, but I doubt it. Continue reading Dare to Not Compare
I sat in the hospital waiting room reading celebrity magazines, a guilty pleasure I rarely indulge in. My husband was in an operating room in Boston having a pin installed in his hand to help heal a fractured bone. In the great scheme of things, it wasn’t too big a deal.
Another family walked in and sat on the couches in a different corner of the room. We had a short exchange of pleasantries, after which one of that group said:
“Yuh not from around heah, ah yuh” – which, being translated, means: “You’re not from around here, are you.”
I told them I grew up in Illinois.
“You roll yuh ahhs.” (“You roll your “r’s.”) Continue reading What’s in a Name?
We are thick in the season of giving. Retail merriment may jing-jing-jangle our nerves, but many of us bask in thinking about our giftees and what might bring them joy. This is progress from our less-enlightened “gimme” days. Wonderful! We are learning to be good gift givers.
The flip side of this is that this is also the season of receiving. Just how enlightened are our receiving skills this Christmas time?
I used to think gift cards were bland and impersonal. It was hard for me to give them and somewhat disappointing to receive. Not so these days. Now I find a well-suited gift card (given or received) to be very satisfying. Maybe not gift cards to grocery stores, but I could be wrong. Continue reading The Gift of Receiving
Justice and Mercy walk into a bar.
Justice overhears a customer order “another Shirley Temple, please.” Barkeep reminds the customer that he hasn’t paid for his last two yet.
Justice grabs the customer by the collar, yells, “You can’t pay your bill? You’re outta here!” and kicks him out the door. Continue reading Justice and Mercy Walk into a Bar