Good Morning

I don't sleep well these days. I have stopped fighting my early wakings and just enjoy the wee hours of the morning. Charles sleeps next to me. The world is still black. I notice my own breathing and am grateful for the five hours of sleep I did receive. 

I read the news on my phone during the wee hours. I read the Salt Lake Tribune, the New York Times, New York Mag, and NPR. This morning I read about a man dying while repelling in Bells Canyon, and a review of Denis Johnson's new book, The Laughing Monsters. Denis Johnson is such an extraordinary writer, I'm excited just to know another one of his books exists in the world. 

I scroll Facebook and Instagram. This morning I am happy that my friends have been to a Slow Dive concert in LA. I know a lot of wonderful people. 

I try to ward off thoughts of what I have to do or any regrets. But they creep in. On the day of Anne's wedding, I wore a very professional looking outfit. I wanted to look older than I am. I didn't want to answer a lot of questions about my age. I regret that outfit. (It didn't work either. I still had to answer questions about my age.) I should have worn something that was me...that showed how happy I was to have been able to raise a daughter like Anne and how happy I was to bring Spencer into our family. Today, the day of Harrison's farewell, I will wear a new dress. It is my favorite. It is happy. I don't care if I look sort of like a hippie. It is me. 

I was up late last night with Harrison. He was writing his missionary farewell talk. He had written a fine talk but it needed more vulnerability, more testimony, and more discussion of faith. I gave advice and for once he followed. Harrison is adorable. I wish I could raise him over again. I would bury my face in his cheek and neck. I would sit next to him more because that is what he loves--for someone to sit next to him. 

I will not go back to sleep. As time passes, my stomach begins to hurt. This is every morning. It is the I'm-scared-of-life-belly-ache. I've learned that this is okay. And I am okay. There are a lot of things I wish about myself. I wish I was closer to other women. I wish I wasn't so tired all the time. I wish I was a better teacher. I am approaching 40. They say the forties are a magnificent time for women...they become comfortable in their own skin, they aren't so wrapped up in whether they are worthy and just are who they are. I'm beginning to feel the forties hinting already. I think my forties will be good to me.

I spent the last year studying Christ. I read a book by a Presbyterian minister called Encounters with Jesus. I recommend it to anyone who wishes to understand Christ more fully (spoiler: He is the living water).  I spent many hours praying and practicing faith and humility. 

I have received miracles this year--little and big. And I have received healing and have needed healing. 

I am an avid feminist. I am a flaming liberal. I believe with all my heart that the path to a great society is through care for the poor and needy and education. Only 10 percent of Mormons are democrats. This week in the news a bishop published on his blog that leading democrats are not worthy of a temple recommend because their beliefs don't align with church principles. Church head quarters were swift in making a statement that the bishop was out of line, but I feel the sentiment the bishop articulated is strong within our church congregations. Many of my close liberal friends have left because they didn't feel like there is room for them in Mormon congregations. I had a terrible experience within my ward a couple years ago that left me shaken. 

I have thought a lot about why I stay. For one, I remember being in nursery at church. I remember singing fun songs and looking at pictures of scripture stories. I remember my first moments of believing and I have never wanted to go back and tell 3-year-old me that she was wrong, since I have always known that 3-year-old me is the right one--the one who looks at a picture and believes.

I feel loved, adored, and cherished by God. I never would have known what it means to have a broken heart and a contrite spirit if I didn't spend so many hours sitting in pews, struggling to understand. It has been a beautiful journey of doubt and discovery. And I count myself lucky to have a God who has taken the time to help me know His truths. 

Happy Sabbath my beautiful friends.