|
|
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
The Joy and Sorrow of Spring
As winter fades, the frosty air outside is replaced with comforting spring rain, and the days are sometimes warm
enough to open the windows in the closed-up stuffy rooms of our home. Fresh air meanders in, and we listen to a
familiar serenade of crickets, accompanied by a chorus of little tree-frogs chirping out back where the water runs behind our
house. It is a beautiful and welcome time of the year, yet also a sad and melancholy time for me. Several years
ago, one day late in April, I sat at the bedside of my mother listening to these same
sounds as her life ebbed away. She left us as I held her hand in the room of our home where she had been a constant
part or our lives for three years. Without fail, each spring brings with it the memory of that day. As
years pass and I grow older, I find myself understanding and appreciating who my mother was and what she did more
and more each day. You see, she was always there for her family and, in fact, had very little life of her own.
Mom was born in a little town in Oklahoma in the spring of 1920. She milked cows, worked in the fields, and helped
in the kitchen. Unbeknownst to her hardworking, religious parents, she would one day move away from their small-town
traditions and take on a life of different hardships of which they had no concept. She married young, then watched
most of her daughters enter into polygamous relationships against her wishes. She then worked incessantly to help provide
for their needs as they struggled with ever-growing families without the help or support from their multi-wived
husbands. At the time in life when the children of most families are independently building lives of their own, my
parents' house was a safe-haven, always open and crowded as Mom cooked and cleaned like a servant for her overworked daughters
and needy grandchildren. Some might say she gave too much. She gave up privacy, peace, and comfort to try to make life
more bearable for everyone. Was this her attempt to make up for the guilt she felt for not being able to protect
her daughters from the influences they were under...the choices they made that brought so much suffering into their own lives
and the lives of their children? Sadly, she was taken for granted. We came to expect her help and sacrifices,
and in our own life-struggles we didn't see or appreciate all that she did, her generosity, and the difference she made. We
did judge her: after all she sometimes seemed negative or controlling about little things. I look back and shake my head;
controlling? For most of her life she was at the mercy of circumstances, struggling to survive, trying to fill
huge voids in the lives of her children and grandchildren. Grasping to hold onto a few minor possessions and parts of
her life was a meager attempt to have control over something. Mom cared for her parents as they aged,
as well as for my father in his difficult last year of poor health. Then, when my sister became the victim of
an unspeakable tragedy in Mexico, she gave up a short-lived quiet period of retirement to take on a new family.
She was growing old and tired, had health problems of her own, and was still grieving for my father. Her grandchildren
needed help..what else could she do? Mom wasn't perfect...no...and she was the first to admit it. She saw her faults
too clearly, wished that she could have been better and stronger, hoped that God would forgive her for sometimes "not
being a very nice person." In truth, she did not understand and appreciate her own worth. Today, as I welcome the
lovely sounds and smells of spring, I am reminded once again of her last days. I sit with opened windows listening
to the sound of spring rain, and think of her. How I wish that I could go back in time and see her life and suffering
with fresh, clear eyes. How I hope that I can be forgiven for my own immaturity and selfishness. As I remember my mother,
I miss her and pray that her soul rests with God in peace.
|
|
To see any
former blog just click on a date at the top of the page. Below
are some of Kim's Favorite
Blogs: Wednesday, May 19, 2010 The Joy and Sorrow of Spring As winter
fades, the frosty air outside is replaced with comforting spring rain, and the days are sometimes warm enough to
open the windows in the closed-up stuffy rooms of our home. Fresh air meanders in, and we listen to a familiar serenade
of crickets, accompanied by a chorus of little tree-frogs chirping out back where the water runs behind our house.
It is a beautiful and welcome time of the year, yet also a sad and melancholy time for me. Several
years ago, one day late in April, I sat at the bedside of my mother listening to these same
sounds as her life ebbed away. She left us as I held her hand in the room of our home where she had been a constant
part or our lives for three years. Without fail, each spring brings with it the memory of that day. As years pass and I grow older, I find myself understanding and appreciating who my mother was and
what she did more and more each day. You see, she was always there for her family and, in fact, had very little life of her
own. Mom was born in a little town in Oklahoma in the spring of 1920. She milked
cows, worked in the fields, and helped in the kitchen. Unbeknownst to her hardworking, religious parents, she would one
day move away from their small-town traditions and take on a life of different hardships of which they had no concept. She married young, then watched most of her daughters enter into polygamous relationships against her wishes. She
then worked incessantly to help provide for their needs as they struggled with ever-growing families without the
help or support from their multi-wived husbands. At the time in life when the children of most
families are independently building lives of their own, my parents' house was a safe-haven, always open and crowded as
Mom cooked and cleaned like a servant for her overworked daughters and needy grandchildren. Some might say she gave too much. She gave up privacy, peace, and comfort to try to make life more bearable for everyone. Was
this her attempt to make up for the guilt she felt for not being able to protect her daughters from the influences they
were under...the choices they made that brought so much suffering into their own lives and the lives of their children?
Sadly, she was taken for granted. We came to expect her help and sacrifices, and in our own life-struggles
we didn't see or appreciate all that she did, her generosity, and the difference she made. We did judge her: after all she
sometimes seemed negative or controlling about little things. I look back and shake my head; controlling? For most
of her life she was at the mercy of circumstances, struggling to survive, trying to fill huge voids in the lives
of her children and grandchildren. Grasping to hold onto a few minor possessions and parts of her life was a meager attempt
to have control over something. Mom cared for her parents as they aged, as well
as for my father in his difficult last year of poor health. Then, when my sister became the victim of an unspeakable
tragedy in Mexico, she gave up a short-lived quiet period of retirement to take on a new family. She was growing
old and tired, had health problems of her own, and was still grieving for my father. Her grandchildren needed help..what
else could she do? Mom wasn't perfect...no...and she was the first to admit it. She saw her
faults too clearly, wished that she could have been better and stronger, hoped that God would forgive her for sometimes "not
being a very nice person." In truth, she did not understand and appreciate her own worth. Today,
as I welcome the lovely sounds and smells of spring, I am reminded once again of her last days. I sit with
opened windows listening to the sound of spring rain, and think of her. How I wish that I could go back in time and
see her life and suffering with fresh, clear eyes. How I hope that I can be forgiven for my own immaturity and selfishness.
As I remember my mother, I miss her and pray that her soul rests with God in peace. Saturday, March 20, 2010 Marriage Under Construction: Proceed With Caution! Marriage is hard work. It is a constantly changing experience that not only goes through different seasons,
but through different phases of "construction."
Like any long term project, some of the most important
parts are in the planning stages. Building a successful marriage actually begins before vows are taken
and promises are made. I'm not talking about the ceremony. If a couple doesn't really take time to become well acquainted
before getting to that point, they may be unpleasantly surprised to discover that, once the initial attraction fades,
they don't even like each other!
Remember that emotions experienced in a blossoming relationship tend to blur
the image of the person of interest. He or she may be gorgeous, talented, and interesting, and you may be flattered by
the attention bestowed. This is an important time to stop and consider that there is more to marriage than
outward appearances and/or a pleasing personality. A long courtship and time spent communicating is the first step towards
choosing a person who is in sync with the direction you want to go in life, both spiritually and physically. What is
most important to you, should also be important to the other...deepest held beliefs shared. At this stage, communicate,
converse, then talk some more. Get to know one another's families. Watch actions and attitudes over time, and be
familiar with and understand each other's background.
If physical appearance, success, or sexual chemistry were
main motivating factors before marriage, the struggle will be to remain always wealthy, always seductive, forever young and
beautiful. There is the very real possibility that someone with more of all-of-the-above will come along to disrupt
a shallow union.
Should getting to know one another include sex? This is a moral issue that is
important for many reasons. I believe that morality not only has a spiritual side but a practical, protective one. On
the practical side, sexual intimacy before marriage will dominate feelings and cloud objectivity. You need to truly know
the heart of a person before you marry him or her because, not only will the first blush of romance all too
soon become dulled by everyday life, but powerful sexual desire will also be overshadowed by sickness, financial issues, the
arrival of children, and aging.
Does all romance fade for those who move towards a more mature type of
love? Heavens no! Moments of caring and affection become rich and sweet for those who choose wisely and persevere.
If any marriage is to be a happy one, both husband and wife must learn to stop thinking only about
how good their mate makes them feel about themselves. Merging together as one, out of individual worlds of
self-interest, a whole new way of looking at one another unfolds. With a sense of compassion and understanding, they
can begin to focus on what they can do to give one another's life more meaning and joy. Developing attitudes of
patience and awareness can carry a couple into whatever the future may hold. Lastly, never
underestimate a harmless-sounding little word called "time." It can make or break a marriage. Without
time spent together as a family, there can be no bond. Time for recreation, discussion of problems, and shared joy and sorrow
all form strong invisible ties, fulfilling one another's need to be loved. Sometimes just being together in silence
is as uplifting as struggling to say the right things. Sadly, where there is no journey towards deeper love, time is a curse
to be spent trying to escape from problems that appear insurmountable.
"Do you promise to Love,
Honor and Cherish each other, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, so long as
you both shall live?" Marriage is shared time, held together not only by love and loyalty, but with
commitment and effort. Let the construction begin..
(The following blog was inspired by Mary's comments on my "Letters" page.)
Sunday, August 16, 2009 The
Power of Beauty "The beautiful princess married the
handsome prince, and they both lived happily ever after..." This was the type of ending to the fairy tales many
of us were raised on. I believed in them. I grew up thinking that if I could be beautiful, I would hold the key to true
happiness and my life would be complete. I would be loved. It wasn't just the stories I read that
conveyed this idea to me--beautiful women were glorified in the movies I watched, and praised lavishly in songs that were
written for them. They took people's breath away, won the hearts of heroes, and earned smiles and admiration just by entering
a room. How hard it was to be ordinary, how devastating is was to be different. Yet this was the situation many young girls
found themselves in growing up. It seemed to matter very little how funny, kind, or talented a person was if they were not
pleasant to look at. The least attractive girls were usually at the bottom of the pecking order amongst their peers. And I
observed that in plural marriages, where a man can marry numerous women, youthful beauties captured men's hearts over and
over again. Fast forward twenty or thirty years. Beauty is still important. Oh yes, the masses
worship fervently at the altars of gorgeous, egotistical Hollywood stars--both men and women. And even some men now feel the
urge to be beautiful. But something else has changed. Young girls not only feel the need to be pretty, they must now be "hot."
The little girl you see playing happily in the mud, will one day almost certainly grow into a teenager who feels the
pressure to dress and act in a way that turns guys on. In her quest to discover a sense of fulfillment, she will likely be
tempted with measures far surpassing the heavy make-up girls once used to make themselves feel beautiful in my day. Plastic
surgery, breast implants, and body piercing have become common procedures not only for older women, but for high school students
as well. What we women were born to look like can now be altered permanently with relative ease. Skimpy, revealing clothing
is the norm. While many girls grow to believe that their mission in life is to be irresistibly
tempting, young men, on the other hand, fall prey to the idea that they are meant to be incessantly tempted. Many of them
sink to animal-like levels where sensual urges and thoughts dominate almost every waking moment. Add modern-day access to
pornography to the mix, and we have a recipe for anything but real love and caring. Some men will really come to believe that
animals are all that they were ever meant to be. They will degrade themselves, as they degrade their women. Sadly, unhappy
women and young girls fall prey daily to the deadly eating disorders that now plague our culture like never before. Innocence
and character are lost where the powers of raw beauty and sensuality dominate. I believe
that beauty is a gift. How pleasant it is to look upon a delicate flower, a wide-eyed child, a lovely woman, or a handsome
man. Yet it was not meant for everything and everyone to be beautiful. Physical appearance should not be worshipped,
neither should sex be glorified to be more than it was meant to be. We are all born with gifts to be discovered, developed,
and enjoyed. I long for our youth to understand their true worth and to seek out beauty in life that is not
only seen with the eyes, but discovered deep within the heart and spirit of humankind. All of us grow older. Even the most extraordinarily beautiful people age, and each of us will one day lay on our
death-beds. What will beauty or sex appeal mean to us then? When all is said and done, perhaps some of us will remember
a time long ago when we played innocently in the mud with our sun-burned, dirt-speckled, toothless friends, filled with
an awesome sense of adventure and discovery--blissfully ignorant of the sensual power of beauty. "...for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these..."
| Tuesday, March 3, 2009 Ron and His Brother Paul My husband could have taken another wife. Like me, he was raised with the
idea that it is acceptable to live polygamy. An older brother of his, named Paul, did decide to take multiple wives throughout
his life, eventually totaling six in all. Yet, Paul passed away a year or so ago while living alone as a bachelor in Mexico
where he suffered a fatal stroke. Few, if any, of the many children he fathered even knew where he lived, nor was there
great sorrow at his passing. He did have a dog. You see, although Paul had many women and children he could
have bonded with, he never learned how to relate to any of them as a person, a husband, or a father. Not one. Except
for a few strangers, he died alone.
Today marks the thirty-first milestone of my marriage to my husband
Ron. Unlike Warren Jeffs and his child-brides in the photos above and below, we are only six months apart in age and share
a similar level of maturity. And, unlike his brother Paul, Ron stayed committed to one wife and one family. Me.
Us. Ron and I have lived with each other for the biggest part of our lives. Like a good wine, I guess
you could say we have aged and matured together.
To celebrate, we took some time to travel to the coast
and it was there that we indulged ourselves with breezy walks on the beach and uninterrupted meaningful
conversation that only two people knowing each other so well can share.
It was during the course of
one of these discussions, that I began to realize more deeply why many of the men I knew, were attracted to plural marriages aside
from the S-E-X factor mentioned in my last blog: As I was growing up, it was always apparent to me that the motives for
having more than one wife for most men did not genuinely include a strong respect for the institution of marriage,
nor did they possess an exceptional ability to bond successfully with many women and children. In fact, looking back,
I can see that many male polygamists in reality lacked the character to truly learn to relate to
any woman. Although it naturally seemed that they would be--should be--committed to
many women, in truth they were committed to none.
You see, polygamy can be a great escape from
the challenges and perseverance necessary to become truly spiritually and emotionally intimate with a woman or
her children, while providing a physical heyday for a guy. It can protect the pride of one not wishing to see
his own shortcomings, and discourage unselfish love. How easy it is to escape into the arms of a woman who never expects more
than a small portion of his time and who is grateful to be noticed at all, while leaving behind or ignoring the wife who longs
for more. A wife demanding her well-deserved rights is absolutely futile in a polygamous relationship. Begging is more acceptable,
but it is demeaning and not very effective either. The children usually have no rights at all.
Yet, I recently
read somewhere that many Americans consider long-term monogamy to be cruel and unusual punishment! Most of us who have been
married can relate to that statement on some level. To be honest, staying together for so long, at times has required a supreme
effort on both the part of my husband and myself. But, considering our unusual and stressful backgrounds, we are living
proof that two people can learn to love and support each other in a healthy way if they are committed to it. We have
been rewarded for our patience and persistence with an almost profound understanding of one another. Now, thirty-two
years later, fights and anger fade quickly--we both know we're in it for good. And we intend to keep it this way.
Happy Anniversary, Ron! |
|
|
Wednesday, February 4,
2009 Pedophilia and the Case
Against Polygamy You may wonder why I am so concerned
about the spread of polygamy. After all, what's the big deal? In reality, why should I care if a man marries multiple
women instead of choosing to be faithful to one wife? Please read on. I have said
many times that I think that one of the main reasons women choose to live polygamy is because it is taught to
them as a religious requirement, often beginning at a very young age. That's one reason for concern right there. But, what
about the men? Why do they choose polygamy?
Is it, as some Christian polygamists now claim, about "profound,
selfless, Christ-like love for women"? That sure sounds noble, but I'll bet many of you will question that motive
right along with me. After all, a man doesn't have to marry a woman to give her that kind of love. You may even suspect,
as I do, that the real reason amounts to a three letter word that begins with the letter "S" and ends
with the letter "X". I suppose that some of these men
honestly do envision themselves as benevolent leaders dividing their wisdom and goodness among many adoring women and children,
and that the pollination part really is secondary. The fact is, the boys in my former religion were taught that they must
have multiple wives to honor God's highest calling, and some did go into it for that reason. I knew many of them when they
were decent young men - I saw them take wives, have children, and change. In the
"Letters" section, my old friend makes a heart-wrenching case about the negative effects of polygamy on a man's
ego. I don't think that discussion can be complete without bringing up the S-E-X factor. Here are some questions just
begging to be asked: What is it like for a man to know that any women he feels physically attracted to can be a
potential mate? What happens to the average guy who can indulge himself with a variety of bed partners
and is constantly in demand by different women? How does a man of character remain spiritually grounded in the
face of all these sensual experiences? Just how does all of this affect a man's psyche?
It becomes obvious
over time, that in such situations (including the extremes of our modern culture), the needs of "the
flesh" become more and more demanding. Unnatural hungers are awakened. At their worst they become destructive
and violating to the innocent. Of the men that I knew, a few became dissatisfied
with having only one bed partner at a time. While presenting a religious front, others of these men became molesters and pedophiles.
Although they had numerous wives coming and going from their lives, they still were not satisfied. Some developed incestuous
relationships with their own children. Even little boys were not safe. (No, these extreme examples were not the
case with all of the men. But I have been informed of such behavior commonly hidden within other polygamist
groups as well.) I think it is safe to say that the institution of polygamy attracts
such degrading types of men who have absolutely no religious or noble intentions to begin with. And young women raised in
polygamy (or otherwise) who did not get enough attention from their fathers can be prime targets for a lustful man who
steps in to fill their need for fatherly love. In polygamy, a variety of young girls can be desired and married by much older
men--and this is not uncommon. How sad it is for these girls as they age and are neglected and ignored for exciting
new wives and even younger child-brides. How bleak it is for their children who will also miss having a loving
father. On a radio talk show the other day, the host mentioned to me that
it may be a sense of family that motivates some women to become plural wives, and I think that holds some truth. In fact, in my old religion wives of the same husband were called "sister-wives."
We were taught that we would be sisters throughout eternity, and some really did start out behaving like sisters. (Heck, some
of the women married to the same man really were sisters! ) But the reality of jealousies and resentments soon set
in. Although some women were better at suppressing their pain, and denying their unmet need for the love and support of a
full-time husband, the need was still there. Very few of the marriages survived until old age. It seemed like the
men didn't really care, they always had replacements for any unhappy woman who gave up the miserable battle! So
much for loving fathers and strong families.
Let's be honest: realistically, even under the best circumstances,
a man will find that it is challenging to be a good father and husband that meets the emotional and
physical needs of only one family. I strongly suggest that the polygamy ideal now being
perpetrated by determined activists is not only an illusion--it is a dangerous one. And for this reason accepting
plural marriage as a norm for our society would be taking a GIANT step backward.
August 1, 2008 The Stressful Years Life
was busy. We had four children to raise, bills to pay, a house and yard to keep up, not to mention Ron's long regular work
hours and me helping my elderly mom on top of managing the household jobs. As my husband and I shouldered our duties,
we barely had time to look at one another - let alone carry on a conversation that amounted to more than just a few sentences. Brief
exchanges of vital information pretty much summed up our communication at that point. We didn't have the time or money to
get out much. At some point, I began to feel that our marriage was entering its last
stages. It seemed we had nothing in common besides our responsibilities and the stress we shared each day. And love.
What was love anyway? We hardly ever smiled at each other. I couldn't blame him for not loving the overweight, harried housewife
I had become. Did I say "harried"? Okay, let me be completely honest and change that word to "angry."
One day I actually wondered: What would our lives be like without each other?
Maybe there was some dream I could pursue to make life interesting. Maybe I could move somewhere new and exciting with the
kids. I believe that it was providential when our seven year old daughter approached me as I stood folding laundry later that
day. "Mommy, do you know who taught me how to tie my shoes?" she asked seemingly
out of nowhere. I looked at her wordlessly and shook my head no. "Daddy did," she replied with a smile. "Do
you know who taught me how to ride my bike?" I gulped and shook my head no again. "Daddy did," she laughed
looking surprised at my ignorance. "Daddy teaches me lots of things."
I suddenly felt ashamed. I had
been too busy to notice those things. Even though he had always been busy and under constant pressure, my husband had never
tried to evade his responsibility to us and had always found the time to be there for our children. Wasn't that love?
How foolish I had been to entertain thoughts of life without him. And what about
those vows we took that said "for better or for worse" - wasn't that more than a quaint old saying?
As for our personal life and lack of communication - when was the last time I had slowed down and really become aware of
my husband? Had I ever stopped to offer him a word of encouragement or gratitude for all that he did for his family
day in, day out? I suddenly realized we were both on automatic pilot, treading water, trying hard to get through each day.
That day was the beginning of new understanding for me. I began to take time to give my husband a hug when he
came home from work, and to show in little ways that I loved and appreciated him. I could see the surprise and gratitude
in his eyes.
I started to notice the times he stopped to rub my tired shoulders - wasn't he doing it
more often now? And the cup of specialty coffee he began to splurge on and surprise me with after an unusually
long and tiring week, was as welcome as diamonds. So were the lovely flowers he had delivered to me on our anniversary. The moral of the story is this: When times are stressful, a little thoughtful awareness of your spouse goes
a long way. In fact, it can work miracles. A hug out of nowhere can be all that's needed to start turning things around
(although it takes getting used to if you haven't been affectionate with one another for awhile).
It's now been over thirty years. If our marriage had not been monogamous, I'm certain that we would never
have had the chance to see clearly and deal with all of our challenges, and would have given up, or lived on in misery. Most of the kids are grown and we now have time to talk, watch a movie or go for a walk, and enjoy our family
and grandchildren. Laughing together is the best. Since Ron's heart attack a few years
ago, I realize even more how grateful I am for my husband and how important he is to his family. We are truly partners for
life. And when I'm least expecting it, he still surprises me with a cup of specialty coffee.
|
