Confession #16: Sometimes I make mistakes.

My most recent, more noticeable one was in my last post. If you didn't get a chance to read it, sorry but you won't get to read it. I deleted it. If you did get to read it, I'm not sorry for my viewpoint. It hasn't changed. However, I am sorry for sharing it the way I did.

Because it doesn't fit who I am or what I believe in. I am a Christian. To me, Jesus Christ is a wonderful example of living. Yes, I believe He's my Savior but even if He wasn't, He is the perfect example of goodness. I want to be like Him. There's more to that but it doesn't fit the topic of this post.

In reflecting on my last post, I've realized that it wasn't in harmony with my belief in Christ. If Christ was in my shoes posting in a blog or on Facebook today, I don't see him posting a post written the way I wrote. Because my post was antagonistic. I believe Christ loves everyone and has better ways of helping us understand things.

I believe in repentance. When I make a mistake, I believe it's important to do my best to fix it, learn from it, and do better next time. Which is why I got rid of the last post. It doesn't need to exist here. And I'm going to triple think before I post anything like it again. (And probably call my mom as she is infinitely wiser than I am and is part of the reason I realized my action was wrong. Not that she said it was. And she wasn't the only hint God sent me about my mistake. But she did help me see the better solution to my heartache.)

On the other hand, I'm grateful for the learning experience. Throughout my life I've feared making mistakes. They're upsetting as you wondered if they can be fixed or if you hurt anyone in the process or how you'll handle the lost time. But, as I've made more and more mistakes in my life, more and more I'm realizing that, if I let Him, God really does fix things. Somethings take longer than others, but He's able to fix all the important things. He can fix the unimportant things, too, I'm sure but often doesn't. Which has helped me better recognize what's important and what's not. And He definitely knows the best timing. The point is, I'm less fearful of mistakes these days.

So, if God can fix a mistake, surely He can prevent them, too. So why does He let us make mistakes? This is something I've spent a lot of time thinking about. Especially after suffering a painful divorce that not only affects me but also my children. I believe it's because mistakes are an essential part of learning. There are somethings we just can't understand until we've experienced them. In some cases this means we make mistakes. Like my experience with my previous post. Or a child who eventually does something (like touch something hot) despite the warning of a parent. As mentioned in a previous post, I believe that this life is a learning experience. As such, we were given the freedom to make choices. And with that freedom comes mistakes.

On the other hand, I believe that as we seek His guidance, just as I sought my mom's, He will help us make choices that won't lead to mistakes that destroy us or those we love. His guidance comes in many ways and has never let me down.

So I make mistakes. But life goes on. I repent. I do my best to live happily knowing I'm doing the best I can. And then leave the rest in God's hands.

And I try to teach my kids this. There are times I watch them do things incorrectly. Nothing that would hurt them or is above their level. But I don't rush to the aid of my children every time they can't do something yet or are going to make an easy to clean up mess. And I love the joy that shows in their faces when they finally "get it".

[Note: If you did read my post, I still don't plan on sitting idly by watching society participate in things I strongly disagree with. I'm still going to do something about my concerns. Just something more uplifting.]

Confession #14: Life rarely goes as planned.

I've spent the past few weeks contemplating a variety of topics which has culminated in this post. It's a thought that has been going through my brain since I started this blog and it's time to write about it.

Has anyone's life gone "as planned"? In big or little ways, it seems things have not worked out the way I planned.

Let's start at the beginning of when I started really planning. Life after high school. Owing to the wonderfully steady and safe home environment my parents provided and the blessings of not having any traumatic events at the time, my life went as planned for the most part before I left high school. Sure, I had a plan but I didn't really think too hard about it. Enjoying life and graduate high school.

During high school, I faced the decision of what I wanted to be when I grew up. It was difficult but not too difficult. Most of high school I alternated between a career as a marine biologist or as a science teacher. Both seemed awesome to me but ultimately stood secondary behind my ultimate career goal: being a stay-at-home mom. I wanted to be my mother: involved in my children's life, involved in the community, involved in my church, and doing my best to be a blessing to everyone I met. When people needed me (especially my husband and children), I wanted to be readily available to help. There's a flexibility in this career choice that fit what I wanted from life.

As much as I loved marine biology, I gave it up because being an educator better fit the role as wife and mother that I envisioned for myself. The same way I decided not to pursue life as a college athlete (track and field.) It would've been awesome. But life is too short to fill with too much and I had a plan. Besides, I LOVED (and still love) teaching. Don't think I sold myself short. I wasn't a dummy in the sense of not aiming for what I wanted. I still bought plenty of marine biology books, topped off my education with an oceanography course, frequented the mini aquarium at my college campus, and gazed longingly at the track as I walked home (an injury prevented actual running at the time.) I was just willing to sacrifice for what I wanted most.

So what was my plan? When I graduated high school, my five year plan was: go to Brigham Young University, get a degree in biology education, somewhere over the course of my education meet Mr. Right, marry him, live happily ever after as either a stay-at-home mom or science teacher.

Pretty simplistic but ultimately I'm easily pleased. I don't want much in life and family is where I'm happiest. That plan lasted a semester before it was interrupted...

By a service abroad teaching English to children in Russia. Sure I could have meet Mr. Right in Russia. You never know. Especially in the middle-no-where-Russia where most Russians only spoke Russian and I only spoke English and Americans were extremely rare... I always wanted to live in a foreign country so when my newly found best friend poked her head into my dorm room with the perfect opportunity I was sucked right in.

And never regretted it. I came back from Russia fully intent on sticking to my plan. A year later I was a bit frustrated with the fact that my plan was not going well. The problem: dating. Or the lack of really. How was I supposed to find Mr. Right without going on any dates? Why was no one interested in me? Although intent on finding Mr. Right, I wasn't going to be stupid about it and marry the first guy to come along. I wanted to explore my options. I did the best I could by going to all sorts of social events. But I had a problem. I was extremely quiet and shy. But confident, too. I've been told it's very intimidating. It was so hard for me to open my mouth and chat with people I didn't know. But I was also well trained in speaking with confidence. I did have friends, typically people who were forced into my life through work or sharing an apartment. They saw more of the real me than most people I met.

Anyway, 2 years into my plan and I'd successfully been on dates with two different guys. Both blind dates. They didn't ask me. Someone set it up. As I was discussing this problem (both the dating and the shyness) with God, I decided to deviate from the plan and take a break. So I went on a mission for my church, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

It was awesome. The perfect learning environment for me. If there's one thing I could talk about at the time, it was my absolute faith in God. And, with my missionary name tag, people expected me to talk about God. It gave me an opportunity to improve my conversation skills while doing something I loved. And, no stress about lack of dating. My plan was on hold and I was okay with it.

When I came back I was 4 years into my 5 year plan and less than 2 years into my college education. Time sure does fly. Fortunately, a church leader wisely told me as I was heading off to college the first time to "not let my college education get in the way of my education." Although my college education was a little delayed, the skills I gained from the delay were worth it.

My plans were up in the air as I faced so many choices that I never imagined. I am blessed and cursed with a fascination of everything good. I still had the ultimate goal of being a stay-at-home-mom but by the time I returned from my mission was smart enough to realize that it might be more than a five year plan. I was contemplating changing my major as I tried to figure out what I wanted to do with my life in the meantime. Did I really want to be a teacher? I was (and am) most fascinated by people and really wanted to travel the world. What degree would best serve my purposes?

Over the next few years, I became more flexible in my planning. I couldn't control when I met Mr. Right. But I was determined to finish my college education. I transferred schools to be closer to my family and, with the transfer, dropped the education degree in favor of a biology degree. I just wanted to graduate and I loved science, especially biology.

For the next few years, my life mostly went as planned. I went to school, hung out with friends, and had a great time. I was still a bit frustrated with the dating scene but grateful that I'd finally been asked on a few dates and even had a couple short-term boyfriends. (Some wonderful guys, too. Just not the right one.) I overcame most of my shyness and think I was a pretty friendly person on the surface. Scared to death on the inside a lot of times. But friendly and sociable on the surface.

By the time the spring of 2009 rolled around, 6 years after I graduated from high school, I was a semester away from graduating and finally had to face life decisions again. I was graduating. What did I want to do? Get a masters somewhere? In what? Travel the world? Add a teaching certificate?

At this stage, I decided that I'd tried meeting Mr. Right in likely places and that hadn't worked so I figured that I could just as easily find Mr. Right in an unlikely place. So I came up with a plan. One my dad wouldn't have liked but as long as I felt God approved, I was going with it.

The new plan: Take another year of school to add a teaching certificate to my degree (add more options to my degree), move to Africa and study the people and culture of Africa first hand, meet Mr. Right where ever I happen to meet him, marry him, live happily ever after as either a stay-at-home mom or science teacher or whatever fits our family best.

Now, before you laugh at my plan and consider it not very well thought out (in the Africa department), when I made this plan I had a year to figure out whether or not I was really moving to Africa and add more steps to the plan as needed. (Africa was just the place that fascinated me most at the time. Currently I really want to visit New York City and Washington D.C. A few years ago it was Great Britain. Really, I'd love to visit everywhere...)

It was a very flexible plan but at least my life had a sense of direction and purpose. Shortly after making this plan, I met the man I married and my life took a dramatic life shift and my life is now on a completely different, totally unexpected path.

I'm not going to go into much detail on those 4 years. When I got married, I really thought my plan was finally in place the way I wanted it to be. The man I married and I truly had the potential for the life I envisioned. But things didn't go as planned. I made a choice based out of trust which was eventually broken. Divorce was always my biggest fear. Definitely not part of my plans.

Eleven years after my initial post high school plan, and here I am. Still working on fulfilling my life-long dreams. At first I really struggled with the sudden plan shift. My plans were failures. Over and over and over again. Or were they? Sure, things didn't go as planned on the surface. But under the surface, things have always stayed right on track. My ultimate goal is to be a good person. My aim to be a stay-at-home-mom was aimed at an ability to be flexible in order to help as many people as possible, especially my husband and children. Sure, I'm not a stay-at-home-mom yet (and may never be one) but the experiences I've gained in life have always been on a path towards my ultimate goal. With all the plan changes, wasn't I learning to be flexible? And I very clearly, regularly was (and still am) faced with the choice of putting family or my selfish desires first. So my plans haven't been failures. They just didn't go as planned.

I believe God has a plan for each of us. A beautiful, perfect plan that leads us to what we desire most. But if we're too busy worrying about ourselves, we may miss seeing God's hand in our lives. I struggled this past year to remember the ways I'd seen God's hand in my life and to see past my pain into the door He opened for me. A much better door than the door I was hopelessly trying to force my way into. A lot of struggles led up to this post. A year's worth of trying to figure out what I was doing with my life. And a summer's worth of frustration at all the everyday plan changes that leave me feeling like I have no control. But I do have control. I always have choices. Not always the choices I want. But I always have control over the choices I face. And I always control my what I desire most. That's always up to me and no one can ever take it from me.

So what's my new life plan? It really hasn't changed from before. Current plan: Be a Supermom! while also being a science teacher, meet Mr. Right in an undefined amount of time, marry him, continue my adventurous life-long education.

It's a pretty awesome plan.

[Note: I decided to use the term "Mr. Right" in reference to my future eternal companion (since I desire to find one man for me for forever, a forever commitment.) The term "Mr. Right" makes it seem as if I believe that, among the 7 billion people on this planet, there's only one man that would be the right man to marry. This is not what I believe. I believe that any two people fully committed to a marriage relationship can make it work. Yes, it's ideal to find someone who is as easy to be married to as possible but ultimately I believe that commitment is the key. Real love is a choice. If you choose to love someone, although difficult at times, you will find a way to make the best choices for your relationship. So, in using "Mr. Right", I'm referring to whoever I choose to marry in the future not implying that my options are limited to one person.

As a random side note: If I do switch career paths away from being a teacher, I've decided to study neurology instead of marine biology. I love (for the most part) that life has so many choices!]

Below are some other unplanned events from this past month. Some good, some not as good, some that didn't matter.

I didn't plan on Baby Brother falling twice and banging and scraping his head while camping. (Looks worse than it is. He loved playing in the dirt so the band-aids are mostly to keep dirt out of the scrapes.)

I did not plan on getting stuck in pretty much stopped traffic in the desert between Los Angeles and Las Vegas. In fact, I timed the trip with the plan to miss a lot of the normal traffic. (There was an accident on the road.

Remember this? I planned on washing laundry not books. (See Confession #11)

I planned on making a bunch of freezer meals this summer. Then I didn't have time so I pushed that plan to Labor Day weekend. Then work was delayed and unexpectedly I made a bunch of freezer meals last week.

I planned on cooking those eggs not dropping them...

I didn't plan on making superhero masks for myself and my boys. It just kind of happened. I don't even remember how. Deciding to make something crafty with them. Knowing Big Brother loves superheros. Seeing the black foam. Who knows. But there are plenty of things in my life that weren't "planned" that are so good. So many good unplanned moments with my boys.

Confession #13: I believe in God.

In Confession #8 I mentioned my ex-husband calling me a religious fanatic. After a few years of pondering this point, I've decided that I am religious but not a fanatic. The objective of this post is to share my view.

I belong to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. To get a detailed description of what I believed from a trusted and reliable source, please visit www.mormon.org which is the website designed by my church to help people understand our beliefs. I believe it's always best to go to the source to find out things rather than just believing what I hear from others.

Meanwhile, to summarize the core of my beliefs, I believe in God who is our Heavenly Father. I believe we lived as spiritual beings with Him before our lives on earth. We learned many wonderful things but eventually needed to separate ourselves from Him so we could really learn who we are and have learning experiences. To me, this has always reminded me of a kid going off to college. You learn a lot at home with your parents. But some day you have to test out your wings. Can you make good decisions on your own? Without dad and mom hovering over you? Of course, dad and mom are still available to help and the wise child seeks advice from them.

That's my view of this earthly experience. A time away from home where I get to test out my wings and learn to fly. Sometimes I do something stupid and instead of flying I'm falling. Or I get stuck in a storm and injure my wings. Which is where my big brother, Jesus Christ, comes in. He rescues me, repairs my wings, and helps me get going again. Sometimes this process takes a while. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever fly again. But I always do. Life is so much better from the air.

One day, I'll leave this life. I'll return to my Father in Heaven. I'll share with him what I've learned and we'll rejoice in the opportunity I had.

That's a brief summary of what I feel is the core of my religion. There is, of course, more to it but this is my center.

A depiction of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ

I'm not very vocal about my religion. Growing up, this was mostly because I wasn't very vocal about anything except with close friends. I was just a touch shy. I've always thought people are amazing. I always got tongue tied because I was worried about saying something the wrong way. Not just about religion. I was really self-conscious about what others thought about me.

After high school, I had a lot of experiences that lessened my fear of others. I still wouldn't share what was deep in my heart but I was much more outgoing and, for the most part, happy with who I was.

For me, religion is a way of life. I want a personal relationship with God and Jesus Christ so I seek to build one just as I strive to build a relationship with my parents or with my kids. So I talk to them through prayer and I listen for their answers. These answers come through the Holy Ghost (a messenger who aids us in our journey) in a variety of ways. I talk to them about everything and have from a young age. Because from a young age, the answers have always led to happiness. There is so much I don't understand. And sometimes I get frustrated with my lack of knowledge. Which is why I study my textbooks (scriptures and other resources), go to church, and keep the commandments (or safety rules for life.) Not perfectly but I try.

My ex-husband decided to marry me knowing full well how religious I was at the time. I didn't hide my religion from him but lived my religion as described. And, I finally opened my heart and showed him the deepest parts of who I am and what I believed. He loved it. He praised my convictions and encouraged me to remain true to my beliefs.

Then things changed. We were engaged for a year. The first half of that year I was busy doing my student teaching in a neighboring town. We saw each other weekly and talked on the phone but not enough apparently. I was doing some intense decision making as I questioned some of the answers God had given me. He was busy with school and a big social life. As a result, things changed without me realizing it. The second half of the year we saw each other more but I didn't catch on to what had changed.

Right after we were married, I realized that the man I married was no longer interested in religion the way he professed to be interested in religion. I came to realize that he had started just going to through the motions to please others but didn't really care about it in his heart. Not only that but he was determined to destroy my beliefs.

I had a choice. Live my religion in my home and be mocked. Or choose to give up my beliefs.

At first, I chose to do my best to hide my religion. I hid my prayers and my scripture study and avoided the topic of religion. He still went to church with me but it was painful as it was accompanied by intense criticism of everyone who went to church. It was also a little confusing. I could tell he was battling within himself about whether he wanted to stick with it or not. So I tried to give him some space to figure it out. He was always accusing me of forcing him to be religious so I stepped back and really gave him space. I even told him that I felt our family was more important than a religious battle. Even if he stopped going to church, I'd love him.

And I wasn't lying. I did love him. More than I'd ever loved anyone. I knew he was struggling but I also knew his potential. (And I'm not just talking about religious potential here.) Gradually I realized that, by hiding my religion, I wasn't helping him. What he was really looking for was happiness and living my religious life brought me happiness. Hiding it wasn't bringing me happiness. I didn't shove it at him but I started trying to stop hiding it. I started reading a verse of scripture and saying a prayer with Big Brother. He was invited to join if he wanted. We also said prayers before meals.

He retaliated with a variety of attacks. Some subtle; others blatant. According to him, I was the only one with my believes. Even other members of my religion. (and he would name specific people, typically friends or people I trusted) didn't believe. According to him, I only believed because I'd been brainwashed by my parents into believing. I never thought for myself and was blindly following a pack of lies. These are some of the ones used most frequently.

The more subtle attacks were usually little verbal comments or criticism on specific commandments I choose to live. There are movies and TV shows that I have no desire to watch for a variety of reasons. He knew that from before we even started dating and openly supported that decision. Until we were married. There were so many things we could agree on to watch but it was never enough because of what I wouldn't watch. Most attacks centered on this item or my choice not to drink alcohol or wear skimpy clothing in public.

At first, I would get defensive which resulted in a verbal debate. I realized it wasn't helping our situation and strove for peace by holding my tongue. I would never convince him by arguing with him so I focused on reviewing my beliefs including his comments. What were my beliefs? Why didn't I drink? Was it that important to me? What really matters to me? Why do I believe what I believe? Would I still believe even if I was the only one who believed? I spent a lot of time reflecting on these and other questions.

Eventually, I had to put my foot down. I didn't want my kids to be raised in a home where one parent was continuously attacking the other for whatever reason. I told him that it was time to stop attacking my beliefs. We were equals and needed to treat each other with respect. We needed to agree to disagree and focus on what we did agree on. We needed to focus on strengthening our relationship and our family. I started refusing to stay in his presence when he was verbally attacking me. I would do my best to politely tell him that when he was ready to have a discussion then I was happy to participate. But I wasn't going to let him keep attacking me.

Which is when he quit. And when I realized that he stuck with our marriage as long as he did because he really thought he could convince me to change my beliefs. When it became obvious that I wasn't going to give them up, he moved on. Angrily moved on. He still lived with us but he actively started avoiding being part of the family because it meant being around me. And when in my presence, the attacks only worsened. (I should pause and mention that, although religion was the biggest issue, he eventually wanted to change most things about me. My profession, my opinions, my house keeping, etc. None were good enough for him by the end. Religion came up the most but there were lots of other things brought up.)

Eventually he stormed out one night and I told him that it was time to fix things. If he didn't want to start treating me with respect, then we were through. It took two months of letting him choose and he didn't choose me.

I believe in God. He is an active participant in my life. I believe He answers my prayers and helps me make good choices. When I choose to follow Him and His ways, I am a much better mother than when I don't. I'm not saying if you don't believe in God you can't be a good parent. I'm saying that I believe in God and I believe He helps me in my role as a mother.

But I'm not a fanatic. Religion adds perspective to my life but most of my life is pretty typical. I play, I work, I do everyday normal things. I just do it with the belief that God has my back. I also don't insist you believe the way I believe. I hate quarreling and also don't believe in forcing beliefs on others. I believe the best way to share your beliefs is to live your beliefs. Unfortunately, there's plenty about this life and about God's ways that I don't understand. I'm still in my education. I'm happy to share what I do understand and my opinion but usually I wait to be ask. I do invite people to join in a variety of religious activities. But I don't think any less of anyone if they decline my invite.

Life is a personal journey. Sure we interact with a variety of people and perspectives and experiences but ultimately we choose what we believe, who we are, and what we get from it. I choose to believe in God.

Confession #12: Sometimes I dress up. Sometimes I don't.

Yesterday I was busy with house work, a touch of grocery shopping, and, of course, playing with my boys. I don't have a picture of me yesterday. But picture how I look in the picture below except the dress was pink and with a different haircut:

Today I was busy with housework and playing with my boys. I looked like this:

Why am I posting this? Because for a moment today I felt lousy about how I looked. Because I was worried about what other people thought about how I looked. Yesterday I felt self-conscious because I felt over dressed at the grocery store. But I'd chosen to wear the dress that day and we needed milk. Today I felt self-conscious because my ex-husband brought a bunch of people I didn't know with him when he picked up the boys.

Then I realized that my boys loved me yesterday and loved me today and they'll love me tomorrow. For the most part, how I dress has little affect on how I care for my boys. Yesterday and today were only slightly different as far as my relationship with them was concerned. We ate meals together, danced together, played with cars, and did some laundry both days. They didn't care whether I did my make up or put time into my hairstyle. They didn't care whether I was dressed up or in a t-shirt and shorts. All they cared was that I loved them and showed that love in ways they recognized.

I believe in good hygiene. I believe in dressing appropriately such as modestly or as etiquette requires. (I wouldn't wear the t-shirt and shorts to church, for example.) But I don't believe in dressing out of fear of the judgment of others. I've done that before and all it did was hurt me. It didn't help anyone.

Now, I'm sure most of you are looking at this and see a beautiful woman in both pictures. Which is kind of the point of this post. In order to be Supermom, I'm learning to let go of incorrect perceptions built from years of mixed, confusing experiences. I'm beautiful and I know it. But sometimes I listen to the voices that try to convince me otherwise. Voices that would distract me from my role as a mother and cause my family and I unhappiness if I listen to them.

So today I chose to listen to the voices that told me I was beautiful no matter what.

P.S. Most days I dress at a level in between the two examples shown. Depends on my mood and, as mentioned earlier, the occasion.

Confession #11: I washed a book with my laundry.

My house was almost completely organized and clean a few days before we left on vacation. Then I took Baby Brother to the doctor three times before I got sick as well. (Don't worry. We were all fine. The first appointment was a routine check up. The others were "better safe than sorry" visits.) The night before we left I frantically packed and by then the house was a wreck.

We had a great vacation. A bit stressful but so nice to not worry about the mess at home.

Then we came home. And started cleaning up the mess. It was going pretty well. We were all so excited to be home and the boys were happy to play with their toys and "help" me with the chores.

Apparently one of them (my guess is Baby Brother) was helping with the laundry more than I realized. I sorted clothes from a pile on the floor and put the ones I was going to wash first into a box. One by one I made sure each item belonged in the pile and was the right side out. Then I took the box and dumped it into the washing machine without really paying attention.

I found the book while I was putting the clothes in the dryer. That's when I realized that, while I was busy sorting clothes, one of the boys (both of whom were playing in the laundry) must have dropped a book in the box.

Fortunately, it was a bath book so no harm was done...