E.M. Daniels Writes

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Mustard Seeds (#7)

People are mean. Really. Lots of them. Usually they don’t mean to be. Sometimes they never even realize it. Little things, big things… people are just mean.

After acknowledging that people are mean, you must acknowledge that “mean” doesn’t have a demographic. People from every kind of background, with skin of any color, and clothes of any style, might be mean. It can happen in any neighborhood, school, church… you name it.

Every one of us is hurt by another person at some point in our lives. Someone says or does something and, whether it seems like it should be a big deal or not, it cuts deep. The way that you handle the hurt has nothing to do with the person who hurt you; it only has to do with you and God.

Everyday people with amazing testimonies, who believe in Christ, fall away from the gospel. They decide not to go to church activities. Then they stop going to church on Sundays. They skip a few prayers. They stop reading scriptures and praying altogether. They stop thinking about God. They stop feeling the Holy Ghost. They search for other things to fill that gap in their lives, but nothing else ever can. They become apostate. And it all happens because they were offended by a person. Another person was rude, maybe even a genuine jerk, and they let it override their testimony, weaken their faith.

Heavenly Father knows when another person has done something that pierces your heart. He knows when you’re hurting. Christ knows in intimate detail just how you hurt. He is with you. Let the Holy Ghost comfort you; He is the Comforter. When we hurt we want to close in on ourselves, shut everything out, but do not shut out God. When you are hurt and feeling alone, and don’t have the heart to pray is when you most need to do it. Pray when you don’t feel like it. Go to church even when you don’t want to. Remember that you have faith, and remember what you believe is true, because the day will come when you WANT to pray again. The day will come when you’re GLAD to be at church, enriching your life and drawing nearer to the Lord. Coming back to the gospel is so hard, so please don’t leave. Do not let another person drive you away from the gospel, ever. Remember that the only opinion that matters is that of Christ, and he wants you with Him.  

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Mommy Moment (#7)

Today’s theme is, “Mommy, I do it mysewf.” If you have  child between the ages of 18 months and 82 years old, I’m sure you are familiar with it. It’s the reason why I sometimes end up grocery shopping with Ana and Elsa, from Frozen (Halloween costumes that they never tired of). It’s the reason my 5-year old child (as of this week, Julia is 5!!!) never wears color-coordinated clothing. On the contrary, sometimes I think my Julia must actually know what matches and what does not because that’s the only way she could possibly choose colors that clash THAT badly THAT consistently. The law of probability ensures that her clothes should match some of the time, but they just don’t. Then again, you would think she would also get her shoes on the correct feet at least half of the time…

Anyway, just roll with it, mommies. When they are little, it’s adorable. Personally, I’ve trained mine so that if someone in the grocery store comments on their clothing, they proudly brag, “I do it myself!” That way no one thinks their mother is a color-blind maniac. Also, now that Julia is in kindergarten I occasionally hide her insane, knee-high holiday socks so she can’t wear them with sandals and shorts. I mean, there is a line SOMEWHERE… eventually…

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This World We Live In (#6)

Since the beginning of the last presidential campaign cycle the political news reel on my internet browser has read more like the entertainment or pop culture news reels. I actively avoid news those other news reels. I can’t possibly blame one candidate or a single party; it was a group effort to turn politics so openly ugly. I’ll admit that politics was probably always this ugly, but in order to be successful a politician used to have to hide the ugly from the public. Some people might suggest that it’s a good thing for politicians to not try so hard to hide their vices and shortcomings in order to be successful, but I would rather my president be a person my children can openly admire, and neither candidate from the last election really fit that bill. I want my politicians to know how to put on the professionalism when they come to work, and keep their private life and personal vices from the eyes of our nation’s children. The children will develop their own vices, they don’t need a president of our nation to show them just how much they can get away with.

The point is that the government seems to be rapidly losing its way. I lean toward the conservative side on a lot of issues, but I recognize that my particular moral code of behavior is because of my religious beliefs. That being said, a person who does not share my religious beliefs may have a different view on what is acceptable behavior. While government officials of every level should exemplify professionalism, honesty, integrity, self-control, and a willingness to compromise for the greater good, the government is not the moral police. There are things that I, personally, would never do that I do not believe should be illegal. With all of the major drama going on these days, the major issues rarely come to light. When the big issues do come to light, everyone starts arguing about what is right and what is wrong, but the first question that really should be answered is, ‘does government have a place in this discussion?’ In general I would say that the answer is usually no.

All that being said, I would prefer a president who seems to care about people more than I would prefer a president of either particular party. I am a registered republican, and I disagreed with a lot of Obama’s decisions, but I had a chance to listen to him speak in Tucson, Arizona after a shooting. His speech was completely non-political. No one was put down. His speech was about unifying and lifting each other up. I could appreciate his words and his attitude, even though I was a member of the opposing political party.

That is the type of outreach that every president from every party should be capable of. I haven’t seen it in a while…  

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Mustard Seeds (#6)

A while back I read a magazine article that mentioned that, if we care to think about it and be honest with ourselves, we all know how we are doing spiritually and we all know where we will stand after death. It asked the readers to each think about where he or she stands in their spirituality, and my answer surprised me a little.

You see, my answer was nothing as simple as ‘good’ or ‘bad’. The truth is, how I feel I am doing spiritually varies every single day. There are days when I manage to serve others, teach my children, say all my prayers, read my scriptures, and generally be nice and patient with the people around me. On those, I feel like a spiritual powerhouse. I might even share kind words with a stranger and feel that my words were guided by the Holy Spirit, or I might feel some other prompting of the Spirit, and recognize and follow that prompting. That night, when I kneel to pray, I would feel so incredibly close to God, as if my will for myself is coinciding with His will for me.  

The very next day, I might come out to find my children have been up for two hours, broke every egg in the fridge, and are all simultaneously throwing temper tantrums. Then I might try to take them grocery shopping, receive a lot of dirty glares for over their behavior, thoughtlessly say something rude to a stranger, and then snap at my children (leading to more temper tantrums). That night, as I force myself to kneel and pray, even though I feel more like hiding than praying, all I would feel is shame. If I can allow myself to calm down and feel, I would feel the Holy Ghost comforting me, uplifting me, and preparing me to do better next time.

The point is, we all have spiritual highs and lows, just like we all have good days and bad days. Sometimes they coincide and sometimes they don’t. If, during a major trial, you manage to rely on the Lord and to feel the presence of the Holy Ghost in your life, then it’s possible that trials can lead to a spiritual high. I often am at my highest points, spiritually speaking, towards the end of large trials. After a trial is over it is much easier to look back and see the way the Lord carried me through it. My testimony of the Gospel is greatly strengthened during those times.

Unfortunately, not every day is a testimony building day. The rest of the time we have to remember those building experiences, and rely on that testimony. We also have to try to find other ways to continue to build our testimonies. A testimony is never finished, and can always grow. If not used, and added to, it will simply fade away; we have to hold onto it.

If you are having a spiritual low, remember that everyone has spiritual lows. Just hold on to that testimony, keep praying even if you don’t feel like it, and trust that the Lord will help. You will have other highs, other testimony building experiences. God loves you just as much when you struggle.

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Mommy Moments (#6)

James (nearly 2) is a trouble maker. If you don’t believe me, allow me to refer you to my earlier post about him eating dog feces. That being said, he is always looking for new trouble to cause.

If a mom has multiple children, it stands to reason that at least one of them is bound to be a ninja. It’s just one of nature’s laws; gravity… conservation of energy… ninja kid… this is just how the world works (on a side note, the law of conservation of energy is painful for mommies. It states energy cannot be created or destroyed, only transferred, and every mommy of toddlers knows that they suck all of your energy out of you and into themselves, leaving you feeling like a pile of mom-goo while they dance on top of you to the sound of their own chattering). At family gatherings there will be 20 adults and 4 children and, with at least half of the adults in the room, no one knows exactly how James ended up skipping down the dining room table full of breakable dishes, while holding some off-limits object, like a picture frame, that used to be on the very top shelf in the other room.

“Relax,” the family says to the stressed-out Mommy, “there’s plenty of adults, we’ll all watch the kids.”

“You don’t understand,” I tell them. “You have to watch him every moment! He’ll find something he shouldn’t have, he’ll find a way!”

They smile indulgently. “We’ve got it,” they say out loud, even though ‘you’re paranoid’ is what everyone knows that they mean.

But not even 5 minutes later James is standing on top of the computer keyboard holding a pair of scissors in one hand and a sharpie in other, and everyone acts surprised. As if I didn’t warn them! Ninja kid! You don’t even hear a thing until it’s too late!

Even if your kid is not a natural ninja, that doesn’t mean they cannot learn. This is what is really on my mind today. James is a master of finding something to stand on in order to climb to places he shouldn’t be. My husband and I hold the calling of nursery leader at church right now, so we are in the room with the 18 month through 3 year-old kids, which includes 2 of our own. James dumped out a bin of toys and then used the bin to climb up and open the door. We put an end to that mighty quickly, but the real damage was done; before the end of the hour 3 other children copied his behavior and attempted to mount their own escapes. That kind of trick cannot be unlearned! Those poor parents! What have we done, this is other mommies’ lives that are being messed with here! None of them had ever tried such a thing until my James showed them the way. Ugh.

On another side note, he put a kidney bean way down into his ear today. I think I got it all out, but I should go check one more time now that he’s calmed down. Apparently he really liked that bean exactly where he put it because he really, really did not appreciate me removing it. 

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This World We Live In (#5)

We live in a representative democracy. We elect people to represent us, or our interests, on local, state, and national levels. We vote for these politicians, and we vote on some of the laws, and these politicians work together to keep our country going. Supposedly they keep in mind the interests and well being of ALL of their constituents (including those who did not vote for them) and find the best way to compromise so that the whole population can be pleased.

In recent years I have come across a lot of articles about the representation being imbalanced. According to a wide variety of articles there are not enough female politicians holding office. There are not enough people of diverse ethnicities holding office. There are not enough people of different faiths, of different lifestyles, of different sexual orientation in office.

The driving force behind these complaints is that you cannot be well represented by a person who is different than you. If a person is different than you, he or she is not truly invested in your personal interests, so how can you trust him or her to do what is best for you?

Following that logic, I can only be represented by a person who is like me. Therefore, my representative in the government must be female. She must be a white, Mormon, married, stay-at-home mom with four young children to consider. She must have a bachelor’s degree (achieved on scholarship) and a background in teaching at a high school in a low-income area in a very large school district. She must be a homeowner who values living within her means and not taking on debt for day-to-day living. That means she has to budget carefully while maintaining a family of six on a household income of five modest figures a year. Only a person with all of the same life positions and experiences can possibly represent me, so she must be all of those things. (If you didn’t get the sarcasm from this paragraph, then you are not an attentive reader. It should have been enough sarcasm to come out of your screen and slap you in the face).

The fact of the matter is that, following the logic that your representative must be as much like you as possible in order to do a good job, the best person to represent you is you. You can run for office (good luck with THAT) or you can be content with the fact that you are represented by your vote. Every adult citizen in our country gets to vote in elections on many different levels, so be represented by voting. How do you decide who will represent you the best? Try voting for a person you believe CARES about you and your issues. This entire issue seems to revolve around the idea that politicians who are not LIKE you can’t CARE about you, and that is just false. A politician of a different race with a different level of education who is in a different tax bracket can still care about you, and about your well-being. Of course, politicians are trying to get votes, so it is to his or her advantage to make you BELIEVE that they care, whether they do or not.

So how can you tell who really cares and who doesn’t? Do your research. Listen to them. Read about them. Look at causes they have supported and things they have done. If you find someone you like and want elected, but they don’t seem to have the votes lined up to win, help them get those votes. Lobby for them. Tell your friends about them. Put their sign in your yard. Spread the word for them. Maybe even reach out and officially volunteer for them.

If you don’t think that the issue or the election is worth that amount of work, then I guess it isn’t all that important to you. That’s alright, a lot of people are not deeply invested in politics in this country. On the other hand, if you did not do what you could to support your choices, if it wasn’t worth the work to you and your choices do not match the results of the election, then perhaps you should bow out gracefully. If you did all you could and still lost, at least be at peace with the work you have done, and don’t give up in the future. If it is important to you, don’t give up.

We are a diverse nation, and I can only hope that we can all care about each other and want what is best for the whole, regardless of our differences. Compromises often leave both sides displeased, but compromise is necessary, and easier to accept when you care about those on the other side as much as yourself.    

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[emdaniels-blog1]

Mustard Seeds (#5)

It is a dangerous thing to assume to know what God’s plans are. As we go about our lives making decisions, some big and important and some not so much, we are (hopefully) asking for the Lord’s guidance along the way. When we receive personal revelation offering us guidance, we should follow that guidance (this only works after you have learned to recognize receiving revelation from the Holy Ghost versus your own very loud thoughts). It is tempting to believe that, knowing that the Lord wants you to do something means being able to anticipate what He wants you to do next.

For example, I was engaged to another guy before I met my husband. I was in love with him and I prayed when we decided to get married. I felt that warmth of heart, I heard the Holy Ghost, and I knew with all my heart that the Lord approved and that becoming engaged to that guy was the correct path to take.

Here’s where it gets tricky: the guy that I was so in love with dumped me, completely out of the blue. I had already bought a dress. Thank goodness the 500 invitations were sitting in my apartment, partially addressed and not mailed. He ended up marrying someone else, something that many of our mutual acquaintances informed me of over and over and over again as they received the wedding announcements with a different bride than the one they expected.

Was I wrong? I thought I was close to the Holy Spirit, thought I could feel Him guiding my life. I had my life planned out, and my plans collapsed around me. I had planned to move across the country and transfer schools, and I stood up to my parents when they weren’t overly nice to him. I was doing what the Lord wanted me to do, so why did it all fall apart.

As it turns out, the Lord’s plans didn’t fall apart at all; MINE did. I was so focused on thinking, ‘the Lord has let me know that I should be engaged to this guy, so we’ll get married and live happily ever after and go to church together and have adorable babies and I’ll follow him for his career and I’ll bake blueberry cobbler and…’ The Lord may have guided me to that guy, and He did intend for me to be engaged to him, but I missed that the Lord had different plans. Better plans.

Because I was engaged to that first guy, I met my husband. I attended a sacrament meeting I would not have otherwise attended, and as part of that ward I received church callings. My church callings frequently meant that I was working with this wonderful man who became a great friend. Because I was engaged the first time, I met and became friends with my husband. We had been friends for more than nine months when I was dumped. We had never behaved inappropriately, respected each other greatly, and when my plans fell apart I cried on his shoulder. We have been married for nearly seven years and have four children, and I am thankful every day that I followed the promptings of the Holy Ghost, and I am thankful that they led me in a different direction than I thought they would. God knew that we would be happy together, and my first engagement was a little step in a grand, complicated plan.

Just remember that, as long as you have faith, pray for guidance, and rely on the Holy Ghost, you will never be misdirected. He knows where should be and where you will be happy, so follow Him.  

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Mommy Moments (#5)

As a stay-at-home mom, using the restroom in peace is a serious challenge. When I want my children’s attention, I am the least interesting thing they’ve ever come across. When I want 60 seconds of uninterrupted peace, I am suddenly, immediately, desperately needed.

Sometimes, if I sneak away from my distracted children, utilizing every latent ninja skill I can muster up, I get about 10 seconds of peace before the desperation kicks in. Like any intelligent mother who doesn’t want an audience of at least three little people, I always lock the door. It doesn’t matter if you think they’re probably distracted; you must assume that toddlers will barge through any unlocked door in your house. It’s in their nature, and there is no consideration for privacy or safety.

Most recently, my second kiddo, Savannah (age 2), began her desperate pleas about 5 seconds into my bathroom break. She was having an enthusiastic dance party when I snuck away, and I was certain she didn’t see me leave the room, but little kids have mom-dar. They are perfectly in tune with their mommy’s and they know when mom needs mom-time. They’re hardwired to not allow it to occur.

Before I’ve even managed to sit down, the door handle jiggles. “Mommy?” her sweet little voice calls out. For a moment I maintain my silence, hoping she might decide I’m not in the bathroom.

“Mommy!” she begins yelling earnestly, while violently shaking the door handle. “Mommy! Mommy! You in dere, Mommy? Mommy!”

By this point I decide to try calming her down. “Mommy is right here, sweetheart. I’m just going potty and I’ll be out in a minute!” I tell her in my nicest, most positive mom-voice.

“Mommy! Mommy! MOMMY!” As I try to finish my business quickly I wonder, not for the first time, if my door will one day fall off of its hinges from the abuse it endures. She pounds, shakes, rattles, and kicks the door, sounding more and more desperate. “MOMMY!”

“Just hold on! I’ll be right there!” I keep calling, over and over again. I’m trying to stay calm, but am wishing that I could have had just 60 seconds. I’d settle for 30. Maybe even 20.

“MOMMY!” she is yelling and sobbing. As she continues abusing the door, I reflect that she sounds incredibly desperate. If I didn’t know my children so well, and if I didn’t recognize her sobs as completely fake, I would be concerned that something terrible was happening out there. However, I DO know my Savannah, and all of her real and fake sounds of distress, so I know she is just interrupting my “me time” (just using the bathroom, good grief!) for some dramatic reason of no true concern.

“Hold on! Just wait a moment! HOLD ON!” I call out, my frustration mounting at an alarming rate as I button my pants and wet my hands in a mockery of washing them, not even taking the time to scrub. “WHAT!?!” I thunder, as I throw open the door.

I am met with a dimpled grin and delighted blue eyes. Her face lights up when I come out, and she doesn’t seem to notice my incredible frustration at all. “Mommy,” she tells me with great excitement, “I got two ears!” With a wide, gap-toothed smile, she points out both of her ears. (It’s worth noting that finding her ears was NOT a new accomplishment. She has been aware of ears, her own and those of others, for over a year now that she is nearly 3.) Having imparted this miraculous wisdom to me, she turned and danced away in a fit of happy giggles. There’s just no way to stay frustrated with that. I must reflect that, if it hadn’t been Savannah needing to show me her ears, it would have been something else interrupting my bathroom break. It’s ALWAYS something, it’s simply a matter of what. That’s part of being a mom; never having any guarantee for a moment of peace. At least it’s always entertaining.   

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This World We Live In (#4)

My children are dancing around the house, singing an annoying but useful little diddy that they learned from a children’s video about gun safety. This, naturally, makes my thoughts wander to the sometimes controversial topic of gun safety.

Notice that I prefer the term “gun safety” over the term “gun control.” In my opinion, everyone should have a basic education in how to safely handle a gun. Whether you believe Americans should have the right to bear arms or not (according to the Bill of Rights they definitely DO), everyone should still know how to safely handle the situation if they come into contact with a gun.

When I was 3 years old, my grandparents on my father’s side bought me a .22 caliber rifle. Not a little pee shooter; an actual rifle. It’s a chipmunk model, so it’s sized for a small child. It now belongs to my children, and my girls, age 4 and 2, have both shot it. The main focus of taking them shooting was beginning their gun safety education. They never held the gun without an adult helping to hold their hands in the proper position and to point the gun in the proper direction. They probably wouldn’t even remember where to put their hands, but they learned two important lessons that day. First, never, ever, ever point a gun in the direction of a person for any reason. Loaded or unloaded or just playing around, guns do not get pointed at people. When they are older I will begin to introduce them to the complicated world of guns as self-defense weapons (being able to discern that your, or someone else’s, life is truly in danger is no trivial matter). Second, they learned that you are never, ever, ever to walk across the firing line without an adult. When we verbally confirm that everyone knows you are crossing the line to look at your target, and everyone has verbally confirmed that they know you’re going out there, then we can go.

Everyone should know what my 2-year old knows about guns, but it’s amazing how many people believe they can handle a gun without knowing those two simple rules. As I got older I took a hunter’s safety course in preparation for hunting with my family. Of course, I had already tagged along on many hunts, and knew the material already, but that wasn’t good enough for my dad, and I’m glad. I distinctly remember learning the appropriate way to handle a rifle while crossing a barbed wire fence: the one thing that stood out as missing from my prior knowledge. Could I have figured out how to do it safely myself? Yup. But knowing the safest way to do it is just a bit safer, and safer is always better.

There are a lot of people out there who really shouldn’t have guns. Criminals, of course, shouldn’t have guns. Mentally ill people should not have guns. Some people who are jerks probably shouldn’t have guns, and people who are uncomfortable around guns probably shouldn’t handle them either. That being said, a lot of people who should not have guns DO have guns. The more people who know how to be safe with guns, the safer we will all be.

That being said, if an intruder ever breaks into my house and threatens the lives of my children, they will get up close and personal with the business end of our household shotgun (kept out of the children’s reach, of course) and I sleep better at night knowing that I have one more tool in my arsenal to protect my beloved family.

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Mustard Seeds (#4)

Wouldn’t it feel good to be truly charitable? We are commanded, in scripture and by modern church leaders, to be charitable. On the surface it seems so easy; we make our donations and we volunteer our time. When someone asks for help, we step up whenever convenient. Maybe we even put our change into the Salvation Army cans during the holiday season. Perhaps, in spite of the wide variety of opinions on the wisdom of the matter, we give a couple of dollars to the poor-looking beggar on the street corner holding the heart-wrenching cardboard sign.

If we do those things, does that mean we are charitable? Maybe it does, but it’s hard to say. From what I can discover, true charity is love. It is, in fact, Christ-like love. Do we do these charitable actions because we are filled with Christ-like love, or for some other reason? Matthew 25:40 states, “…Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” So, why did I give that homeless guy the last five-dollar bill in my wallet? Was it because I looked into his eyes and found my Savior, Jesus Christ, somewhere in his countenance? Did I look at him and see a spirit-child of my Father in Heaven? A spiritual brother of mine, lovingly created by the Lord and sent to this earth to learn difficult lessons, as his Father longs for his return, is that what I saw?

 I can’t say for sure that my heart is where it should be when I am trying to act charitable. “Act” is a key word. I don’t want to “act” charitable; I want to FEEL charitable inside my heart. I want to BE charitable. Whether I hand him my last five dollar bill or not, I want to look at that beggar with charity in my heart. I do NOT want to think thoughts such as, “I bet he did this to himself,” or, “What a bum. He should get a job.” Instead, I want to look at that beggar and think to myself, “Now THERE is a man that Jesus Christ believed was worth dying for,” and know that the man is simply worth loving.

 Can we do it? Can we teach ourselves to reign in the knee-jerk uncharitable reactions? We all can feel a bit judgmental at times. Sometimes we see someone wearing something we would never wear, or doing something we would never do, and we subconsciously set ourselves above them. “I know better,” your mind might whisper. “I dress better,” you might think (which in some cases where logical dress codes exist might be true). Then your mind might be tempted to tell you, “I AM better.” FALSE. Heavenly Father loves that inappropriately dressed, poor-decision-making, jerkwad just as much as He loves you. It is absolutely OK to decide not to be best friends with that person, or even to decide to avoid them if you feel they may be detrimental to you in some way, but, if you want to be truly charitable, you must find a way to look at them with Christ-like love and understand that underneath even the rudest, stinkiest jerk is a child of God with limitless potential. Treat them as such when you come across them, and teach your heart to love and care about them, whether that is the beginning or end of your contact with them. After all, being charitable is as much about loving God as loving people. All the five dollar bills I might give away will never change the world, but my sincere desire to help a person comes from love, and that love draws me ever closer to my Savior, and a closer relationship with Christ is what we all really need. That’s what it’s all about.  

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Mommy Moments (#4)

Like most mothers out there, I am held hostage by my children. We adults like to think we are in control, and to a certain extent we are, but so much revolves around children! If it’s nap time, I’m grounded at home. If there’s a dirty diaper, a runny nose, a need of any kind, I’m there. I’d say I feel like someone needs me every waking moment, but the truth is that they decide that they need me during an awful lot of the sleeping moments, too, not just the waking ones. On top of that, it’s rare that only one person needs me at a time.

This is on my mind because I have been trying to do something for myself lately; I’ve been trying to work out. My exercise of choice is my elliptical. Buying a middle-of-the-line elliptical is cheaper than a gym membership, and since I don’t have to leave home to use it all I really need is 25 minutes of not being needed by my children. Three nights ago Adam (age 3 months) began sleeping through the night, so I decided to get on top of this now. I’m still up until the middle of the night just trying to keep the household running, but without nighttime feedings I decided that I can get up at 6 in the morning, run on the elliptical until 6:30, be showered and ready for the day when my girls (age 4 and 2) get up at 7 (they have an OK to wake alarm clock that turns green at 7, letting them know that they can get up at that time), get James (age 1) up by 7:30, and have everyone fed in time to make Adam his first bottle by 8.

The night before I got everything ready: clothes, shoes, water bottle, music. I was fully ready to sneak into the garage with the baby monitor as soon as 6 AM rolled around. Naturally, my girls decided to get up at 5:55 AM, completely disregarding the OK to wake clock (something they rarely do these days). When I told them to go back to bed and tried to proceed with my plans, Savannah (age 2) woke both of her brothers. By 6:10 AM I had a four-year old asking for cereal, a two-year old pouting in the corner, a one-year old yelling to be let out of his crib, and a 3-month old crying for his bottle. I decided to do the bottle first, hoping that the others would settle down. I was hopeful when James (age 1) went quiet (he’s in his crib, so quiet is good, not dangerous, right?). Turns out he was quiet because he was happily finger-painting… with the contents of his diaper (my older two also went through that phase. I’ve accepted that it’s normal and simply pray that it’s brief. So far it’s a 1-time thing).

The worst part wasn’t necessarily the clean-up. The part that sticks with you is the helplessness. I can make plans, set goals, be prepared in every possible way, and my kids can completely tear it all up in 30 seconds with innocent little smiles on their little faces. I can try each day, but there is nothing I can actually do to get 25 minutes to myself, day or night. “You chose this, so stop complaining,” some would say. “You’re right that I chose this, and I would choose it all over again!” is what I would reply. Motherhood is worth every bodily fluid disaster that it comes with, hands down. But to give up all personal goals on a regular basis, to always put others’ needs before your own, to be held hostage in your own life, is not an easy thing. 

 http://ellemariedanielswrites.strikingly.com/

[emdaniels-blog1]

This World We Live In (#3)

There has been buzz on the issues of public bathrooms on and off for a while now. Transgender people are often permitted to use bathrooms that correspond to their gender identity instead of their physical gender. If you had asked me 10 years ago if a debate would one day ensue about who may use the women’s bathroom or the men’s I would have told you no way! It doesn’t mean I am discriminating; it just never occurred to me that a person might want to use a bathroom that does not correspond to their physical gender. Certain bathroom equipment corresponds to certain equipment on your body. If a man (physically speaking) told me, in a public place, “I feel more comfortable in the women’s restroom. Mind if I use the other stall?” I wouldn’t particularly mind. That’s what individual stalls in the restroom are for, and a woman peaking through the gap in the stall would creep me out about as much as a man would.

That being said, I have read many articles indicating that this is only the beginning of this issue. It continues into school bathrooms and school locker rooms. This is where I start to get upset. I never in a million years would have thought there would be a debate about whether someone who is physically male should be allowed to shower with teenage girls. As a mother of daughters, I simply do not want someone with a male body undressing in the same place as my daughters. I don’t want a male to see them undressed and I don’t want them to gain personal experience with the naked male body until they choose to do so in their own good time (you know, when they are 30 years old and married…). Modesty is a big deal to our family. For us modesty is intrinsic who we are. It’s part of our religious beliefs, which are even more intrinsic to us. WHAT we choose to show (or not show) to others, particularly members of the opposite sex is not nearly as important as WHY we make that choice. A person could be modest because they are ashamed of their body, or (like us) a person can be modest because they believe the body is a sacred gift from God only to be shared with appropriate people at appropriate times. Whatever gender a person identifies with, I do not want my children to believe it is acceptable to be undressed with a person whose body is of the opposite gender.

Individual stalls are something I can get behind. I would not ever want to discriminate against another person, and I will do my best to accept every lifestyle choice of the people around me, and to do it with kindness. That being said, I can only accept the choices of others as long as they do not take away my own choices. I don’t want to deny you the things that make you ‘you’. Why would you want to deny me the things that make me ‘me’?

Instead of trying to find compromises the battle is fought (at least in the media) with an ‘all-or-nothing’ mentality on both sides. Based on the media I assume there are many people in the world who would accuse me of being a close-minded, discriminating jerk. To those people I would ask, how is insulting me for my values different than me insulting you for yours? That is maybe the biggest problem; every group forgets that almost everyone holds their personal beliefs as near and dear as almost everyone else. Some days I want to beg the whole world, “please just let me be me, let me believe what I believe and live accordingly.”    

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[emdaniels-blog1]

Mustard Seeds (#3)

Through Christ I can do all things. I sincerely believe this to be true. Anyone who believes the scriptures to be true agrees with me. Jesus Christ, my Savior, took my sins upon Himself, and He also took my troubles, sorrows, and pains of both body and spirit. I know these things beyond doubt; I have faith that they are true. Oh, but how easy it is for me to forget it! Every. Single. Day.

When everyone needs something all at once, and I can’t keep my eyes from falling closed with exhaustion, and so many of the goals my husband and I set for our family (long term, short term, and particularly in the realm of our finances) seem completely out of reach, I become completely overwhelmed. Whether out loud or in my own mind, I often find myself uttering the words, “I can’t do this.” I feel like I just can’t give any more, can’t stay awake any longer, can’t hold onto my snapping patience without some sort of a break. I want to yell, or cry, “I can’t do this!” I just need a break, more energy, some time and energy to take care of myself.#

It is rare that I turn my thoughts to Christ and the atonement in that crucial moment. The truth of the matter is that I CAN do every task that the Lord has called me to do. He has sent my children to me, so I have the ability to care for them in any way that they need me to. My problems lie in the fact that I can’t always do it all by myself. I need help, and I often look around and wish for help. Sometimes, when they are able, my husband or friends or family steps in to lend a hand. Sometimes no one is able to and I am on my own whether I fall over or not. Or at least, that’s what it seems like. The truth is that Christ is always there and I am never alone. I am ashamed to admit it, but I forget about Him. He can’t hold my crying baby, make dinner for my hungry children, fold my laundry, or scrub my sticky floor. He CAN comfort me, calm me, make me feel less alone. He can understand me in a way that no one else can, and he can give me the strength I need to succeed in the tasks He has given me to do. The only requirement placed upon His assistance is faith.

How many of us have the faith required, but forget it when we are in our moment of need? I’m thankful for all of the times He helps me anyway. I look back on so many times I felt like giving up and laying down in the middle of my children’s mess and giving up, but I didn’t. Through the wisdom of hindsight, I know that I was able to do things and have patience and compassion far beyond my own limitations. He has bolstered me and guided me.

If I just remember my faith more continuously, He will help me more continuously. That is what I want for myself, and to teach to my children. Every moment of every day, and in every situation, Jesus Christ and the atonement can help you. I testify that this is true.

http://ellemariedanielswrites.strikingly.com/

[emdaniels-blog1]

Mommy Moments (#3)

In my experience since becoming a mother, laundry multiplies like rabbits. The dirty laundry and the clean laundry. The only laundry that does NOT multiply at all seems to be the folded.

For example, this morning I had three loads of clean laundry in my room, just waiting to be folded and put away. Throughout the day, particularly while my youngest three were napping, I snuck into my room to fold laundry. I finished folding and putting away one load while dodging my kids. So now… I have four loads of clean laundry in my bedroom, as well as a set of freshly washed but not-yet-folded sheets.

Folding laundry is difficult as a mother of young children because, if those children catch you while you’re folding, they’ll want to help. Sounds nice to some people, but toddler help is a scary thing. It’s like when I used the bathroom as quickly as possible, rushing to make sure none of my children create chaos during the 30 to 60 seconds that they are out of my sight. I come out to find my two year-old has dropped her cracker and it has broken into three pieces. No big deal, until you notice that adorably little Savannah has pried the lid from her sippy cup (full of water, thank goodness) and holds it in one hand. In the other hand she holds a burp cloth. The lidless cup is enough to awaken my concern, but then she says the words, “Mommy, I hep!”

Panic! “No no no no! It’s OK, sweety! DON’T HELP!” I’m calling out (in my friendly-mom voice, not my stern-mom voice, because she IS trying to help…) as I rush across the room, knowing I am too late. Suddenly, because my super cute little girl wanted to “hep”, three pieces of broken cracker has turned into a puddle of water with a wet cracker vigorously scrubbed into the carpet. In dismay, I wonder how such little elbows are capable of that much elbow grease, and so quickly.

“Good job, Savannah!” my four year-old, Julia, says. “Look, Mommy! Savannah is learning to be a big helper, just like me!” Savannah beams with pride. Luckily, Savannah has dimples when she beams with pride, which is just adorable enough to remind me to paste a smile on my face and say, “Oh, thank you!” before trying to tell her that, next time a cracker breaks on the carpet, we need to vacuum it instead of scrub it (hey, eventually it’ll sink in, right?).

So, while my little helpers are all sleeping I will stop typing and return to what I should be doing, which is folding the clean laundry before it breeds again.

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[emdaniels-blog1]

This World We Live In (#2)

My oldest child begins kindergarten this fall, and I find myself reflecting on the importance of education. Be warned: this is a topic that will probably come up on a fairly regular basis. As an avid student who became a high school mathematics teacher and then a stay-at-home mother, I am passionate about education. If I had to define education in a single word, I would choose the word ‘freedom.’

When I was young my parents took my sister and me to Flagstaff, Arizona every fall. They met at Northern Arizona University and we usually made it to the NAU homecoming celebration in October. We met up with my parents’ old college friends and their families, caught candy from the parade, yelled loudly at the football game, and then strolled around campus with the masses while my parents reminisced. Loaded up with sugar and NAU memorabilia, I would daydream about attending college as my dad drove us home. College was cool. I would make so many friends. I would learn so many things. My mom would turn to the back seat and tell us, “Maybe someday you’ll go to school there.” In my youth, that sounded like a great plan. My mom would follow up with something along the lines of, “You can be anything you want to be.” She made the world seem so easy to conquer, as long as I never gave up. On occasion she would even joke, “You might be president of the United States someday.”

For the record, I don’t think I EVER aspired to be the president of the US, but the sentiment was real. If I wanted to be the president, and I began working on that path early and never, ever gave up, I could do it. I know that I could have. I ended up getting my degree in mathematics from the University of Arizona before teaching algebra at a couple of high schools before transitioning to a stay-at-home mom. That may sound less-than-glamorous to a lot of people, but it was what I wanted to do. The point is that I got to do exactly what I chose, with no limitations, because I took advantage of the opportunity of education. I even obtained enough scholarships and grants to pay for all of my tuition and many of my other fees. That’s right; aside from cost-of-living fees, my college education was free. It had nothing to do with race or the socioeconomic status of my parents; I sent out applications, wrote essays, and completed interviews to convince scholarship boards that I work hard, I don’t give up, and I am a good investment.

There are many different aspects about education that ignite my passion, so I will save the rest for another day. Whether you stop with high school, go on to higher education, return to education later in life, or any combination of any number of options, it is worth doing your best and teaching your children to do the same. It would be awful to someday develop a goal for yourself only to find you have lost the opportunity by not giving your best effort at some earlier time. School is cool. If you don’t believe that, then you should at least agree that what you can DO with school is cool.  Everyone of all generations needs to remember that and act like it.

http://ellemariedanielswrites.strikingly.com/ 

[emdaniels-blog1]

Mustard Seeds (#2)

Revelation: it’s a thing, and I’m not just talking about when it used to happen as recorded in scriptures. If you don’t think about receiving revelations much, it may seem like a complicated topic, but it really isn’t. We talk to God (prayer), and He talks back (revelation). That’s basically it.

If you can wrap your brain around that, then the rest isn’t too complicated either. The Holy Ghost is the member of the Godhead that usually communicates to us and gives us revelations. He (the Holy Ghost) has no body, so He can communicate through thoughts, feelings, and impressions. The complicated part is that everyone hears the Holy Ghost a little differently. You could hear a clear thought, as if someone is speaking words to you, or you could feel a vague impression. Sometimes it can feel as if you are remembering something you forgot, or coming to a realization that you have known what you needed to know all along. Personally, I have experienced all of these at different times, and I often find myself looking back on experiences and only realizing in hindsight what was happening. The only universal when it comes to receiving revelation is that it is easy to miss or ignore. I’ve found that it is even easier to miss or ignore revelation when it’s something you don’t want to hear (you KNOW you are wrong in something, but you really don’t want to be…).

We can all receive revelation for ourselves, but some of us can receive revelation for others. A parent can receive revelation for a child, and a church leader can receive revelation for anyone under their care. When I was a Sunday school teacher I knew that, contingent on my faith, I would receive any revelation that I needed (according to the Lord, not to me) for my students.

Now that I’ve explained what I know about revelation, let me share the two thoughts that are really on my mind. The first is that the Lord is with us. He listens, He talks back, He knows what is best for us, and He will tell us anything we need to know, as long as we listen. The second is that most Gospel concepts are incredibly simple. The Gospel is beautiful. It’s made up of simple, sound truths so numerous that they weave together to make something bigger and more beautiful than we can understand. To appreciate it and understand it as much as possible we need to look at it both ways; the small and simple parts, and the glorious, awe-inspiring whole. It is difficult to share everything that is in my heart, but the best I can do is this: I am thankful for a Heavenly Father who loves us so much.

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[emdaniels-blog1]

Mommy Moments (#2)

My in-laws have two German shepherds. We live relatively close to them, so we often spend time visiting at their house. Recently, while we were visiting, my three oldest children were in the back yard, along with my husband and two of my brothers-in-law. (You would think nothing too crazy would happen when the adult to child ratio is 1).

On with today’s story: my grandmother-in-law stepped outside for a few minutes before returning inside where the rest of the family, myself included, was visiting. “I told those boys (referencing my husband and his brothers) that they need to get the shovel and clean up the dog piles before there’s an accident.”

Can you see where this is going? I didn’t see it at the time, and neither did my husband. Grandma knew, but nobody listened.

For the record, there was NOT an accident. As described by my husband, my 18 month-old son double-fisting dog feces into his mouth appeared quite intentional. Not five minutes after grandma’s ominous warning, my husband came running in the house, holding my stinky, gross baby James in front of him. I was tempted to help clean him up, but I am the more paranoid parent in our partnership, and after years of my husband razzing me about being TOO cautious with the kids I decided he could reap the consequences of his lack of concern and deal with the dog poo. After it was as cleaned up as possible I contributed by feeding baby James orange slices in an attempt to improve his nausea-inducing breath. James loves orange slices. Of course he also seemed to really enjoy that dog poo, so I will have to continue to question his particular tastes.

It’s all really funny, as long as I don’t really think about it and I’m not trying to eat when it comes up in conversation.  

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