Reflective

I was thinking tonight about some of the Christmas seasons that stand out in my mind. It was funny, but I think one of my favorites was the first year Travis was on his mission.

As a co-dependant teenager, I was sure my life was over now Travis was gone (don’t like “New Moon” too much for that reason) and I remember sitting in the car with Vickie and she insisted that I bring my new friends over from the dorms to decorate her house. It was, at the most, a week into December because finals would have been in the middle of the month, but I was remembering how warm it was to be there with everyone I loved. Ross had already put up the artificial tree and I want to say he had put the lights on already as well. We hung ornaments and then went into the hot tub before going back to the Y. I think they fed us dinner, pizza, and we had cookies and sang Christmas carols. It meant a lot to me then, and obviously still does.

Tonight Andrew said he wished it was two days until Christmas. I think I want to spend this season reminding my children something that I still have to learn: Christmas is about the season. Christmas is making cookies, buying gifts, making gifts, seeing the lights at Temple Square, decorating the tree, hot chocolate around the fire, reading stories by the tree, being with the ones we love. The one day is fun and magical but it is only truly magic if we have taken the time to enjoy the season. I am grateful we have a whole month until Christmas.

Standing in Holy Places

I love marathons.

I should preface this by saying that I would NEVER train for one or run one, but I am in awe of those who do and as a result, I love to attend them.

I didn’t know Michael at all, really. There is nearly 12 years difference between Nate and I, so by the time he and Michael were friends, I was nearly out of the house and more wrapped up in my own life than concerned with anyone else’s. So for me, these marathons are about the living, not the dead. I was the only one screaming my lungs out for most of the marathon today. Others there did not understand how important it is to cheer on those who have worked so hard. Hundreds of hours are spent in preparation for these races, and the physical and emotional pain are intense and understood only by those who subject themselves to this type of exertion; I do not presume to understand it at all. However, I respect it. I find my place here, at the finish line, cheering for those I love, being that support at mile 9, or the last 100 feet to the finish line. That’s when it stops being about running and becomes about you.

I cried as I watched Gayle run in today. I cried when Lexi came in and while I waited for Mom and Nate. I wept at the sight of a black and white puppy dog costume and “Happy Birthday” balloon. I am so proud of my mom, jogging along at her steady, consistent pace. I recognize her very gate.

When I saw Nate, I wanted to shout, “Happy Birthday, Michael!” but instead I screamed “GO NATE!” The later was more appropriate.

There is something spiritual about being at the finish line of a race. The Holy Ghost must hang out there to whisper eternal truths to those who get His company only on the course. In April I thought it was Michael, and in some part, I believe it could be. But I KNOW it is the Holy Ghost. And I am grateful to be able to be in a place where I can feel His presence. Even at the finish line of a race.

My Very First Concert

Okay, I've done all kinds of concerts but this is the first one I have ever put on all by myself and my really cool family came to support me.

Good thing Kristin took pictures -- I was so nervous I forgot to take role and without her pictures, I would have had some mad kids...

The video is all three of my choirs together. Aren't they cute?

And here's my school...

I love my life!!

One Blog A Month...

Yes! I just noticed that if I blog this week, it will be one blog a month for the last four months. It's actually a record.

On Sunday I will have been a teacher for a whole month. It's been a really interesting month -- I knew this was going to be stressful, but did it seriously have to be as stressful as I thought?
But I get to be a mom again, which is almost as wonderful as being a music teacher again, and it just feels right. I would be lying if there are some days I don’t miss the bank. When it’s 9:00pm and I’m exhausted and my boys are wired and I still don’t have a completed lesson plan for tomorrow’s music core curriculum classes, I sometimes wish I didn’t have to be the teacher. But in the middle of a choir with twenty sixth through eighth graders singing “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” in perfect harmony, I can’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else in the world. I looked over my 35 kid choir today as they were singing “Lean on Me” and wondered if I’d ever be content with any other job again. I love teaching music.

We just spent the last four days in Yellowstone and it was AWESOME! I probably haven’t been since I was 12 or 13 years old. It was after the fires and I remember thinking that my parents were all worked up about nothing because we saw one elk and a moose. I never remember seeing anything else. I don’t remember what it was like before the fires and I’ve decided after this trip that must have really taken a toll on the animal appearances because we saw TONS of animals this time: whole herds of bison, several elk, pelicans, ducks, a beaver, and Canada geese.
Andy thought he’d died and gone to heaven. We went to several museums including the Buffalo Bill Museum in Cody and saw all the fun things there and then we drove back to Yellowstone for some animal fun. We played at the “beach” on Yellowstone Lake and the boys had a blast.
Jaxson kept asking if we could go back to the “beach” and play again. The only bad part was the construction work that is going on. We spent several hours getting around Yellowstone because there are whole sections of one lane roads. But it was fun and I actually survived. Barely. I realized that Kristin is the one that is in charge of the maps. I didn’t know that I didn’t know how to get home until it was time to go home!

It's all about perspective...

I’ve told my Mom that seeing my life come into play with this job has been a lot like watching a game of chess. The pieces move around a lot, some get sacrificed in the play, but in the end, there is purpose and a worth while goal. This past month has been such an adventure of ups and downs. A few weeks ago, when I found out I got my job at Mountainville Academy, my friend, Jani, called and invited us over for dinner as she often does on Tuesday nights. After we finished eating, we cleaned up then sat around the table talking. “Have you looked back to see how this all came together?” she said excitedly. “Let’s do that!”

I lost one of my dearest friends today. Not to death, or illness, but through some very difficult parts of my chess game moving into place. Watching my friends at work suffer has been probably the most painful part of this experience for me. These are people who have been there for me since I started my “new life.” I got my job at the bank five minutes after sitting in the car with Travis and deciding to divorce. These people have practically raised me since then. They are my life-line and I love them. The second day after I had given my notice, I walked into my mom’s kitchen after work and said, “I can’t do this! I can’t watch them suffer through this!” She calmly reminded me that I had been getting used to the idea of leaving for almost a month. “They have had only two days. Give them time,” she wisely said. It has been two weeks and I am still feeling like it is unbearable. But there are things that are better. My replacement has been hired and she is not only more competent than I am, she is much more reliable; I am leaving my boss in good hands. I have turned all my responsibilities over to my very wonderful friend who has been my other half since we were hired within three days of each other. She is doing a marvelous job and although she doubts her abilities and reminds me several times a day she doesn’t want to be me, she will be awesome. And my Allan, he will be there to calm everyone down. Consistent and steady, he is the calming effect in the branch and I am forever grateful his piece chose to stick it out on the board a little longer to make me feel like I wasn’t leaving everyone in a lurch.

And every day, there is one more confirmation that this is the best choice for my children. Last week, I reminded the boys they needed to get to bed early because I had to be up to open the bank. Jaxson sulked to his bed and said, “Can’t Meg just do your job for you!?!” They are eager to start this new life too. In counseling today, my doctor laughed and told me I couldn’t fix everything at the bank before I leave and to let it go. We talked instead about preparing my boys for a new school and myself for a new dynamic.

It is hard to let go of the power and reputation I have accrued over the past four years. I feel like Morgan Freeman’s character in Shawshank Redemption saying that in prision, he’s the guy who knows how to get things; outside of the walls, he’s just an old ex-con. Inside the bank, I am someone. I have people call me who know I can be trusted and I have customers who have wanted only me. I know stuff and people in the bank call me all the time to ask questions on how things should be done. Tonya trained me well. But outside of the bank, I’m just a scared lady with two little boys and a paper that says I graduated from college. I am afraid and unsure of myself for the first time in years and it will be scary.

BUT I AM SURE! I know this is the direction my life should take. Watching all those pieces fit in together with purpose becomes almost scary. “Of course it works,” Mom laughed when we found out I didn’t start until after our annual Cedar City trip. “Just because everything else has fit so well, why shouldn’t this piece!” And I am so excited. I wrote in my journal that I know at some point I will probably look back and think, “Why on earth did I ever leave my cushy bank job for this?!?” But for now, I am thrilled to attend music teacher conferences and workshops and read books on classroom management and spend hours on line making lesson plans. No one ever gets this lucky all at once!

Stake Singles Conference

Ever had an experience where you knew you weren't the one doing the talking? Last weekend, our Stake President asked me to speak at the Single Adult Conference he had pulled together. It was awesome. For the sake of my friends, I am posting it here -- I had a few who wanted a copy. Loves

“All these things shall give thee experience and shall be for thy good.”

I want to put a disclaimer on my talk today. I feel honored and overwhelmed at the prospect of addressing you because I know that there is nothing I can say that you do not already know. I can only pray that the Spirit will guide me so that whatever purpose I am meant to fill, will be met. The task of being a vessel for the Lord is a daunting one.

I love to travel. Nothing in this world makes me feel more powerful than a map and a full tank of gas. The possibilities are endless. My favorite part is the planning. All the places to go, and see, and things to do. I love the prospect of being able to enjoy a great adventure. This last year, my children and I traveled with my sister and brother to Disneyland for three days. Before we left, we planned what dates to go, we purchased tickets, my sons saved their money for the treasures we would buy there, what rides to ride, where we would stay. But lets’ say that we plan and plan but when we actually get there, we are in Rome, not Disneyland. Imagine the disappointment of all involved. I’m sure there would be a few tantrums. We wouldn’t know what to do or see – maybe even have packed the wrong clothes. But what if all we focused on was the fact that we are not in Disneyland, forgetting to take in the beauty of Rome. All we focus on is our disappointment at not being able to ride Splash Mountain instead of taking advantage of observing the grandeur of the Coliseum. Rome isn’t particularly a bad place to be, it just isn’t where we planned to end up.

So often as single adults, we lose our identity so let me introduce myself. My name is Liz Conner. I attend the Corner Canyon 5th ward and serve as the senior primary chorister. I work as Head Teller at the Bank of American Fork here in Draper. I have a Bachelor’s degree in Music Education from the University of Utah. I teach violin lessons a few days a week – my true passion. I love to scrapbook, make cards, watch movies, play video games, read, and travel. But my sister tells me, “You aren’t what you do. If you are what you do, then when you don’t, you aren’t.” So perhaps what I should tell you, is not what I do, but who I am. I am Elizabeth Anne Conner. I am the oldest daughter of Richard and Shauna Beard. I am the grand-daughter of Russell and Elsie Beard and Logan and Carol Barnard. I am the sister of Kristin, Nathaniel, and Justin Beard. I am the mother of Andrew who is 8 and Jaxson who is 6. I am a visiting teacher. I am a friend. I am not just divorced and single; most importantly, I am a daughter of God.

In July 2005, I read an article in the Ensign entitled, “Growth through Setbacks” by Elder James M. Dunn of the Quorum of the Seventy. Elder Dunn quoted from D&C section 105:40, “all things shall work together for [our] good.” He says, “Throughout the years I have found that disappointments often lead to choice blessings in unexpected ways.” He then goes on to relate a story in his own life about an expectation he had that was never fulfilled. I read this article less than three months after my husband had left me and our two boys then 5 and 3 for an alternative life-style. While divorce is tragic, it became a pivotal point in my life and spiritual growth. After reading the article, I sat down and wrote in my journal, “I still don’t see this as a real setback – more like a jump forward.”

I have been asked to speak to you today on keeping hope and developing Christ-like attributes. I would be lying if I told you that I have spent the past 3 ½ years as optimistic as the girl in my journal. Depression is my shadow and anxiety is never more than an arm’s length away. But I have learned to hold these traps of the devil at bay with many tools of my own. It is these “tools” that I would like to share with you today.

The gospel is awesome. It is so simple. Those little things that have become affectionately known as the primary answers, are really the answers. Pray, read your scriptures, keep the commandments. Brother Michael J Wilcox spoke about how doing each of those “little things” is like laying a single brick. Alone, they may not be extremely strong, but over time, they build a fortress that helps protect us. “How Firm and Foundation.” Attending my church meetings, magnifying my calling, paying my tithing, attending the temple, praying, reading my scriptures, holding Family Home Evening, each of these have become an important brick in my testimony. My testimony is perhaps my most invaluable tool. At one point, I had a social worker from Family Services ask me what was holding me together. I remember the distinct feeling that not only was I holding to the Iron Rod, I had my arms and legs tightly wrapped around it. My only response to his question was my faith. One weekend, after a particularly trying child pick-up, I sat on the couch in my apartment, holding my scriptures tightly in my hands. I prayed, and told the Lord that I knew that the answers I needed were in the book in my hands and that I knew He would help me find them. I then proceeded to open them and read. While exact words on how to deal with the situation were not written anywhere, the Comforter brought a calmness to my heart that cleared my mind so I would know what to say when the time came. Priesthood blessings also bring the Comforter and provide needed peace. My ex-husband moved back to Utah unexpectedly making his right to visitation more frequent and in a five minute phone call, I went from a confident, independent woman, to a little puddle on the floor. My wonderful home teacher just “happened” to be at my apartment hanging curtains when this call came in and within 15 minutes, my sons were playing a game with his wife and his hands were on my head promising peace in my heart even if I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. There have been several more blessings from my father and my bishop that have given guidance and peace. And as always, re-reading my Patriarchal Blessing brings me assurance that the Lord knows my independent needs and is mindful of my trials.

We all need to revitalize our spirits and spend some time focusing on our own growth and needs. I attend institute in Sandy once each week. It is held from 8:00 to 9:30pm on Wednesday nights which is possibly the worst time for me: 8:30 is bed time, Wednesday is my night at work to close and it is a school night. My source of childcare for this event is a dear friend who lives in Bluffdale which takes me close to 40 minutes round trip. On Institute nights, my boys rarely make it to bed before 10:30. At one point, my supervisor at work said to me, “Really, Liz, you should just give it up. I know you think it’s for you, but seriously, there are other ways.” I knew she was right. But I also know why I go. The Holy Ghost has the most amazing power to bring peace and calm and to rejuvenate my soul after a severely trying day. Wherever I can find Him, I will be – despite the sacrifices. Countless prayers have been answered in that chapel. I never hear about how I should be married or about how to find an eternal companion. I am never singled out or preached to. I feel loved and revered as I attend these meetings and meet new people. Oh sure, the Munch and Mingle at the end has an obvious purpose, but I relish the few minutes during each lesson that Brother Anderson asks us to discuss an important question with the person sitting next to us. There are the days when I prefer to sit at the back, away from anyone, and feel the Spirit heal me. Whatever mood I am in, I know that by placing myself in that room, the Lord can work with me.

Another wonderful tool has been my opportunity to attend the temple on the weekends my boys are with their Dad. As I have studied church history and the scriptures, I am constantly amazed at the way those who have gone before us have dealt with their trials. There are a few people I have read about that I have come to love and respect very much. Their trials and struggles have spoken to me and I identify with them very closely. The holiday season can be particularly challenging for those of us without a significant other to share it with. Christmas of 2007 was an extremely emotionally challenging year and I ended the holiday season feeling cheated and disappointed. All season long I had felt very strongly that I needed to attend an actual endowment session but just had not found the time to do so and so the first chance I had was the weekend after Christmas. How well our Heavenly Father knows us. The moment I received my new name, I knew that my Heavenly Father was aware of me. I knew that He knew I needed to be seen and to know He saw me. I was overwhelmed by His love and wept almost uncontrollably for the entire session. In my journal I recorded the words from Michael McClain’s song, “Ninety and Nine.” The song begins with the phrase, “I am one of the ninety and nine.” It proceeds to talk about how I have done what I am supposed to and even though I’ve stumbled and fallen, I’ve stayed where I’m supposed to. The last verse of the song talks about how the Savior is approaching me.

So why am I feeling like I’m the only one here
It’s like I’m his favorite
And he takes me aside
And he sweetly confides
These remarkable words in my ear

You are one of the ninety and nine
Have you any idea how brightly you shine?
You are safe in his fold
and it’s time you were told
That I know where you’ve been so I know where you’ll be
Because all of your life you’ve been following me
You are more than just one of the sands of the sea
Or just one of the ninety and nine
You are mine.

Another important tool I have is my amazing support group. My dear brothers and sisters, I truly believe that the Lord will measure us in some part by the people we have touched. I cannot begin to list the names of every person who has touched my life and been the “wind beneath my wings,” so to speak. Married or single, working or staying at home, with children or without children, family or friend, I am touched by those who take the time to care for me in my journey. A girlfriend in California who is always on the other line to listen to me complain when she herself struggles as a single woman in San Francisco. Another whose husband is terminally ill and works 40 hours a week but never passes up a week without inviting my children and me over to dinner. And another who is very busy raising six children including five active boys between the ages of 14 and 1 who never skips a beat if I need help watching my kids. A sister who takes her weekends to help her ADD sister clean her house, a brother who will spend his time to aide his electronically challenged sister, another who gives up his time to play Xbox with two little boys. A mom and dad who sacrifice their own time, resources, and I dare say a great deal of patience, to help raise yet another family. I have been known to curl up in the corner of my kitchen and cry, but every time, the Lord has sent my support group, His very own secret agents, to pick me up and remind me, “just one more step.” I am never alone. And neither are you.
I really am not a journal keeper. I see you out there, cringing at the thought. My sister and father both keep meticulous journals with amazing thought and detail. I have always wanted to but felt that I lacked the time or consistency necessary to make the task worth while. But after reading an article in the September 2006 Ensign called “For the Divorced Single Parent,” I realized I needed to make some effort if not a consistent one. Do not be fooled by the title, this is as much for everyone as it is for the single parent. Sister Hanson says, “Writing is often therapeutic and is always useful. If you write what you are feeling, you will find over time that you are progressing. Looking back, you will discover you are not quite as sad or as confused or as desolate as you once were. Here is a place to plead with the Lord, to explore your thinking, to understand your own struggle.” Here I record my triumphs, my trials, my daily gifts from the Lord. That way, when it is hard and I feel like I’m never going to get anywhere, I can look back at what I’ve been through and realize the person I have become. In Elder Eyring’s October 2007 Conference talk he asks us to ponder the question: “Have I seen the hand of God reaching out to touch us or our children or our family today?” Elder Eyring said, “As I would cast my mind over the day, I would see evidence of what God had done for one of us that I had not recognized in the busy moments of the day. As that happened, and it happened often, I realized that trying to remember had allowed God to show me what He had done… My point is to urge you to find ways to recognize and remember God’s kindness. It will build our testimonies. You may not keep a journal. You may not share whatever record you keep with those you love and serve. But you and they will be blessed as you remember what the Lord has done.
We have all lost hope at one point; sometimes we do end up in Rome instead of Disneyland. We have all experienced trials and looked heavenward and wondered how on earth we could ever be expected to deal with this. The prophet Joseph knew something of this and in D&C section 122, the Lord reminded him that “all these things shall give thee experience and shall be for thy good.” I hate being told that, but when all is said and done, it is all about perspective. Elder Maxwell said in his talk entitled “Brightness of Hope”, “Daily hope is vital, since the ‘Winter Quarters’ of our lives are not immediately adjacent to our promised land . . . An arduous trek still awaits, but hope spurs weary disciples on. Those with true hope often see their personal circumstances shaken, like kaleidoscopes, again and again. Yet with the ‘eye of faith’, they still see divine pattern and purpose.”

I am grateful for my family and friends and their support. I am grateful to my ward family for their love and kindness. I am grateful for the gospel in my life. I am grateful for the trials I have been given. I have faith that come what may, it is the Lord’s plan.