The late Elder Theodore M. Burton of the Seventy said:
“Couples interested only in themselves don’t communicate. Lack of communication then becomes a major stumbling block in developing true love.” (Ensign, May 1979, p. 73.)
And this is why I have spent the last 20 minutes looking for my husband’s secret stash of Cadbury eggs. Come on, honey, show me the love.
p.s. In the search, I did manage to find some Nerds leftover from last Easter. And for the record, yes, Nerds can go stale.
Today I dug through a trunk full of memories looking for a few specific things I’d promised to lend out. You can’t look through a memory box without taking a journey far and deep. I saw an autograph book from the 7th grade, photos of my grandparents in their twilight years, quotes saved from college Sunday school lessons, and a recipe box I made in Young Women. Wrinkled in the corner, I found a folded piece of paper that had my handwriting on the outside: A poem for Matt. love, Stephanie
I figured it might be some cheesy love poem which I have no memory of ever writing. I used to write quite a bit of poetry growing up. After I served my mission and fell in love with the Spanish language, I wrote a lot of Spanish poetry. I was pretty darn good at it, too, for a gringa— I even had several of them published in literary journals. But I’ve written very little poetry since then, in any language. So I was curious what had inspired me to write Matt a poem. I opened the wrinkled paper. It was dated Jan 7, 2003: Four years since we met and just a few days before the birth of our first child.
Future’s Eve
Here we sit in the twilight of all our yesterdays,
still warm from the brightest rays, and full of memories.
The evening dews of destiny begin to fall,
beautiful and mysterious.
The tomorrows will be different days;
I am curious, but not afraid.
Thank you for harboring me in your friendship
and bearing me in your love.
In a magical way, that love defines our past
and will now somehow redefine our future.
We will be more than two, and yet, more at one.
The morning sun begins to break slowly through the unguessed dawn,
and the beams, like Spirit, fall gently upon us.
We go enhanced to the next day.
When Matt left for work this morning, I was having a moment of self-pity because Grant had almost missed the bus and Natalie was mid-meltdown. “This will be my day,” I sighed as I looked at the small, weeping preschooler flopping and thrashing on the stairs. He made some comment about how my life was so horrible and tortured, but he didn’t mean it and that’s not what I meant either, so I got annoyed. I don’t think it’s an accident that I read this line today about how I had once anticipated parenthood to be: “We will be more than two, and yet, more at one.” Oh, how we need each other, but how easy it is to be selfish!
Children can draw a couple together in deeper ways than they ever thought possible. I remember the days that Grant spent in the Pediatric ICU after unexplained seizures, and how Matt and I clung to each other and needed each others’ support so much. And yet, when we are not careful, we can let their whims come between us, like a morning where a temper tantrum makes me pathetically dread the day rather than share a a goodbye hug with my husband and remind him how much I love him and still need him.
Every morning in parenthood is an “unguessed dawn;” We never know what it will bring, but we need each other and we definitely need the Lord. When we let our selfish wish-lists go, and turn to the Lord to help us fill our unmet needs rather than demanding that someone else read our minds, heal our wounds, and solve our problems, I think the Spirit can work wonders. And then, both individually and as partners, “We go enhanced to the next day.”
I watched the premier of The Bachelor the other night. I wouldn’t even mention it except that I commented something about it on Kristina’s post, and have since been publicly mocked for watching it … and rightfully so. DeNae said something to the effect of “Stephanie watched the Bachelor? Now I’ve heard everything. Bring on the Second Coming!” (I paraphrased a little.)
In my defense, it was kind of accidental. I had put my kids down to bed and turned on the TV to keep me busy while I folded laundry. I happened upon the Bachelor at some part where he was being interviewed about his intentions, and he seemed nice and genuine enough (“I believe in lasting love, I’m ready to be a husband and a father, blah, blah, blah, etc.) so I kept watching. (Pay attention ladies, this is how Satan works his magic.) Anyway, then these 25 ladies showed up, and it was all downhill. They came pouring out of limousines with predator eyes and dresses that were all bought at “Pamela Anderson’s Prom Shop.” It was kind of like witnessing the destruction of the Twin Towers– you feel shocked and horrified, but can’t take your eyes off the TV. I believe the producers searched far and wide to find twenty-five women whose most-prized possession is their breasts, and their least-prized possession is their dignity. Enough said.
So, yeah. I watched it. And I couldn’t stop thinking about it all that night. Or in the shower the next morning. Or driving to the doctor. Geesh, those women need help. Plus it only took Mister Nice-Guy about 10 minutes into the program to fall straight into the “forget about forever– this is all about who turns me on the most right now” mode. I kind of want to lock my children up in our house (with the TV unplugged) until they’re well past puberty.
And then yesterday, I received a copy of a talk I had requested by Sister Julie Beck. (I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that I love her talks.) This talk is an address she gave recently to all the Seminary and Institutes of Religion teachers. It is the BEST. TALK. EVER. And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. So many great points. Things I’d never thought of before, but make so much sense. It totally gave me a new perspective on what I want to teach my children and what I want the young women I work with at church to know. Unlike the Bachelor (that I couldn’t get out of my mind because it was so wrong), it was just so right. It just oozed TRUTH.
I know I give you links to talks and articles and stuff all the time, but you should REALLY read Sister Beck’s declarations about the theology of the family and our sacred, eternal roles as parents and teachers of the next generation. It’s so good. I’ve never tried to link to a .pdf before, so I’m hoping that if you click on this link, you can download the talk. If you want to read it and can’t get it to work, email me — dd.stephanie [at] gmail [dot] com– and I’ll send it to you as an attachment.
2009-beck-teaching-the-doctrine-of-the-family__eng
So, rest assured (I’m talking to you, DeNae) that I’ve watched my first and last episode of The Bachelor. Those people on TV and all the watchers who buy into those philosophies and lifestyles just have it all wrong; they have no insight into the power they have as women, or how mighty a relationship blessed by God can be. I couldn’t be more grateful for a husband who’s my partner in a real “reality” relationship and the opportunity to teach my kids that they can have the real deal for themselves, even when the rest of the world is putting up billboards and neon signs telling them it’s impossible, even stupid.
“I would have you live in your homes, in
your families, in your marriages so your
students have the hope of eternal life from
watching you. Your objective is to live the kind
of a home life that your students want to have
—have that kind of a family. They won’t get
that message from many other places. Live it
and teach it with so much clarity that what you
teach will cut through all the noise they are
hearing and pierce their hearts and touch them.
You don’t need to compete in volume; you
don’t need to compete in the number of words;
you just need to be very clear in your examples.
You are the ideal for them. . . .”“Your role in this is to teach them so they don’t
misunderstand, to be very clear on key points
of doctrine, which you find in the proclamation
on the family. This is prominent in your
teaching, prominent in your classrooms,
prominent in what they’re learning. You are
preparing them for the blessings of Abraham in
everything you are teaching. You are preparing
them for the temple. You are seeking to send
forth from every classroom an Isaac and a
Rebekah. You’re living so they have confidence
in you, and through your example they know
they can form eternal families.” – Julie Beck
Diapers and Divinity 