Primary Program

Hannalyn’s last primary program was last year which meant that today, Daniel and I were involved but not her. Instead, H got to go to her cousin’s program and loved it. This was Daniel’s first one (leading the music) and he did great. I thought it was a really good program all around. It was so weird to not have Hannalyn there, but I was also glad she got to be with family and not sitting alone or trying to find a spot for her by me.

Kids growing up - time generally - is such a weird thing. Moments I wish I could grab on to and cherish slip away. I am grateful for primary and how it teaches and prioritizes children. I love being in that room and doing music. It’s my favorite calling and spot to be. I only dread moving if I don’t get to be back in primary in a new town. ;) It’s really the best.

A month gone

October has been hard. I am so glad that it’s almost over, and yet I am dismayed at how quickly time continues to move.

After a therapy appointment at which I expressed how good I was doing at the beginning of the month, things began to spiral down into a dark depression. Not the worst I’ve ever been in, but bad enough, and hard to shake. The little things that I usually can brush off have been sticky and painful. This frustration with myself and inability to focus on good things has remained all month in spite of blessings I’ve seen and been able to acknowledge.

Conference was - and continues to be - a ray of light.

My Hannalyn is always my greatest comfort, even on days we get full-blown teenager attitude.

Walking around and being in the temple brings so much relief, I’ve been in tears the last times I’ve gone.

At my most recent therapy appointment as I expressed my disappointment that “the other shoe dropped” so shortly after feeling good, I was able to get validation about how I was feeling and the anger I felt.

I was also reminded that grief is not linear, and it’s ok to be mourning and to be going through grief stages I thought I’d passed.

Meanwhile I continue going through the motions and trying to not let anyone get hurt by my emotions. Feeling lonely and uncertain in what is coming and what I am supposed to be doing. I haven’t felt uncertain about my future in…years. Feeing this way as a 35 year old woman is something I never could have imagined.

I feel confident that God is with me, and that’s how I’m getting through the days.

Maybe once Halloween is past and we can focus on family, I will be able to find some peace.

President Nelson

I have nothing eloquent to say about the passing of President Russell M Nelson. The words I want to say have been and will be said by others and in much better ways. I didn’t know him personally, I admired and respected him as many did, and I mourn the loss of his leadership which came from such an obvious place of love.

Though I feel inadequate in expressing any sort of feeling about someone I perceived to be a great man, I wanted to put down my thoughts and add my voice to those that praise God and goodness.

I have loved having President Nelson as prophet of our church. His words were descriptive, his passion contagious, and his face so kind. I felt his love and the love of our Savior in each message that He shared. I admired his strength of personality and body and mind. I was grateful for his consideration in how he chose to deliver messages and his unshakeable testimony of and faith in Jesus Christ. I never doubted that he knew my Savior and I was so amazed by him for that. I pray that I can live with that sort of unapologetic faith.

President Nelson will be very missed. His example and words will not be soon forgotten. I am so grateful to know that life continues and that Christ has a place for him- and for me- in His holy halls.

May we all be better peacemakers and lovers of the Savior.

Hard & Soft

I got to thinking today about the words we use and the tone we use them in.

Cruel and hurtful words are like barbs. Pointed and ridged, they stick to you with a painful tenacity. They are hard to remove and they pull at you the more you try.

Kind and caring words are like the breeze. They whisper past, sometimes making an impact in ruffled hair or clothes, but usually just floating on by. No long-lasting marks except in memory.

This seems so backwards, and so sad. It makes me sad, anyway. I got a compliment today and tried to bask in and enjoy it but found the words and the feelings drifting away while the hurtful words from a previous encounter started to itch and to tug at my heart.

How do you make kind words stay? Ones that are true and build you up? Erecting a wall deflects barbs, but it also stops the breeze.

I’d really like to know.

I’m fine

Dark. Alone. Cold. Hunched. Stiff. Tight. Curled. Aching. Scared. Worried. Clenched. Hard. Tired. 

Knowing no one would miss you if you were gone. No one would call you. No one would invite you. No one would hug you. No one would want you. 

Lost.

Do you have a friend? Someone you can call anytime? Laugh with and cry with? Share hopes and fears with? Who gives you compassion and understanding, inspires and challenges you to be better? Always withholds judgment. Trusts you. Wants to share their life and your life with you?

You are lucky.

Depression hits hard, man. It is so crappy feeling this way. Trying so hard to do and be better, feeling ignored and dismissed.

And alone.

I know that Jesus is there. I know I will be ok. Light will shine again and I will find peace. I will. He will. I know I am not forsaken, so honestly I’m doing better than probably many others. 

It’s just so darn hard. And lonely. And dark. Struggling makes you feel weak. Like a disappointment, failure, fraud. And every single word or gesture, every acknowledgement or lack thereof, every whisper or shout and look from someone’s eyes spells judgment. Misery. Disdain. Dismissal.

Even if it’s not meant to.

So what do you do? When your own brain fights against you? Where do you turn? When no one knows, no one cares? 

Jesus, of course. Yes, I know. 

I do. I have. I will.

And…eventually…this too shall pass.

I have to believe that.

It’s all I have.

not what I thought I’d be writing today

…

Season 10 opens tonight.

An incredible milestone. Phenomenal. Ten years ago, some would have said “unattainable”. But look! Here these people are! Being wonderful and opening a truly fantastic show.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t exhausted. There has been a weight on me for a while now that just feels so heavy. Every thing I try seems to get stopped before it flies. Every word I say seems to be misunderstood. Every hope I plant feels crushed underfoot. Lots of “no”, “don’t do that”, “just change it”, “you’re wrong”, and it eats at me. It shouldn’t, I shouldn’t take it on me, and yet it’s felt so sticky.

Even today trying to decide if I should write this post and what I should say has been hard. How do I express gratitude and joy when I feel so alone? 

Should I even keep that? Or delete it so no one can judge and think I’m ungrateful?

…

I can’t even write a happy post about Season 10 because I’m sitting here … stuck. This is so stupid.

Because I am, I truly am, so grateful. And I see so many beautiful and powerful blessings in my life. I recognize the importance and magnitude of this milestone. It’s amazing.

So. Happy opening to Season 10. This isn’t going on social media. I will share it here for someone to find and hopefully understand, but I know that it won’t be understood there. 

What will I do?

This is the question I’ve been asking myself all afternoon. “What will I do?”

Good people everywhere agree that the shooting today was tragic, evil, and unnecessary violence toward a human being.

And… so what will I do?

Honestly, mostly I’ve been tempted to hide. To ditch social media, to bury my head, to snuggle in blankets and wait for it to pass. I know it won’t. It’s tempting to try.

In these times of tragedy and heartbreak, what will I do? Many have said that this is discouraging to those who would speak up and speak out- making them fearful for their safety. And that makes sense.

I also want to know how to raise someone who would never do this sort of violent act. I am sure that most parents do not raise their children to be killers. And from all appearances, this shooter was not a child, but an adult man. We cannot know his motivations, not yet.

But I hope I can raise my child to never feel so dark, so alone, so angry, that she feels her only recourse is to take a life. I worry that this is the world- violence when others don’t listen is an easy answer and may even feel good in the moment. But it is unarguably wrong. I want to raise my daughter better so this is never her choice.

Constant

Life never goes as planned. I don’t know of many people who’s life has gone as they planned and expected.

For me, my life has been very different than I thought it would. Children, occupation, location, all of it I imagined being so different than the way it’s turned out.

Today, though, instead of just thinking about how I should be grateful for my life (which I am), I thought about what has been constant in my life.

Starting of course, with the love of my Savior. He’s been there in every moment of my life- good and bad, high and low, and even the “regular” stuff. His constancy is something that I depend on in all parts of my life and that I am so incredibly grateful for.

Also including the love of my family in what is constant. My parents, my siblings, my grandparents, my husband and daughter.

The feeling of peace in the temple has always been a constant, even when I didn’t understand it all the way as a teenager.

The power of music.

The light of laughter.

And as we are contemplating more unexpected changes and pivots in life, these constants are what I’m depending on to keep us grounded, hopeful, and close to what matters most.

Blessings

It’s been hard recently for me to find and count my blessings. I’ve been depressed and anxious, overwhelmed and exhausted. It has been a struggle to find positivity in my days.

I just had the most amazing week with my family. My parents took us all to California for a vacation and we had the best time. Disneyland, Universal, the beach, and mostly being together made for an incredible time. I loved it. I am soooo tired now and I am so grateful to be.

Since I have a few minutes while sitting at the temple (my usual spot on Sundays), I decided it would be good to write some blessings since I’ve been feeling good.

1. my parents. Truly the best.
2. my siblings. Goll I love them.
3. my honorary siblings.
4. my niece and nephews.
5. my husband.
6. my daughter. (She was a CHAMP)
7. sunshine.
8. chocolate.
9. gummy bears.
10. comfy couches.
11. fluffy comforters.
12. time together.
13. laughter.
14. cool breezes.
15. shade.
16. amazing food.
17. uplifting music.
18. inspiring stories.
19. sunglasses that fit my face.
20. cars that get us there and back safely.
21. restaurants.
22. yummy food.
23. air fried potatoes.
24. warm showers.
25. books.
26. shorts with deep pockets.
27. generosity.
28. kindness.
29. compassion.
30. love.
31. so much love.
32. And love again.

A million thank yous to my parents for the most perfect week. And to my family for being people I want to be with for a week. ;) I can’t wait til we get to do it again.

No one asked

It’s so frustrating being spoken for. It is something I’ve tried not to do for my kid as she’s grown, and as a result I’ve become more aware of when it happens as an adult.

No one asked me if I wanted to help… they assumed I would and were frustrated when I didn’t.

No one asked me how I felt about not having babies… which is probably a good thing because maybe I wouldn’t have reacted wisely, but also felt isolating and lonely.

No one asked me how my business is doing… and made statements about what I need without any context or inside knowledge.

No one asked what I needed… and then when they did it was too late and I had done it myself.

No one asked… they spoke for me, over me, against me, assuming my intent and needs.

And I was left alone.

Jacob 3:1

It has been an insane week. So many highs, so many lows. Not much in between.

I am aware enough to know that I am blessed and I have much to be thankful for. I can see that not every day is all bad and there are many beautiful and wonderful things happening in my life.

And it has been an awful week. Full of hard, disappointment, fear, frustration, devastation, shock, and soul-deep heaviness. It’s so heavy.

I opened my scriptures to the next I was to read that night, and it was Jacob 3:1. I immediately knew that I was supposed to be reading that verse at that moment on purpose. Pretty amazing.

I am not sure that it made me feel much better, but at least I had a reminder that I am being heard in my sorrow. I don’t have any more answers after reading than I did before, but I was reminded that I’m not alone. He is hearing me. Answers will…eventually…come.

I can let that be enough for today.

Father’s Day

Happy Father’s Day!

I get to see both of my grandfathers this weekend and spend time with both my dad and husband. I am so blessed and so incredibly grateful.

I love my dad so much. His example of goodness and faith, his courage and happiness, his ability to comfort and strengthen others have always been pillars of my life. I am glad for every chance to celebrate him.

I know that I am fortunate to have my grandfathers and to have had them with me for so much of my life. They both taught me invaluable lessons and gave me immeasurable love. They are rocks in my foundation and I love them with all my heart.

Daniel is the greatest dad for Hannalyn. Watching him love her makes me love him even more.

What a great day. I can’t wait to celebrate.

Mother’s Day

Happy Mother’s Day!

I have many thoughts every year, and maybe if I get them out now I won’t cycle later.

— Mother’s Day is for those who want it, but it’s not a “women’s day”. Is this a controversial take? I see all the time posts to “potential mothers and all women everywhere” and listen, yes, let’s celebrate all the women. But I also know some who don’t want to be mothers and, sure, they can ignore these posts and move past if they aren’t interested in the well-wishing. But I also don’t want Mother’s Day to become just a day for any female regardless of age or desire to parent. Now, adding grandmothers or aunts, women who mother at school or church- absolutely. Celebrate those women. But a special day doesn’t have to be for everyone. It can be for who it’s meant for, and that’s ok.

— Secondary infertility sucks. I won’t get into all the things now, but just generally this sucks. It’s not even particularly worse today because of Mother‘s Day, but something I’ve been thinking and feeling a lot lately. It’s lonely and hard and scary and frustrating and…sucks.

— My mother is amazing. The wonderful things she’s taught and given me have blessed my life in innumerable ways. I only pray that she doesn’t just know how much I love her once a year, but a couple times. ;) My mom is kind, talented, optimistic, loving, giving, and faithful and I know that I am blessed to have her as mine.

— My grandmothers are inspirational. Their example created people who made my family and I love them so much for it. They have always been in my corner. Always. And I have never taken that for granted (ok maybe I did when I was little, but you know what I mean).

— Being a mother is everything I ever wanted. My home make look different than I imagined and the number of children is vastly different than I expected, but it is without a doubt my greatest blessing and my favorite thing to be. I wouldn’t change or trade it for anything.

— I am grateful for honesty and openness that social media has forced us to have on Mother’s Day. It’s not a “holiday” for everyone and, in fact, is very hard. It’s hard to know why things happen they way they do, and there are many questions we won’t ever get answers to, but I hope that there is compassion and understanding on both sides.

So! Happy Mother’s Day. Whether it’s a regular day or something special, I hope you’re able to have a good day.

Beautiful

I am sitting outside the temple right now, basking in the sunlight and listening to the birds, smelling the flowers and feeling all the delights of a perfect spring breeze.

Times like this remind me how much I have to be grateful for. It helps my brain slow down and my heart be at peace. I am uplifted while laid down to rest. I am surrounded by love and held close by family near and far, here and not. I am so grateful for that testimony.

This world is beautiful, I am blessed, God lives. The best is yet to come.

and it is so beautiful.

So much

there

are so

many thoughts in

my head.

i

am kept

circling and traveling

lost in

thought

and lost

in my head.

but then,

small

and simple

blessings and miracles

pull me out of my head,

and I am able to think and write again.

for a little while, at least.

and the thoughts I had and the words I meant to share

go back into

my circling

head.

figuring out what is true

Isn’t it awful when you can’t trust your brain? It’s really the worst. And that’s how it feels when depression and anxiety hit- that you can’t trust your brain and what it tells you.

I dated a person who was extremely skilled in manipulation. I am not pleased to admit it or happy to think about the person I was then. I have put in place many boundaries and developed a much healthier relationship with myself and with my husband.

Every once in a while, though, especially when anxiety and depression kick in hard, I catch myself falling back into these old and destructive patterns. It’s hard because then I struggle to define what is real. I want to validate my thoughts and feelings and I find myself trapped in circles and cycles of doubt and frustration.

I got incredibly upset a couple days ago. I felt dismissed and unimportant, my needs were not being met, and my ask for understanding was not heard. I left the situation and felt proud of myself for removing myself from potential fight. Then I realized how hungry I was and immediately started doubting my feelings- maybe things were made worse because I was hungry. Very likely. But does that invalidate my feelings of loneliness and being dismissed? Of course not. But now my brain is having a hard time deciding what was real and what I imagined because I was hungry.

I’m still hurting though. And though an apology came, it didn’t feel sincere and came with caveats and excuses.

Part of my brain is telling me to just let it go and move on and stuff this down and get over it. The other part of my brain insists I need and deserve better. Maybe in truth it needs to be a combination of both.

Real talk today. Even if my thoughts are feeling unreal and unreliable.

Thankfully I know that things will get better. I know these feelings don’t last forever. Light will come.

social anxiety

I always thought I was just shy. And maybe I was as a kid and that’s where everything started, but I have a very strong memory of sitting in a class in 8th or 9th grade and being forced to “choose” a career and having the clear impression that I needed to choose teaching because it would be good to force me to interact with people every day.

It makes me laugh a little now, but that was the definite impression and thought was that if I didn’t do something (like teaching) where I was forced to interact with people, then I wouldn’t. Interact, I mean.

Well, now I have the theatre and that sort of forced interaction, so I guess God got what He wanted even though I’m not teaching. Ha. The irony is not lost on me that I’m in the theatre, where people is the matter that makes it up, and a business owner, and that all I want to do is be alone with my family.

It’s definitely one of the hardest things of my job. Especially at the beginning, having to pretend to be confident and state people down and fight for funds and this idea.

But I don’t know if it would always have been called social anxiety or if that’s simply what it’s become. I don’t consider myself shy, definitely introverted, and I don’t need to call attention to myself, but beyond that there is a significant level of fear when I need to talk to people. Every time I go out in public, I am terrified to see people I know and be expected to talk to them. What if I say or do something stupid? What if I make a bad joke or say the wrong thing or trust the wrong person?

It eats away at me sometimes to where I struggle to even function.

Most of the time it doesn’t impact my relationships with those close to me, family and those I consider friends. But even then, sometimes I’m not sure if I can consider people friends and the anxiety ramps up. I doubt whether I mean to others what they mean to me. I want to be included but fight myself because part of me wants to stay away.

There is an event this weekend I have been invited to that I desperately want to attend… but my anxiety has been ridiculously high about it and whether I’ll truly be welcome or needed or wanted.

It’s so hard and yet so interesting to be in this position and try to figure out how to live my best life.

healing slowly

One year ago today, our world was shattered.

I got a call from my daughter’s school telling me that she had been molested by a student in her class.

I have never moved so fast in my life.

When I got there, I had a brief second to hug her before I was pulled into a meeting with the principal and a police officer.

I still regret not taking more time with my daughter then.

The principal & officer told me what happened and what steps they were taking. I had my phone out to record the conversation, which I’m grateful for because it passed in a blur for me as I tried to comprehend what and how. I finally got away from them, grabbed Hannalyn, and we left the school. I told the teacher with her that I wasn’t sure when, or if, we would be back.

We drove straight to my dad’s work, Daniel meeting us there, and told him about what had happened. He works for the courts and I wanted his feedback and opinions on what we should be expecting.

The next day, we flew to Phoenix for a trip that had been planned months before. It was both a blessing and a hardship. It was perfect to get away and just be together and forget about what would be waiting. It was hard to have our trip started off so poorly and under such high emotion. We were all … strained and stressed and exhausted and mad. It was so hard, and lots of feelings circled. But being in the sun, being away, being together… that was a blessing.

After a couple of weeks, I did send Hannalyn back to school but with a multitude of rules and expectations from me to the school. They were willing to work with what I expected, and Hannalyn, though hesitant at first, was able to find some good and settled back in to the routine.

The student was removed from the school or it wouldn’t have been an option at all for her to return.

I don’t blame her teacher, not really, though obviously the feelings are immense and complicated. I don’t even blame the student, it was pretty clear from a couple of things adults said that they have a pretty rough home life. But again, complicated.

Most of which I’ve been able to forgive and forget and move on from.

But as this day approached, I knew I would need to acknowledge it even as it hurts.

I haven’t talked about this publicly, or even privately, outside of with my therapist and Hannalyn’s therapist. I didn’t even tell my family then. My dad told my siblings. I’m not sure who Daniel told, if anyone. I told my cousin who we saw in Phoenix because while we were with her, I got a call from the police officer who was working on reports and I told her what was happening. Outside of that, and a couple check ins since, this is the first and only time I’ve said anything.

I’ve been thinking about this all week and had so much to say, but now my brain is empty.

It’s been a long month. Maybe that’s why now words are failing me.

We are healing slowly. There are times when I catch myself being extra sensitive to situations and being triggered by words or actions that wouldn’t have been a big deal before. I’ve always been very conscientious of and sensitive to Hannalyn’s bubble (when she has one) and making sure she knows she is safe, but of course that’s intensified since last year. It’s interesting to see how we’ve all dealt and coped and adjusted to healing.

It is slow, but it is happening. And I thank God every day for that, for my Hannalyn, and that we get to figure this out together.

I wish it never would have happened. I wish that the school district would have done more and been better and stepped up. I wish a lot of things…

but when I find myself spiraling, I focus on God and gratitude and Hannalyn’s goodness.

We are healing. We are together.

Thirty Five

Had a birthday this week.

I looked forward to it more than I expected.

It already feels like forever ago, but it was just two days. Wow.

Hannalyn woke up sick, poor kid, and so I kept her home from school. It meant I wasn’t able to take a shower alone (she sat in the bathroom with me the whole time) and I wasn’t able to read as much as I had planned, but honestly, it was an amazing day.

We prepped the theatre for family night, we made a cake, went on some errands, shoveled snow, got lunch. I convinced her to lay down with me for a nap and before she fell asleep, she told me “I’m so glad we had this day together.” And so am I. It wasn’t what I expected, it was worlds better. We went slow-ish, we were quiet and played, we got to just talk, and it was magical. She made my day.

She always does, but it was extra special for this birthday. And she was so happy to be with me- kept telling me so and reminding me how she loves me.

I am so incredibly blessed to have her.

Happy birthday to me! A new year starting now. (I don’t do resolutions in January- a new year has always been my birthday. Maybe because they’re close together, but it’s a big difference to me.) I am grateful for a new time and a new chance and a new year. I feel good. I feel ready.

It’s going to be great.

season of depression

I’m not sure why it always surprises me when I get sad in February. It’s happened … pretty much always.

I remember as a kid being so excited for Valentine’s and my birthday, but struggling so hard to keep up the excitement. I wanted to be excited and wanted to keep that joyful feeling but just couldn’t.

Eventually, that made decisions to not celebrate my birthday easier and easier because I wasn’t happy anyway. It was easy to let go of some things.

I realize now that I have some form of SAD (seasonal affected disorder) that literally gives me winter blues. And since learning that a few years ago, dealing with the February slump has been much easier. Although it still somehow surprises me every year. I catch myself thinking “why is February so hard? Why am I struggling so much?” Etc etc for sometimes DAYS until I remember… oh. It’s February.

anyway, not much point to this other than to continue acknowledging my struggles and improvements so I can keep growing.

First

Tonight was the first time I was alone at home while H was at Young Women’s and D at rehearsal.

I hated it.

Did I read? Yes and that was lovely. Did I have a snack? Yes. Did I sit and anxiously wait? Yes.

AND she was home 40 minutes later than expected. Which is incredibly frustrating to this mother of a girl who has a hard time getting up in the morning when it is a school night.

I will be fine. Everything will be fine. I was not happy to be alone tonight for the first time in this way, but it will be better next time.

I hope.

music

The show we are doing right now is called “Songs for a New World”. I first heard the music when I was in college and fell immediately in love with it. In fact, I still vividly remember hearing the songs for the first time in class. I was amazed and enthralled and entirely jealous that others had been chosen for the music. Of course, the awe I was in hearing them made it clear they were the right choices, and it’s stick with me since so… :)

We watched the John Williams documentary yesterday with my dad and it was inspiring and beautiful. At the end, he said something that I immediately wrote down:

Music is enough for a lifetime, but a lifetime is not enough for music.

And I felt my soul resonate.

I am so grateful for music and that it’s been part of my whole life. I am blessed- I know for a fact that I am, and grateful to be. My experiences with music have been transformational and shaped me into the person I am.

Being forgotten

What is your greatest fear?

Easy for me. Needles. Heights.

I am so scared of needles I was willing to give birth at home to avoid them. (And ended up having lots of other reasons, too, but that’s honestly where it started.)

Lately, I’ve added another fear.

Being forgotten.

Not forgotten for some great deed or for doing good or even for being good. Just … me. Being forgotten.

I’ve talked before about my grandpa’s dementia and how much it sucks (http://danielandnashelle.blogspot.com/2024/05/memory.html?m=1) and it keeps getting worse.

Today I went to visit my grandparents, and when my grandma brought grandpa into the room, she introduced me to him loudly. “This is Nashelle, our granddaughter.”

My heart broke.

This isn’t new- he hasn’t known me for a long time- but to have it be right in front of me today hurt in a new way.

I had to chuckle though when Grandpa said “I know. We went to school together.” and gestured to me.

We definitely did not. He did graduate in Utah from Jordan High, but.

He asked me where I graduated and I told him in Vernal. He said he has heard of that place but isn’t familiar with it. (He has lived here for almost three years and visited us here since 1996.) He asked which of his brothers I knew, which was none since they were all considerably older than him and passed away when I was too young to remember them.

Then he lost interest and sat while grandma and I talked for a while longer.

Being forgotten. Having no clue who I am, why I’m there, what memories we share, what family we share… this is one of the hardest things I’ve ever experienced.

Covenants

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about covenants and “casual covenant keeping”. I’m not sure which apostle said that, but in my temple attendance and as I’ve pondered the changes in the temple, it is something I find myself revisiting.

Trying to not get into too much detail, I have been paying careful attention to the covenants I’ve been making. As I’ve done this, a couple things have stood out to me.

“Not speaking ill of the Lord’s anointed” is one such spot. I am very aware of the imperfections of people in my ward and church as a whole. But I don’t think this is telling us to ignore problems- abuse, neglect, use of a position of authority to hurt others- these things must be spoken of and dealt with in the appropriate manner. It is not an excuse to hide wicked people. I think this is meant to keep us from letting the adversary overpower us with “two minutes of hate”.

In my AP English class in high school we studied 1984 and one day had a “two minute hate” session. It was comical to see how we all started so nervous to share things we hated and tentatively put forth things like “it bugs me when people don’t use a turn signal”, “people talking with their mouth full”, or “walking slow in the hallway and blocking classroom doors”. It didn’t take long, though, for things to get let loose. From agreeing with mild annoyances to shouting about injustices and global issues, the class caught fire. When the teacher stopped us, she told us that class time was over. Not only did we enrage ourselves for more than two minutes, the words and spewing of anger continued through the entire class hour. We were shocked. From tentative beginnings to a flood of vitriol, our willingness to allow ourselves to be consumed by “hate” was terrifying.

I think about this when I think about the covenant I make in the temple to “not speak ill of the Lord’s anointed”. It’s not about not standing up for injustice or stopping evil, but it’s about not letting petty grievances turn us away from the purpose of our worship and growing closer to Jesus. I can disagree with my bishop, I can make different political choices than my stake president, and I can do these things without slandering them to others.

Another thing is wearing the temple garment. Daniel said something the other day that I loved and reminded me that the only other place we see the marks of the garment are on the veil of the temple. Incredible that we are literally wearing, in essence, a piece of the temple veil. What a huge blessing.

And how sad that we don’t seem to appreciate that. It’s something I’m working on. I need to get new garments soon and I find myself trying to decide what to get and hoping that I’m being true to myself and to my covenant. I’m thinking about going up a size, but don’t want to because I enjoy my garment fitting snug so it can go under anything I wear. And it feels like dance pants I used to wear and is comfortable and familiar to me. But garments aren’t about vanity. They are to help me remember my covenants and to protect me. I love that protection and I have felt the power of God so strongly, so I know I need to take each purchase and how I wear them seriously. It’s a physical manifestation, to me, of how I treat my covenants.

So. Lots to think about. And many other places as well. Grateful for opportunities to learn and looking forward to covenant keeping.