frazzled & frumpy

If someone asked me if I was a good cook, I would answer quickly, without hesitation. (I might even puff out my chest a bit.) “Heck, yeah, I am.” I have no problem admitting that. None. Yet, if someone asked me if I was a good writer, I’d pause. “Well… other people have said that I am.” Then I’d probably follow up with, “I’m not published or anything.” Why? Why not say what I want to say- “Yes. I am a damn good writer.” (Because I am.) I think there’s too much self-depreciation in our humility. We’re afraid that if we say we’re good at something others will see us as conceited instead of confident. But this kind of humility doesn’t do anyone any good. One of my favorite quotes supports this idea- “We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God.”* Perhaps we should ask ourselves what God would think of our false humility. Since He is the One who gave us our gifts, who knows better than anyone ...

There's been a buzz going around the internet this last week.  A little misquito flitting from blog to blog to facebook to news site.  It all started with this blog post by Josh Weed , where he admits to being Mormon, married and gay.  I loved the posts written by Tara and Mike and loved being part of their discussions. (They are brilliant, thoughtful and married to each other. Talk about a power couple.)  This has caused a lot of thought on my part.  I started a couple different posts, and couldn't quite decide what I wanted to say about this.  And, then I decided to write about what I know for sure.   The young women in our church have a theme.  This is repeated every Sunday as they gather for class.  I'm way too old to have had this theme when I was a teen, but because I worked with the young women for almost three years, I memorized it.  I can still recite it. The beginning line says, We are daughters of our Father in Heave...

“Ye are the Children of light , And the children of the day ; We are not of the night , Nor of darkness .” 1 Thessalonians 5:5 A few years ago, my daughter, Sadie, had a best friend.  Anna was a little wisp of a girl, with big eyes and pale blond hair.  The two were inseparable. Though they shared many things, mostly their love of animals, their home lives were very different. I got to know Anna's mother, Beth, because of our daughter's friendship.  I wouldn't say we were close, but we were friends.  A hard life and tough decisions had taken their tole on Beth.  Though younger than me, she looked older.  She was missing a couple teeth, and the others were yellowed from years of smoking.  Lines creased her face and her hair was thin.  We were opposites, but I liked her.  I remember well the day she told me they were losing their house.  She had such a sadness in her eyes.  It broke my heart.  A week later, Sadie s...