They're Lying to You!

Essays on Love-Volume 2

Or

Marriage is awesome, you should try it.

Or

A note to single people who are too scared to make a commitment

Since this blog is for the stated purpose of exposing lies, I thought it was time for me to expose the greatest conspiracy known to mankind. It’s a lie you’ve been told your whole life. It’s a lie that is accepted as truth in almost every kind of media and our daily conversations. It is a sick, sad lie that, like most lies, can become true if we believe it. It’s a lie that I once believed with my whole heart because it was so ubiquitous in our culture.  In fact, I don’t know that there has ever been a more destructive lie told through the history of time.  

Here are some examples of places it has appeared:

“Ain't much difference between kidnapping and marriage. You get snatched from your parents. But in marriage, nobody offers a reward.”

The Bride Came C.O.D. (1941)

“Marriage is like an institution. So is Alcatraz"

Look Who's Laughing

"Love...a dangerous disease instantly cured by marriage."

Law & Order (1990)

"No one should ever expect happiness from marriage. A few quiet moments, perhaps, if one is lucky...and an occasional day that doesn't incite you to murder."

Clothes in the Wardrobe (1993)

"Ever since we said 'I do', there are so many things we don't."

I Love Lucy (1951)

Shall I go on? By the time I made it to eighteen, I was absolutely certain of a few different things when it came to marriage. I was sure that men were incapable of being faithful in their hearts, even if they technically managed it. I was sure that romance disappeared quickly after vows were made. I was sure that unhappiness was inevitable and had to be worked through. I had been so exposed to the lie that marriage is a nearly-impossible sacrifice that I was scared to death of it. It wasn’t just the TV that convinced me of this. Well meaning people love to tell you that fairytale endings don’t exist, that marriage is hard work, and that the happiness you find in being married is an eventuality, not for the here and now. Just last year, all my friends were passing around a deep and meaningful blog about how “Marriage isn’t for you.” It’s for your spouse and your children. Fortunately, by that time, I understood the lie.

When I met my husband, I was kind of horrible to him. I was convinced that men were cruel, selfish, and all about the moment. Although I believed him when he said he loved me, I also knew, as society had taught me, that love couldn’t make it past marriage. It is almost unbelievable that I was so cynical considering that I was surrounded by happily married couples, including my parents.  But the media is a very powerful tool and I was sure that happiness was not a fairytale, but a complacence. 

I broke up with Nathan every week or so. I flat out refused him when he brought up marriage. I loved his kindness, gloried in his compliments, and passionately adored him more, the more I learned about him. But I could not marry him. In fact, Heavenly Father had to hit me over the head with a proverbial brick of revelation to get me to accept his proposals. Even then, when I knew that it was the right thing to do, I didn’t want to. Determined to be found accepting of the Lord’s will, I decided to jump into the marriage with both feet. I did so, and landed…

                                                                                     …in the fairytale.  

My husband was/is loving, attentive, supportive and faithful. He made me feel beautiful every day. He appreciated my talents. He supported me through my disappointments. He made, and makes, me happy. I was twenty-one when I married Nathan. I’m thirty-four now. Fourteen years isn’t that long compared to eternity. It isn’t even that long compared to the marriages of some of the people around me. But it is long enough to convince me that everything I knew about marriage was wrong. Let me share just a few truths I’ve learned since becoming a Mrs. 

Is marriage hard?

No. Life is hard, and if you're married, then that is part of life. But life without marriage is much harder. I discovered this on my honeymoon and have never looked back. I was shocked by the feelings of contentment that came with commitment. All of the stress melted away and our relationship got much better, not worse as TV would have you believe, with commitment. I promised Nate on that honeymoon that I would never even bring up divorce, it just wasn't an option. But that whole conversation was unnecessary. I have never even thought about divorce. I get so frustrated with people saying that they "want to finish college first." Sometimes there is something else in their lives that they need to get through. It's stupid. College, indeed all challenges we face, are so much better within a loving marriage.

Are all men unfaithful?

No. When I was first married, I doubted my husband’s insistence that no one was as beautiful as I was. I thought he was lying to me when he told me that this or that actress with the perfect body could never compare to me. In the years since then, I’ve realized that we don’t all embrace the world’s idea of physical beauty. If you love someone, really love someone, your perception of beauty changes to match the reality of the person you love. I am far from the perfect physical specimen but I have come to believe that he sees perfection when he looks at me, as I see it when I look at him. There is such thing as a man who is faithful, even in his heart.   

Does arguing with one another mean you are unhappy?

No. Honestly, I think the only couple that doesn’t argue is one where one spouse is so much smarter than the other that he/she defers automatically. This seems absolutely miserable in my mind. Who wants to be married to someone who isn’t their equal? My husband and I disagree all the time. We expand each other, enlighten each other and challenge each other. Sometimes we get angry. Sometimes I want to bite his face. But happiness does not require complete harmony. It only requires that the preponderance of the time be uplifting. 

Does getting married mean an end to romance?

No. And the rest is none of your business. :-)

Is every marriage happy?

No. At least, I assume not. But I still maintain that the lies about marriage perpetuated by our culture are lies. Unfortunately those lies have had the effect of self-fulfilling prophesy for some people, twisting marriage into something that it isn't. Men are told that they aren't supposed to be faithful, so they're not. Women are told that they are supposed to be unhappy, so they are. It's as cunning an evil plan as could be perpetrated on what is, and always has been, the key to true happiness. The truth is that the condition of a marriage is what people believe it to be. So, waiting and fearing it sets you up for failure. That is why people who live together first are so much more likely to divorce. They were unwilling to commit in the first place. 

Is Marriage a trial for us to get through?

Yes, but only in the same sense that having money is a trial. It comes with its own challenges and lessons that we must work through to find true happiness. Still, on the whole, I’d rather have that trial than live without it. 

If it’s so wonderful, why do so many people divorce?

I'm not the one to answer this. I know that I have limited experience and I respect that others have gone through challenges I have not. But, I think this often has to do with expectations. Most people don’t go into a marriage not knowing the person they are marrying, despite what we’ve been told. A fair number of us go into a marriage expecting that the failings we see in our beloved will change after we’ve married them. “I hate that he won’t go to church with me, but he’ll change when he sees how much it means to me.” Except that he thinks you’ll stop nagging him because you love him. Never expect marriage to change someone. Marry them because the qualities you love in them are more important than the things you would like to change. Then focus on the good. If there is something about them you absolutely cannot live with, they are not the right one.

I am not an expert in anything. I have absolute sympathy for those who have dealt with the trials of infidelity, abuse and heartbreak. But the truth is that these situations are the exception, not the rule. The truth is that there is absolutely nothing in this life that can bring more joy, satisfaction, self-esteem and contentment than being married to your best friend. The truth is that the trials we will inevitably face are easier when you have someone facing them with you. The truth is that the only way to glimpse heaven is through the love that you share within a family unit. The truth is that making marriage into something to be feared, rather than anticipated, is a big part Satan’s clever plan to make  you miserable. 

But you don’t have to believe me…

“My most brilliant achievement was my ability to be able to persuade my wife to marry me.”

-Winston Churchill

“My husband and I are best of friends first and foremost. We fight like cats and dogs, but never stay mad for long. I was lucky to find him, he is in every way, my soulmate.”

-Carnie Wilson

“Happiness is only real when shared."                                                            

-Jon Krakauer  

                                                       

"Making you happy makes me happy, and that's not hard because you're a happy person."

-My husband

“I love this beautiful  woman. Here's to another 41 years together.”

-My Dad

"I am grateful to be able to say that in our long life together I cannot remember a serious quarrel. Small differences occasionally, yes, but nothing of a serious nature. I believe our marriage has been as idyllic as anyone’s could possibly be.

"I recognize that many of you are similarly blessed, and I compliment you most warmly, for when all is said and done there is no association richer than the companionship of husband and wife, and nothing more portentous for good or evil than the unending consequences of marriage."

-Gordon B. Hinckley

To “Ordain Women.” Let’s talk.

I recognize that there have been a lot of angry discussions lately about your organization’s goals. You have received all kinds of media attention and been responded to by the whole spectrum, from death threats to applause. While there may be a lot of meaningful and serious doctrinal issues at play, I am a practical woman and will be appealing to you from a practical position. 

 

You see, I happen to believe that the priesthood is not a doctrinal issue, but an inherent one. Since we know that gender is innate and not simply a construct of this life. I believe the priesthood, like chest hair, is just a problem for men. Of course, these sorts of theories are the reason that Brother “likes to correct people” (you know the one) always raises his hand in Sunday school immediately after the teacher invites me to comment. He knows he has to correct me quickly to prevent mass, Mormon hysteria.

So, for Brother “likes to correct people’s”   sake, we’ll assume you are right and women are only prevented from holding the priesthood because of cultural bias. Let’s also assume that protesting is an effective way to change this policy. Now, let’s jump forward in time to the point where you have accomplished your goals and the church has begun ordaining women and men to the priesthood. It’s basically utopia, right?  

Remember the concept of “the same ten people?” It’s changed a bit in our inclusive world. You see, Sister “does everything right” has been called as bishop. You know her. She’s the one who has the same number of hands as the rest of us but manages to do so much more with them. This is because she is listening to her upcoming lesson on audiobook while sweeping the floor, one-handed, so she can make dinner for someone who is almost sick with the other. Her left foot manages to fold laundry and her right is painting a mural in her daughter’s bedroom. She is also singing a hymn in preparation for her family musical number in sacrament, during which her dozen children (who you didn’t realize were even there because they were all sitting quietly reading their scriptures and doing calculus in their heads) will each play a different instrument while quoting all thirteen articles of faith in unison. When you ask her how she does it all, she self-deprecatingly says she “saw it on pintrest,” but you are certain that it was only on pintrest because SHE put it there and probably wrote the code for the website as well.  

Okay, back to Utopia. She’s the bishop too, now, and the chapel is, admittedly, much cuter than it used to be. The sacrament trays are handmade of wood, painted with daisies and then coated in mod podge, and there are refreshments served after every meeting. You see, the “same ten people” is now just Sister “does everything right.” Still, she seems to be handling everything well. It doesn’t sound so bad does it?

If you look out in the congregation, you see your first problem. The men are sitting alone with the children while the women pass the sacrament and preside over the meeting. Looking a little closer, you will see my bench. As I try to envision this, I ask myself, “Could my husband take care of all seven of my children during the meeting without me?”  Maybe. If Sister “does everything right” sits with him, as she often does with me, when I’m alone. Oh wait. She’s the bishop. Well, I’m pretty sure he’s doing okay despite that. The kids’ hands and feet are wrapped in duct tape and they’re attempting to grab the sacrament cup with their teeth, but this really isn’t the first time that’s happened, even if we don’t live the utopian future. 

None of this is really that bad. My daughters are dressed in the hijab and full body armor for modesty and their brothers are wearing  minecraft t-shirts with overly polished penny loafers, because that’s how my fantastic husband interpreted the instruction to dress them in their “best clothes.” But I’m quite sure he’s actually capable of learning to brush their hair, eventually. He did it, after all, when I was young women’s president and had to go in early for meetings some Sundays and he does have that youtube tutorial where the dad uses the vacuum hose to make a ponytail now. I suppose Sundays will work out without too much insanity. 

The rest of the week would change too. 

Let's take a minute to examine a typical Tuesday night. Sister "blessed with trials" is having a really hard time. She turns to her husband and asks for a priesthood blessing. Unfortunately, he's gotten used to Bishop "does everything right" taking all responsibilities out of his hands. As such, he's really busy with other things and tells his wife, "I'm sorry, hun. I'm really close to leveling up on World of Warcraft. Can't you call your visiting teachers to do it? They're both much smarter than me anyway." She really can't argue with that logic, and so gives me a call. Knowing the importance of my church responsibilities, I tell my husband that he is going to need to feed the kids and put them to bed. He's very loving and supportive. But after I leave, the apocalypse begins.

The kids want spaghetti, and that doesn't sound all that hard. Nate takes a pot out of the cupboard and puts the noodles in it, placing them on the hot range because he doesn't realize water is necessary. Still, considering that he's male, he seems to be off to a reasonable start.

While he's looking through the cupboard for the ketchup (which he assumes is what we usually use for spaghetti sauce), our oldest son comes in with his homework, asking for help. Nate stares at the math problem, perplexed. (In his defense, Nate has an undergraduate degree in mathematics, so common core is necessarily nonsensical to him.)

While he's trying to make any sense of the scribbles on the paper, one of my "three under three" wanders into the kitchen, completely naked, and proudly announces that she used the potty. Nate recognizes that as the greater catastrophe and runs into the bathroom to clean up the mess. On his way, he grabs the baby. After plopping the little one in the bath, he turns to the mess around the toilet. Not knowing where the rags, cleaners, or bleach wipes are, he grabs the bath towel. He manages to transfer the mess onto the towel and subsequently attempts to flush it down the toilet.

He doesn't notice the clog, however, because he smells something burning and runs back into the kitchen. The dry noodles have begun to blacken on the bottom and smoke is copiously billowing from the pan. He grabs a glass of water and pours it onto the gas fire that was heating the noodles, not realizing that failing to turn the dial off causes gas to escape into the house. This is probably because he's distracted by the sound of running water coming from the bathroom and the puddle making its way down the hall.

Wait a minute. This is beginning to sound a little offensive, even to me. It occurs to me that my husband is my equal in every way. He's brilliant, sensitive, hardworking and capable of accomplishing anything he sets his mind to. Suddenly, it seems a bit insane to imply that just because I am the one who does something for our family, he's not capable of doing it. I'm starting to think that this whole scenario wouldn't play out like a comedy of errors at all.  Nate is highly educated and an all-around amazing man. He's actually more than capable of doing my job. 

Let's try this again, keeping my husband's exceptional nature in mind. Unfortunately, this version of the future isn't as fun to read. Nate manages to make dinner, help with homework, clean up messes, bath the kids and get them dressed for bed. After the older ones are in bed, he picks up the sick baby (at least one of them is always sick) and sits in his recliner to rock her. 

As he leans back, with his daughter on his chest, softly smoothing her hair and kissing her head, he feels an overwhelming sense of... humiliation. He was meant for more than this. His brilliance, imagination, training and righteousness are being absolutely wasted. Why is his advanced mind not out leading the church, rather than helping with fifth grade homework? Why isn't he called to a service worthy of his talents? Why does his wife get to do what is clearly the greater service when he is my equal in every way?

Why does he feel this way? I dunno. This is your future, not mine. But, if you don't buy into the argument that a woman's calling is different from a man's because she is less than him or vice-versa, (and the doctrine is pretty clear on that-read anything by Pres. Hinckley), then the only reason to demand the right to do someone else's job is because you feel their job is superior to yours. 

Oh, sisters, Satan has never perpetuated a greater lie than this. It is embedded in our culture. It is taught by our politicians. It is preached in our schools. It is, sadly, embraced by so many of us that it is written on some of our hearts. The idea, the fable, the great deception that the calling of motherhood is somehow less than the calling of the priesthood is truly the single most destructive idea Satan has ever preached. Is it less valuable to nurture than to provide? Are these jobs really unequal? Does one require more talent and ingenuity than the other? It can certainly be argued that one is more thankless than the other. But that's just in the short term. In the spiritual, eternal sense, that too, is a lie. 

I suspect that none of the scenarios I playfully shared here will ever happen. Instead, there will be a day (hopefully several) when I stay home while my amazing husband rushes out to give a blessing. And when I sit in the recliner, gently rocking my beautiful baby, I will know, as the spirit continually testifies to me, that I am there because there is no job that is greater than mine, not because I am not good enough to do his. There's certainly no job I'd rather be doing.

Put me in the nursery. Ask me to serve with the scouts. Call me to the library. Or release me from everything and let me be just a mother. Demanding a different calling is a search for glory, not value. I know the value of my service; please stop trying to make it seem like less than it is. As the Savior taught, the glory belongs to the Lord. I am privileged to be trying my best to heed the Savior’s call to “feed his sheep.” I am so grateful for my womanhood and it’s divine, exquisite, sacred calling.

Let Them Be Children (A mother's plea)

I want to share a precautionary tale to parents. We live in a competitive world. We all want our kids to be the best that they can be, but many of us tend to gauge that according to their talents as compared the children around them. It is this innate competitiveness that drives parents to put their very young children in academic preschools, push concepts beyond their learning capacity, and accidentally show their own disappointment if their children are not as advanced as the neighbors.

I am guilty of this more than most. As a young mother, I put my three year old son into preschool. I wanted to give him a competitive edge. You see, to my young mind, more school had to be better. I didn’t want him to start out life behind. My oldest son was everything I could have hoped for. He started reading at the age of four. He was doing geometry in first grade. He won every trophy his school awarded and I certainly took all of this as proof that I was a great mom. 

I started my second son on the same path. And he was equally brilliant. He was tested and placed in GT classes in first grade. He got to attend with his big brother. They are only 13 months apart in age, so I pushed him hard so he wouldn’t have to feel inferior to his excellent older sibling. It wasn’t until we moved to a new state that I started to question my own parental brilliance. In Idaho the standards for GT are different. When we were in Texas, both my sons were given a battery of tests and evaluated by a panel of educators before being allowed into the program. In Idaho, they are given a single IQ test. If they score in the 98^th percentile, they are put into GT. My oldest qualified. My second received a letter stating he was “only in the 95^th percentile.” 

My perspectives began to change that day. You see, I knew that both boys were equally talented, if in different ways. And I suddenly began to wonder if I had been judging them as absolutely as that IQ test. I assumed early schooling was better. I assumed I should get them reading before kindergarten. I assumed that both boys needed the same things. 

When it was my daughter’s turn, I decided to do a little research. What I found shocked me. Long term studies on the benefits of preschool found none. The countries that have the latest age for mandatory education also have the highest literacy rates. Children who are pushed to read early are less likely to read for fun. Changing from the overly competitive mother to the one that looked at her children’s individual needs is definitely a process. But I tried. My daughter, however, chose her own levels and she was reading before kindergarten. In first grade, she was tested and placed in the GT program. She had much less intervention from me, but chose her own talents. 

Then came my sweet Quentin. My fourth child was just as quick as the others in his growing up years. He proved himself bright and capable. I was impressed by his early grasp of rhyming and his cleverness with speech. But he didn’t really understand reading before kindergarten. I taught him what I could, but the concepts proved elusive for my third son. My paranoid inner parent took over and I jumped right back into my habit of researching everything to death. I made myself remember that pushing too hard too young is a bad thing. I knew he’d be okay not starting kindergarten ahead.

At back to school night, the teachers told us that they would actually be teaching the kindergarteners a “first grade curriculum.” This set off a few alarm bells with me. Although I once would have embraced the idea of further advancement for young children, my recent research had proven in my mind that such pushing could be dangerous. I had even started to read some research that indicated it was best to wait until first grade to actually read and that kindergarten should just establish the framework, such as letter sounds and names.  Still, Quentin was bright and I was confident he could handle the work. 

Halfway through the year the teachers implemented a “reading at home” program. They sent home two books a night and the child would need to read the books until he/she could do it fluently. After achieving fluency, the child could write the book into a log. There was going to be a party (the “lunch bunch”) and every child who had reached 60 books would be invited. 

Right away I noticed problems. Quentin didn’t want to read the books. I encouraged him to and we did the two books every night, but he became increasingly sullen. Even when we weren’t doing homework, he would make comments like, “I hate sounding things out,” and “Reading is SO boring.” It was a lot of work getting through those two books a night. Since he had to read them to fluency, he would often have to go through them 3-4 times. This was on top of a very lengthy list of sight-word flash cards that the teachers had asked us to read daily. So, when, after a few weeks, the teacher sent out a clarification that the children could record the books twice if they came back and read them at another time in the evening, I concluded that Quentin did not need to do that. Once was enough.

I became scared that Quentin was really developing a hatred for reading and I went back to the internet to find a solution. I made a deal with him that if he read me a book, I would read him one from our home library. This was less successful than I’d hoped. After getting through the books he was assigned, he really didn’t feel like being read to. But, we did our best.

I was surprised, then, when Wednesday of last week rolled around and Quentin looked at his list of fifty books he’d read and mumbled, “The lunch bunch is on Friday. I’m NEVER going to make it.” I actually didn’t put much thought into the statement. Quentin must be mistaken. They wouldn’t have the reward party when they hadn’t even sent home 60 books yet. But I should have paid attention to the dates on the letters the teachers had written, because I was the one that was wrong. 

When I went to pick up my son from school, I found him in the hall awaiting pick up with two other children. The rest of the kids were in the classroom, staying late for their reading party. The teacher assured Quentin that he would be able to come to the back up party that would be held later for the kids who had not already met the requirements. But that really wasn't much comfort to my little six year old. As we were left the school, he started to cry. Among other things, he said, “I guess I’m just a dumb kid” and “I bet all the other kids in my class will have a great time at lunch bunch without me.”

The truth of the dangers of pushing these tiny children too hard came crashing home. I know that teachers are under tremendous pressure to show certain levels of progress in their students. I know that they are being judged, often unfairly, by arbitrary bench marks placed by government agencies. I think that these kindergarten teachers, who I have loved and Quentin has adored, were falling prey to the same sickness that I suffered from as a very young mother. This is not a failing of the teacher, who has been nothing but loving and encouraging to my son. I don't think it's even really my failing, although I should have been more attentive to the requirements instead of assuming what we were doing was good enough. This is a failing of our culture and our political process.

You see, I don't see this as an incident, but as an example. How many of our most valuable and impressionable are feeling dumb just because they are progressing at a different level than another child? How many kids can sense their parents disappointment in their inability to keep up with ever accelerating requirements, even when they do their best? How often does a child say inside his head, that there is no point in trying because they are not good enough? How often could all these things be avoided by just giving a child a little more time to grow?

This is truly the danger in our current educational system. This is the real danger of the language used by a president who is mercilessly pushing for younger and younger kids to be put into school. Pushing these children to be doing more than they are ready for is setting them up for failure of the worst kind. It is preparing them to give up before they are even ready to start. 

I am not someone who thinks that kids should be sheltered from all disappointment. I do not have a problem with awarding trophies to some children and not to others. Indeed, I think it is vital that children learn to experience and deal with disappointments in life. I am the mother who lets my children fall down and knows that they will be stronger for it in the end. But this is not a soccer game. This is something that every child needs to be successful at. The current state of our education system and the current mindset of our culture are absolutely failing our children. 

I wish I could take my 23-year-old self by the shoulders and explain to her how wrong her mindset is. I wish I could stand before congress and tell them what they are doing to our impressionable young children. But I can’t. So, I will just write this here for any other young mom who might be walking my path. Be very careful. Your children need to be children.