Tact

I'm not lounging like I was at Duck anymore,
but I'm still feeling pretty swell hanging out
here on my couch this morning.

I have today through Monday off from work, so be prepared to receive multiple blog updates from me. My bills are paid, my laundry is drying, and the whole weekend stretches before me, filled with good things to do and plenty of time to nap! Man I love my twenties, anyone else feel that way??

This post is actually supposed to be about my teens. I was trying to explain what teenage Lindsey was like to my friend Ray recently because he was SO sure teenage Lindsey was super opinionated and bossy. I had to tell him he was half-right. I was actually pretty quiet in high school (and DANG quiet in middle school!), but I did have my own small way of showing my strong opinions back then. Revelation: I had little-to-no tact as a teen. I said whatever came into my mind in conversations, and I had absolutely no recognition of how my statements helped or hindered my relationships with others. Did anyone else have to learn tact as a teenager? Sometimes I remember certain things I said in high school and I can't BELIEVE people didn't call me an idiot to my face, all the time.

There is a point to this rambling confession. I want to hi-light my genius mom one more time this month. While I was talking to Ray, I distinctly remembered a conversation I had with my mother that I think was a real turning point, a moment when I started to realize how to empathize with and make friends of others through talking. We were carpooling to school one morning and one of the other girls mentioned how much she loved the Creed song playing on the radio (Sidenote: BAHAHAHA!). My immediate response to her was the flat, gratingly honest statement, "Ew. I HATE. That. Band!" End of conversation until we arrived at school and thanked my mom for the ride.

When I came home that day my mom gently observed to me, "Lindsey, I know you hate that band and that's ok, but how do you think Sidney feels when she talks about something that makes her happy and you shoot it down? Do you think she will still want to talk about other good things to you?" And for whatever reason, what mom said at that moment clicked. I had the opportunity to make a friend, and I had kicked it in the face! I'm grateful mom had the presence of mind to teach her oddball 14 year old a superb, succinct lesson about empathy and communication.

It's a long process, learning how to ask good questions of other people and how to respond tactfully, charitably, happily, and respectfully. I'm not done yet. Sometimes you just GOT to say exactly what you think, and I'm still parsing out what things are ok to state and what things are better to keep to yourself. But it's a worthwhile pursuit, because the end results are genuine friendship and making people feel good about themselves, feel interesting and important. Does anyone have any rules they follow that they really feel has helped them talk to people better? Mine is just to start and end conversations with empathy, put yourself in their shoes.

Plagiarized Duck.

I went and stayed in a beach mansion in the Outer Banks with 30 of my closest friends and 800 LDS singles. I'm too tired to report it all so I'm referring you to the glamorous, witty Hannah, who was right there with me to witness the majesty of Duck.

Oh, except I must add: my friend Ashley tried to kiss a turtle. Ain't no one else reporting on that crazy event on their blog. Turns out, turtles bite. Hard. And her annoying friends laughed. Hard.

Some of the boys.

My girls.

Again, Hannah has great pics on her blog; go there for more. Happy summer, yo! It is officially June, the greatest month of them all!!!

Hello Good Bye

Said good bye to best friend Michelle tonight.

 

I'm sad.

I think I'll go to the beach for a week...


Thanks for everything, Michelle. You are one of those friends I will keep forever, no matter where on earth we live. I love you. You are SO much fun, and so amazingly thoughtful.  I love how brave you are. I love how much we think in sync, how we never have to apologize when we say what we really are thinking or feeling, because the other person already understands.You have made the last two years in DC so memorable. And there are many good times to come!


See you sometime before December. :)

Patience

From the Preach My Gospel manual (I don't know why I love this so much but I do! I've read it over and over again throughout my days and weeks):


Patience is the capacity to endure delay, trouble, opposition, or suffering without becoming angry, frustrated, or anxious. It is the ability to do God's will and accept His timing. When you are patient, you hold up under pressure and are able to face adversity calmly and hopefully. Patience is related to hope and faith-- you must wait for the Lord's promised blessings to be fulfilled.


You need patience in your everyday experiences and relationships, especially with your companion. You must be patient with all people, yourself included, as you work to overcome faults and weaknesses.

Rose window in the cathedral in Strasbourg, Germany. 14th century High Gothic. The earth tones make it one of the most unique rose windows in the world, and my personal favorite.

Rose and Driftwood. Ansel Adams. 1902. Gelatin silver plate.

A Celebration of Ann

I am thankful for the opportunity to pray for my mom today, as part of my "assignment" given to me by my Relief Society teacher. I have been praying for her much more since I've lived out here in DC, but I intend to unleash some really FUN prayers this week on her behalf. I understand her and empathize with her experiences, her pain, her hopes, and her faith so much more when I talk to Heavenly Father about her. Heavenly Father absolutely adores her.

So do I. I have always been a mama's girl. There are people in the world who are meant to be mothers, and my mom was one of those people. You can't imagine what it was like to be raised by such a selfless, imaginative, thoughtful person. I just want to stand up and lead an audience in applause for you, Ann. You did it!!!!!!!!! I can officially say that this week because Katie, our youngest sister, has just graduated high school and will fly the coop in a few weeks. My mom will have finished a large and probably the most physically taxing stage of motherhood. And what an Amazing
Incredible
Inspired
Thoughtful
Sweet
Tender
Courageous 
Effective
job she did!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Is it prideful of me to say she was effective? I say no. My brothers and sisters and I have all gone to college or will shortly, we are as close-knit as they come, and I think they are all pretty cool, sweet, funny, devoted, brave young adults. Mom wins!

Thank you, Mom. You are so beautiful. Let's keep living life together, shall we? One step at a time...

Baby me and mom, at the National Gallery of Art ca. 1987

Ok this isn't even her kid, but it shows how warm she is and how she instantly forms bonds with little people.

I kiss my mother with that mouth, yep.

 Love you mom. Love you, all my friends who are moms. Thanks doesn't really cut it for all the work you do, but thanks nevertheless!!!!!!!!!!

{dragonflies draw flame}

Loving this girl's posts. Feeling like her in many ways. Ironically, only a few weeks after I wrote about being in a place of calm assurance from which perch I benignly assuaged the worries of my friends, I myself have been assaulted with that familiar discomfort that means Heavenly Father wants me to change something about my life, though I don't know what and I don't know when. Just trying to get ready for it, sound out my options. If you are an adult who graduated from college you probably know what I'm talking about. Yeehaw! The following verse went up on Hil's blog this week and it pretty much is how I feel right now (though I am NOT, by any means, into poetry, I like to think I really got the emotions behind this):

As Kingfishers Catch Fire

BY GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS

As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame;

As tumbled over rim in roundy wells

Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell's

Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;

Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:

Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;

Selves — goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,

Crying Whát I dó is me: for that I came.

I say móre: the just man justices;

Keeps grace: thát keeps all his goings graces;

Acts in God's eye what in God's eye he is —

Chríst — for Christ plays in ten thousand places,

Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his

To the Father through the features of men's faces.

And because I keep playing these songs over and over to feel a little bit of stability, you can listen too (I'm taking my turn at being like DJ Milan!):

Sensei Cobb

The sweetest thing happened in a stake church meeting today. The visiting general authority spoke of unappreciated blessings in our own backyards, and then, with a happy smile, asked all the primary kids in the audience of 3,000 to stand up. Then he asked them to wave. Parents everywhere hoisted their kids onto their laps or their chairs as they waved to the rest of us. The GA let them wave to us for about 30 seconds or so, eventually inviting the young women and young men of the stake to also stand and wave. He asserted to us adults that we were seeing our own most precious natural resource. I absolutely teared up while watching the sea of little, exuberant hands;  I remember as a little girl being so happy and excited whenever grown-ups would give a shout-out to kids in church. I was always very aware and honored by the idea that I, a child, mattered. In fact, my favorite scripture (the only one I memorized before the required 100 scripture masteries of high-school seminary) was Matthew 18:1-4,

 1 At the same time came the disciples unto Jesus, saying, Who is the ^agreatest in the kingdom of heaven?

 2 And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst of them,

 3 And said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little ^achildren, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.

 4 Whosoever therefore shall ^ahumble himself as this little ^bchild, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven.

Cute little twins walking ahead of me
at the Ghana Embassy this weekend.

I felt the weight of the responsibility to be a good girl, to believe in Jesus and God and to trust them, and to love the people around me: parents, siblings, ward members, etc. Today I was so happy that the kids in my stake could have a moment of recognition and honor, and perhaps come to more fully feel their value.

I passed my one-year "nanniversary" with Cobb in March, and he continues to be a wonderful light in my life. However, I'm starting to covet jobs that actually constitute a career move. Eight more months until the long-awaited Master's degree is in my hand (I'm still hammering out the details of my two and five year plans. No, I'm not going on a mission... but travelling and learning languages is a large, and favorite, part of the plan).

Today I wanted to take a moment to document all of the wisdom I have gleaned fromCobb this year. What a wonderful, brave, kind little soul he is. He's taught me so many things I never would have known if I had been saddled into a desk job and thinking about myself and my own dumb stuff all the time.

Cobb + White House

And so, I present my list of Cobb-born Truths:

- Men are the same whether they are two or thirty-two. They just need hugs, kisses, food, and toys.

- Coming to work in a bad mood is like playing a very, very dangerous game of baby Russian roulette. Little kids have the intuitive ability when faced with cranky grown-ups to either morph into perfectly sweet angels that make your day, or to devolve into tiny monsters who mirror your murky mood and mire you in misery (Neal Maxwell himself couldn't have pieced together a better alliteration! Somewhere, he is so proud of me). Reveal your anger to a toddler at your own risk.

- You do NOT need to be rich to raise a great kid!!!!*

- When in doubt, dispense a snack.

Cobb climbing over the fountains at NMAI

- If you are not a kid person, just remember that even little people are incredibly moved when you show them empathy. This includes getting excited about things that they love (the cartoon on their shoe, the toy in their hand) and crying emphatically with them when the things they love most are taken away (parent, bottle, Curious George,  etc).

- Positive communication/discipline is not only possible, it really does work! Better! Instead of reacting to the bad in Cobb's behavior, I seek hourly to encourage him to do something right and praise the heck out of him when he does. His trust in me has been multiplied many times as a result.

- Afternoon naps are one of the greatest things that you can possibly do with your one o'clock hour.

- When you are in a fight, it's ok to take five and go outside on the porch to practice some very enthusiastic yoga breathing.

- Every day  you have a chance to start over. At least with little kids. Forgiveness is quick and beautiful with them.

-Patience, patience, patience. With kids you have to look at the long run. He might not pick up the word/food/behavior I want him to appreciate and understand right now, but I am laying a great foundation, day in and day out, over years' time. And it's worth it, to make a great little boy into a great young man.

- Don't freak out, talk it out. That's Cobb's parents' motto, and they practice it wholeheartedly as a family. I am so moved by the time they take to talk to me, every day, about their son, my worries, their plans, etc. I want to be as gracious a person to people I associate with/employ as they are to me.

-Finally, this one is just for me and Cobb: I have learned to recognize a glimmer in his eyes, a certain special grin that appears on his face multiple times a day while in the midst of playing. I must stop what I'm doing, sit down on the floor, and he will run at me full-speed and bowl me over with a giant hug. He loves me and wants to show me he loves me and that he is happy. These moments constitute the most precious parts of my week. I'm grateful for the opportunity to hang out with such a sweet little person. I believe Heavenly Father knew what he was doing when he dropped this job into my lap.

 Cobb and I having fun last summer.

*I AM partial to two expensive baby toys that make my life soo much easier: the BoB running stroller and the baby monitors with cameras in them. Take note, all my preggo friends. Also, one thing my boss says she wishes she HADN'T dropped a ton of money on is the baby carrier/car seat. The cheap target one gets the job done just as well as the designer moneybags one.

** This just made me laugh. For any mom out there who feels her education is taking a hit while she takes care of baby... here's a way to learn while you play!

From a sweet story in the Art History Newsletter:

Every good art historian has to know something about museums because that’s where the art is. They used to ask the bank robber, Willie Sutton, why he robbed banks and he said ‘because that’s where the money is stupid!’ And it’s true…There’s a group of art historians today that believe that theory is their province and that they shouldn’t have to deal with things and quite frankly that’s an attitude that has come into graduate schools and it’s just as wrong as wrong can be.

I just want to go on record, AGAIN, by stating how much I HATE working in theory (the writer can put me securely on the list of people who will survive graduate school in love with museums). Give me objects, give me artworks with a past, a present, and a price, every time, for the rest of my career. That's where I work, that's what I love. And guess what, theory-draped art historians out there in your dusty university offices?? Objecthood is the lens through which 98% of humanity discovers interesting and alluring aspects in our precious artworks. Objecthood and stories. It all goes back to these universal, easy-to-understand qualities.

In their pedagogy ('scuse me- in their attempt to create environments of learning) museums are places of empathy. To what degree each institution actually feels and fulfills its capability to be empathetic is a topic of eternal study and debate (and in today's cuthroat non-profit world, it can be a topic of controversy). But in the potential for empathy lies the gradiose possibilities of the public art museum. We all know it. Or at least we should.

A record was broken yesterday when Sotheby's sold a pastel version of Edvard Munch's The Scream  for $119,000,000. Where are these art historians that don't believe art should be spoken of as a thing, again??

MONEY!

Can you keep a secret?

I just figured out what I want to do with the next 2 years of my life. :) My 5 year plan just got totally spun on its head as well...

I love those moments when disparate things you've been looking at/thinking about for years suddenly come together and you see a bigger picture (Huh! This post coincides nicely with the spiritual vision I was talking about from the last post).

I'll keep you posted...

... PS Here's some more random pretty things I've found that I've never had a moment to post. Might as well throw them down today. If you can see a unifying principle within these disparate beauties, then you are a genius!

Willing to give up... what?

This devotional was a gold mine of ah-ha! moments for me this week. Watch, and then we'll talk:



My family and I have had countless discussions about the "Abrahamic trials" in our lives, meaning the trials wherein we suspect Heavenly Father wants us to put things we love dearly, things we hope for fervently, or things we are addicted to, symbolically on the altar and just... let them go. Just like Abraham did with Isaac. It is a lot easier for us to understand Abraham's experience when it's our own careers, our pride, or sometimes even our hope for our future families that we're being asked to sacrifice. Rough stuff. Refreshingly, Heavenly Father was very clear how that story ended for Abraham. One word: Blessings! And so it will be for us. But, as Brother Moody reminds us, they often aren't the blessings we hope for, or dream of, or want... but we do know that with those blessings that Heavenly Father sees fit to send us, we will be exalted.

Lately I keep thinking about the value of having spiritual vision (they mention it in general conference in this talk and this talk). If you find yourself unable to deal with the sight of things you hope for seemingly being taken from you, just try, TRY to keep in mind a vision of your marvelous eventual exaltation. Being with a glorious God who loves you, and a family who loves you, and your own spirit, at peace, forever.

Brother Moody reintroduced me to the story of Gideon's army, which I thought makes a fantastic "Part 2" to the story of Abraham and Isaac. Abraham wanted kids, but was asked to kill his only son. Gideon wanted to live, to see the glory of a triumphant Israel, but was asked to GET RID of his army, in order that that Lord might fight his battles for him. What an incredible amount of faith it must have taken for Gideon to do so, to be game when the Lord asked him to send away his men and to trust in the mental vision of the army of angels that the Lord planned to employ in Israel's defense.

I read a blog post from Harvard Business Review this week that asked, "What are you willing to ignore in exchange for success?" We all have lists of things we are willing to work on in order to achieve our goals, but it's equally important to conceptualize what we are willing to forgo for those same goals. The things that distract and dilute us-- they must be identified, and we must prepare to turn away from them.

Despite the somber tone of this post, my life has been pretty ok lately. Therein lies my special challenge. In times of self-sufficiency, I feel Heavenly Father asks me to put my ability to focus on the altar for him. I feel the prompting to buckle down and read my scriptures, to pray fervently with real intent for others (even if I don't feel much need to pray for things in my own life). I'm grateful for little reminders over the last two weeks to forgo and forget the little distractions, like tv and facebook, that creep in during these times of complacency. I am reminded that these little bad habits wreck what might otherwise be an important time of rest, learning, service, and preparation for me.

I have been counselling with a lot of friends lately who are in transition: quitting jobs, moving states, breaking up, having babies, etc. These things are hard, and it can be equally hard the day after they are all over, to drum up a vision of what will come next, to manufacture an understanding of how you are going to be better today than you were during comfortable, convenient yesterday. I'm writing from my current place of relative peace and stability to those in transition to say, "Wait for it!" I'm cheering for you! And, this too shall pass.

Even if I don't know who you are, Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ do. Talk to them. They can lighten your burden and broaden your vision. Good things await. Safety, joy, peace, and prosperity have been ordered. Just gotta run the rest of the race first, one step at a time, like we all are.

When Cobb and I play #SpottheShuttle, we play to WIN!

For the West Coast friends that are soooo behind the times (jk. I only heard about this yesterday), the space shuttle Discovery was piggy-back strapped to a NASA jet this morning and flown from Texas to Virginia, where it would retire at the Udvar-Hazy Air and Space Museum, located out by Dulles Airport (about 40 minutes from downtown DC).

This morning the whole town was abuzz with shuttle sightings.

I asked Cobb's parents to let him play hooky from baby art class,and away we went, to witness the final nail in the coffin of every kid's astronaut dreams as it soared beautifully through the morning sky.

The plane was to make four passes over the DC area, to the delight of all those poor sad office-bound creatures down there. Meanwhile, Cobb and I raced the Rover down the VA-28 highway until we couldn't go any further through the traffic. We pulled over and climbed a hill covered with spectators and wanna-be cameramen, pulled out our own camera, and sat and wait. Here's the fruit of that labor:

Where is this space ship you speak of?

I lova dis face. Note the bomber jacket. Very fitting for today.

There it is! It flew rather slowly. Like, I thought it was going to fall out of the sky it was going to slow.

Discovery's final piggy-back ride. First booster engines then jet planes, that space shuttle sure is a lazy little space plane.

And he has a little minion plane accompanying his every turn. Bye bye shuttle. Go be historic now.

Best part of the day: I decided to beat the toll roads home by looping up through the Dulles airport, and we drove through the airport RIGHT when it was touching down after its final pass!!!!!!!!!!! I have superb timing!

Shuttle! This is the Arrival Gate! Oh, I guess you're allowed to be here today....

And that's my story. Thanks for playing.

Dear Pretend Diary That's Actually Not Even Close To Private,

Feeling a little low tonight, and guess what I did with that feeling?

I deleted numbers out of my phone! One of modern life's most poetic and purposeful, though simplistic, acts. The following is my paean to this evening's act of daring: my drawing (or rather, erasing) of certain people's lines in my sand... phone.

I rarely delete numbers. Ok, a few times out of rage, but I honestly can count those on one hand, and still have fingers left over. The majority of my scant deletions actually stem from sheer undiluted disinterest. I know we will never see one another again, you served a purpose in my life at one point in time and I in yours, and that time has passed. The only way we will meet again is if we randomly move into the same family ward in 30 years. No, strike that-in the past, the quickest way to come off my phone is if your name is just one letter in the alphabet ahead of a person whose number I ACTUALLY dial frequently. YOU, Jess-B-Not-Jess-Clayton, must be booted out so I can get to my bestie faster. Sorry.

The result of this lax attitude towards deleting numbers means that I have (correction- I HAD!) a few former fellas and friends in my little phone for whom I bear no ill will, but tonight... they are gone. Snip snip snip. That's the sound of my last electronic string to them being cut (unless we're fb friends. Which reminds me, my list needs a good pruning...).

Ahem. Good-bye former flames. I remember the good times, and hopefully learned from the bad. Hope you and your wives and kids, or you and your Master's degrees, are doing well :)

Good-bye old work contacts. None of us work at the bakery any more, let's be honest: that was kind of a he**hole. We've made it through and we're on to bigger and better things! Viann, you were super cool. Go become a doctor now.

Not even sure who that person was/is, that was back in the day when I didn't enter people's last names in my phone... oh the follies of youth.

And there you have it. A clean break with the past. All is right in the world. Feeling great.

And do you know what else feels great? Let me tell you a story. During finals last semester I received a voicemail from an unknown number. The voice was male, roughly my age. He greeted me by name and then proceeded (rather nervously) to tell me that he had had a great time with me and was wondering if he could take me out for hot chocolate or... dinner or something... soon. Mind you, I hadn't a CLUE who this man (he identified himself as Nick at some point in the VM) was; his number most certainly did not occupy one of the coveted semi-permanent slots in the LC Address Book. Nevertheless, I was intrigued. I listened to the message again, giggling at his very clear smitten-ness with this "Lindsey"--my alter ego?-- and then I heard it: something about taking me to dinner at a restaurant in Provo. And in a second, it clicked. NICK. I had climbed Y mountain with him during homecoming at BYU in 2008. He was a stranger, a friend of a friend, who just happened to be in the Santa B parking lot when Jess Clayton and I were setting out on a girl date to the Y, which we were all too happy to turn into a boy date. The evening was very memorable (but that's a story for a more private diary...). And apparently I had given him my number. And four years later, he still had it in his phone, and in his nervousness at calling and getting a second date with some other charming Lindsey, he had dialed me.

Young and innocent and on top of the world!
Aka Y Mountain.

I take it as a high compliment that I was still in his phone :) Maybe he's a slow deleter like I am. I can't remember if I called him back or not. I think I texted him to alert him of his mistake. Didn't want to embarrass him too much or let him think this other Lindsey didn't have a good time with him, too! I hope he marries that Lindsey. I hope that, one quiet evening, just before he realizes she's the one, he finally gets sick of scrolling past this OTHER Lindsey's name to get to his sweetheart's name. Hopefully I get deleted at that moment. That's ok by me. It makes for a great story.