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= > O 5 > aa O > INSU VHB E “Re 4 Non-profit Org. EXPONENT, er U.S.Postage Post Office Box 128 PR sAseallt-D Arlington MA 02174-0002 Boston MA Permit No. 59469 DITORIAL First Hands and Backs, Now Feet and Voices Sue Paxman Lexington, Massachusetts uring my years in the Church, I other's burdens by listening to and believing little children" in a humiliating—not a humble— have often heard light, slightly each other's stories. way. How can we be expected to negate our ironic, comical references to For some of us, Exponent IT has been the own experiences, giving up our self-esteem and Mormon women playing such only place in our Mormon world in which we self-respect, by continually sitting and waiting to roles as the backs and hands with felt safe enough to be honest and open. For be told what to do and when by those "in which the work of the Church is accomplished others of us, our culture's efforts to maintain the authority" over us? There are times and places or the neck that turns the head [of the house— her status quo as the only way to keep our Mormon for all of the children of Ged to be His obedient husband]. And I know that, at times, I have even world safe and comfortable has meant every- servants, to be subservient to His authority; no participated in the almost conspiratorial smiling thing through the spectrum from ignoring us one should expect that being woman means and nodding of heads that sometimes accompa- when we speak to excommunicating us so that always being obedient and subservient to nies such references to jokes based on our we cannot speak. everyone else. E common experience. I believe that the time is But from what I am hearing and reading, Second, to make a place for women's here for this joke to be over. particularly in a number of the essays in this voices, we need to rid our culture of what We women of the Mormon Church have issue, those days will soon be over. We are appears to be the prevailing feeling about those much more to contribute than just our behind- beginning to speak with strength and clarity who speak up, who ask questions, or who the-scenes support. We want to use our voices wherever we find ourselves. We are exploring question a decision or policy: The Church is to help make the organizational and cultural who we are, not just the roles that we are asked true; love it or leave it. Blind, arbitrary accep- decisions that create and influence the to play, and we are insisting that we be heard tance does not enhance personal growth or "dailiness" of our lives in the Church structure. and recognized for who we are. access to personal revelation; raising and To participate fully in the building of the King- resolving personal questions does. Our assum- dom of God, we need to strengthen our voices as ing that those who question are somehow less we speak truth and bear witness, and then our than faithful is destructive to each of us as well voices need to be accepted and our experience as to our community of Saints. I believe that by incorporated into the fabric of our culture. Relegating us to being willing to allow each other to ask the I have just re-read the editorials of one or two accept- questions and seek the answers together we can Exponent's former editors from the last three able roles and re- make the Kingdom of God progress. issues (Volume 19, Numbers 1: Claudia Bush- And last, we need to change our per- fusing to allow us man; 2, Nancy T. Dredge; and 3, Susan Howe). spective and to listen. We have much to learn By reading them one right after the other, I came to participate in the from the voices of Mormon women, lessons to understand the evolution and progression of decision-making about—among many others—relationship the women of the Church in a new way. Our building, the true love of Christ, the pain and bodies of the voices are getting stronger; however, the accep- tewards of solitude, the joys of repentance and tance of and respect for what we have to say is Church keeps us forgiveness, the struggle that is compromise, the not increasing at the same rate. "as little children" strength of collaboration, the exaltation in Exponent II began as a place where in a humiliating— steadfastness. Asking so many of us to remain Mormon women could exchange everything silent about the most important aspects of our not a humble—way. from their latest insights and recipes to their lives is creating a sickness that can only be testimonies and spiritual experiences. Over the healed by moving away from the source. We years and under the nurturing guidance of the cannot afford to lose these voices, the lessons editors and staff, the publication has developed a that they teach, and the witnesses that they bear. stronger voice in its Mormon world as the voices Exponent II will continue to make a of those who write have gotten stronger. Unfortunately for our community, when place for us to share what we know and believe, Together, we have supported each other we are not heard or recognized, some of us seem to speak honestly from our own experience; through such difficult discussions as depression, to have only one last option. In increasing however, I believe that we need to ask, even emotional and physical/sexual abuse, drug and numbers, we—particularly those ofu s in our late insist, that we be able to do the same in our alcohol abuse, the effects of unrighteous domin- teens and twenties—are voting with our feet. Relief Society meetings, in our sacrament ion, abortion, being single in a married church, We are leaving, choosing not to participate in a meeting talks, in our bishop's interviews, in our infertility. We have talked honestly and from system that does not encourage us to participate ward and stake councils. I believe that as our own experience about many topics that our fully, that does not validate us by respecting Mormon women we understand that we are culture has previously considered off limits, what we have to offer, or that does not extend to responsible for ourselves and our salvations, but sometimes even a threat to testimonies. us the respect that we are finding elsewhere. we also understand that taking that responsibility What we have learned in the speaking is I believe that this movement away is a requires that our voices be heard as we speak that we have ideas to contribute, experiences terrible loss, a loss that can be avoided. First, about how our lives are lived here on earth. ® from which others can learn, opinions worth we need to recognize and respect the diversity being heard, and spiritual gifts that bless others and breadth of Mormon women's experience. as well as ourselves. And, through it all, we Relegating us to one or two acceptable roles and continue to bear witness to the principles that refusing to allow us to participate in the deci- sustain us and do all we can to shoulder each sion-making bodies of the Church keeps us "as 2 EXPONENT II 1996 The Well-tempered Feminist Dana Haight Cattani Palo Alto, California stopped by my parents’ house skill, not to be scoffed at or delegated thought- chores, fifty-fifty on breadwinning, fifty-fifty on today after work. I live close by lessly. child rearing, and so on. I announced my rules again, after several years away, I have been a scoffer and a delegator. A loudly and often, and Kyle married me anyway. so, I can drop by almost any thoughtless one. I have supposed that there was I figured he knew what he was getting into. time. I wanted to return some something inferior about serving other people He didn’t. Neither did I, although I empty Tupperware that Mom had filled with and something powerful about being served. In didn’t complain that he was making more money Christmas leftovers. She deliberately cooks far the not-too-distant past, I have spoken loudly as a computer manufacturer than I was as a high too much and then insists that we would do her a and often about the lines I draw for myself, the school teacher. favor by taking some ham with us, and just a boundaries beyond which I would not go. I Six years later, we’re still married, few potatoes, too. partly because we’ ve evolved into a comfortable I had called at noon to let Mom know pattern. I cook; he cleans. I buy the groceries; that I was coming. She wasn’t home when I he pays the bills. I tend the flowers; he prunes called, but my father said he would leave her a the shrubs. We take turns doing the laundry, message. When I got there, she happened to with my turn coming more often than his, at have a warm batch of my favorite Rice Krispie | believe that listen- least as I reckon Saturdays. cookies on the counter. As I pulled off my ing and affirming We have fallen into very traditional raincoat, she offered to make a cup of tea, and I patterns, and I am not displeased by them. They quickly accepted because, after all, I didn’t want toward the end of a seem to work for us. They foster peace and to drive home in the downpour. We sat together discouraging day is stability, commodities I come to value more than in the warmth of the kitchen, and I told her the divine. | believe any nitpicking fairness we could have legislated latest anecdotes from school. When I am the for ourselves. It occurs to me that the sum really that cooking for hapless protagonist, she laughs as people laugh is greater than the parts, that a holistic partner- at characters who flail momentarily on the road people ...is an ship may transcend piecemeal equality. Over to glory. Even when I am the antagonist or often unparalleled time, we build equity together, as one might in a victim, she assures me that she is proud of me act of love. home, through seasons that blur together in an and that all my character flaws, my inadequate indistinguishable but satisfying memory. misguided words or deeds, are the inevitable I begin to see the feminism that the consequence of genes inherited from her. student me embraced as limiting and restrictive. I don’t believe her, but I am touched that If Im ake the foundation for my life a series of she wants to absolve me of wrong and challenge boundaries, I limit my choices for giving and any detractor. If she could, she would absorb receiving. Worse, I define myself as unchang- my mistakes and their attendant pain like a paper thought that career-minded women, intelligent ing, expecting that others must modify their towel, wiping away any trace of stickiness. women, spoke and acted this way. They drew lives to accommodate my self-image. When it was nearly dinner time, I put lines (“I will not be the only cook in this house- This approach is petty and inflexible in my mug in the dishwasher and pulled on my hold,” “I will not take your shirts to the clean- ways I would not appreciate in a spouse or raincoat. Driving home, I thought about her ers,” “I will not shop for your mother’s birth- colleague. Under my feminist credo, the small greeting me at the end of the day with warm tea day’’), and the people they loved learned to joys—the hot teas and warm cookies on rainy and fresh cookies and an affirmation that my accommodate these guidelines. Smart women January afternoons—disappear. There is no every action is one she stands behind. I want to measured and calculated and kept track so as not room, no interest. Tea and cookies are time- be this kind of woman. to be caught in the gummy and tenacious web of consuming and demeaning, things women do These thoughts always jar me, I think, husbands, colleagues, employers, friends, and only if they aren’t successful professionals with because they accent the truth that never fails to children. I envisioned fulfillment in carefully busy personal agendas. startle me: I am a recanting feminist. I believe distributing my time and commitment in nickels I think it is not uncommon for personal in equal opportunity and pay and shared domes- and dimes to people who were demonstrably philosophies to evolve over time. Change may tic responsibilities and all that, but I believe in giving back in at least equal quantities. be a sign of thoughtfulness or expedience or some other things, too. It did not occur to me that there is a uncertainty or maturity. Whatever it is, it swells I believe that caring for people, their smallness and privation in this kind of thinking. in me. As I recant the rigid rules of my past, feelings, their minds, and their bodies is impor- I did not think that it could make me its victim, broadening the definition of the woman that I tant. I believe that there is dignity in serving that I could be other than the savvy player of a want to be, I imagine that I finally fill out, others. I believe that busy-ness is not inherently flawed game. Id id not think that my willing- softening into a less strident self. fulfilling. I believe that listening and affirming ness to give would determine my ability to I described this metamorphosis to my toward the end of a discouraging day is divine. I receive. mother over tea, and she smiled and said noth- believe that cooking for people, serving them Before I was married, I had specific ing. She always says the right thing. ® nourishing food in a warm kitchen, is an often ideas about my willingness to give: any future unparalleled act of love, a feat of finesse and husband and I would split fifty-fifty on domestic VOLUME 19 NUMBER 4 3 Take It Like a Man Emma Lou Thayne Salt Lake City, Utah hy not? After all, hadn’t I been Christmas or Easter, a cook-out in the canyon or ing our balls into the benign rough. Not bad. W in on the fixing of Thanksgiving a dinner on the patio, who is where for what? The crowning glory: one son-in-law was a pro, dinner for over sixty years? This Thanksgiving I got to find out— in on running the place, and got us on free—the Had there ever been one that I firsthand—because I was invited, instead of green fee (ordinarily $175!), car, my rented didn’t have a hand in? A big staying home to work on the dinner, to go with clubs, and all. A kick on any day—a riot on a hand? And yet, I liked it, always had, the my two tall sons-in-law to play golf the entire holiday that I had nothing to do with except hit a preparation, first the shining of silver, setting of afternoon. ball, laugh, and visit with the boys that were the table with linen and goblets and cormucopia, “Go, Mother,” my daughters urged, as mine to relish from the bounty of my five stuffing the turkey—remember when we had to well as my husband, who thinks golf is a waste daughters, two of them home making Thanks- singe and pull pin feathers and extricate the of everything. “You deserve it. We’ll have the giving happen without me. giblets? whole dinner ready when you get back.” Heck, We played till dark—fourteen holes, And the dressing, dry not soggy but with an offer like that, who but the most duty- more than I'd played consecutively in three light thanks to beaten eggs and crumbs ground bound could resist? Besides, weren’t we on years. And we arrived back in the kitchen to the from homemade bread. And sweet aromas of potatoes candied with oodles of butter holiday cooking, five children, four and brown sugar—oh, and first the salt under four, racing from backyard and pepper to cut the too-sweet possi- trampoline to upstairs bunks to jump bility. And rolls and pumpkin pies and from, a baby being fed a bottle by cranberry salad and stuffed celery and grandpa watching TV, and one seven- green olives wrapped in bacon—after, year-old girl setting the play table from of course, the bottling of fresh cran- the patio for the under-fours. berry sauce the night before. And the The dinner was a triumph. potatoes and gravy, each smooth as Mel’s turkey was never more moist or driven snow or water over a spillway. flavorful from his peanut oil basting. Sometimes carrot pudding with lemon Every dish steaming or plate delectable sauce instead of or, more likely, in with hors d’ oeuvres made us golfers addition to the pie. glad that we'd saved up for the feast by And then doing the dishes, not eating breakfast. All we had to do every supply of china and glassware, to now was sit down and enjoy the relaxed say nothing of pans and roaster, pulled talk as well as the wondrous meal. out of cupboards, brought up from the Except. . Except. . .While I did fruit room, sometimes only for this think how nifty, just to waltz in with setting of a meal for maybe twenty or nothing more than a “When will it be more depending on what relatives or ready?” And Id id love eating someone acquaintances might enjoy Thanksgiv- This Thanks- else’s cooking. And there could be no ing at that dining room table with all its doubt that it was fun not to have been leaves in. Plus usually another set up in giving... | was the cook. But. . .As I stood for an hour the living room, sometimes even one on invited, instead of at the sink clearing up, dishwasher the ping pong table downstairs and at staying home to notwithstanding, as the piles and more the bar for littlest ones who might spill piles of dishes and pans accrued with the work on the dinner, a glass or two of milk. clearing. I confess that for a minute, I All day and into the night it to go with my two sort of missed having been in on the took. With me always at the hub, even tall sons-in-law to preparation—better far than the clearing in these past few years of often cel- play golf the entire up. ebrating at the home of a daughter and, But then I thought: Who am I afternoon. kidding? I had a great time out there on lately, with Mel loving to do the turkey the golf course. With those darlings who on the grill outside between watching a invite, even kid, and push me to play. game and the news and reading on the And the clearing up takes only about couch. Nice. Good cooks, my five one-tenth the time of getting it all on. daughters and my one-specialty hus- Maybe the old women’s movement band, and the girls great putters-on of Thanksgiving dinners. But I have never not vacation? In California, having flown away saying still applies: What every woman needs is been in on all of it. Even when visiting in from record snows in Utah? Why not? a wife. California. So we did, the three of us. We played— And then I smiled, not just to myself. Until this year [1992]. on a gorgeous course in view, sea scent, of the Yes, it is not bad to be a man on a holiday. Let’s We'd talked, as probably most women high surf and seagulls and the sound of seals see, what’s the next one—Christmas? Skiing, do, about the difference between what men do barking off shore. And then into deep woods anyone? * on a holiday—any holiday—and what women with fairways cutting swaths of green, sand traps do. It’s mostly food and getting to it that makes and water hazards configured like a gardener’s the biggest difference. From the 4th of July to dream, squirrels and deer and birds accompany- A EXPONENT II 1996 Keeping My Head Above Water Jennifer Gremp St. Louis, Missourt t’s a smooth take-off, and the footage. The exit ended abruptly, at the edge of As I thought about how little time I'd plane climbs rapidly into the a flooded field; so, I abandoned the car and spent helping others through this crisis and how blue. How could the sky be hiked the other direction along a dirt (or rather, much my current position drained me, I reas- sessed my job choice. I soon quit to take a nearly cloudless, when the mud) road. flooded ground below shows I passed a machine shop with its bays medical publishing job that would keep me evidence of many rains? It’s the summer of under water; then, I noticed a sandbagged house closer to home, one that would preserve some of ab1nu9ds9i 3n,Me issassn idsa slIim’povpseit beRweienve ekrlfsyl ,y isnwwgea ltloc utht ihnoeigfr Sttb.ha en LkoMsui issas noduo rn i dsmouaornrre,o uuvbnerdrienidgn ignb gy t hiaen i mrso uamptop.tl ioerAsb; o maaittn w uapas n dtao hptiehsre f sefocrnto ntwp ehroet o fmoyu nedn emrygBsyu etl ffow ri itonhtvihonel rv ae gdfo ealwis n. m ao nprtohjse,c t I tohnact e moangaoipno - lized my nights and weekends. At the start of eI’vveen tbueaelnl y flfyuisneg isnot o mau cghi,a nti nl afkacet ,a tt htahte irI ’vjeu nbcatrieolny. opportuniIt yr.a ised my camera, then quickly April, I was looking forward to a relaxing spring ebxeteenn shiovem e netwo sc actcohv erbaitgse antdha tp iteeclless eovfe rtyhoe ne tlhoewier retdr ouibtl easga itnh.a t Iw acyo.u ldnI’nts tebalda,t anIt wlay veidn traudned on aAnudg usstu,m meanrd, Ib wuta s nesxtti ll thlionogk inI gk nfeowr waitr dw ast o the exactly when and where “sandbaggers are called out a few condolences (as if anything I summer. Good grief, I thought, I don’t even have could say would improve the situation). needed.” Feeling discouraged and overwhelmed kids, and my days are already filled to the brim. Earlier today, I crowded in with my fellow travelers around a TV in the airport by a sense of profound loss, I returned to the How could I ever take on the responsibilities of lounge, witnessing an entire farm, from out- grey Crown Victoria that was one of my com- children and other commitments? I could barely buildings to stately farmhouse, crumble under pany perks, wrestled it around in the small patch keep my own head above water. Were extra the force of the floodwaters rushing through a of dry pavement, and drove the wrong way up projects and expectations being piled on me broken levee. the exit towards the Interstate. Wondering how because I was a single employee? Or, was I still Dozens of similar dramas have been this disaster could have happened with my being struggling with the challenge of putting myself unfolding around me for months; yet, I feel only peripherally aware of it, I vowed to be and my plans first, of not letting others unfairly curiously detached from these events. Here I more involved with the world around me, to not encroach upon my time or sway me from my am, heading to Indianapolis for a week-long let my job take up so much time, and to priori- goal? conference, while the Mississippi is cresting and tize the things that were truly important. As I tried to sort out the reasons that my creating havoc in St. Louis. As a pharmacist Two days later, I tracked down the life was in such a shambles, I remembered with multi-task responsibilities in a drug com- relocated Salvation Army warehouse, now in an another experience that I’d had while working pany, I’m either on the road or busy catching up abandoned grocery store because the original for the drug company. To attend a one-day at home and preparing for the next trip. Conse- building was under water. Their greatest need business meeting, I had flown from St. Louis to quently, I haven’t found enough time to do my for help that day was packaging together as- Detroit, rented a car, driven to upstate Michigan, part in the flood relief efforts. Besides, after sorted cleaning supplies for the cleanup efforts. and boarded a ferry to reach Mackinaw Island— dragging computer equipment and suitcases People were beginning to return to their homes all this effort just to spend one night on a through airports and medical centers, I’m and were now facing the daunting prospect of secluded island at the discounted group rate of dubious of hefting sandbags and further aggra- scrubbing and sanitizing whatever the floods had $250 per person. As it turned out, two of the vating my lower back problem. left behind. most crucial people for my discussion group Staring out the plane window at the The hours passed quickly as I sorted and weren’t even there; so, no issues could be devastation below, I chastise myself for such sealed boxes of donated goods, side-by-side with resolved. selfishness. Surely the minor pain and inconve- the retired men, the new mothers, and the What a waste! A few days later, back in nience would be rewarded in the eternities. I playful teenagers who were cheerfully using St. Louis, I was waiting in line at a Walgreen’s must do something! Guilt begins gnawing at me some of their pent-up energy in a good cause. pharmacy, and an elderly woman ahead of me again, as does some other frustration I can’t My conscience was momentarily seemed to be slowing down the line consider- quite identify. appeased, but something deeper was still bother- ably. She was asking the clerk to add up the cost ing me. What was wrong in my life if major of various combinations of her prescriptions, to world and local events could barely penetrate see which ones she could afford to get that day my consciousness? Why had it particularly and which would have to wait until next week. Those were my thoughts as I left St. Louis that disturbed me to watch the sandbaggers on the The one drug that she wanted to be sure she got, August day. When I returned home at the end of news racing the rising river to save a home, to treat her ulcer, was also the most expensive of the week, I had Saturday off; so, I hopped into knowing the home would probably flood again all her prescriptions. my car and headed towards a town in southern during the next rainstorm? Guess what? That ulcer drug was the Missouri, where the crest was expected to hit Memories of the disaster continued to one made by the company that had just sent me later than it had in St. Louis. But I was too late cloud my mind: A favorite restaurant of mine, on that lavish, useless trip to Michigan. | felt for sandbagging—any structure that could coincidentally shaped like a boat and named like the world’s biggest hypocrite. It went possibly be saved had already been reinforced, “Noah’s Ark,” becoming a centralized point for against my principles to spend money without and the river had crested the previous night. volunteers to gather....A young man trying to accomplishing something, and it wasn’t any less This moment, though, was my most stay and save what he could from his business, painful when it didn’t come out of my own extensive first-hand look at the floods, and the despite the warnings to “get out immediately,” pocket. Besides, my goal in becoming a phar- impact was far greater up close than when and eventually being rescued by helicopter from macist was to help people gain better health, and observing it from above. My mouth dropped the top of the building....His mother, in another I wasn’t anywhere near reaching that goal. open as I passed highway signs partially sub- city, watching the news and recognizing her son Although I felt partially responsible for merged, farm machinery stranded on patches of as the man being airlifted....Countless people this woman’s hardship, I also had a feeling that dry land, rooftops the only visible portion of risking their lives to save pets and material she wouldn’t be in any better financial shape the buildings, and sandbags holding back the water goods....Sand becoming scarce and out-of-state following week, or month, or year. She was from the edge of the Interstate. companies charging elevated prices for the essentially using sandbags to momentarily patch I'd brought my video camera, and I commodity. These images and more were now up her situation and keep the bill collectors at veered off at an exit to stop and shoot some permanently engraved on my heart and mind. (Continued on next page) VOLUME 19 NUMBER 4 5 Se Of Myself and Autumn Apryl Martin Keeping My Head keeping my distance from those influences that Salt Lake City, Utah Above Water encourage me to achieve temporal milestones. I need to leave more quickly when I hear the (Continued from preceeding page) warning “get out immediately,” departing more bay; matters for her would probably get worse rapidly from business or personal situations that before they got better. are dragging me under, instead of investing four I suddenly realized I was doing the exact years in a bad marriage or spending time with same thing in my own life, only in non-financial acquaintances who consistently undermine my matters! I was responding to seemingly urgent self-confidence. problems by finding temporary fixes for them, Anticipating possible future crises, I not concentrating on the root of the problem. should fill up a few sandbags every day, rather Then, like so many flooded-out homeowners, I than hurriedly constructing an entire wall when was going back and rebuilding in that very same an emergency strikes. I want to seek confi- place. dence-building activities and truly rejuvenating I reflected on this further while taking a leisure time and build myself up on a regular few days off from work. I read a couple of the basis so that I’ll be strong enough to weather any books I'd been wanting to read, visited friends storm. and relatives in case they'd forgotten me by back is stiff, leaning as far as now, sorted as many of my “misc. junk” boxes To prioritize my time and monetary possible over the stroller, trying investments, I’m asking myself, “If Ih ad to to keep my head under the as I could, put pictures into photo albums, and began a new exercise program, all the while leave my home due to a flood, what would I umbrella while making sure it choose to carry with me?” Material goods per covers the length of Thom’s reminding myself that I’d better get moving on se aren’t a big temptation for me, but I tend to small sleeping body. My back is heavy with rain these personal goals and projects because I'd accumulate newspaper clippings, old school and books, both of which hold me to the leaf- soon be back at work and wouldn’t have time for papers, clothes that no longer fit, telephone and covered earth and to my fear. It is the first day anything like this. electric bills I paid years ago, and other stuff that of class, and I am scared to be taking him with Each day, I felt very unsettled, and weighs me down. I’m trying to limit myselft o a me; scared the teacher will guffaw and show us certainly not very relaxed, as I’d prioritize my few memorable items. the door or say even worse; scared that I will to-do list, cry “On your mark, get set, go!”, and It’s not easy to re-channel the path I’ve find out that I really can’t have it both ways: be race off. It seemed I had never broken out of the cut over the last several years—when I felt with my child and continue my education. I habits I had in college when the things that I constantly on the edge of a crisis, perpetually in want both so desperately that we’v e left our really wanted to do always waited “until this danger of being dragged under by the fast- comfortable Draper home and moved to the round of tests is over” and when I had promised flowing pace of today’s world. But when the small cinder block apartment on the third floor, myself to push my physical limits “just this one pressures of perfection and performance con- where our books and our son and our passion for last time, then I'll never stay up all night study- tinue to wash over me, I plan to stay standing. learning are about all that will fit. ing again.” But the apartment is not without grace. I was still constantly using sandbags to There are trees at every window, sending their plug up the holes in my life, without ever asking shadows in to play. Since I was very young, I myself what it was I was trying to preserve. have prayed at an open window, and when there Deep down, it hadn’t really mattered to me if I are trees at that window, I feel closer to God. stayed at the top of my class or if I got a 3.3% Just last week, I went airborne again, flying for The trees are in autumn now, and the smell of raise instead of a 3.2% raise at my job; yet, I felt pleasure rather than business this time, and their leaves perfumes our living and the autumn compelled to do my best at everything. Some- pressed my face against the scratched-up win- wind moves our dreams about, and they dance in thing worthwhile is worth trying to save. dow of a DC-10. The trees and the crops below the small space. And we are happy. But I needed to choose more wisely, were beginning to take root again, and houses taking time to judge what was truly worthwhile. were being rebuilt along the riverbanks, wisely The “urgent” problems others handed me at raised up on stilts. It was reassuring that some work, my own tendency to prioritize whatever degree of normalcy was already returning to a This time I don’t want him to touch my was in closest proximity at home (the pile of place declared a disaster area not long ago. I breasts. He does it to comfort me from the papers on the coffee table commanded more of closed my eyes, lowered the seat back, and dream, but there is no comfort from the dream or my attention than the family history books I’d allowed that comforting thought to completely from the reality of my breasts. The dreams are neatly shelved until I had time to read them). I soak in. # never the same and always the same: I am needed to change these patterns. supposed to nurse my newborn baby, but I keep I thought of the obvious analogy, that of forgetting to nurse, or I can’t because my breasts building my life on rock rather than on sand. won't work. My baby dies; there is my baby My sporadic Church attendance and half-hearted blue and dead and always people with angry attempts at tithing and fasting haven’t provided a faces asking why I let my baby die. I hold my very strong foundation, and I’m now trying to baby and cry and apologize for my imperfect re-establish those basic principles. But even a breasts. house built on solid rock can be flooded, I’ve When I wake, I have one hand on my got to move my home to safer, higher ground, fetus-swollen belly and one hand on my sili- | cone-swollen breasts, and my first thought is of my mother. She worships large breasts and “positive affirmations,” and mentions Jesus Christ during Relief Society lessons and family prayer. Mother always lamented the smallness is EXPONENT II 19906 esomabaesqfdoerfrvsonnueyfeece redaes oa mr hppsrstmpyeiysattttehrmy o,ihiasr ep ro npo fubemeetneeandsrr dsce niermft dtaddfaie:w sh o lowg ictrelnfilhItts molt h t .h ptmh e3 ebe rb e s6roroo,oecec"h unIse daeo-e sta slytr2marnntem:hm a4nedessa oytad"t. suglei -3slgt aat3 wThlhu4zo6tie eh tninah""n e mr ennl e ih-aedcs,efrgua sh-s2 orgthfetacrm e r tf4mI l oetmie ewimer"wberoy atepreamm u3s .eps pias ase l6nfnsnalWedagbdteaf"aS:ch e . frsnhe ae.ransgt ebuanishe t o ioId ehviddiu wieefy,sitts turr h e e hh“el temaseaoaa,ba rnfytfl kor ni l teoabteathsityburdah d thg t e eeom yIf tegvteyscsnsioiailxomvmonm onctogciieiun’ am,rlelnlnst rieiapiigm. iohsnt nnkaeoeug r grgseuas,Ar. et satv i .nm.hnhiem aae ddeeld lynH aym.sdf ev“ bloio Ii aremmn’lsdueiiWhvartyigs seefde h sfsatiev miitegevni-chaovrlotciueuin,dtearlilsp nterroty .eide-w-mion unauhiwm gucanispiah.s itmdefc td on.er eh e”gsyf w ahc- ,.eolahiuH c mtihnmmpoeaeilbdb mrls duO .i eertspndns ef .paaegena ehu ulv .maeAsgi eia ksenShvnlno fstee dyAdna esvt:l i ,arh/l el flasnshe no.sttoe.x rbs ohn c mo e-ettIi y prthIlsi- e -e i s s eaeaptgsilInhsihyiaene lemu kegertecdo sne h tseh pi dti ptmc lxr.ehnhsh eea aemirg orwn irr soecwsestuHI tro.imiee ea elentshki nnghaaaason, dB tdgwv.v greyemaee m a arn yetdn tgfh e“hwd soaryTaah trap eeenhd t aaelsIad trnltst. s oneh a,a c iin hompksgIbtnvo C ehb sneeoewhtuo’mrclogri;top :e,olvuw cla loonc Toae nkuh“a llo smeilsiGnan ,tlvrI andotfyd ei gk aoerbrl es“ueIm ylrtwr n D eaeuh ,eadotnaefd ysnt od oaekieetf trtrcrcsdns a hk ;ch oot ie ,dltehl whc”i te.eMi renyno asetmy mn.osneeil e khu”lWi nalrenn rneg hn geog,a ipes t wMvenahsae yayaret stte . jMoabm,”m obpult aIs tprye ferb etchaeu smee dmiocsatl pteeorpm leA uhgamveen tnaot ion cspheaainscd kweainnc dh encsoao rdrolonet sw shoienua pti,t (bsbaruletaa ddI , dwoiCnta’hmt p tbhoeamlvalet’ oste os eaatn d idea what that is. “Will you marry me?” And we laugh. the salad if Id on’t want to), and whatever milk What a silly question. We both know it is silly, is left over from the morning milking....Grilled that our hearts have been married to one cheese sandwiches on wheat bread, hour in NTehwey Yoparikd Cmiet y.o veNre maa hu(nmdyr edfi rsdto lalgaernst )a n tahniost hterra diftoiro ns ommaek etsi mues ngoiwd,d yb uatl l tthhee rsoammaen.c e of CBaombpbbye?l l’Is’ vec hliocskt enh imn ooadmloen. g . t”h e Wohtehreer cihsi l- told me I was beautiful. Mildred (my second Here in this tiny BYU office, looking out over dren. agent) told me I was beautiful. My paychecks the filthy lake that has the capacity to create told me I was beautiful. But, I did it anyway: A beautiful sunsets in spite of its filth, we enter couple of thousand dollars, a couple of scars, each other through our eyes and are awed at the and I own a couple of silicone implants. Mother beauty there. Knowing him is my most sacred I have secret places in the room that I liked to have my modeling portfolio on the experience. He is my dearest friend, my share with my brother under the edge of the living room table, beside her scriptures. All that teacher, my pupil, my playmate, my choice olive green carpet, between the mirror and the was years ago, before my mission, before him, with whom to labor and to love. He is my back of the dresser, under the pink crocheted before college. I’ve looked into having the solace, my home, my joy. I want us to return dress of the doll that mother won't let us play implants taken out, but it is very expensive. Home in honor and exaltation, to know joy with. I tuck into these secret places all the Now I want my breasts to nurture a child, and I here, and life eternal but there is that part of me autumn leaves that they will safely hide. am afraid of my unrighteousness, afraid that my that is still afraid that we will live, like my Mother will throw them out or vacuum them breasts won’t work—my imperfect hallowed, parents, in silent hate and open misery. It was up, if she finds them, because she thinks they hollow breasts. his mother’s ring. I feel overwhelmed by the belong outside. And they do. But then I must task of keeping track of such a small, expen- belong outside also, in the eastern wind and sive object for the rest of my life. the Virginia forest. | am too young to care I want to always be joined to him, as I about good housekeeping. My world is full of The shower is only warm at a quarter of am now. I cannot remember now what living the pretending that is in children's poetry: five in the morning; so, I get up then. I don’t was before he was part of my living. This Tony and I spend long afternoons in our own mind. The Provo Temple across the street to the proposal, this means he is willing to wait for enchanted world where we pretend we have east is framed by autumn trees, and the trees are me while I serve my mission. If we can make been left alone by some tragedy and must live grace to the harsh seventies architecture. I have it for three years of engagement, perhaps we in the forest. The trees are our home; we live wanted to be here for a very long time, to wear can make it the rest of the way. We are late for off the berries and the leaves. 1 am certain this black tag, to teach the gospel in this way, all class. He walks away from me, backward, and that trees have souls, very old souls, wise and day long every day. runs into a tree. Burnished leaves dance and nurturing and long suffering, and that in “Hello, I am Sister Martin, I ama drift to the ground around this beautiful, autumn they offer their wisdom in golds and missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of clumsy man I love. scarlets given to the wind to give to us. We Latter-day Saints. This is my companion, Sister give them names, Tony and I; we speak to them, and they hear us. And we are happy. * Iverson. We would like to share a book with you...” I whisper to myself as I dress and tell I wake every morning and don’t want it to my imaginary contact about Lehi and ships and be morning. Hit my head on the cold steel of new land and disobedience and redemption. I the sixth step before I get around to actually testify of Christ to the imaginary contact and climbing the spiral staircase, unfinished steel feel the realness and goodness of Him wash over spiral staircase, welded poorly, never carpeted, me. too narrow. Climbing it makes me dizzy not The long days and the commitment because it is spiral but because it leads to her pattern and the large group meetings and the room. Her room with the blue carpet that has commitment pattern and the scriptures and the forgotten to be blue is trying to be yellow-blue, commitment pattern and the disgusting smell of or yellow-brown-blue, or maybe just trying to hominy and the commitment pattern. He is Jack die, but not gracefully as the autumn leaves Nielsen, my mission president. He is righteous outside are dying. I don’t want to go to her; I and prominent and white and male, and he asks don’t want to look into her eyes that used to be me in my first interview why I have come and chocolate brown and are now mud brown. I VOLUME 19 NUMBER 4 By a Woman Still in Her get it out through the proper channels at the Instead of pressuring me to speed up and finish, Fourth Month Only proper time. Well, anytime would be fine. I sat they insisted I slow down and wait. Instead of for stretches on the toilet to encourage my large scheduling their intrusions or civilly asking for a Alyson VonFeldt intestines to give up what was not theirs to keep. return call, they descended like thoughtless Lawrence, Kansas When the edge of the seat pressed uncomfort- visitors who would never go home ably on the backs of my legs, Doug helped me I was unadaptable and, therefore, T find a footrest ofju st the right height. A laundry unreliable. I was giving excuses on the phone he more a woman aims for basket? Too high. A hat box? No. Finally, a I heard of other pregnant women who personal identity and quadruple combination from the study was sat at their desks in cold sweats, garbage cans autonomy, the more she perfect. Our questions about the use of this underfoot. But I could not get up and sit at my develops her imagination, book were overshadowed, like everything else, desk. Another woman I know drove daily to the fiercer will be her by my immediate carnal requirements. work with a bag under her chin—she could struggle with nature—that is, The days moved so slowly. I could only vomit and steer at the same time. But even ifI with the intractable physical focus on the most basic functions of physical thought I might be sick, I asked Doug to go to laws of her own body. And being. I could not even think of eating the the store. The mail box was even too far away. the more nature will punish vegetables I knew my baby needed—the folic I could not get up, and I could not go out. But her: do not dare to be free! acid, the other vitamins. Canned green beans perhaps I should have gotten up, and I should for your body does not were the best I could do. Surely this was not have gone out. Perhaps I should have been less belong to you. natural—I should feel better than ever so that I afraid of throwing up. I was a wimp. “Did you — Camille Paglia could compose the perfect diet for that being do any work today?” said Doug. No. “Did you inside me in its most critical stages of formation. feel well enough to work last week?” said my Femininity forced itself on me, and I I was furious. I was enraged. No other animal boss. No. I'm sorry. came face to face with what I am. I had loved on earth experiences morning sickness. My I sit down and cry, and even as I cry the the femininity of soft skin, lush mascaraed creator had laid something on me that was not tightness in my throat brings gag after gag. I'm eyelashes, shining hair, and perfumes that rational. It was a spiteful act, and I could not crying, and I'm gagging, and I'm a pathetic lingered on my silk blouses between wearings. understand why. human. I'ma pathetic woman. But my femaleness tured on me and threw me The work piled up on my desk. I was My nature, naked, backed me into a on the couch, into the kitchen haltingly to tum out of control of myself. comer and thumped me on the chest. I bit back potato flakes and cream like a vicious animal; flight of wheat into hourly was not my choice. But my sustenance, onto the fight is only with myself. bathroom floor in a Yet, I lie on my heaving heap. couch, and I read poems by A shower was mothers who hold their the greatest adventure of babies and feel joy. This is my day. I had once what I want. I did not know climbed under the water pregnancy would be like every moming as a this, but I do not regret it. I thoughtless prerequisite. am not the first to be torn Now, I could not endure between earth and sky. this event until late Just as my abdo- afternoon. Only after men begins to expand, I eating pea soup, and begin to understand what I waiting for just a little am. I am not fooled digestion—but not too anymore. I am Western much—did I adjust creation, swerving from pelting drops to a pres- nature, but failing to sure and temperature of obliterate it. I am pregnant mildest effect. Even solipsist. I am Paglia's then, the white dark chthonian machine, trapped corridor of my bath in my increasingly wavy, would reel, and I would watery body, forced to hurry to finish and crawl listen and learn from into my bed—not even something beyond and yet thoroughly dry—close within me. And | anticipate my eyes and try to relax, to be found there asleep that the days ahead will by my husband at 5:30, teach me more. My friend Betsy tells me that her nine- matted, unparted damp month morning sickness hair, and soft naked skin. At least my skin was still prepared her for the impos- sibility of scheduling soft. But my over- perspiring underarms, as likely to make me gag Pregnancy slapped me in the face. I motherhood. After birth, she was ready for as a whiff of frying tortilla, would soon undo my thought that it would be like taking on a new endless crying nights and the other inconve- afternoon's work and remind me that I was project, just so many Gantt charts oftr imesters, niences ofch ildren that, although I have heard of loosing the battle to remain what I thought I fetal development, and stages of labor. I would them, I do not yet know of them. * was. arrange things to accommodate its requirements. I turned inward, focusing my efforts on But the corporal demands thrown up for me getting something in my stomach in order to were qualitatively different from the corporate Alyson Skabelund VonFeldt keep what was already there, there, and then to demands I knew how to absorb and influence. was born December 30, 1993. 8 EXPONENT II 1996 the wall directly opposite my chair: “If you discussed the issue, the more emotionally The Unexpected Choice tthhei nkr ectehpatt ioynoius t.m”i ght be pregnant, please inform utunrcmoomiflo rhtaadb ljeu stI abbeocuatm em.o veWdh enm e mtyo minyn erfe et and Linda Paxton Greer I had been in many x-ray rooms with flight, the instructor quoted, “A mother should Provo, Utah lots of these signs, but this time, the sign seemed do everything in her power to preserve her life.” to speak to me. I began to think I was going I felt as if my heart would collapse as I crazy. Eventually, I got up and moved to the contemplated a need to really consider ending rs. Greer, you must abort your other side of the room, hoping to avoid the my pregnancy. I consulted with my bishop. I baby.” The words wrapped me power of the sign. I felt rather stupid. The fasted and prayed fervently. I had my name in horror. They offered a solution presence of the sign became so annoying that I placed on the prayer roll. worse than the problem could was motivated to get up, cross the room, and The following week, during my regu- ever be. I had cancer; now, I was inform the receptionist that they should place a larly scheduled oncology appointment, the pregnant, and Dr. Krueger wanted me to abort. lead shield over my pelvic region. The recep- doctor said, “Linda, you have seven children. How could I bear it? tionist informed me that such a thing was not They need a mother.” possible because the area that they needed to I went home, driving slowly to stretch my time alone to think and ponder the gravity of It was May 1986—a time when life was shoot was located in that region. ybleeofartrn .,b renIaonst t J atanaubkaoernu yt, a wtIhaey f .is ristIz te d hioasfdc ao nvosetmr aelbdle eanp elaa.u mgpoM oydi n my that. We I“n Tse’aemid d ,s to“or Wryef,li nld,M rosgu.ot Gairhfee eyarod.u,.’ rtWeh ee pn.rc”ea gnn’atn td.o” ctohfoa mto ptashtsearstsi eomwneh ntoa. n dh aTvuhene dyec rhdsoitsdea nnn deiaenbdgo ratf iomoron t.t hheorIs. en owwIh konh aovwe husband’s employer was changing insurance I thought, “Pregnant? That’s absurd. I have wrestled with this agonizing resolution. It companies and had not decided on a new one. am only six weeks post-op." is not easy to make such a decision. Like the Our family finances were in such deplorable I was sent to the hospital lab to have my individual right to choose or reject chemo- shape that I didn’t dare see a doctor unless a blood drawn for a serum pregnancy test. I was therapy treatment, deciding whether to have an good insurance policy was in place. In February, asked to wait for the results and informed that it abortion must be a very personal choice, one that I managed to severely damage our only car would take about twenty minutes. I read another cannot fairly be judged by another. Because of when I swerved to miss an oncoming vehicle. It magazine. Finally, a fresh-pressed nurse came the weight of the issue, the choice must be made was still driveable, but the windows on the into the room and crossed to the nurses’ station. through deep thought, fasting, prayer, and driver's side were all broken out, and we did not “Hello, Dr. Krueger. Mrs. Greer’s listening to the Spirit. have the necessary funds to replace them. It is pregnancy test is positive.” At that point, I remembered a television very cold in northern Virginia in February. Then, Positive!? There was simply no way I interview with Sammy Davis, Jr., that I saw about mid-March, the new insurance company could be pregnant. when I was fifteen. The commentator asked, was chosen, and the lump had not become “Nurse, maybe my blood sample was “What was the most difficult thing for you to larger—a good sign. I made an appointment confused with someone else’s.” overcome in Harlem?” He replied, “Not having with Dr. Fanale, my obstetrician. He examined “Mrs. Greer, you’re the only patient who a mother. But I believe anyone can overcome me and diagnosed fibrocystic tumors. But, he has been in the laboratory this morning. There any obstacle, even not having a mother.” wanted me to see a general surgeon, “just to be is no mistake. Dr. Krueger wants you to come to I believed that my children could sure.” Two weeks later I had a biopsy. his office right away.” survive without me. I pictured their faces; I Prior to the surgery, my surgeon Dr. As I was walking through the hospital wanted to hold them close and cry until I was Seamons said, “Linda, I don’t believe it is corridors toward the parking lot, the wave of exhausted. I knew if I aborted my baby, I would cancer. You are simply not a candidate. I’d tell surprise and shock melted into sheer elation that always wonder what he or she would have you if I thought it was a possibility.” Twenty- a new life had begun and would add to our looked like and that when I looked at my four hours later in the recovery room it was a quiver of seven children. By the time I reached children, I would be reminded of the one I didn’t different story. With tears running in rivulets the exit doors, I was skipping and shedding tears have and would be rendered a mental cripple of down his cheeks, he said, “Linda, it is cancer. of joy at the prospect of having a new little baby. a mother. My thoughts felt like revelation. The breast will have to be removed.” Dr. Krueger was not nearly so excited. The cloud was lifted from my mind, and I said, “Oh, but how will I feed my In fact, he was angry that I would do such an I decided that beautiful sunny day that I would babies?” He gently but firmly replied, “Linda, irresponsible thing. The truth of the matter was have my baby. IfI d ied, my family would be there will be no more babies,” But the unmistak- that never in our whole married lives had we taken care of by the Lord. If I lived, my joy able voice of a kind Heavenly Father assured me tried to prevent pregnancy, except this time. would be full. A peace came to my soul that I that the “no more babies” part was untrue. His Then, Dr. Krueger delivered the blow: “Mrs. had not known for weeks. I knew this decision Spirit surrounded me, despite the grim diagno- Greer, you must abort this baby. Your cancer is was right for me. sis. estrogen sensitive. If you continue with the So, I opted for neither an abortion or Four days later, I underwent surgery for pregnancy, expect large tumor growth and chemotherapy. My post-pregnancy scans a modified radical mastectomy. The following possible death. You have a 40% chance of showed no evidence of cancer. I enjoyed week, Dr. Krueger, my oncologist, recom- living, at best.” remission for nearly four years. Although I have mended six months of chemo and radiation Now, I was the one who was angry. In since had a recurrence, undergone surgery, and therapy because of the lymph node involvement. his stiffly starched manner, he presumed to be chemo and radiation therapy, I have been in I resolutely resisted the idea. I had several God, capable of deciding my fate with his remission again for two years. The love, unity, friends who had undergone chemotherapy with statistics and theories. How does anyone and joy that our little boy has brought to all the less than desirable results. One died after a measure a mother’s heart? members of our family is worth the price. He is seven-year struggle with what I believed was I drove home in a somber mood. My deeply loved. If I am suddenly taken from my chemotherapy—not cancer. I struggled for husband and I made an appointment with Dr. family, Justin will be a constant reminder to several weeks about my decision. I had not Krueger for the next afternoon. At the conclu- them of how much we love each other. decided firmly to follow the advice of the sion of the appointment, I had a lump in my It’s true 1986 was not a good year, but doctors, but I was weakening. I knew that it was throat, but anger was still my dominant emo- 1992 is the best. Nothing in the world is more important to obtain baseline x-rays for the tion—angry that I could have been placed in exciting than my five-year-old putting his arms medical staff to have in evaluating my progress. such a dilemma. How could I have the wisdom around my neck and whispering in my ear, “I On the scheduled day, I entered the all to choose between our baby’s life and my own? loves you, Mommy.” And nothing in the world too familiar x-ray suite, signed the register and Several days later, I attended a Church is more comforting than knowing the Spirit seated myself in a comfortable chair with a Institute class entitled “Contemporary Issues.” speaks in a thousand small ways about our favorite magazine to pass the time. As I began The topic was abortion. The sources of author- deepest needs and that His answers bring us to peruse the magazine, I found myself becom- ity were messages and letters from our Church light. # ing increasingly uncomfortable with a sign on leaders and the scriptures. The longer we VOLUME 19 NUMBER 4 9 Human Beings, Human Doings, or Human Gettings? Barbara Mackelprang Salt Lake City, Utah hen we entangle our “being” with our modem medicine, I survived. The grew, their beings were unconditionally “doing” and “getting,” we are lost doctors restored my heart beat. loved. The doing and the getting added when changes occur. What happens to Surviving the operation, however, fun and, yes, very interesting and us when we get sick? We can also was not the biggest hurdle. I came challenging experiences, but it’s still become critical of what we are “doing home no longer able to do many of their core essences that I cherish today. to get” in order to “be,” leading to an the activities I enjoyed. I could not We each can have this love of entanglement of negative talk to get out of the house and go as I once self and even the cherishing of self. ourselves. This self-talk is most often did. My life had been full of “doing We can be appreciative of whom we self-degrading. to get”; so, immobility was very are first and then our doings and I once overheard a very young difficult for me. gettings can be enjoyed and appreci- nephew as he was talking aloud to I went into a deep depres- ated more fully, even when they fall himself, making some very critical sion, and because of this experience, short of our expectations. It is when remarks about what he should have I began a different journey, one in we find our core being that we can done. I asked him if he had a voice in which I learned to value myselfa s a discover gratitude for self and thrive in his head that said mean things to him. person—my desires, my essence—in the world, realizing that we are not His eyes grew big, and he dropped his a totally new way. I overcame the doctors, or mothers, or fathers but that head. I asked him who he thought this depression; however, it was in we are beings practicing the art of voice was and he exclaimed, “Satan.” “dying” that I eventually learned of a “doctoring,” “mothering,” or “father- “Ts it really Satan or is it you talking to far deeper meaning of living, to value ing,” thereby fully and completely yourself?” I asked. A little embar- the promise given from God that we being who we are. It is in loving rassed, he acknowledged that it was will be judged according to the ourselves that we can truly live and really his own voice talking. This little desires of our hearts. I have learned love another. It is in the “being” that child had already learned to berate more about loving God and myself. I we transcend the “doing to get,” himself when his performance was less have learned of God’s love. In this transforming our lives and gaining the than “perfect.” loving cycle, I have also gained a power to discover our missions, our This kind of self-talk creates greater understanding of loving my destinies. pictures of ourselves doing, saying, and neighbor as myself. This journey to discovery thinking the negative. These pictures Within each ofu s is a core can affect us and others in a subtle then produce negative emotions, personality that is deeper than yet profound way. As we physically, resulting in a lack of self-worth. When learned behavior, deeper than the mentally, emotionally, and spiritually we engage in self-deprecating talk, our critical voice within. It is this core heal, we are more able to live lives of motivation to reach for mature goals is being who knows how to be accept- confidence in ourselves and others, minimized, and then we cannot fully ing, gentle, and nurturing. When we seeking not to impress but realize or understand our potential. In love ourselves that “being” is real- to be impressed with the this state of blame and shame, we ized and appreciated. It is then we goodness of mistakenly assume that we have to can understand that we are “human others. We “do” in order to “get” in order to “be” beings” not human doings” or can live who we are. In this state of negativism, “human gettings.” without we believe that we have to obtain As each of my babies was fear and approval or recognition from ourselves placed in my arms, I knew no words in faith. # as well as others, and we ruefully roll to describe my love. A newborn along this road toward self-defeating baby is totally dependent, unable to behaviors, becoming our own worst do anything to get love except “to enemy. be” and yet the infinite worth of a During surgery a few years newborn baby is beyond description. ago, I suffered heart failure. Due to I was so deeply appreciative and prayers, my own determination, my grateful for every little spirit that sense of mission, God willing, and entered my life. As my children EXPONENT II 1996

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= > O 5 > aa O > INSU VHB E “Re 4 Non-profit Org. EXPONENT, er U.S.Postage Post Office Box 128 PR sAseallt-D Arlington MA 02174-0002 Boston MA Permit No. 59469 DITORIAL First Hands and Backs, Now Feet and Voices Sue Paxman Lexington, Massachusetts uring my years in the Church, I other's burdens by listening to and believing little children" in a humiliating—not a humble— have often heard light, slightly each other's stories. way. How can we be expected to negate our ironic, comical references to For some of us, Exponent IT has been the own experiences, giving up our self-esteem and Mormon women playing such only place in our Mormon world in which we self-respect, by continually sitting and waiting to roles as the backs and hands with felt safe enough to be honest and open. For be told what to do and when by those "in which the work of the Church is accomplished others of us, our culture's efforts to maintain the authority" over us? There are times and places or the neck that turns the head [of the house— her status quo as the only way to keep our Mormon for all of the children of Ged to be His obedient husband]. And I know that, at times, I have even world safe and comfortable has meant every- servants, to be subservient to His authority; no participated in the almost conspiratorial smiling thing through the spectrum from ignoring us one should expect that being woman means and nodding of heads that sometimes accompa- when we speak to excommunicating us so that always being obedient and subservient to nies such references to jokes based on our we cannot speak. everyone else. E common experience. I believe that the time is But from what I am hearing and reading, Second, to make a place for women's here for this joke to be over. particularly in a number of the essays in this voices, we need to rid our culture of what We women of the Mormon Church have issue, those days will soon be over. We are appears to be the prevailing feeling about those much more to contribute than just our behind- beginning to speak with strength and clarity who speak up, who ask questions, or who the-scenes support. We want to use our voices wherever we find ourselves. We are exploring question a decision or policy: The Church is to help make the organizational and cultural who we are, not just the roles that we are asked true; love it or leave it. Blind, arbitrary accep- decisions that create and influence the to play, and we are insisting that we be heard tance does not enhance personal growth or "dailiness" of our lives in the Church structure. and recognized for who we are. access to personal revelation; raising and To participate fully in the building of the King- resolving personal questions does. Our assum- dom of God, we need to strengthen our voices as ing that those who question are somehow less we speak truth and bear witness, and then our than faithful is destructive to each of us as well voices need to be accepted and our experience as to our community of Saints. I believe that by incorporated into the fabric of our culture. Relegating us to being willing to allow each other to ask the I have just re-read the editorials of one or two accept- questions and seek the answers together we can Exponent's former editors from the last three able roles and re- make the Kingdom of God progress. issues (Volume 19, Numbers 1: Claudia Bush- And last, we need to change our per- fusing to allow us man; 2, Nancy T. Dredge; and 3, Susan Howe). spective and to listen. We have much to learn By reading them one right after the other, I came to participate in the from the voices of Mormon women, lessons to understand the evolution and progression of decision-making about—among many others—relationship the women of the Church in a new way. Our building, the true love of Christ, the pain and bodies of the voices are getting stronger; however, the accep- tewards of solitude, the joys of repentance and tance of and respect for what we have to say is Church keeps us forgiveness, the struggle that is compromise, the not increasing at the same rate. "as little children" strength of collaboration, the exaltation in Exponent II began as a place where in a humiliating— steadfastness. Asking so many of us to remain Mormon women could exchange everything silent about the most important aspects of our not a humble—way. from their latest insights and recipes to their lives is creating a sickness that can only be testimonies and spiritual experiences. Over the healed by moving away from the source. We years and under the nurturing guidance of the cannot afford to lose these voices, the lessons editors and staff, the publication has developed a that they teach, and the witnesses that they bear. stronger voice in its Mormon world as the voices Exponent II will continue to make a of those who write have gotten stronger. Unfortunately for our community, when place for us to share what we know and believe, Together, we have supported each other we are not heard or recognized, some of us seem to speak honestly from our own experience; through such difficult discussions as depression, to have only one last option. In increasing however, I believe that we need to ask, even emotional and physical/sexual abuse, drug and numbers, we—particularly those ofu s in our late insist, that we be able to do the same in our alcohol abuse, the effects of unrighteous domin- teens and twenties—are voting with our feet. Relief Society meetings, in our sacrament ion, abortion, being single in a married church, We are leaving, choosing not to participate in a meeting talks, in our bishop's interviews, in our infertility. We have talked honestly and from system that does not encourage us to participate ward and stake councils. I believe that as our own experience about many topics that our fully, that does not validate us by respecting Mormon women we understand that we are culture has previously considered off limits, what we have to offer, or that does not extend to responsible for ourselves and our salvations, but sometimes even a threat to testimonies. us the respect that we are finding elsewhere. we also understand that taking that responsibility What we have learned in the speaking is I believe that this movement away is a requires that our voices be heard as we speak that we have ideas to contribute, experiences terrible loss, a loss that can be avoided. First, about how our lives are lived here on earth. ® from which others can learn, opinions worth we need to recognize and respect the diversity being heard, and spiritual gifts that bless others and breadth of Mormon women's experience. as well as ourselves. And, through it all, we Relegating us to one or two acceptable roles and continue to bear witness to the principles that refusing to allow us to participate in the deci- sustain us and do all we can to shoulder each sion-making bodies of the Church keeps us "as 2 EXPONENT II 1996 The Well-tempered Feminist Dana Haight Cattani Palo Alto, California stopped by my parents’ house skill, not to be scoffed at or delegated thought- chores, fifty-fifty on breadwinning, fifty-fifty on today after work. I live close by lessly. child rearing, and so on. I announced my rules again, after several years away, I have been a scoffer and a delegator. A loudly and often, and Kyle married me anyway. so, I can drop by almost any thoughtless one. I have supposed that there was I figured he knew what he was getting into. time. I wanted to return some something inferior about serving other people He didn’t. Neither did I, although I empty Tupperware that Mom had filled with and something powerful about being served. In didn’t complain that he was making more money Christmas leftovers. She deliberately cooks far the not-too-distant past, I have spoken loudly as a computer manufacturer than I was as a high too much and then insists that we would do her a and often about the lines I draw for myself, the school teacher. favor by taking some ham with us, and just a boundaries beyond which I would not go. I Six years later, we’re still married, few potatoes, too. partly because we’ ve evolved into a comfortable I had called at noon to let Mom know pattern. I cook; he cleans. I buy the groceries; that I was coming. She wasn’t home when I he pays the bills. I tend the flowers; he prunes called, but my father said he would leave her a the shrubs. We take turns doing the laundry, message. When I got there, she happened to with my turn coming more often than his, at have a warm batch of my favorite Rice Krispie | believe that listen- least as I reckon Saturdays. cookies on the counter. As I pulled off my ing and affirming We have fallen into very traditional raincoat, she offered to make a cup of tea, and I patterns, and I am not displeased by them. They quickly accepted because, after all, I didn’t want toward the end of a seem to work for us. They foster peace and to drive home in the downpour. We sat together discouraging day is stability, commodities I come to value more than in the warmth of the kitchen, and I told her the divine. | believe any nitpicking fairness we could have legislated latest anecdotes from school. When I am the for ourselves. It occurs to me that the sum really that cooking for hapless protagonist, she laughs as people laugh is greater than the parts, that a holistic partner- at characters who flail momentarily on the road people ...is an ship may transcend piecemeal equality. Over to glory. Even when I am the antagonist or often unparalleled time, we build equity together, as one might in a victim, she assures me that she is proud of me act of love. home, through seasons that blur together in an and that all my character flaws, my inadequate indistinguishable but satisfying memory. misguided words or deeds, are the inevitable I begin to see the feminism that the consequence of genes inherited from her. student me embraced as limiting and restrictive. I don’t believe her, but I am touched that If Im ake the foundation for my life a series of she wants to absolve me of wrong and challenge boundaries, I limit my choices for giving and any detractor. If she could, she would absorb receiving. Worse, I define myself as unchang- my mistakes and their attendant pain like a paper thought that career-minded women, intelligent ing, expecting that others must modify their towel, wiping away any trace of stickiness. women, spoke and acted this way. They drew lives to accommodate my self-image. When it was nearly dinner time, I put lines (“I will not be the only cook in this house- This approach is petty and inflexible in my mug in the dishwasher and pulled on my hold,” “I will not take your shirts to the clean- ways I would not appreciate in a spouse or raincoat. Driving home, I thought about her ers,” “I will not shop for your mother’s birth- colleague. Under my feminist credo, the small greeting me at the end of the day with warm tea day’’), and the people they loved learned to joys—the hot teas and warm cookies on rainy and fresh cookies and an affirmation that my accommodate these guidelines. Smart women January afternoons—disappear. There is no every action is one she stands behind. I want to measured and calculated and kept track so as not room, no interest. Tea and cookies are time- be this kind of woman. to be caught in the gummy and tenacious web of consuming and demeaning, things women do These thoughts always jar me, I think, husbands, colleagues, employers, friends, and only if they aren’t successful professionals with because they accent the truth that never fails to children. I envisioned fulfillment in carefully busy personal agendas. startle me: I am a recanting feminist. I believe distributing my time and commitment in nickels I think it is not uncommon for personal in equal opportunity and pay and shared domes- and dimes to people who were demonstrably philosophies to evolve over time. Change may tic responsibilities and all that, but I believe in giving back in at least equal quantities. be a sign of thoughtfulness or expedience or some other things, too. It did not occur to me that there is a uncertainty or maturity. Whatever it is, it swells I believe that caring for people, their smallness and privation in this kind of thinking. in me. As I recant the rigid rules of my past, feelings, their minds, and their bodies is impor- I did not think that it could make me its victim, broadening the definition of the woman that I tant. I believe that there is dignity in serving that I could be other than the savvy player of a want to be, I imagine that I finally fill out, others. I believe that busy-ness is not inherently flawed game. Id id not think that my willing- softening into a less strident self. fulfilling. I believe that listening and affirming ness to give would determine my ability to I described this metamorphosis to my toward the end of a discouraging day is divine. I receive. mother over tea, and she smiled and said noth- believe that cooking for people, serving them Before I was married, I had specific ing. She always says the right thing. ® nourishing food in a warm kitchen, is an often ideas about my willingness to give: any future unparalleled act of love, a feat of finesse and husband and I would split fifty-fifty on domestic VOLUME 19 NUMBER 4 3 Take It Like a Man Emma Lou Thayne Salt Lake City, Utah hy not? After all, hadn’t I been Christmas or Easter, a cook-out in the canyon or ing our balls into the benign rough. Not bad. W in on the fixing of Thanksgiving a dinner on the patio, who is where for what? The crowning glory: one son-in-law was a pro, dinner for over sixty years? This Thanksgiving I got to find out— in on running the place, and got us on free—the Had there ever been one that I firsthand—because I was invited, instead of green fee (ordinarily $175!), car, my rented didn’t have a hand in? A big staying home to work on the dinner, to go with clubs, and all. A kick on any day—a riot on a hand? And yet, I liked it, always had, the my two tall sons-in-law to play golf the entire holiday that I had nothing to do with except hit a preparation, first the shining of silver, setting of afternoon. ball, laugh, and visit with the boys that were the table with linen and goblets and cormucopia, “Go, Mother,” my daughters urged, as mine to relish from the bounty of my five stuffing the turkey—remember when we had to well as my husband, who thinks golf is a waste daughters, two of them home making Thanks- singe and pull pin feathers and extricate the of everything. “You deserve it. We’ll have the giving happen without me. giblets? whole dinner ready when you get back.” Heck, We played till dark—fourteen holes, And the dressing, dry not soggy but with an offer like that, who but the most duty- more than I'd played consecutively in three light thanks to beaten eggs and crumbs ground bound could resist? Besides, weren’t we on years. And we arrived back in the kitchen to the from homemade bread. And sweet aromas of potatoes candied with oodles of butter holiday cooking, five children, four and brown sugar—oh, and first the salt under four, racing from backyard and pepper to cut the too-sweet possi- trampoline to upstairs bunks to jump bility. And rolls and pumpkin pies and from, a baby being fed a bottle by cranberry salad and stuffed celery and grandpa watching TV, and one seven- green olives wrapped in bacon—after, year-old girl setting the play table from of course, the bottling of fresh cran- the patio for the under-fours. berry sauce the night before. And the The dinner was a triumph. potatoes and gravy, each smooth as Mel’s turkey was never more moist or driven snow or water over a spillway. flavorful from his peanut oil basting. Sometimes carrot pudding with lemon Every dish steaming or plate delectable sauce instead of or, more likely, in with hors d’ oeuvres made us golfers addition to the pie. glad that we'd saved up for the feast by And then doing the dishes, not eating breakfast. All we had to do every supply of china and glassware, to now was sit down and enjoy the relaxed say nothing of pans and roaster, pulled talk as well as the wondrous meal. out of cupboards, brought up from the Except. . Except. . .While I did fruit room, sometimes only for this think how nifty, just to waltz in with setting of a meal for maybe twenty or nothing more than a “When will it be more depending on what relatives or ready?” And Id id love eating someone acquaintances might enjoy Thanksgiv- This Thanks- else’s cooking. And there could be no ing at that dining room table with all its doubt that it was fun not to have been leaves in. Plus usually another set up in giving... | was the cook. But. . .As I stood for an hour the living room, sometimes even one on invited, instead of at the sink clearing up, dishwasher the ping pong table downstairs and at staying home to notwithstanding, as the piles and more the bar for littlest ones who might spill piles of dishes and pans accrued with the work on the dinner, a glass or two of milk. clearing. I confess that for a minute, I All day and into the night it to go with my two sort of missed having been in on the took. With me always at the hub, even tall sons-in-law to preparation—better far than the clearing in these past few years of often cel- play golf the entire up. ebrating at the home of a daughter and, But then I thought: Who am I afternoon. kidding? I had a great time out there on lately, with Mel loving to do the turkey the golf course. With those darlings who on the grill outside between watching a invite, even kid, and push me to play. game and the news and reading on the And the clearing up takes only about couch. Nice. Good cooks, my five one-tenth the time of getting it all on. daughters and my one-specialty hus- Maybe the old women’s movement band, and the girls great putters-on of Thanksgiving dinners. But I have never not vacation? In California, having flown away saying still applies: What every woman needs is been in on all of it. Even when visiting in from record snows in Utah? Why not? a wife. California. So we did, the three of us. We played— And then I smiled, not just to myself. Until this year [1992]. on a gorgeous course in view, sea scent, of the Yes, it is not bad to be a man on a holiday. Let’s We'd talked, as probably most women high surf and seagulls and the sound of seals see, what’s the next one—Christmas? Skiing, do, about the difference between what men do barking off shore. And then into deep woods anyone? * on a holiday—any holiday—and what women with fairways cutting swaths of green, sand traps do. It’s mostly food and getting to it that makes and water hazards configured like a gardener’s the biggest difference. From the 4th of July to dream, squirrels and deer and birds accompany- A EXPONENT II 1996 Keeping My Head Above Water Jennifer Gremp St. Louis, Missourt t’s a smooth take-off, and the footage. The exit ended abruptly, at the edge of As I thought about how little time I'd plane climbs rapidly into the a flooded field; so, I abandoned the car and spent helping others through this crisis and how blue. How could the sky be hiked the other direction along a dirt (or rather, much my current position drained me, I reas- sessed my job choice. I soon quit to take a nearly cloudless, when the mud) road. flooded ground below shows I passed a machine shop with its bays medical publishing job that would keep me evidence of many rains? It’s the summer of under water; then, I noticed a sandbagged house closer to home, one that would preserve some of ab1nu9ds9i 3n,Me issassn idsa slIim’povpseit beRweienve ekrlfsyl ,y isnwwgea ltloc utht ihnoeigfr Sttb.ha en LkoMsui issas noduo rn i dsmouaornrre,o uuvbnerdrienidgn ignb gy t hiaen i mrso uamptop.tl ioerAsb; o maaittn w uapas n dtao hptiehsre f sefocrnto ntwp ehroet o fmoyu nedn emrygBsyu etl ffow ri itonhtvihonel rv ae gdfo ealwis n. m ao nprtohjse,c t I tohnact e moangaoipno - lized my nights and weekends. At the start of eI’vveen tbueaelnl y flfyuisneg isnot o mau cghi,a nti nl afkacet ,a tt htahte irI ’vjeu nbcatrieolny. opportuniIt yr.a ised my camera, then quickly April, I was looking forward to a relaxing spring ebxeteenn shiovem e netwo sc actcohv erbaitgse antdha tp iteeclless eovfe rtyhoe ne tlhoewier retdr ouibtl easga itnh.a t Iw acyo.u ldnI’nts tebalda,t anIt wlay veidn traudned on aAnudg usstu,m meanrd, Ib wuta s nesxtti ll thlionogk inI gk nfeowr waitr dw ast o the exactly when and where “sandbaggers are called out a few condolences (as if anything I summer. Good grief, I thought, I don’t even have could say would improve the situation). needed.” Feeling discouraged and overwhelmed kids, and my days are already filled to the brim. Earlier today, I crowded in with my fellow travelers around a TV in the airport by a sense of profound loss, I returned to the How could I ever take on the responsibilities of lounge, witnessing an entire farm, from out- grey Crown Victoria that was one of my com- children and other commitments? I could barely buildings to stately farmhouse, crumble under pany perks, wrestled it around in the small patch keep my own head above water. Were extra the force of the floodwaters rushing through a of dry pavement, and drove the wrong way up projects and expectations being piled on me broken levee. the exit towards the Interstate. Wondering how because I was a single employee? Or, was I still Dozens of similar dramas have been this disaster could have happened with my being struggling with the challenge of putting myself unfolding around me for months; yet, I feel only peripherally aware of it, I vowed to be and my plans first, of not letting others unfairly curiously detached from these events. Here I more involved with the world around me, to not encroach upon my time or sway me from my am, heading to Indianapolis for a week-long let my job take up so much time, and to priori- goal? conference, while the Mississippi is cresting and tize the things that were truly important. As I tried to sort out the reasons that my creating havoc in St. Louis. As a pharmacist Two days later, I tracked down the life was in such a shambles, I remembered with multi-task responsibilities in a drug com- relocated Salvation Army warehouse, now in an another experience that I’d had while working pany, I’m either on the road or busy catching up abandoned grocery store because the original for the drug company. To attend a one-day at home and preparing for the next trip. Conse- building was under water. Their greatest need business meeting, I had flown from St. Louis to quently, I haven’t found enough time to do my for help that day was packaging together as- Detroit, rented a car, driven to upstate Michigan, part in the flood relief efforts. Besides, after sorted cleaning supplies for the cleanup efforts. and boarded a ferry to reach Mackinaw Island— dragging computer equipment and suitcases People were beginning to return to their homes all this effort just to spend one night on a through airports and medical centers, I’m and were now facing the daunting prospect of secluded island at the discounted group rate of dubious of hefting sandbags and further aggra- scrubbing and sanitizing whatever the floods had $250 per person. As it turned out, two of the vating my lower back problem. left behind. most crucial people for my discussion group Staring out the plane window at the The hours passed quickly as I sorted and weren’t even there; so, no issues could be devastation below, I chastise myself for such sealed boxes of donated goods, side-by-side with resolved. selfishness. Surely the minor pain and inconve- the retired men, the new mothers, and the What a waste! A few days later, back in nience would be rewarded in the eternities. I playful teenagers who were cheerfully using St. Louis, I was waiting in line at a Walgreen’s must do something! Guilt begins gnawing at me some of their pent-up energy in a good cause. pharmacy, and an elderly woman ahead of me again, as does some other frustration I can’t My conscience was momentarily seemed to be slowing down the line consider- quite identify. appeased, but something deeper was still bother- ably. She was asking the clerk to add up the cost ing me. What was wrong in my life if major of various combinations of her prescriptions, to world and local events could barely penetrate see which ones she could afford to get that day my consciousness? Why had it particularly and which would have to wait until next week. Those were my thoughts as I left St. Louis that disturbed me to watch the sandbaggers on the The one drug that she wanted to be sure she got, August day. When I returned home at the end of news racing the rising river to save a home, to treat her ulcer, was also the most expensive of the week, I had Saturday off; so, I hopped into knowing the home would probably flood again all her prescriptions. my car and headed towards a town in southern during the next rainstorm? Guess what? That ulcer drug was the Missouri, where the crest was expected to hit Memories of the disaster continued to one made by the company that had just sent me later than it had in St. Louis. But I was too late cloud my mind: A favorite restaurant of mine, on that lavish, useless trip to Michigan. | felt for sandbagging—any structure that could coincidentally shaped like a boat and named like the world’s biggest hypocrite. It went possibly be saved had already been reinforced, “Noah’s Ark,” becoming a centralized point for against my principles to spend money without and the river had crested the previous night. volunteers to gather....A young man trying to accomplishing something, and it wasn’t any less This moment, though, was my most stay and save what he could from his business, painful when it didn’t come out of my own extensive first-hand look at the floods, and the despite the warnings to “get out immediately,” pocket. Besides, my goal in becoming a phar- impact was far greater up close than when and eventually being rescued by helicopter from macist was to help people gain better health, and observing it from above. My mouth dropped the top of the building....His mother, in another I wasn’t anywhere near reaching that goal. open as I passed highway signs partially sub- city, watching the news and recognizing her son Although I felt partially responsible for merged, farm machinery stranded on patches of as the man being airlifted....Countless people this woman’s hardship, I also had a feeling that dry land, rooftops the only visible portion of risking their lives to save pets and material she wouldn’t be in any better financial shape the buildings, and sandbags holding back the water goods....Sand becoming scarce and out-of-state following week, or month, or year. She was from the edge of the Interstate. companies charging elevated prices for the essentially using sandbags to momentarily patch I'd brought my video camera, and I commodity. These images and more were now up her situation and keep the bill collectors at veered off at an exit to stop and shoot some permanently engraved on my heart and mind. (Continued on next page) VOLUME 19 NUMBER 4 5 Se Of Myself and Autumn Apryl Martin Keeping My Head keeping my distance from those influences that Salt Lake City, Utah Above Water encourage me to achieve temporal milestones. I need to leave more quickly when I hear the (Continued from preceeding page) warning “get out immediately,” departing more bay; matters for her would probably get worse rapidly from business or personal situations that before they got better. are dragging me under, instead of investing four I suddenly realized I was doing the exact years in a bad marriage or spending time with same thing in my own life, only in non-financial acquaintances who consistently undermine my matters! I was responding to seemingly urgent self-confidence. problems by finding temporary fixes for them, Anticipating possible future crises, I not concentrating on the root of the problem. should fill up a few sandbags every day, rather Then, like so many flooded-out homeowners, I than hurriedly constructing an entire wall when was going back and rebuilding in that very same an emergency strikes. I want to seek confi- place. dence-building activities and truly rejuvenating I reflected on this further while taking a leisure time and build myself up on a regular few days off from work. I read a couple of the basis so that I’ll be strong enough to weather any books I'd been wanting to read, visited friends storm. and relatives in case they'd forgotten me by back is stiff, leaning as far as now, sorted as many of my “misc. junk” boxes To prioritize my time and monetary possible over the stroller, trying investments, I’m asking myself, “If Ih ad to to keep my head under the as I could, put pictures into photo albums, and began a new exercise program, all the while leave my home due to a flood, what would I umbrella while making sure it choose to carry with me?” Material goods per covers the length of Thom’s reminding myself that I’d better get moving on se aren’t a big temptation for me, but I tend to small sleeping body. My back is heavy with rain these personal goals and projects because I'd accumulate newspaper clippings, old school and books, both of which hold me to the leaf- soon be back at work and wouldn’t have time for papers, clothes that no longer fit, telephone and covered earth and to my fear. It is the first day anything like this. electric bills I paid years ago, and other stuff that of class, and I am scared to be taking him with Each day, I felt very unsettled, and weighs me down. I’m trying to limit myselft o a me; scared the teacher will guffaw and show us certainly not very relaxed, as I’d prioritize my few memorable items. the door or say even worse; scared that I will to-do list, cry “On your mark, get set, go!”, and It’s not easy to re-channel the path I’ve find out that I really can’t have it both ways: be race off. It seemed I had never broken out of the cut over the last several years—when I felt with my child and continue my education. I habits I had in college when the things that I constantly on the edge of a crisis, perpetually in want both so desperately that we’v e left our really wanted to do always waited “until this danger of being dragged under by the fast- comfortable Draper home and moved to the round of tests is over” and when I had promised flowing pace of today’s world. But when the small cinder block apartment on the third floor, myself to push my physical limits “just this one pressures of perfection and performance con- where our books and our son and our passion for last time, then I'll never stay up all night study- tinue to wash over me, I plan to stay standing. learning are about all that will fit. ing again.” But the apartment is not without grace. I was still constantly using sandbags to There are trees at every window, sending their plug up the holes in my life, without ever asking shadows in to play. Since I was very young, I myself what it was I was trying to preserve. have prayed at an open window, and when there Deep down, it hadn’t really mattered to me if I are trees at that window, I feel closer to God. stayed at the top of my class or if I got a 3.3% Just last week, I went airborne again, flying for The trees are in autumn now, and the smell of raise instead of a 3.2% raise at my job; yet, I felt pleasure rather than business this time, and their leaves perfumes our living and the autumn compelled to do my best at everything. Some- pressed my face against the scratched-up win- wind moves our dreams about, and they dance in thing worthwhile is worth trying to save. dow of a DC-10. The trees and the crops below the small space. And we are happy. But I needed to choose more wisely, were beginning to take root again, and houses taking time to judge what was truly worthwhile. were being rebuilt along the riverbanks, wisely The “urgent” problems others handed me at raised up on stilts. It was reassuring that some work, my own tendency to prioritize whatever degree of normalcy was already returning to a This time I don’t want him to touch my was in closest proximity at home (the pile of place declared a disaster area not long ago. I breasts. He does it to comfort me from the papers on the coffee table commanded more of closed my eyes, lowered the seat back, and dream, but there is no comfort from the dream or my attention than the family history books I’d allowed that comforting thought to completely from the reality of my breasts. The dreams are neatly shelved until I had time to read them). I soak in. # never the same and always the same: I am needed to change these patterns. supposed to nurse my newborn baby, but I keep I thought of the obvious analogy, that of forgetting to nurse, or I can’t because my breasts building my life on rock rather than on sand. won't work. My baby dies; there is my baby My sporadic Church attendance and half-hearted blue and dead and always people with angry attempts at tithing and fasting haven’t provided a faces asking why I let my baby die. I hold my very strong foundation, and I’m now trying to baby and cry and apologize for my imperfect re-establish those basic principles. But even a breasts. house built on solid rock can be flooded, I’ve When I wake, I have one hand on my got to move my home to safer, higher ground, fetus-swollen belly and one hand on my sili- | cone-swollen breasts, and my first thought is of my mother. She worships large breasts and “positive affirmations,” and mentions Jesus Christ during Relief Society lessons and family prayer. Mother always lamented the smallness is EXPONENT II 19906 esomabaesqfdoerfrvsonnueyfeece redaes oa mr hppsrstmpyeiysattttehrmy o,ihiasr ep ro npo fubemeetneeandsrr dsce niermft dtaddfaie:w sh o lowg ictrelnfilhItts molt h t .h ptmh e3 ebe rb e s6roroo,oecec"h unIse daeo-e sta slytr2marnntem:hm a4nedessa oytad"t. suglei -3slgt aat3 wThlhu4zo6tie eh tninah""n e mr ennl e ih-aedcs,efrgua sh-s2 orgthfetacrm e r tf4mI l oetmie ewimer"wberoy atepreamm u3s .eps pias ase l6nfnsnalWedagbdteaf"aS:ch e . frsnhe ae.ransgt ebuanishe t o ioId ehviddiu wieefy,sitts turr h e e hh“el temaseaoaa,ba rnfytfl kor ni l teoabteathsityburdah d thg t e eeom yIf tegvteyscsnsioiailxomvmonm onctogciieiun’ am,rlelnlnst rieiapiigm. iohsnt nnkaeoeug r grgseuas,Ar. et satv i .nm.hnhiem aae ddeeld lynH aym.sdf ev“ bloio Ii aremmn’lsdueiiWhvartyigs seefde h sfsatiev miitegevni-chaovrlotciueuin,dtearlilsp nterroty .eide-w-mion unauhiwm gucanispiah.s itmdefc td on.er eh e”gsyf w ahc- ,.eolahiuH c mtihnmmpoeaeilbdb mrls duO .i eertspndns ef .paaegena ehu ulv .maeAsgi eia ksenShvnlno fstee dyAdna esvt:l i ,arh/l el flasnshe no.sttoe.x rbs ohn c mo e-ettIi y prthIlsi- e -e i s s eaeaptgsilInhsihyiaene lemu kegertecdo sne h tseh pi dti ptmc lxr.ehnhsh eea aemirg orwn irr soecwsestuHI tro.imiee ea elentshki nnghaaaason, dB tdgwv.v greyemaee m a arn yetdn tgfh e“hwd soaryTaah trap eeenhd t aaelsIad trnltst. s oneh a,a c iin hompksgIbtnvo C ehb sneeoewhtuo’mrclogri;top :e,olvuw cla loonc Toae nkuh“a llo smeilsiGnan ,tlvrI andotfyd ei gk aoerbrl es“ueIm ylrtwr n D eaeuh ,eadotnaefd ysnt od oaekieetf trtrcrcsdns a hk ;ch oot ie ,dltehl whc”i te.eMi renyno asetmy mn.osneeil e khu”lWi nalrenn rneg hn geog,a ipes t wMvenahsae yayaret stte . jMoabm,”m obpult aIs tprye ferb etchaeu smee dmiocsatl pteeorpm leA uhgamveen tnaot ion cspheaainscd kweainnc dh encsoao rdrolonet sw shoienua pti,t (bsbaruletaa ddI , dwoiCnta’hmt p tbhoeamlvalet’ oste os eaatn d idea what that is. “Will you marry me?” And we laugh. the salad if Id on’t want to), and whatever milk What a silly question. We both know it is silly, is left over from the morning milking....Grilled that our hearts have been married to one cheese sandwiches on wheat bread, hour in NTehwey Yoparikd Cmiet y.o veNre maa hu(nmdyr edfi rsdto lalgaernst )a n tahniost hterra diftoiro ns ommaek etsi mues ngoiwd,d yb uatl l tthhee rsoammaen.c e of CBaombpbbye?l l’Is’ vec hliocskt enh imn ooadmloen. g . t”h e Wohtehreer cihsi l- told me I was beautiful. Mildred (my second Here in this tiny BYU office, looking out over dren. agent) told me I was beautiful. My paychecks the filthy lake that has the capacity to create told me I was beautiful. But, I did it anyway: A beautiful sunsets in spite of its filth, we enter couple of thousand dollars, a couple of scars, each other through our eyes and are awed at the and I own a couple of silicone implants. Mother beauty there. Knowing him is my most sacred I have secret places in the room that I liked to have my modeling portfolio on the experience. He is my dearest friend, my share with my brother under the edge of the living room table, beside her scriptures. All that teacher, my pupil, my playmate, my choice olive green carpet, between the mirror and the was years ago, before my mission, before him, with whom to labor and to love. He is my back of the dresser, under the pink crocheted before college. I’ve looked into having the solace, my home, my joy. I want us to return dress of the doll that mother won't let us play implants taken out, but it is very expensive. Home in honor and exaltation, to know joy with. I tuck into these secret places all the Now I want my breasts to nurture a child, and I here, and life eternal but there is that part of me autumn leaves that they will safely hide. am afraid of my unrighteousness, afraid that my that is still afraid that we will live, like my Mother will throw them out or vacuum them breasts won’t work—my imperfect hallowed, parents, in silent hate and open misery. It was up, if she finds them, because she thinks they hollow breasts. his mother’s ring. I feel overwhelmed by the belong outside. And they do. But then I must task of keeping track of such a small, expen- belong outside also, in the eastern wind and sive object for the rest of my life. the Virginia forest. | am too young to care I want to always be joined to him, as I about good housekeeping. My world is full of The shower is only warm at a quarter of am now. I cannot remember now what living the pretending that is in children's poetry: five in the morning; so, I get up then. I don’t was before he was part of my living. This Tony and I spend long afternoons in our own mind. The Provo Temple across the street to the proposal, this means he is willing to wait for enchanted world where we pretend we have east is framed by autumn trees, and the trees are me while I serve my mission. If we can make been left alone by some tragedy and must live grace to the harsh seventies architecture. I have it for three years of engagement, perhaps we in the forest. The trees are our home; we live wanted to be here for a very long time, to wear can make it the rest of the way. We are late for off the berries and the leaves. 1 am certain this black tag, to teach the gospel in this way, all class. He walks away from me, backward, and that trees have souls, very old souls, wise and day long every day. runs into a tree. Burnished leaves dance and nurturing and long suffering, and that in “Hello, I am Sister Martin, I ama drift to the ground around this beautiful, autumn they offer their wisdom in golds and missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of clumsy man I love. scarlets given to the wind to give to us. We Latter-day Saints. This is my companion, Sister give them names, Tony and I; we speak to them, and they hear us. And we are happy. * Iverson. We would like to share a book with you...” I whisper to myself as I dress and tell I wake every morning and don’t want it to my imaginary contact about Lehi and ships and be morning. Hit my head on the cold steel of new land and disobedience and redemption. I the sixth step before I get around to actually testify of Christ to the imaginary contact and climbing the spiral staircase, unfinished steel feel the realness and goodness of Him wash over spiral staircase, welded poorly, never carpeted, me. too narrow. Climbing it makes me dizzy not The long days and the commitment because it is spiral but because it leads to her pattern and the large group meetings and the room. Her room with the blue carpet that has commitment pattern and the scriptures and the forgotten to be blue is trying to be yellow-blue, commitment pattern and the disgusting smell of or yellow-brown-blue, or maybe just trying to hominy and the commitment pattern. He is Jack die, but not gracefully as the autumn leaves Nielsen, my mission president. He is righteous outside are dying. I don’t want to go to her; I and prominent and white and male, and he asks don’t want to look into her eyes that used to be me in my first interview why I have come and chocolate brown and are now mud brown. I VOLUME 19 NUMBER 4 By a Woman Still in Her get it out through the proper channels at the Instead of pressuring me to speed up and finish, Fourth Month Only proper time. Well, anytime would be fine. I sat they insisted I slow down and wait. Instead of for stretches on the toilet to encourage my large scheduling their intrusions or civilly asking for a Alyson VonFeldt intestines to give up what was not theirs to keep. return call, they descended like thoughtless Lawrence, Kansas When the edge of the seat pressed uncomfort- visitors who would never go home ably on the backs of my legs, Doug helped me I was unadaptable and, therefore, T find a footrest ofju st the right height. A laundry unreliable. I was giving excuses on the phone he more a woman aims for basket? Too high. A hat box? No. Finally, a I heard of other pregnant women who personal identity and quadruple combination from the study was sat at their desks in cold sweats, garbage cans autonomy, the more she perfect. Our questions about the use of this underfoot. But I could not get up and sit at my develops her imagination, book were overshadowed, like everything else, desk. Another woman I know drove daily to the fiercer will be her by my immediate carnal requirements. work with a bag under her chin—she could struggle with nature—that is, The days moved so slowly. I could only vomit and steer at the same time. But even ifI with the intractable physical focus on the most basic functions of physical thought I might be sick, I asked Doug to go to laws of her own body. And being. I could not even think of eating the the store. The mail box was even too far away. the more nature will punish vegetables I knew my baby needed—the folic I could not get up, and I could not go out. But her: do not dare to be free! acid, the other vitamins. Canned green beans perhaps I should have gotten up, and I should for your body does not were the best I could do. Surely this was not have gone out. Perhaps I should have been less belong to you. natural—I should feel better than ever so that I afraid of throwing up. I was a wimp. “Did you — Camille Paglia could compose the perfect diet for that being do any work today?” said Doug. No. “Did you inside me in its most critical stages of formation. feel well enough to work last week?” said my Femininity forced itself on me, and I I was furious. I was enraged. No other animal boss. No. I'm sorry. came face to face with what I am. I had loved on earth experiences morning sickness. My I sit down and cry, and even as I cry the the femininity of soft skin, lush mascaraed creator had laid something on me that was not tightness in my throat brings gag after gag. I'm eyelashes, shining hair, and perfumes that rational. It was a spiteful act, and I could not crying, and I'm gagging, and I'm a pathetic lingered on my silk blouses between wearings. understand why. human. I'ma pathetic woman. But my femaleness tured on me and threw me The work piled up on my desk. I was My nature, naked, backed me into a on the couch, into the kitchen haltingly to tum out of control of myself. comer and thumped me on the chest. I bit back potato flakes and cream like a vicious animal; flight of wheat into hourly was not my choice. But my sustenance, onto the fight is only with myself. bathroom floor in a Yet, I lie on my heaving heap. couch, and I read poems by A shower was mothers who hold their the greatest adventure of babies and feel joy. This is my day. I had once what I want. I did not know climbed under the water pregnancy would be like every moming as a this, but I do not regret it. I thoughtless prerequisite. am not the first to be torn Now, I could not endure between earth and sky. this event until late Just as my abdo- afternoon. Only after men begins to expand, I eating pea soup, and begin to understand what I waiting for just a little am. I am not fooled digestion—but not too anymore. I am Western much—did I adjust creation, swerving from pelting drops to a pres- nature, but failing to sure and temperature of obliterate it. I am pregnant mildest effect. Even solipsist. I am Paglia's then, the white dark chthonian machine, trapped corridor of my bath in my increasingly wavy, would reel, and I would watery body, forced to hurry to finish and crawl listen and learn from into my bed—not even something beyond and yet thoroughly dry—close within me. And | anticipate my eyes and try to relax, to be found there asleep that the days ahead will by my husband at 5:30, teach me more. My friend Betsy tells me that her nine- matted, unparted damp month morning sickness hair, and soft naked skin. At least my skin was still prepared her for the impos- sibility of scheduling soft. But my over- perspiring underarms, as likely to make me gag Pregnancy slapped me in the face. I motherhood. After birth, she was ready for as a whiff of frying tortilla, would soon undo my thought that it would be like taking on a new endless crying nights and the other inconve- afternoon's work and remind me that I was project, just so many Gantt charts oftr imesters, niences ofch ildren that, although I have heard of loosing the battle to remain what I thought I fetal development, and stages of labor. I would them, I do not yet know of them. * was. arrange things to accommodate its requirements. I turned inward, focusing my efforts on But the corporal demands thrown up for me getting something in my stomach in order to were qualitatively different from the corporate Alyson Skabelund VonFeldt keep what was already there, there, and then to demands I knew how to absorb and influence. was born December 30, 1993. 8 EXPONENT II 1996 the wall directly opposite my chair: “If you discussed the issue, the more emotionally The Unexpected Choice tthhei nkr ectehpatt ioynoius t.m”i ght be pregnant, please inform utunrcmoomiflo rhtaadb ljeu stI abbeocuatm em.o veWdh enm e mtyo minyn erfe et and Linda Paxton Greer I had been in many x-ray rooms with flight, the instructor quoted, “A mother should Provo, Utah lots of these signs, but this time, the sign seemed do everything in her power to preserve her life.” to speak to me. I began to think I was going I felt as if my heart would collapse as I crazy. Eventually, I got up and moved to the contemplated a need to really consider ending rs. Greer, you must abort your other side of the room, hoping to avoid the my pregnancy. I consulted with my bishop. I baby.” The words wrapped me power of the sign. I felt rather stupid. The fasted and prayed fervently. I had my name in horror. They offered a solution presence of the sign became so annoying that I placed on the prayer roll. worse than the problem could was motivated to get up, cross the room, and The following week, during my regu- ever be. I had cancer; now, I was inform the receptionist that they should place a larly scheduled oncology appointment, the pregnant, and Dr. Krueger wanted me to abort. lead shield over my pelvic region. The recep- doctor said, “Linda, you have seven children. How could I bear it? tionist informed me that such a thing was not They need a mother.” possible because the area that they needed to I went home, driving slowly to stretch my time alone to think and ponder the gravity of It was May 1986—a time when life was shoot was located in that region. ybleeofartrn .,b renIaonst t J atanaubkaoernu yt, a wtIhaey f .is ristIz te d hioasfdc ao nvosetmr aelbdle eanp elaa.u mgpoM oydi n my that. We I“n Tse’aemid d ,s to“or Wryef,li nld,M rosgu.ot Gairhfee eyarod.u,.’ rtWeh ee pn.rc”ea gnn’atn td.o” ctohfoa mto ptashtsearstsi eomwneh ntoa. n dh aTvuhene dyec rhdsoitsdea nnn deiaenbdgo ratf iomoron t.t hheorIs. en owwIh konh aovwe husband’s employer was changing insurance I thought, “Pregnant? That’s absurd. I have wrestled with this agonizing resolution. It companies and had not decided on a new one. am only six weeks post-op." is not easy to make such a decision. Like the Our family finances were in such deplorable I was sent to the hospital lab to have my individual right to choose or reject chemo- shape that I didn’t dare see a doctor unless a blood drawn for a serum pregnancy test. I was therapy treatment, deciding whether to have an good insurance policy was in place. In February, asked to wait for the results and informed that it abortion must be a very personal choice, one that I managed to severely damage our only car would take about twenty minutes. I read another cannot fairly be judged by another. Because of when I swerved to miss an oncoming vehicle. It magazine. Finally, a fresh-pressed nurse came the weight of the issue, the choice must be made was still driveable, but the windows on the into the room and crossed to the nurses’ station. through deep thought, fasting, prayer, and driver's side were all broken out, and we did not “Hello, Dr. Krueger. Mrs. Greer’s listening to the Spirit. have the necessary funds to replace them. It is pregnancy test is positive.” At that point, I remembered a television very cold in northern Virginia in February. Then, Positive!? There was simply no way I interview with Sammy Davis, Jr., that I saw about mid-March, the new insurance company could be pregnant. when I was fifteen. The commentator asked, was chosen, and the lump had not become “Nurse, maybe my blood sample was “What was the most difficult thing for you to larger—a good sign. I made an appointment confused with someone else’s.” overcome in Harlem?” He replied, “Not having with Dr. Fanale, my obstetrician. He examined “Mrs. Greer, you’re the only patient who a mother. But I believe anyone can overcome me and diagnosed fibrocystic tumors. But, he has been in the laboratory this morning. There any obstacle, even not having a mother.” wanted me to see a general surgeon, “just to be is no mistake. Dr. Krueger wants you to come to I believed that my children could sure.” Two weeks later I had a biopsy. his office right away.” survive without me. I pictured their faces; I Prior to the surgery, my surgeon Dr. As I was walking through the hospital wanted to hold them close and cry until I was Seamons said, “Linda, I don’t believe it is corridors toward the parking lot, the wave of exhausted. I knew if I aborted my baby, I would cancer. You are simply not a candidate. I’d tell surprise and shock melted into sheer elation that always wonder what he or she would have you if I thought it was a possibility.” Twenty- a new life had begun and would add to our looked like and that when I looked at my four hours later in the recovery room it was a quiver of seven children. By the time I reached children, I would be reminded of the one I didn’t different story. With tears running in rivulets the exit doors, I was skipping and shedding tears have and would be rendered a mental cripple of down his cheeks, he said, “Linda, it is cancer. of joy at the prospect of having a new little baby. a mother. My thoughts felt like revelation. The breast will have to be removed.” Dr. Krueger was not nearly so excited. The cloud was lifted from my mind, and I said, “Oh, but how will I feed my In fact, he was angry that I would do such an I decided that beautiful sunny day that I would babies?” He gently but firmly replied, “Linda, irresponsible thing. The truth of the matter was have my baby. IfI d ied, my family would be there will be no more babies,” But the unmistak- that never in our whole married lives had we taken care of by the Lord. If I lived, my joy able voice of a kind Heavenly Father assured me tried to prevent pregnancy, except this time. would be full. A peace came to my soul that I that the “no more babies” part was untrue. His Then, Dr. Krueger delivered the blow: “Mrs. had not known for weeks. I knew this decision Spirit surrounded me, despite the grim diagno- Greer, you must abort this baby. Your cancer is was right for me. sis. estrogen sensitive. If you continue with the So, I opted for neither an abortion or Four days later, I underwent surgery for pregnancy, expect large tumor growth and chemotherapy. My post-pregnancy scans a modified radical mastectomy. The following possible death. You have a 40% chance of showed no evidence of cancer. I enjoyed week, Dr. Krueger, my oncologist, recom- living, at best.” remission for nearly four years. Although I have mended six months of chemo and radiation Now, I was the one who was angry. In since had a recurrence, undergone surgery, and therapy because of the lymph node involvement. his stiffly starched manner, he presumed to be chemo and radiation therapy, I have been in I resolutely resisted the idea. I had several God, capable of deciding my fate with his remission again for two years. The love, unity, friends who had undergone chemotherapy with statistics and theories. How does anyone and joy that our little boy has brought to all the less than desirable results. One died after a measure a mother’s heart? members of our family is worth the price. He is seven-year struggle with what I believed was I drove home in a somber mood. My deeply loved. If I am suddenly taken from my chemotherapy—not cancer. I struggled for husband and I made an appointment with Dr. family, Justin will be a constant reminder to several weeks about my decision. I had not Krueger for the next afternoon. At the conclu- them of how much we love each other. decided firmly to follow the advice of the sion of the appointment, I had a lump in my It’s true 1986 was not a good year, but doctors, but I was weakening. I knew that it was throat, but anger was still my dominant emo- 1992 is the best. Nothing in the world is more important to obtain baseline x-rays for the tion—angry that I could have been placed in exciting than my five-year-old putting his arms medical staff to have in evaluating my progress. such a dilemma. How could I have the wisdom around my neck and whispering in my ear, “I On the scheduled day, I entered the all to choose between our baby’s life and my own? loves you, Mommy.” And nothing in the world too familiar x-ray suite, signed the register and Several days later, I attended a Church is more comforting than knowing the Spirit seated myself in a comfortable chair with a Institute class entitled “Contemporary Issues.” speaks in a thousand small ways about our favorite magazine to pass the time. As I began The topic was abortion. The sources of author- deepest needs and that His answers bring us to peruse the magazine, I found myself becom- ity were messages and letters from our Church light. # ing increasingly uncomfortable with a sign on leaders and the scriptures. The longer we VOLUME 19 NUMBER 4 9 Human Beings, Human Doings, or Human Gettings? Barbara Mackelprang Salt Lake City, Utah hen we entangle our “being” with our modem medicine, I survived. The grew, their beings were unconditionally “doing” and “getting,” we are lost doctors restored my heart beat. loved. The doing and the getting added when changes occur. What happens to Surviving the operation, however, fun and, yes, very interesting and us when we get sick? We can also was not the biggest hurdle. I came challenging experiences, but it’s still become critical of what we are “doing home no longer able to do many of their core essences that I cherish today. to get” in order to “be,” leading to an the activities I enjoyed. I could not We each can have this love of entanglement of negative talk to get out of the house and go as I once self and even the cherishing of self. ourselves. This self-talk is most often did. My life had been full of “doing We can be appreciative of whom we self-degrading. to get”; so, immobility was very are first and then our doings and I once overheard a very young difficult for me. gettings can be enjoyed and appreci- nephew as he was talking aloud to I went into a deep depres- ated more fully, even when they fall himself, making some very critical sion, and because of this experience, short of our expectations. It is when remarks about what he should have I began a different journey, one in we find our core being that we can done. I asked him if he had a voice in which I learned to value myselfa s a discover gratitude for self and thrive in his head that said mean things to him. person—my desires, my essence—in the world, realizing that we are not His eyes grew big, and he dropped his a totally new way. I overcame the doctors, or mothers, or fathers but that head. I asked him who he thought this depression; however, it was in we are beings practicing the art of voice was and he exclaimed, “Satan.” “dying” that I eventually learned of a “doctoring,” “mothering,” or “father- “Ts it really Satan or is it you talking to far deeper meaning of living, to value ing,” thereby fully and completely yourself?” I asked. A little embar- the promise given from God that we being who we are. It is in loving rassed, he acknowledged that it was will be judged according to the ourselves that we can truly live and really his own voice talking. This little desires of our hearts. I have learned love another. It is in the “being” that child had already learned to berate more about loving God and myself. I we transcend the “doing to get,” himself when his performance was less have learned of God’s love. In this transforming our lives and gaining the than “perfect.” loving cycle, I have also gained a power to discover our missions, our This kind of self-talk creates greater understanding of loving my destinies. pictures of ourselves doing, saying, and neighbor as myself. This journey to discovery thinking the negative. These pictures Within each ofu s is a core can affect us and others in a subtle then produce negative emotions, personality that is deeper than yet profound way. As we physically, resulting in a lack of self-worth. When learned behavior, deeper than the mentally, emotionally, and spiritually we engage in self-deprecating talk, our critical voice within. It is this core heal, we are more able to live lives of motivation to reach for mature goals is being who knows how to be accept- confidence in ourselves and others, minimized, and then we cannot fully ing, gentle, and nurturing. When we seeking not to impress but realize or understand our potential. In love ourselves that “being” is real- to be impressed with the this state of blame and shame, we ized and appreciated. It is then we goodness of mistakenly assume that we have to can understand that we are “human others. We “do” in order to “get” in order to “be” beings” not human doings” or can live who we are. In this state of negativism, “human gettings.” without we believe that we have to obtain As each of my babies was fear and approval or recognition from ourselves placed in my arms, I knew no words in faith. # as well as others, and we ruefully roll to describe my love. A newborn along this road toward self-defeating baby is totally dependent, unable to behaviors, becoming our own worst do anything to get love except “to enemy. be” and yet the infinite worth of a During surgery a few years newborn baby is beyond description. ago, I suffered heart failure. Due to I was so deeply appreciative and prayers, my own determination, my grateful for every little spirit that sense of mission, God willing, and entered my life. As my children EXPONENT II 1996

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