Slyfoot said he was half deaf, half blind, and half crazy. He said I drove him sane…
I didn’t think anything he said about himself was true. I was a realistic, but when it came to people, one on one, individually, I was an optimistic.
People say all sorts of weird things about themselves on the internet to make thems sound interesting. I’m not sure all those particular ‘half’s’ are all that interesting, but I thought it was just an attention grabber.
I didn’t know Slyfoot, or Sam as I came to know him later, irl (in real life). I just thought he was some gamer/hacker/computer geek who was way too into Linux and rosaries. I never put it all together until we started talking in earnest–and that didn’t happen until after the dream and we were making plans to get married. By that time it was too late. God had already let me set my own trap and watched quietly as I walked right into it.
I couldn’t blame Him. I had given him permission. I’d invited him to in a flippant moment. Truth be told, I had practically dared him to. I didn’t think he’d take me seriously, and I never imagined it would end up the way it did.
It all started two years after my divorce. I was in my mid thirties. I had four children, but only the two youngest lived with me: Erin, my daughter, and Josh, my youngest son. My two older boys, Benjamin and Bryce, lived with their father in the same area we had all lived together before the divorce: Katy, Texas.
At that time, I lived in the northwest of Houston in a decent, inexpensive (relatively speaking), townhome apartment, struggling as a single mother still having a difficult time with my ex, even two years after we split.
My father told me to start dating. At this time, my father had been divorced three times and married four times–twice to my mother. I told him I would work on that, with no intention of doing so. I gave the appearance of respect. I didn’t tell him that he was the last person I’d take advice on romance from, or that I couldn’t understand why he and my mother decided to get back together with him. But being my dad, I did listen and I thought about what he said, but not much more than that.
In The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (The Mormons) we have Wards instead of a Parish. And instead of a parish priest, we have a Bishop. You can’t switch wards or bishops, as some people outside the Mormon church do, with some special exceptions.
None of the clergy in the Mormon church is paid.
Temples are not like Ward buildings, where Mormons meet every week to partake of the sacrament, attend Sunday School and auxiliary meetings. They are sacred places where ordinances are performed that tie us to our families for eternity and give a glimpse of heaven. Only worthy members, those with a recommend, are allowed in the temple. To obtain this recommend, members have to adhere to the Word of Wisdom–a guideline to a healthy, God directed/centered lifestyle–pay their tithing–1/10th of their increase, be interviewed and found worthy by your bishop and your stake president, who is a little like a Bishop of the several parishes in his district.
Sometime after my father had told me to start dating, I went in to my bishop for a temple recommend interview and he,Bishop Slack, told me that I needed to start dating. I laughed nervously and told him that my father had said the same thing just a few weeks earlier.
I made no commitments and didn’t do anything more about that admonition than I had my fathers.
When I went into the interview with the stake president, I didn’t expect much small talk. Stake Presidents have even less time to themselves, and more appointments to get to, than bishops. It was a bit of a surprise then, after the stake president started with the question on how my life had been–the trials of single motherhood, how hard that is in a ward full of functional, intact families–that he told me that I needed to start dating.
I laughed and decided that I better take the advice before one of the Twelve Apostles called me. I didn’t want to take a chance on getting all the way up the chain to the prophet.
I started to take the idea of dating seriously, and tried to be open.
While I was trying to put together in my mind what I wanted from a potential husband (something I never really did when I was young) I kept writing and stayed in contact with most of my family and friends through email, livejournal (the precursor to “blogs”) or instant messaging.
Writing consumed most of my free time at this period in my life. It was a good diversion from feeling sorry for myself, my situation, being angry at the ex, and trying to adjust to being a single mom. I was delving into scifi, something I hadn’t really done before, and my first serious foray was a short story called: A Rock and a Hard Place. I posted on my livejournal and it went like this:
Richard “Rock” Klein
Captain’s Log 14.10.2665
Outside Uranus (isn’t that ironic)
Kerry Portsmith Station
Docking Bay 24
They say space is cold. But it’s not *just* cold. No one has ever really felt how cold it is and lived to tell about it. We know instinctively that anything so vast and so empty must be cold.
The irony is that all the things we spend time with while in space also make us feel cold and empty. We travel in cold metalic ships from cold empty space to cold empty space.
Machines have no disability like perception. Filled with Artificial Intelligence and hundreds of processors heating up their hard drives, they are still only metal and plastic. They don’t care if they sit in space or in a shipyard for twenty years. They do not desire warmth and companionship. They just exist.
If you have one of those new bioships it might feel a little more like a horse than a cold lifeless THING, but in the end, it’s still a machine. It gives out as much personality and intelligence as an animal and it only lives to fill it’s purpose. It knows exactly what it should be and do. There is no goal for a spaceship to one day be a station. It is what it is and will never be more.
We try to fill the spaces with ego or warm it with personality. Those of us who spend so much time in space hardly know what exaggerated bravado is. We believe the lies we tell ourselves. We believe all the fantasies we create about ourselves and the things… and people, we love – or maybe it’s just ‘want.’
I’ve given up trying to tell the difference between love and desire. I just want warmth.
We leave a planet’s atmosphere to be greeted by a sheet of black with pinpricks of light. There is so much empty blackness between each point of light, that space seems cold even without feeling the temperature drop. We spend much of our time trying to make it feel warm and filled.
The ship is cold and empty this morning, but it won’t be tonight. Tonight she comes.
Three years ago she warmed these halls. It was three years ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday. No one has ever turned me on, out and completely neutroned me like Sam did. We were good. No. That’s a lie. We were slammin’ fantastic. I know how good it can be between a man and a woman.
That’s why I hate her.
You might look at the logs from six years ago and come to the same conclusion I did: She could be a cold hearted bitch.
Still… a cold hearted bitch is better company than an empty starship.
It was just a little story told using the method of narrating from a captain’s journal, but there was a reply from someone who had never replied to my journal before and the comments after the story went like this:
Slyfoot: Hey, I’m a Sci-Fi fan!
You’ve really got me interested in what happens next!
I really am interested, it’s not just ‘coz it’s the polite thing to say.
Me: I believe you. You don’t normally drop me ‘polite’ comments just to tag my LJ, so I appreciate the attention. (and I’m serious about this story, so it’s good to have someone to help me gauge if it’s still interesting).
Slyfoot: Yeah, keep at it! Maybe you’ll be the next Orson Scott Card. 🙂
PS: I have a Star Trek tattoo, too, lol.
Me: Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.
I remember telling my new husband that love is not a pie. I told him this because there is always a worry with a widow that her heart is never wholy yours.
Love is not a finite resource that is doled out and diminished, like a cherry pie. It is an infinite resource that actually grows when given/used. You discover this when you have your second child… or your next husband.
There is no one who understands this concept more than God, our Heavenly Father. And I have never seen a scripture that says “love God more than your wife.” In fact, one could argue, “as Christ loved the church,” is an argument for loving your wife as much as God.
I think where people get confused is the phrase “Putting God First.” This was not meant to put God before your wife in your heart. While God is a jealous God, if you think of the logical gospel context (God is nothing if not logical) he would never object to you having as much love for a person as he has for you, and let’s face it, you’ll not ever get to that point in mortality. Even Christ shrunk from that responsibility.
When you “see” the scriptures or talks from modern day seers and revelators in ASL (American sign language ), you can see it is directional. It is simple. It is clear in a language that values clarity about e all else.
Putting God First is directional, not emotional. God is your navigator. Only he knows where you want to end up. Your spouse is as clueless about the final destination as you are. To follow your spouse or even ask them to lead you if you were not positive they were following the map of the only navigator available to you would be folly. It would be as senseless in real life as it is spiritually. That is, in fact, how you can testify of the truth of it. There is always a real world parallel to spiritual concepts. This is why parables are so effective.
I admit that I cringe a little when people say they put God first in their lives. The way I feel about it is my earth father would never expect me to put him before my husband, but in matters of life experience, he would necessarily expect me to defer to his earthly knowledge over my husbands.
In my opinion the gospel is not hypocritical. Concepts and precepts are applicable universally. If you wouldn’t put your earthly father before your spouse on earth, then God could not expect you to do it while heaven bound.
The phrase “I put God first in my marriage ” is too confusing to laymen, and leads communication problems in marriage itself between genders already prone to miscommunication. I think we need to defer to the deaf on this matter. “God above others. ” And it makes sense this way. It is simple, clear and does not put your spouse below you in order of importance, in fact it puts you with them, following God in the direction you should both be ne nessarily be headed if following God: upward and onward.
Feel incredibly depressed today, but I also feel like I don’t have a right to be depressed.
A good friend passed away this week. I knew there was trouble because I hadn’t heard from his wife in a while (with a personal contact). His wife was essentially my mentor in ASL. She is a professional interpreter who corrected me, taught me and helped me through my trials in the Deaf Community and with the problems of having a deaf spouse brings into a family. I generally know enough now that I have been on my own in most cases regarding ASL, but when it came to family problems, she and her husband, who just passed, were always there to help us through them.
Before this friend passed away, he had been through a coma/stroke that affected his brain. He almost died. It was remarkable that he pulled through it. The Deaf Branch prayed and fasted for him, and he recovered. He was remarkably recovered, but there were still obvious new quirks that reminded us that he had not got back everything he had lost. His wife spent a lot of time with him, helping in his recovery, the therapy, and just enduring the times when he wasn’t quite himself. This is where we became more similar as a couple than we had before. She had frustrations when her husband wasn’t quite himself like I did, and frustrations when her husband thought he could do things that he used to do before when she would have to remind him that it just wasn’t possible now, like I do sometimes too. In this way we commiserated and supported each other.
Then her husband got cancer. It must have been quite a blow to have recovered from one near death experience only to face another.
Her husband was one of My Hobbit’s dearest friends. They traded hats like some kids trade CCG’s.
I asked My Hobbit how he was doing, because I could tell he was feeling low after the Memorial for this dear friend, and he said: “I am doing ok. I didn’t cry.” And I said: “I cried for you.” And I think I did.
I am very sober this evening. I am glad that the challenges we have at our house have given us an opportunity to be so close and spend so much time together, even if it presents other challenges (like financial challenges) that are difficult to navigate. I am glad to have My Hobbit, for as long as I have him, and now I am even glad for the challenges that have brought us so low financially. I get to be with him, my eternal companion, much more often than I would be if I worked. I think, after the Memorial today, that I appreciate that much more than I ever have before.
The prophet Joseph Smith said that he felt worn and shaped like a rough stone rolling, with all the rough edges knocked off of him. I feel like that a lot – like a rock in a tumbler, with no control over who/what I hit in the process or where I will rebound. How strange and funny that we feel worn smooth or thin (like butter spread over too much bread), when the world sees us as harder and more solid. Though we feel worn smooth, we also feel less like the child full of wonder who actually found smooth stones quite remarkable…
I can’t convince my husband, who is blind and deaf, that he COULD be a motivational speaker, and he has great experiences to share… Everyone always asks about ‘how did you meet’ and ‘how do you cope’ and on and on. Why he’s not writing or speaking, I really can’t understand. He says he doesn’t like being an ‘inspiration’ to people, but heck! We need money and he needs a career. There’s one built into being an ‘inspiration’ to people, isn’t there? It’s like a writer, but with a sob story everyone actually WANTS to hear. Or at least be a comedian… right?
So… how do I convince him?
Two weeks to go for the Kickstarter program. f you have any friends that are considering self publishing their book, want some cool graphics for their page/blog/project – please direct them to my kickstarter project and direct them to the 100$ donation – the illustration for a 100$ donation is more than 1/2 off a normal commission for an illustration and I promise they will be impressed with theirs and praise your name 😀 http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1872789691/tell-me-the-stories-of-jesus-miracle-of-loaves-and
As an update, my Hobbit’s eyesight is rapidly fading. I don’t think he’ll have any eyesight at all by the end of 12 months. We really don’t have plans on how to handle this, just are taking things one day at a time at this point. If you can help fund the project above, even at 5.00, it will help me get set up and started with a job I can do from home. I really need to be home right now, and I’m trying to do everything I can to make sure we stay above water, but it’s not easy.
Am halfway to my goal on my kickstarter project! A big thanks to those of you who have helped out. There is still more to go! Need 100 more dollars! Every little bit helps and the sooner I get funded, the sooner I can start the project. Thank you so much to all who have helped! And I hope the rest of you can help me make that last 100$! URL below.