Trekking With Pioneers

In the second week of July, Eric and I set out with 11 outstanding young people and trekked through the wilds of Pennsylvania for 3 days. We did it for love. We also did it for faith. For that 3 days, we were Ma and Pa Nuss.

There are only10 in this photo because one of our young women came the next
day because of her work schedule. We finished with all 11. 

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Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

I'm writing this on a Saturday night but by the time it publishes, things will have changed for Eric and me, and it goes much deeper than just Daylight Savings Time. It has to do with Eric's church assignment. Church is one of the major pillars of my life's architecture, so a change at church is a big change.

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When I Become Unrecognizable

Disclaimer: This post will quite possibly read as self-centered and shallow. I know we all have problems, and I'm not writing about big ones here, but they matter to me. Feel free to skip it, but it's what I'm thinking about.

It's inevitable as we age for our appearance to change.

I am mentally aware of this fact. Seeing it unfold before my eyes and become viscerally real is sometimes a challenge.

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Close To My Heart

In my church, everyone is an active participant in the actual organization. Unless you choose not to, if you come to church even semi-regularly, you'll have a job to do, either something specific on Sundays, during the week at auxiliary activities (Youth and kids) or else something general that you do to support other people. It's hard to be a passive Mormon, and that's good. We refer to these assignments as callings because we feel that our local leaders are inspired through prayer to know who should fill a particular assignment. It's a good feeling to know that you're needed, whether as the designer and printer of the Sunday program, the teacher of a class of 6 year olds, or the Bishop (lay pastor) of the congregation. All the positions are filled from the general membership. No one is paid, and no one can campaign for or get elected to a position, so there is a kind of equality. Your congregational leader might be the guy who fixes your air conditioner or the president of a Fortune 500 company. There is no differentiation in church service. There is no actual prestige attached to more visible callings, only more of a time commitment and different responsibilities.

This video explains my motivation for always accepting these assignments, even if they require time and effort on top of all else that I'm involved in.


For most of my life, I've worked with the children and youth, except for a couple of brief interludes doing other things.
But now...drum roll please....I'm a Ward Missionary.

Yes, my assignment, or calling, has changed. It is a bittersweet thing to end one calling and begin a new one, for lots of reasons. I have a feeling inside that is part sadness that I won't be working directly with the girls and women with whom I've had close association for several years, and part excitement to be working with the fine young men and women who are serving missions in our area. I won't be working with youth, which will feel strange and a bit lonesome at first, but I will get to do similar things to what my son in California is doing and my daughter will soon be doing.

My assignment is to find those who would be interested in talking to our full-time missionaries and learning more about the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. That's the main goal. Finding those who are interested or who have felt led to spiritual seeking means I have to meet people, set a good example, and be willing to talk to just about anyone. I'll also act as a general support to the full-time missionaries that serve in our congregation as well as befriend and support those who have recently joined the church.

If you're a friend of mine not of my faith, don't worry. Hopefully I won't really change my behavior at all. Hopefully you already know that I love you no matter what and would never force my faith on you, but instead will continue to try to be a good friend and stand ready to answer any question you might have, even the hard ones. If you're not interested, that's okay, but I want you know that the truth is out there if you want to investigate.

I'll miss the girls I worked with. Much more than they'll miss me, for sure. They'll hardly know I'm gone and I don't say that out of self-pity. I was a helper, not a focus. A shining beauty of the lay ministry of our church is that no one really has ownership of a method or program. It's all focused outward, on trying to build and help each other. So, the program I just left will continue on, with barely a blip, and the girls will find helpers in their new leaders. The other gal who was released along with me mentioned this-that we're the ones with the big hole left in our lives (I would say I spent anywhere from 5-15 hours a week on this assignment, depending on the intensity of the various activities). Fortunately I've always got plenty of adventures, both new and old, to fill my time. Hopefully the lovely girls I worked with will know, most of all, that they're loved and that there are grownups who care enough to work hard on their behalf. Then hopefully that feeling will confirm the feelings they have that they're loved by God and that He cares about them. If you operate on that basic feeling, it's a lot easier to stay anchored in this crazy world.

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More Catching UP!

Have you ever wondered what a Mormon Youth Dance is like? It's a heck of a lot of fun and one of the things I was involved in over the course of Friday and Saturday was helping the amazing kids in my church who planned, decorated and put on a really fun party for about 300 kids from all over the central Maryland area. I really believe in letting kids take the lead and do their thing, and they just never disappoint. My job was to buy and supervise the food, which was great because everyone loves the provider of refreshments!

One thing we Mormons excel at is refreshments, and we can do miraculous things like I did and provide enough knoshing for 300 kids for 3 hours and only spend $75 bucks. Yeah baby!

Anyway, here is a glimpse into the very normal, fun-loving lives of a bunch of quite stellar young people, at least in my opinion:

It was a Medieval theme, so here are two of the organizers
taking a break as king and queen. 

And here they all are, dancing away. I do love working with teens. They are crazy and brave and funny and smart and so strong in today's sometimes confusing world. I hope I get to work with them for a long time yet because they keep me young. When I'm at a dance like this, it's all I can do to not run out there and join them like I used to do when I was their age. I like that connection.

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66 Months

For almost exactly the past 66 months, up until this past Sunday,  my husband had the unique opportunity to be the Bishop of our Ward. That means he was the minister of our congregation, except in our church, there is no paid ministry, so he did this in his spare time, as a volunteer, in addition to working full time as an attorney. He did all the things that ministers do--gave many talks, taught many classes, counseled the ward members, performed weddings, officiated at funerals, visited the sick and lonely, helped the suffering, oversaw all the staffing of the congregation for the children, youth, women's, missionary and men's programs, spent tons of time with the youth, collected and distributed tithes and donations, etc., etc.

I think about the fact that he was doing this in the margins and tiny spaces of time remaining after being gone from about 6:30 am till almost 7 pm every day just working and commuting.

It doesn't seem possible, does it?

But yet, it was not only possible, it happened. He did it and did it well; and in ways that can only be described as being the evidence of living a life of faith and covenant, he was still successful in his work, an involved and loving dad, and a great husband to me.

Yes, he was gone a lot. It is a huge responsibility. Fortunately, he is blessed with a thick skin, an even-tempered personality and a lot of personal security about his place in the world. He loved the people he served frankly and with all his best effort. For him, it was completely a privilege to have the chance to do something like this to serve his Heavenly Father.

Since I have a thin skin, a moody personality and no personal security about my place in the world, as I look back, there were plenty of days when I was less than the perfectly supportive wife that I could have been. Overall, I did fine and things were generally good, but yes, I had some hard days.

But Heavenly Father was aware, so there was always peace in the end.

In spite of my weaknesses, the balance sheet shows an increase. An increase in love, an increase in my ability to see the best parts of my husband, an increase in family closeness and unity, an increase in our temporal blessings, and many other increases. There are ideas in religion that are hard to understand because logically they don't seem to make any sense, but to someone who lives them, they come to make perfect sense. One of those is the truth that by giving and sacrificing and not being selfish, you actually gain more real rewards than you would have otherwise. In the scriptures (Luke 9:24) it goes like this:

For whosoever will save his life, must be willing to lose it for my sake; and whosoever will be willing to lose his life for my sake, the same shall save it.

To save my own life means to act without faith, to be unwilling to see life in a broader way, unwilling to believe that there is more out there than I can actually see with my human eyes. It's to be limited to the belief that if Eric is spending 10-20 or more hours additional per week doing things for church, that there must be less time for me.

To be willing to lose your life means to live the life that God wants you to live, with the understanding that He loves you and wants what is best, just like a parent. It means to remember that my Heavenly Father's math is not the same as mine and that the time he spent serving others also somehow strengthened our marriage and brought him closer to our kids. It really, actually did.

I like that that scripture includes the word "willing." That is the main thing God expects of us-to just be willing and try. Both Eric and I were as normal and human and imperfect as we could be.  So, we just did our best. And that's the greatest tribute I can give Eric right now, is that he really, really did his best. He cares so deeply for the hundreds of people that he had living inside his head for all this time. He thought about them all the time and prayed about how to help them. He knew them all by name and could tell you something about every one of them who let him get to know them.

So, hopefully you can see, that this was a big thing for him and for our family. Culturally, in our church, people express one of two things to a Bishop and his family: Congratulations for reaching such a "prestigious" position in the church or condolences for having to take on such a terrible task. Neither sentiment fits in the slightest.  There is no prestige in it, other than knowing that your Heavenly Father trusts you with this job. And even though it is hard, it is no terrible task. It's just the simplest, sweetest, purest kind of service-the kind that asks you to dig deep but gives richly in return.  It has been a glorious time for our family, full of happy and sad experiences, spiritual maturing, opportunities to grow our faith, and chances to get better at loving other people.

He will miss this assignment a lot. Which is okay. That is another proof that he put all he had into it. I'm so proud of him for everything he did.

Here he is with the young women of the ward. He loves them
a lot, even though this is not a smiley photo. They saw his humor
and good heart. 

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A Good Ending

Wednesday night was the Eagle Court of Honor for my son Sam and his good friend Matthew.  It's the second time my pal Cathy and I have hosted a court of honor for our sons, and once again, it was a good thing.  

As usually happens with these kinds of milestones and the events that commemorate them, it was a shared moment. Thanks to good scout leaders, good friends and a few miracles, these boys accomplished a lot and now have the award to prove it.  The evening was pulled together with an absolute ton of help and I'm so grateful. It felt like a family gathering because of the people that were there. 

One doesn't necessarily think of a Scouting event as either spiritual or emotional, but this one turned out to have both of those elements. In our church, Scouting is blended with the young men's youth program, so all the things that make a good Boy Scout are applied by being active in church. The programs are perfectly harmonious. So, it is not an unusual thing to have a discussion of the rigors of the trail applied to the journey we all take through life, with Christ compared to the great guide and rescuer, the Holy Ghost compared to the great hiking buddy and the rewards of the hike compared to the rewards of a life well-lived. At our court of honor, these things were taught with tenderness, good humor and a sense of caring that really, really touched my heart. 

I have to admit I was stressed about the evening-lots of things got left to the last minute in spite of having the date picked for weeks, I always feel ambivalent about scouting events because I'm such a lame scouting mom, and it came at a crazy busy time. In the end, of course, because we never have to do these things alone, it all worked out. The help we received to pull it off was no less than heroic, seriously.  I did have to spend an afternoon branded the Unbalanced Crazy Yelling Mom because I had the unmitigated gall to express a few expectations about how things should be (ask Sam about proofreading the printed program the next time you see him), but I guess I can deal with that now that it's over and it went so well. 

One thing I don't want to forget about this particular Court of Honor was the bond that was expressed between Sam and Matthew. As I was assembling photos for little slideshows of their Eagle projects, it made me happy that Sam was there all the way for Matthew's project and vice versa. They've had the chance to experience scouts and the young men's program together from the beginning,  and it was special to see how much it meant to them. 

I also don't want to forget, though I probably will, just how good it feels to be helped and supported and not have to do all the hard things yourself. I get so caught up in feeling like I've failed if I'm not the one to provide everything. I hunker down and worry and get all defensive when people step up to rescue me. This night was so filled with love and a feeling of community--for our boys, for all the scouts, for our church congregation, etc., that my heart was really softened and I remembered to be grateful for the saving. There are so many people to thank, and I hope to do it very soon. 

Sam gets his award. We forgot to detach all the doodads from the
case, so in the next photo, I'm fumbling around with that.

The mom actually pins the Eagle award on her son. 

A previous scout leader made time to travel far to be here with
the boys. 

Matthew honors another favorite leader with a Mentor pin. 

One of Sam's most beloved leaders called all the Scouts who'd ever
been on the trail with him to gather round the campfire so he could
talk to them personally. It was a beautiful moment. His love for all
the boys was so evident, and they reflected it back in turn. 

We feel very, very blessed indeed to have Matthew and his
family in our lives. 

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Discarding the Meaningless

On Sunday evening, our family participated in a tradition that I love because it helps me remember what I want my Christmas season to really be. We watched The First Presidency Christmas Devotional, which is an hour-long program of music and speeches presented by my church. It was lovely this year, full of gentle humor, reminders about what is important and several fun literary references.  If you're curious and want a quiet, music-filled hour of pure Christmas spirit, here is the link to the entire thing. This year, the most memorable phrase for me came from Thomas S. Monson, the President of our church, when he lovingly and kindly admonished us to let the season be a time of, among other things, "Discarding the Meaningless." I have taken that to heart both literally and metaphorically and the effort has already been a good thing.

I love all the parts of Christmas, from the music to the gifts to the decorations. I truly enjoy it. I just really, really want to make sure that I'm not running around like a chicken with my head cut off to impress people (I include my kids on the list of people I might be trying to impress) or to  checklist that I did something based on what others think. Let's face it, no amount of shopping or sending of cards by some magical date will change who I am or what my pals think of me.  I want to do whatever I do because I'm motivated by love and what I truly believe about the season. But, because I usually care a LOT about what other people think, I do a LOT of running around and I'm always in the process of getting better at letting things go. As the years have gone by, I've gradually been able to simplify some of the things that either society or the voice in my head tell me are necessary, but it is still not easy.  I still compare myself to other people and usually give myself the short end of the stick, and there's the rub. I want to get rid of all the parts of Christmas that feel to me like a contest I can never win. Mostly because I feel my heart shrink a tiny bit from the ones who do "win." I want to NOT feel a little stab of something (is it jealousy? derision? I'm not sure) when others do amazing, beautiful things to celebrate the season that I will never duplicate. I love them a tiny little bit less in that moment because I feel like I lost that contest (the one I made up in my head). It just breaks my heart when I have to recover from feelings like that about people that I love.

And so I will continue to try and discard the meaningless. It doesn't matter what those things are, so I'm not going to list them here, because some things that are "meaningless" for me are incredibly important to others. If a tradition or practice truly brings you joy, then it is a good thing. Even if it causes a little stress. Sometimes even that price is not too high to pay. I just want to be aware of when it does become too costly.

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Another Tradition Upheld and Another Art Assignment

We have a few traditions that are as constant as the tides. This past weekend was one of them. It involves  food, special people, and an entire weekend of learning by listening to uplifting speeches from the leaders of my church. If you're curious what I mean by that, here is one you can listen to to get a taste.  We get to experience quite a few of these speeches over the course of the weekend and it is an important opportunity for me to take refuge from the hustle and bustle and re-focus on what I value most.

The food is legendary, a version of a spectacular breakfast that my mom started hosting over 40 years ago. I think it has always included homemade cinnamon rolls along with a few other things. It has come full circle for me, which is the part of the story with the special people and actually makes me weepy. In the early 1970's my parents had just moved 2500 miles from home and found themselves without family nearby so they invited friends to celebrate our faith by watching the conference and eating. Isn't that how it usually is? Faith and food? Anyway, families like the Muciarones and the Shipleys became part of my adopted extended family.  Over the years as our family grew, the breakfast became mostly a gathering of relatives: more and more kids, then spouses, then grandchildren. At its peak, we sometimes had 25 people all living nearby, all family.

Now it's the Nusses on the other end of the 2500 mile move (my folks just retired to Arizona this summer) and we are endeavoring to gather round us our adopted family here in Maryland and keep the traditions going. It feels right, and I hope that the  memories will continue to be warm and full of love and laughter. I also hope that the gathering will grow and change the way my parents' did. 

On another note, in case I forget tomorrow, here is this week's art assignment.  It was about complementary colors. Meaning my entire palette had to come from just two colors that are directly across on the color wheel. I chose orange and blue. I had to mix up my own orange, so I technically I started with three paints-red, yellow and blue. From there I came up with a basic palette of 6 colors and I couldn't actually use red red. I could only use forms of orange.  When you mix complementary colors, they dull each other out, which is the opposite of what happens when they just sit next to each other, when they make each other vibrate and look brighter. I do love all this color exploration. My little painting is simple enough, but it is amazing that all the colors I used were mixed from just two colors.

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Out of the Frying Pan

Yesterday ended my first week of being Concessions Manager for our high school Booster Club, and in practical terms it went okay, meaning we didn't run out of anything, nothing caught fire, and the answers that I'm making up when people ask me questions appear to be working out. It will be a major undertaking, but thankfully, I have many amazing people on the job with me, and so far, it has been really good to have something biggish to focus on.

I haven't stepped up to volunteer at school in a major way in a long time for several reasons, chief among them the fact that I was doing well just to keep my my kids alive and get them TO school because both I and my husband have been majorly involved in volunteer positions at church.

I had to choose sanity.

But then everything changed. For the last year, I have experienced my first ever fallow period of church service, having previously been in a leadership or other major calling since 1991. I guess fallow is not the best word because it's not that what I'm currently doing for my congregation is not valuable or productive, it is, and I love what I'm doing. It's just really different in that I've gone from spending hours a day on focused volunteer assignments to hours a week, and even that amounts to less time in a whole week than I used to spend in one day. Some would say that's a good thing and that I should hush and be grateful, but for me, it has actually been really, really hard. Combined with my children leaving the house in droves over the last few years, having less work to do in my church community has left a void in my life and has made it a challenge for me to focus my energy and overcome all my normal tendencies toward hermit-like behavior. I've found myself struggling with periods of depression, identity crises, loss of feelings of self-worth all sorts of other irrational stuff. I'm not beating myself up, because it has been a major lifestyle change and stress and adjustment are normal when that happens. But I have felt like something was needed. Last spring at a school-wide meeting, there was an announcement that a volunteer was needed to help with concessions for Boosters. I had the feeling then that I should step up, but I think I was hoping the feeling would pass. Then at the end of the summer at Freshman Orientation, they made the same announcement, and I made the commitment. It has been scary and energizing at the same time. I'm starting to get a feel for how much time it will take and also some ideas for how I can organize and shape things, and it feels good to be using my skills in this way again.

And oh yeah, Go Bears!

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