Kristyn Morgan

I should preface this post by saying that as far as family traditions go, we are a little bit on the slow bike in the back. Meaning, I’ve never been great at consistently remembering to actually follow through on most traditions. The tooth fairy? By kid #3 we were simply handing dollar bills out like candy. Elf on the shelf? The only year we were truly successful was the year Jordan took over elf duties–and terrified the rest of the house. (I mean how does one rearrange someone’s entire bedroom while his brother is sleeping in the bed??) Birthday festivities? Uh…can I Venmo you $50? My intentions are good but either due to lack of creativity or commitment I often fall short in the traditions category.

However, there is one tradition that we started years ago that has remained in force and it’s probably my favorite. In what I am sure was a moment of inspiration–either from heaven or Pinterest (maybe they are one in the same?) we instituted our “Book of Mormon Time Capsule” and last night was our latest unveiling. The concept is simple: in 2005 as our family started our next read through of  The Book of Mormon, we created a family time capsule. It included our own “gold plates” (which were really silver and held each of our testimonies) along with a few mementos to represent that time of life. Then each time we finish another read through, we open up our time capsule, read over our memories and start the process over again. It has been such a joy (and is also hilarious) to see how our testimonies have grown, whether our predictions have come true, and to remember what we were up to. As it usually takes us at least 2 years to finish a read thru (don’t judge us, we are a work in progress) there are usually some big changes that happen and often a few surprises. (A prediction that Trump would be impeached?? Who knew?? Oh wait–I did…)

Over the years we have included the following:

• Our testimonies
• Predictions for where we will be and what we will be up to the next time we open the capsule
• Christmas lists
• Family Home Evening Lessons
• Medals/Awards
• Newspapers and Yearbooks
• Pictures/drawings
• Random offerings that we wish we would have labeled–why are there candy hearts in there??
  

            

           

• Date everything!!! (This seems like common sense, but…)
• Sort each “opening” by clipping it together, putting it in a ziplock, etc. (Again it SEEMS like common sense, but…)
• Label WHY something is in there. (Those candy hearts had some significance but nobody can remember what that is…)
• Be creative!

We didn’t realize when we started this project just how much joy it would bring over the years. There are so many moments in our lives that we think we will remember and yet time has a way of dimming those memories. I feel like this capsule captures the heart of our crazy little family–the emotions, the thoughts, the wit (after all Parker predicted he would “get swoll” and Carter predicted “Jim and Pam will finally get married), the hopes and plans for the future. So the Morgans might not win any contests for the amount or complexity of family traditions, but for us this one is a success.

Meet my niece Annie. Annie is six years old and wants to be a clown when she grows up. I want to be Annie when I grow up.

Life has a way of throwing you off balance one in a while. Ok–maybe more than once in a while. But have you ever felt like things were humming along pretty nicely and then “wham”, life throws you a curve ball? Or maybe it actually feels more like a tidal wave? Yes. That seems like a more accurate description now that I’m thinking about it…

In those moments it can feel like a spotlight is pointed at you, shining a light on your situation for the world to see and well, quite frankly, judge. And let’s be honest, people are judging. I’m not going to pretend that I’m above being judgmental because I’m not. Although there is nothing that will humble you more than going through a life trial. I was talking with a teen recently about something she had going on and she said “I just know people are talking about me and what happened.”

“Yep,” I told her. “They are.”

I’m not going to lie to her because that’s just being unauthentic. People talk. People judge. It’s human nature. Sometimes it’s because they think they could do it better. Often it’s because it gives them a false sense of security. (“At least I don’t have the Morgans problems”). Occasionally they think they are being helpful. (Here’s some advice: usually they aren’t).

It begs the question “why?” Why do we let other people get into our heads? Why do we let other people question how we live our life-how we raise our children, live our religion, spend our money, use our time? Why should it matter?

I’m not sure it does. Outside of the obvious–not doing intentional harm to our loved ones and living within the law, it’s not really up to anyone else to make us question or feel badly about ourselves. Heaven knows we are pretty good at doing that to ourselves.

Nobody knows us except God. He knows and loves us perfectly. He knows our struggles. He knows our heart. He knows the path HE has designed for us–not the one we think He has designed for us, or others think He has designed for us.

I’m working on saving my energy to be my best self. MY best self–not the person someone else thinks I should be. I heard this great quote today: “Other people’s opinions of you are none of your business.”

How great is that? And true! Too much of our energy gets taken up with worrying about how others view us and to what end? How does that serve us?

When Annie showed up at the park in full on clown regalia, complete with magic marker make-up, a snarky teenager teased her about it. She just said “I want to be a clown.”

Its for sure–I want to be Annie when I grow up.

Oh–and I’m keeping this photo forever. Because it is AWESOME.

I was born a pleaser. Not in the “I want to fit in and be cool ” pleaser sort of way. More like the “I don’t want to give anyone any trouble or think that I’m not doing ok sort of way.” Perhaps that is pride-the desire for others to think everything is A-Ok. After all, nobody likes a whiner. I certainly don’t. The motto for our house, for heaven’s sake, was “no crying, no whining, no talking back.” Vague social media posts begging for sympathy annoy me and we all know people who seem to delight in their troubles. So perhaps it’s my “anti-whining” sentiment that contributed to the people pleasing trait.

Then there is the fact that it’s not really appropriate to air ALL of your dirty laundry. I mean, there comes a point when disclosing the nitty gritty of your life that you just start making people uncomfortable. You know that look people give when in a moment of indiscretion a person vomits the entire workings of their mind and you can see the other party visibly start retreating for the door with a look of “get this woman a therapist”? No? Maybe that’s just me…

This “people-pleasing, life is just hunky dory” mentality works pretty well. Until it doesn’t. Until one day your seemingly “perfect” life is not so perfect and becomes apparent in a somewhat (or maybe major) public way.

When that happens you have a few options. The first is the natural response: PR management. You put on a happy face, start looking for a positive “spin” on your personal life sensational headline, and go full throttle on damage control. Because people pleasers at heart are experts at damage control.

If that strategy doesn’t prove successful or requires too much energy, the next approach is what I refer to as “pulling up the drawbridge”. When your current trial is taking up so much energy you don’t have time for damage control, instead, you close the door (literally and figuratively). This is demonstrated by going into dark mode where you avoid people as much as humanly possible. If it isn’t possible then this is done with a smile on your face and the response “everything is fine” when those you are forced to associate with notice your less than normal cheery demeanor. In actuality you’re a psycho mess but you don’t want to bother anyone else with that nonsense and more importantly, letting someone else know means you actually have to start dealing with it as opposed to playing Candy Crush for hours on end while lying in your pjs on the couch with a stack of Oreos.

Or so I hear…

But I’m here to tell you that I have discovered a better way. And it’s a scary way at first for us people pleasers. It’s called “vulnerability”. Perhaps you’ve heard of it. Perhaps that word makes you roll your eyes or retreat in fear. Perhaps, if you’re a people pleaser who is currently strung so tight you will explode any minute, you might try giving it a shot.

Vulnerability means admitting first to yourself, and then to those you are close with that things aren’t ok at the moment. It means saying “I’m struggling,” or “life is hard” or “I have no idea how to handle this right now and I might be losing my mind”. It means opening your soul a little bit and confronting the fact that your life might be less than perfect. Vulnerability is not vague booking or whining or airing all your dirty laundry. It’s sharing your worries with someone you trust–not the internet.

It’s scary at first. But then something happens. Something wonderful.

A weight is lifted. Not just for you but for those you share with. Because here is a little secret: their life isn’t perfect either. And now you’ve opened that door-that space-to allow them to be vulnerable too. To recognize that it’s ok to admit that life has thrown a curve ball.

In the last several years our life has thrown us a few curve balls. In actuality that’s been happening for a long time. Because life is not meant to be easy. Growth doesn’t come from easy. Yet too many of us think that when things are hard that we are doing something wrong and even more disturbingly, that we are in this alone.

Alone is what leads to anxiety, to stress, to depression, to chronic people pleasing.

Alone is scary.

You don’t have to be alone. I have learned by experience that when we allow ourselves to say that we are going through a rough patch, something wonderful occurs. Empathy arrives. True friendships emerge and peace comes not just for yourself but for those you can confide in. Because there is a solid chance that they are struggling as well.

My challenge to all my fellow people pleasers is this: try being vulnerable. Try admitting that you could use some friend therapy. Or professional therapy. Try sitting with the idea that it’s ok to say you could use some help.

And then watch the magic happen.

For the past two weeks the teachers in our school district have been on strike as they negotiate a new contract. If you’re reading this chances are you have at least read some of my FB posts discussing these events. I have found the entire process bewildering.

Truth be told I have never been very interested in politics. I have literally voted for a local representative based on their sign alone. And actually that’s not entirely accurate. I voted for them because I couldn’t stand their opponent’s sign. (I’m not proud of that admission, but it gives you a glimpse into how involved I’ve been in the past. )

So when the negotiations started here in our district I had very little interest. I figured both sides would sort it out and life would continue as usual. Except it wasn’t getting sorted out and suddenly I was seeing and hearing a lot about it. I started to do a little research and then a little more and before I knew it I was involved in my local political scene. It’s not so important what “side” of the issue I am on (and to be frank my “side” depends on what part of the issue we are discussing).

What’s important is what can I do moving forward? What can we ALL do?

A few months ago Dave and I were invited to a Strategic Planning Meeting for the district. We sat with other community leaders and parents as the district presented it’s plans for the next five years. There were lots of slides and graphs and numbers and many, many programs discussed. But at the end of it I realized something:

Public schools cannot make up for what is lacking in our homes.

Because of the breakdown in homes we are seeing the effects in the classroom. There is more poverty. There is more instability. There is less discipline and good examples. There is more anxiety, stress and depression. It’s falling on the district and educators to try to fill in the gaps. And it’s not enough. It will never be enough.

Public schools cannot make up the difference. But we can.

We start in our own homes where we raise children with love, compassion and an expectation to strive for good things. We teach them respect for others, responsibility and how our actions affect those around us. We teach tolerance, patience and that bullying is not ok. We teach failure and resiliency and that they don’t need to be perfect. We teach them their true worth–where they came from, why they are here and where they are going. We love our spouses and ourselves. We watch our tone, eliminate sarcasm and speak with love.

We do better.

And then we reach out.

We volunteer in the classroom to alleviate some of the educator’s load. We set an example for the children who don’t have what we can provide. We chaperone field trips, become a lunch buddy, serve in a booster group or on a PTA board. We learn who our children’s friends are and invite them into our homes. We offer rides and attend their school events to show we value what they do. We volunteer our time and talents and reach outside ourselves to fill in the gaps.

That’s what we do. That’s what we must do.

Lets start filling in the gaps.

It is no secret amongst those that know us that we love Disneyland. And by love, I mean, we can’t shut up about it. My love of Disney started on my first visit as a teenager way back in 1980 something on our first “real” family vacation. The Magic Kingdom did not disappoint. I loved everything about it.  The rides, the churros, the parades and those handsome boys dressed up like princes. So handsome…I determined then and there that I would return to the Happiest Place On Earth for my honeymoon.

Fast forward a few (short) years and my dream came true. I was at Disneyland with a boy who loved it about 100 times more than I did, celebrating our recent marriage. Truth be told, neither of us can remember anything about this trip except the fact we were exhausted, but a tradition was born.

The only thing better than experiencing Disneyland yourself is watching your kids experience it. It is…magical! And I’ll be frank–navigating 6 kids through the parks on a baking hot August day is it’s own brand of exquisite pain.  (But on the flip side, after years of taking 6 kids to Disneyland you will experience a new joy when you return as a couple once again). I know what you skeptics are saying:  it’s crowded and cliche and ridiculously expensive. And you would be right. But that doesn’t stop me from tearing up a little every time the welcome music plays each morning and crying a little at the closing refrain of Fantasmic.

Because to us, going to Disneyland is like going home. Walking through the gates I can remember the look on 3 year old Davis’s face as he saw the castle for the first time. Memories of each child riding their first “big” ride (usually after much cajoling/bribing) and Kennedy’s visit with a real life Disney princess are so sweet. We have celebrated birthdays, lost teeth, (lost children )and even experienced a full on brother brawl in the middle of the Blue Ribbon Bakery on Main Street. We have had countless visits with friends and family, performances with the high school band and the dance company and introduced a daughter in law to the magic of Disneyland.

It’s still ridiculously expensive. I know we are fortunate to be able to make this a tradition and I try not to take it for granted. We forego other things in life because we love Disneyland so much. It’s crowded–and getting more so. (I’m still hoping they figure out an answer to this dilemma) And it’s cliche, so cliche.  But that doesn’t stop me from going back each year.  Because it’s just so…magical.

We all have things like this that make up our family culture. Maybe it’s a yearly backpacking trip.  Maybe it’s renting a house at the beach. Maybe it’s a cabin in the mountains. Sure, Disneyland is fun but it’s the memories we make each time that make it special–and memories can be made anywhere.  So I’m curious:  What is YOUR Disneyland? Why do you love it and how did it become your family culture?  (And more importantly, when am I invited??)

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A few years back I wrote a blog post that was picked up by another website. Basically it discussed the perils of perfectionism, but after the submission was approved they asked that I change the title. Apparently “Mediocrity, Let’s Celebrate” was not quite the vibe they had in mind.

Interesting isn’t it–this concept of mediocrity being unacceptable? We live in a world of social media that seems to put the best foot (body/house/wardrobe) forward and more often than not, overlooks the mundane. If you’ve been following my blog for very long I think it’s pretty clear that I do, in fact, celebrate mediocrity. I’m convinced the older I get, that this societal quest for achievement, excellence and perfection is actually contributing to the rise in anxiety and depression.

Is it wrong to be good at something? Of course not! I’m pretty decent at some things: planning events, fundraising, and building connections through relationships. I believe the Lord has blessed me with those talents and it would be a shame to not develop them. But if all I ever did was post about how much money I raised, or how successful an event was or the fun people I get to hang with, you’d get a pretty narrow view of what my life is like. The truth is I’m pretty average, and often downright terrible at any number of things.

So just for fun, here’s a few:

1. COOKING: ok–no big surprise here. It’s common knowledge that we consume a large amount of bean and cheese burritos, Costa Vida, and Wendys. I could change this if I tried a little harder. I just don’t want to.

2. PICKING GIFTS: I’m a terrible gift giver. Like, really bad. When people ask me my kid’s favorite candy/color/movie/whatever I never know. Being observant is not my strong suit and this makes finding the perfect gift pretty near impossible. I wish I was better and if I put my mind to it, I could probably remedy this situation.  Probably..

3. TRADITIONS:  You know those families that have super cool holiday traditions?  Yeah–we don’t. One time the missionaries asked us what fun traditions we had for conference weekend and the kids thought for a loooong time and the only thing they came up with was “well, sometimes if Mom remembers we get Costco muffins.”

4. PICKING PAINT COLORS (or any other decorating adventure): One need only to see my recent minor freak out when I came home and saw my newly painted blue house. I was so concerned about it that I called Dave who calmly said, “If you don’t like it we’ll just pay to have it repainted.” That there, is true love people. And then, as I’m standing in front of the house watching as the worker is about to paint my door yellow I had another minor freak out which brought the painting to a halt as I expressed fear that we were going to look like over zealous sports team fans, what with the blue house and bright yellow door. Thank heavens that Carlos had the where with all to tell me “It’s ok Miss. We paint the house yellow today. You don’t like it, we paint it white tomorrow.”  God bless that Carlos.

So there it is–4 things I really sort of stink at. And you know what? I’m ok with it. It makes me, well…me. When we figure out that we don’t have to be perfect at everything, or even most things, then we learn to accept and love ourselves for all that we are. Is Carlos telling his family about the crazy lady that he worked for the other day? Probably.  Do my children return a good number of the gifts I get them? Pretty much. Does the staff at Costa Vida know my order by heart? Most definitely. Do I mind? You know…not really.

Mediocrity:  Let’s Celebrate!

I’m sitting here on the eve of my 46th birthday reflecting on life and thinking, “how did I get here?” To be quite frank, it doesn’t seem that long ago that I was hopping into my Guess jeans, pulling hot rollers out of my hair, jetting to school in my Chevette and making plans for the high school prom.

But it was that long ago–30 years to be exact.

My sweet daughter in law, Tessa recently wrote a blog post that really spoke to me. In it she talks about a phrase an older friend uttered to her that made her think. It’s got me thinking too.

He said, “Every dream I ever had came true.“

It is easy in life to get caught up in all the things that are going “wrong.” Wayward children, tight finances, disappointment, stress and worry. I have this bad habit of spending too much time focusing on a problem and not enough time taking a step back to gain perspective. (Thank heavens I have Dave. He’s great at talking me off the proverbial ledge). But as I pondered that phrase I realized, all my dreams HAVE come true–the dreams the Lord has for me. You see, quite frankly, He knows what I need best.

He knew that even though it can be awfully challenging raising six kids, that buried somewhere within me is the skill set to do it. Not perfectly and often pretty messily, but I’ve got it. And it’s growing and stretching me in all sorts of uncomfortable (yet amazing) ways.

He knew that my perfect match was a 6 foot tall, Disney loving, scripture quoting, hilarious and devoted man. Has it always been easy? No way–but it’s always been right. In fact it’s because it’s not always easy that it makes it right.

He knew that even though I was a shy, scared of my own shadow, type of child  by putting me in uncomfortable situations I would stretch and grow and learn to love speaking and writing and just chatting up people. That it would lead to amazing opportunities, hidden talents, and surprising friendships.

If you had asked me 30 years ago what I wanted out of life, it would be pretty close to where I am now. Did I see the path that would get me here? No. I wouldn’t have chosen some of the trials, the sorrows, the guilt, the hardships. But 30 years ago I didn’t know that it would be because of the trials, the sorrows, the guilt, the hardships that all my dreams would come true.

And they have. They really have.

Photo by Fineas Gavre on Unsplash

I’m pretty sure the universe is mocking me. Actually, probably in more than one way but there is one particular area that it seems to be telling me “yeah–we’ll see about that.”

Those that know me well know that I have a strict “no pet” policy. I’m not making any judgements on those of you that have pets (unless you insist on bringing them into Target strapped to your chest in a baby carrier), and contrary to what my kids think, I do not dislike animals. I just don’t want them in the house.

I half jokingly keep a list of why we never have, nor never will have a pet. It starts with the practical (allergies, hair on the furniture, having to hire a sitter when you leave town, etc) and graduates into the psychological (I can’t worry about keeping another creature alive and I hate goodbyes). So I’m not willing to budge on the policy.

Nature is mocking my policy.

Currently we have two birds nests taking up residency on or in the house. The first is in the vent over my kitchen window and aside from some slightly obnoxious chirping, it’s not that big of deal.  However, the second bird family has decided that right in the front of our house where we park the van is a perfect place to roost which means every time you walk past, a bird swoops out at high rate of speed inches from your head and scares the living daylights out of you, Alfred Hitchcock style.

This comes after a long line of invasive nature issues. First we had to cap the chimney because a giant collection of swifts would roost up there and get stuck inside. There was the infamous mouse episode (which you can read about here) which was followed by the freaky “squirrel in the attic” debacle. And it got worse. One evening I was sitting in the family room and could hear the weirdest squeaking noise. I could not figure out where it was coming through so I started crawling around the room looking for what electronic device was emitting the sound. Eventually I found myself in front of the fireplace and looked up to see two beady eyes staring at me. It was A BAT!!!  That is the epitome of horror because let’s be honest, I have some crazy mouse phobia and we all know a bat is just a mouse with wings!  Ughh…I was so worried that bat would squeeze it’s way through the cracks in the fireplace screen that I did the only thing I could:

I duct taped my yoga mat to the front of the fireplace and waited for that sucker to perish.

See what I mean???  The universe is mocking me.

I’m starting to see that it’s just a metaphor for other things in my life. I’ve had lots of policies over the years that stemmed from naivete and good intentions, but someone else had other things in mind. My kids make mistakes, plans fall through, choices have to made and lessons learned. I can’t quite figure out what the lesson is I’m supposed to learn from these freak invaders but I know there is a lesson there.

And it better not be “get a pet…”