Softball and Being Real

Thursday in PE the kids were playing a sort of baseball game in the gym.  I flashed back to being a young teen maybe 14 or 15 and playing softball with Brother Bardsley as the coach.   Two memories: One of him taking me behind the scenes of everything else and standing just feet from me, throwing me the ball, helping me to catch and throw correctly.  He'd move back and back and and we'd keep throwing to each other.  That is the man who taught me to throw a ball. 

Then there was the time that I lost the game for us.  I was up to bat and still sucked at it.  I don't know if I ever got good.  But there was a lot of pressure from both teams of what to do.  To swing or  not to swing. Both teams were yelling at me.  Voices coming from every where of what to do. And who did I listen to?  Not my team, not my friends, not my coach.  I listened to the opposing team.  I listened in essence to the enemies.  I realized Thursday what that means. I didn't trust those people who had me in their care.  I don't think it was "them", (the people on my team that I didn't trust), but the main adults in my life.  I'll leave it at that for the reader to figure it out.  

Or maybe I was just stupid.  Just not mature enough intellectually yet, or maybe both?  But that is how it's been really.  I've been afraid to trust God, because of what he would or would not give me.  I got over that pre-marriage, but I'm trying to figure it out now, not knowing what words, what blessings,  what promises to still put trust in or what to ignore and lay aside.  Lay it aside because I screwed up and screwed up badly, altering the course of my life.

It's sad really to be at this place at 40.  But all I can do is to keep on keeping on and work on getting out of this mess that has me crying at strange times due to strange memories, because I can't compartmentalize. It's all related, all tied together.  What's happening now, with what happened at 15.  I just want it to go away.  To be saved from this all.  But even the financial salvation would still leave me with me and he questions of WHO am I? and What is my life's mission?  Am I a failure?  A looser?  If not, show me.  Show me how not to be.  And please make it easy, because it's been so hard and sometimes I want to throw in the towel, and not try anymore.  I want to give up.  But I don't because I have too much knowledge.  And that is what keeps me here, trying, going to church, teaching the kids in Sunday School, trying to pray and to read my scriptures.  Hoping that the cloud will clear and the light of who I am will shine through and I will find that I am valuable and there was a purpose to this.  A REAL purpose.  More than just consequences.  Is that possible? Is it possible to feel real after a divorce?  To feel real when there is no one love in your life?  To feel real when you are single and most often alone?

Pre-Mission Missionary Moments

Lets just forget the car/motorcycle accident, the court case coming up, the unemployment fiasco, and the crap with Jason and remember the past. 

When I was little- like preschool little my mom was gone and my brother had to come pick me up from preschool.  We walked the mile or so home as he was not driving yet or the cars were gone or something.  We lived in Minnesota on  Lake Excelsior and we crossed rail road tracks and went over a bridge to get to town.  Minnesota is not a rainy state, but that day it started to POUR.  A trucker stopped to pick us up and so we got in and the guy was smoking, the place smelled like smoke and there was cigarette butts and all on the  and I proceeded to tell him that smoking was bad for you and he shouldn't do that.  Nice thing to say to someone that just saved you from the rain.   My brother was not really thrilled with me, but said nothing.  I mean what do you say to a well meaning, well trained in the ways of the Word of Wisdom child.  That was my first "Stand for Truth and Righteousness" moment in my life.

Then there was my first temple open house in Portland Oregon.  I was 16, not yet driving and my sister and I brought friends.  Mine was not yet a member.  We were in line and of course there was the typical anti-Mormons near by.  A lady in a skirt went to go get some of their material and I shouted "That's false doctrine!"  

I'm proud of those moments.  But what happened?   A few years latter I'm at a Mervyn's jewelry counter   soon after the 1988 Olympics and am  looking down at rings and my "stand for truth and righteous" torch necklace was visible.  The employee at the other side of the counter said something like this:  "That's so cool!  Were you in the Olympics?"  I didn't know what to say when someone asked me.  I'm great at giving unsolicited advice or words of any kind, but someone just asked me a question!  "Ya", I answered nervously as I backed up and away.  I think the conversation kept going, but I don't remember what was said, but I kept backing up, glad to be out of there!  I mean for crying out loud- I didn't even pass out programs at the Olympics! I mean this lady thought I was in the Olympics!  AHHHH.  Yep- missed missionary opportunity!

Then I have my mission call and mom and I are going shoe shopping. We tell the shoe salesman I'm moving to California (where I served my mission) and he says what for?  My response?  "OH, it's a long story!"  My mom looks at me with that look once we are outside the store in the mall and says something to this effect:  "Becky,  You're going on a mission! (dah, mom!)  Your going to have to talk to a lot of people.  Just tell them and if they are interested they will ask questions." 

Once the tag got on, it was easier again.  Not perfect, but easier.