TJ Hirst

I am the wife of an LDS (Mormon) bishop. My best friend from high school is the wife of a Jewish rabbi. By reconnecting on the Internet we have discovered that as wives of clergy we have a lot in common and that the congregations our husbands lead have far more similarities than we imagined.

A common theme has emerged in my mind as I travel around the world of mothers on the Internet—the deep emotional response of women about the divisiveness in our current world culture.

Robin at Around the Island writes in her post Why Do We Hate,

How is it that so many millions, billions, of people in this world honestly feel it is better to hate and to fear than to extend a hand in friendship? How can anyone raise their children to hate, to fear, even to murder those who are different? Are we really so different from each other? What would happen if we all chose to enact a change, to let that change begin right here, right now. To let go of hate and fear and learn to celebrate our differences.

In another of Robin’s posts, The Importance of a Supportive Community I found another Mother in Israel writing this true statement, “Every family needs to be part of a connected, supportive community.” Her post includes an important list of ways we can make our community stronger.

Building social capital has been a topic in our community of late, and I posted a poll on what helps you feel that you belong to a community.

As I consider Robin’s statement to “celebrate our differences” I wonder if our real purpose is not to find what is different but to find as she says that we “aren’t so different from each other.”

Lis of Woolgatherings, in an interview with Michelle at Scribbit, talks about blogging and staying away from controversial topics like religion and politics. She says,

Although every blogger has the right to include what she wishes on her blog, I don’t think it’s fair to force your opinions on others. I tend to stay away from blogs that are overtly negative or criticize, and especially those that are close-minded. I have one real-life friend whose religious and political views have always been the complete opposite of mine. And yet, we have so much other than that in common.

Our intolerance of differing opinions is contributing to broken families, divided communities and ultimately to hate, fear, murder and war, and that itself is a controversial topic.

However, it is a topic that mothers especially should be considering and writing about in a positive way precisely because as Lis says, “We do have so much in common and we aren’t so different from each other.”

I served as a regional president of a large women’s organization for nearly five years. I found that the more we focused on diversity, the less unity we attained. And, the more we focused on what we have in common, the more unity we gained.

As we aim to build communities throughout the world, despite our differences, our purpose should be to seek unity, not diversity, by finding what we have in common.

There is a movement to highlight diversity as a goal rather than a fact. Differences are real and the very word itself implies a lack of agreement. But magnifying our differences divides us.

In our culture we have come to look for what differentiates us from those we disagree with, explore or magnify those differences, build evidence for our side, find others who agree with us, and ultimately divide ourselves into separate groups who engage in divisive communication with the groups who oppose us.

Once these separate groups occur, we have little ability to move between separate groups and regain or form larger and stronger communities.

The website Indivisible: Stories of American Community

portrays—through the original artistic contributions of leading photographers and interviewers—the creativity, energy, and richness of local involvement in America, a largely untold story of the many individual and combined acts that are shaping communities and ultimately the future of the country.

While each person will have their own experience in this documentary gallery, I am inspired by the similarities of individuals and places, not their differences.

I envision a community to be just what it means—a group of people in the same place or locality who build on their common interests. And our ability to communicate about what makes us compatible will connect our communities, one family to another, the world over.

^{Read more of Finding What Inspires in April when I post the series, “Conversations with a Jewish Rabbi and a Mormon Bishop” on Wednesdays as part of Everyday Biography.}

In a segment on National Public Radio’s Talk of the Nation this week, an LA Times columnist discussed college women going on spring break trips as a rite of passage into womanhood and a means to build self confidence. In the original article Raunch Is Rebranded as Confidence, the columnist, Meghan Daum, wrote:

It’s young people, women especially, deciding that the way to measure their readiness for the adult world is not in terms of education or emotional maturity but sexual desirability.

This segment has been stewing in my mind in sharp contrast to an inspiring discussion with my sister-in-law, Tina, about womanhood.

That contrast sparked a review of my own journey into womanhood which, ironically, began as a backlash from my own spring break trip that left me searching for more.

Eighteen years of my journey as a woman have revealed that real confidence and beauty in womanhood do not come from the fleeting feelings of affirmation from exploited attractiveness but by embracing and elevating everyday feminine opportunities.

Tina shared with me the song, A Woman of Grace, that she found through her participation in the women’s choir, We Also Sing.

Here’s a clip of A Woman of Grace and some words to consider while you listen:

One of your unique, precious, and sublime gifts is your femininity, with its natural grace, goodness, and divinity. Femininity is not just lipstick, stylish hairdos, and trendy clothes. It is the divine adornment of humanity.

It finds expression in your qualities of your capacity to love, your spirituality, delicacy, radiance, sensitivity, creativity, charm, graciousness, gentleness, dignity, and quiet strength. It is manifest differently in each girl or woman, but each of you possesses it. Femininity is part of your inner beauty.One of your particular gifts is your feminine intuition.

Do not limit yourselves. As you seek to know the will of our Heavenly Father in your life and become more spiritual, you will be far more attractive, even irresistible. You can use your smiling loveliness to bless those you love and all you meet, and spread great joy.

Femininity is part of the God-given divinity within each of you. It is your incomparable power and influence to do good. You can, through your supernal gifts, bless the lives of children, women, and men. Be proud of your womanhood. Enhance it. Use it to serve others.

James E. Faust
Womanhood the Highest Place of Honor

In the song and this quotation I FIND the real spirit and qualities of being a woman. While they are idealized, it is an ideal I hope to hand my daughters of what I have found to be truly desirable.

The words to A Woman of Grace were written by Patricia Holland, wife of Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, as a tribute to Ruth Faust, after the passing of her husband, President James E. Faust, a leader in the LDS Church.

The music for this song was written by Merrilee Webb. CDs of the November 2007 performance of this song and others are available by sending $8.00 per CD to Merrilee Webb, 564 S. Thornwood, Salt Lake City, UT 84123.

Six she prepares,

the seventh he wears.

In this silent time

set apart to serve Him.

The good of one self
is to be the good of another.
_{definition of love from
The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis}

I have discovered the most appreciated feature in our new home is the built-in babysitter whose frequent use brings renewed love to a 17-year marriage. For payment of a recent day out, our children requested we bring home Krispy Kreme from our date.

After a full day together we left the comfort of the Ikea meatball dinner and turned toward the inevitable two-hour drive home, contemplating whether to fulfill their glazed over dreams. We did. We pulled off the interstate at the exit and stopped. When we drove back on the interstate again, my husband looked at the clock and announced, “Eight minutes.”

Those minutes, or maybe just a sugar rush, created delighted eyes. Their delight captured feelings of giving and receiving love.

In the busyness to do things for those I love, sometimes my exhaustion tempts me to bypass both doing for love and feeling love altogether. This is most difficult to admit because I am generally well-rested. My youngest child is nearly nine and way beyond middle of the night wakings that leave me hallucinating without sleep.

That is why I was surprised by her knocking at my bedroom door at 3:59 a.m. “Mom, I threw up on the bathroom floor,” she said.

“Is it all over or just in a little spot?” I asked, wondering if she could just throw a towel over it until morning. She reported the multiple locations. Out of practice with such episodes, I took over a minute to react. Then, I cleaned the bathroom, I cleaned myself and I went to her room to clean her.

Cozy in her covers, she peeked out at me and said, “I am sorry I made a mess.”

I cupped my hand around her face. Her cheek was soft and warm, and again, for the second night in a row, love filled her eyes. When I returned to my room, it was 4:08 a.m. Only eight minutes.

Right there I stopped counting the eight-minute interruptions of the weekend and relished another eight-minute connection. Eight minutes to listen to a daughter on a car ride home. Eight minutes for a romantic goodbye while packing with my husband for a business trip. Eight minutes for a cherished hug and chat with a friend. Eight minutes to remember and encourage someone who was struggling. Eight minutes to love.

To know true love is to feel throughout these minutes as they evolve into stages, each beautiful and fulfilling in its own way. Seeking and receiving the attentions of a parent. Affirmation from friends. The dizzying depth of first romantic love. The passionate yet intelligent bond in truer commitment. Adoration and awe at the birth of a baby. Maternal sacrifice of self. Expanding compassion beyond an immediate circle. New faces and friendships awakening old feelings. Seeing beyond imperfections to offer or accept a forgiving heart. Maturing familiarity. Rediscovery.

Love develops in time. And filling fleeting minutes with love creates an abundance of eight-minute chapters in life’s love story.

This post is an entry in Scribbet’s Write-Away Contest; see her site to read other entries.

^{_{lovesymbol image copyright by Paulus Rusyanto, at freestockphotos.com}}

When I married my husband, we both agreed that we didn’t need a holiday to tell us when or how to express our love to each other. After a few years without extra romance on Valentine’s Day, however, I sensed that I was the loser in my opinionated stand against the candy, card and flower industry. I softened that stand and have since given and received thoughtful expressions of love on that day and others. Now, I may be hardening my heart, again, toward this holiday with the current trends in Valentine’s giving amongst elementary school-age children.

When I was in elementary school, we distributed our valentines into foil-covered boxes decorated with paper doilies and construction paper hearts. We anticipated opening those identical white envelopes to read the messages from our friends and to see if we received a surprise candy heart or two. While this is probably nostalgia for the “rosy-age” of elementary-school Valentine’s parties, the focus did seem to be on our feelings for each other.

When my oldest daughter was in first grade, eight years ago, I noticed the change. While cards were still a part of the celebration, candy dominated. She came home with as many bite-size candy bars as she did on Halloween.

Now, my third grader and fifth grader are preparing for this year’s celebration. At the grocery store a couple weeks ago, I rejected the sorry selection of Bratz cards. Then, I found a crafty idea. But, it just didn’t say 10-year-old boy. I finally made it to an unnamed super center and walked up and down the seasonal display aisles looking for the usual boxes of 24 cards. When I couldn’t find any, I discovered the real truth—the card is now right on the candy. We seem to have left the cards altogether and now just give the candy.

So, my daughter ended up making construction paper cards and attaching lollipops to them. And my son? He said this, “I’m not going to bother even writing the names on mine since it’s just candy anyway.”

I said, “Please bother.”

And then he gave me a Valentine when he said, “I’ll write them tonight,” and my heart softened again.