The Gathering Place

It's been too many months since I've sat down and allowed myself the luxury of blogging. Life's been a bit chaotic, but it's also been the best. I'm awed to be finishing my final semester of the Pathway program, and yesterday I registered for my first official online class with BYU-Idaho. Because of my newfound love of retail (thanks to my incredible job), I've decided to pursue a degree in business management, and I'll admit that this is the most ambitious I've ever felt. I'm finally starting to dream a little, and I'm excited to see where the future takes me.

It's been almost two years since I moved to Utah. When I look back, it feels like it's been at least ten. I've had so many wonderful experiences in this place, and I've met so many people who have changed my life for the better. It is this place, and those people, that have caused me to put 'pen to paper' (or fingers to keys) again.

For the last two years, I've had the blessing of being a member of the Sandy YSA Stake. Tonight, we had a fireside for the new high school graduates who will be joining us. Many YSAs were asked to speak on how our stake has blessed their lives, and I feel inspired to share my testimony of it as well.

When I moved to Utah, I had no idea who or what I wanted to become. I was nannying, working to get my GED, and trying not to think too much about the future. I didn't have my own car and didn't mind because I had nowhere to go. I didn't have any friends here. I had no plans. The only things I had were my family and the gospel. And then, I came to what we fondly call the gathering place.

A reunion with the first ward I attended in our stake. I love these people so much.

I began my journey by attending the Sandy Institute, and I joined the Sandy YSA Stake not long after. I immediately met people I felt at home with, and the opportunities I was given for growth and spiritual experiences were countless. I found friends I intend to keep for eternity. I found a support system that has carried me through all of the hard times. I found the blessings of the temple as I received my endowments. I found the joy of serving in wonderful callings.

I am so grateful that great leaders were inspired (just a few years ago) to organize this stake. It was prepared for me and so many others who need it desperately. I'm grateful for the YSA program and the unique opportunities that it has given me to build my testimony and share the gospel.

Of course, despite my love of the YSA program, I hope that I'll graduate with my Mrs. Degree sooner than later. But no matter what happens, I look forward to the adventures that are surely waiting for me.

It seems to me that, as a society, we've lost a lot of the enthusiasm that we should have for life. Customers at work often ask me why I'm so happy, and I always answer, "Because life is good." Remember that, my dear friends. No matter what gets thrown at you, you still have the choice to enjoy the ride. Please do.

Love you all!

Bonnie Gwyn

Love Letter: Leather Jacket

Dear Leather Jacket,

I remember when I first saw you, hanging in Rue 21. I’d never been in that store, but I believe fate led me inside so we could meet. I confess, I thought you were out of my league. I almost walked away, but my friend convinced me to try you on and I fell in love. I’ve worn you almost every day since.

You make me feel daring. I feel secure in your embrace. Your shell is sturdy, but your sleeves are soft. You’re the perfect combination of harsh and loving. You’ve protected me on many dark nights when I’ve walked alone. You’ve also been with me for some of my greatest successes.

You were with me when I held my breath as I waited for the results of my GED tests. You were with me when I took a leap of faith and walked through the doors of my current employer – with my hair still wet from a shower and soaking into your fabric – to apply for a job. You were with me when I sat on the leather seats of a Buick LeSabre and decided to buy my first car. To my great comfort, you were my companion in First Class when I flew to Salt Lake City to finally begin my new life. You were one with me as I hugged my parents goodbye and wiped my tears on your sleeve.

You are selfless. Unlike many leather jackets, you have a hood, and you’ve protected me against relentless storms and an occasional fountain of baby spit up.

You are without guile. I recently bought a new leather jacket for nice occasions, but you don’t mind, because I wear you to work and you know that’s because I trust you the most.

You make no judgements. You’ve seen me make some of my greatest mistakes, but you haven’t said a word. You’ve simply loved me anyway.

Leather jacket, you have seen me through it all. You’ve been the best friend I could ever ask for. I will love you forever, even when the unthinkable day comes that you’re too worn to go on. You will always be my first leather jacket.

Love,
Bonnie

When It Comes to Dating, I Feel Like Sisyphus

"Sisyphus" by Titian

In Greek mythology, Sisyphus was a king who caused a lot of trouble. Eventually his deeds caught up to him, and he was sentenced to an eternity of frustration. His task was to roll a huge boulder up a hill, but every time he got to the top, the boulder would roll back down. He was forced to roll that boulder up the hill again and again for eternity.

I confess, as of late, this is how I've come to feel about dating.

I spent most of last year putting everything I had into rolling a boulder up the hill. I was in a relationship for ten months, and right as I thought I was getting to the top, the boulder and I both plummeted. I wanted to sit there on the ground for a while and forget about rolling boulders, but like Sisyphus, it seems that I'm required to keep trying. Sadly, the most recent boulder didn't make it to the top, either. Not even close.

I've been rolling rocks for as long as I can remember. At first it was little pebbles (first crushes), then small stones (high school boyfriends), and now I've graduated to full-size boulders. Part of me is excited to be in this stage of life, but the other parts of me are exhausted and tired of the climb. If it didn't feel so useless, I'd be more enthusiastic, but it's hard to maintain the same excitement that I had about dating when I was sixteen, or even eighteen. I know exactly how heavy those boulders are, and just how much they hurt when they fall on top of you.

Thankfully, there's one thing that Sisyphus and I don't have in common: eventually, one of my boulders is going to make it to the top, and it's going to stay there. That's what keeps me going, even when I'm terrified to open up again and to be hurt one more time. I know that in the end, the view from the top of that hill is going to be incredible, and that the relief will be indescribable when I'm finally committed to an eternal companion.

Of course, there will still be plenty of work to do. Relationships can't last on love alone; they require great effort and sacrifice. But every drop of sweat from rolling that boulder will be worth it. Every sacrifice I make will be rewarded by a fulfilling relationship.

So, I'll take a breath, and then I'll put my shoulder to the stone again. The climb isn't useless. The exertion isn't in vain. Someday, somehow, I'm going to stand on top of that hill and be grateful for every step I took to get there.

Bonnie Gwyn

Shrinking My Elephants

I wrote this essay for my English class and thought I'd share. :)

I believe that work is the best antidote for sorrow, frustration, and depression – whether it be work in an occupational environment, service, or exercise.

It was two days after Thanksgiving and while everyone else was in a festive mood, I was fighting tears. I stood at my register in a small grocery store, feeling as though the ground had been ripped out from under me. Instead of ending in a blissful food coma, my holiday had culminated in the finale of a relationship.

My throat was raw and sore from sleepless nights. My mind was restless. I absentmindedly straightened things on the counter – a stray pen, a stamp for checks, a stapler, and a stack of newspaper ads. I caught sympathetic glances from the two coworkers I’d chosen to inform of my situation.

As I rung up my first customers of the day, I barely managed a smile, and I looked in every direction except their faces. I worried that if I looked, I’d see the shards of my broken heart reflected in their eyes. I didn’t want to be vulnerable and I really didn’t want their pity. Nonetheless, as they ignored my body language and told me about their holiday, I couldn’t help but listen; and as I watched them walk out the sliding doors, I forgot myself, and I finally noticed the sunshine.

The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines work as an activity in which one exerts strength or faculties to do or perform something. My personal definition of work has become anything that gives me purpose and focus so I don’t dwell on the negative. Thankfully, my job not only does those things; it also brings me joy.

On that difficult day after Thanksgiving, I didn’t want to go to work. Being in front of people for seven hours straight was the last thing I expected to help me, but it worked miracles for my heart and my spirits.

I can’t count the number of times I’ve gone to work with a bad attitude and come out feeling on top of the world. It’s truly a divine principle that when we lose ourselves in any cause, our personal troubles seem smaller. I tend to dwell on worries the size of ants until they grow to the size of elephants. Work helps me gain proper perspective and see things as they really are. Work also brings me feelings of fulfillment and success, which battle my insecurities until my heart is conquered.

Bishop H. David Burton made this profound statement in his talk The Blessing of Work: “Today, many have forgotten the value of work. Some falsely believe that the highest goal in life is to achieve a condition in which one no longer needs to work.” For the majority of my life, I was one of those people. Thanks to my new job and many attitude adjustments, I’ve come to see work as it really is: the shrinking of elephants.

Giving Our Kids the Best Shot

Guest Post by My Warrior Mother: Jenni Hunt Johnson

Spending one and a half years in a weekly counseling group for “significant others of substance abusers” was never on my bucket list, but it proved to be one of the most valuable experiences of my life. I also never saw myself meeting with a personal counselor, but Ed Brown was the man and the one who invited me to the free group meetings. When I asked him later why he’d sent me to this group, he replied, “Your husband is an abuser of people, not of substances. You’ll find that the symptoms are almost identical.” He was right on, about that and so many other things. I still think he was one of the wisest people on earth.

After years of struggling with life and major health issues, my husband was severely depressed and highly suicidal. A kind neighbor, who was also a family doctor and addictionologist, sat me down and explained that I was also depressed. He made counseling appointments for both of us, and my world suddenly took on a whole new dimension.

Ed’s group had maybe thirty to fifty people, on any given Thursday night. Many were regulars, but there were plenty of drop-ins, too. We sat in a big circle and everyone took a turn at the beginning to say how they were feeling. Words like “fine” and “good” were not acceptable – it had to be heartfelt. Lots of people spoke throughout the evening, so I got to know a little about most of them.

The first thing that really took me by surprise was learning that I was probably the only one there who could say that I had a happy childhood. A good percentage of the group introduced themselves as “adult children of alcoholics, or drug abusers,” still trying to get a handle on life. I came from a great family situation, but I gained many insights about what these poor people had gone through – and were still going through.

What my own children were experiencing and how that could affect their lives became very clear to me. The situation in our home was getting worse by the day, and when it became too dangerous for us to stay, I took the kids and fled – literally fled. Life came crashing down on us and the happy little family I’d always planned to have was anything but that. Divorce was inevitable, leaving all of us to pick up the pieces and start over. My whole family was now eligible for membership in Ed’s group.

Abuse takes many forms, and if I didn’t have enough compassion for the sufferers, I was learning quickly. That’s why I kept going to the group for such a long time; I was learning so much. My group-mates experienced hard, hard things, like having a parent destroy their belongings, point a gun at them – hitting and screaming –  no stability, moving frequently, little money, physical and emotional abuse. I saw the results from adults who were, unwittingly and unfortunately, passing the same things on to their own children. They had a hard time keeping jobs and holding relationships together, and some even developed multiple personalities.

Soon after I stopped going to the group, I met someone whose mother was an alcoholic. He had experienced all of the things I mentioned above (except the multiple personalities) and likely a lot more that he’d blocked out, because he hardly remembered anything before the age of six. Making friends and developing social skills was difficult, but he was able to move ahead, get a degree, and have a family. Still, the effects of a troubled home had left their mark.

Learning not to judge was a huge part of my group education. I was amazed to see how people react so differently to troubling situations. While one person’s life might fall apart over what seemed to be a small issue, another person could handle huge amounts of abuse and still lead a normal, fairly happy life. We have no idea about the life experiences, or even pre-life experiences, people have had that have led them to who they are today – and we don’t need to. All that’s required of us is love and understanding, and if we have children, we owe them the best possible upbringing we can give.

I also learned that children, even babies, can be devastated by the effects of substance abuse on their parents. Apparently, it’s extremely difficult for a child to see a parent who isn’t in control of his or her faculties. Does that surprise us? It shouldn’t, because our parents are our base, our rock, and our only means of security when we’re little. They need us to be there for them, giving the best support and assurance we can that they are safe and loved.

My friend’s alcoholic mother never meant to harm her son, but she did in countless ways. In my very own family, the list of failed marriages that were weakened or destroyed by substance abuse is long. I’m sad for the children who are missing vital parts of life that lead to happiness because of any type of abuse dealt to them by a parent. And I’m sad for those who have passed these tendencies down through the generations. We can be the ones to turn things around. Our Heavenly Father is counting on us to give His children the best chance for growth and happiness in this life and forever.

The Importance of Hope and Optimism

It's a new year, and I couldn't be more excited! Despite having spent the last two days blowing my nose, I feel a great deal of hope for 2017. I was recently reading an incredible article in the January 2017 Ensign about President Hinckley, and it reminded me of the power of optimism. Here are a few paragraphs from that article:

“I am an optimist!” President Hinckley often declared. “My plea is that we stop seeking out the storms and enjoy more fully the sunlight.” His optimism went much deeper than having a positive outlook, although he cultivated that. The ultimate source of his optimism—the source that made it a power—was his faith in God and his testimony of God’s plan for the happiness and salvation of His children.

One manifestation of President Hinckley’s optimism was his firm belief that “things will work out.” That phrase, said Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, “may well be President Hinckley’s most repeated assurance to family, friends, and associates. ‘Keep trying,’ he will say. ‘Be believing. Be happy. Don’t get discouraged. Things will work out.’”

This message wasn’t only for others, however. “I say that to myself every morning,” President Hinckley told a congregation. “If you do your best, it will all work out. Put your trust in God, and move forward with faith and confidence in the future. The Lord will not forsake us.”

I confess, I haven't always been an optimist. I've had times in my life where I felt that I was simply surviving, and that I couldn't spare any energy or heart on the cause of hope. But since then, I've learned just how powerful God truly is, and how real that assurance from President Hinckley is: Things will work out. They always do. His plan is always best, and it will all be okay in the end. And because of that, as President Hinckley also said, "We have every reason to be optimistic."

Why would you choose to be a pessimist when things will, indeed, work out? Why not choose to have hope and joy all along? Being a pessimist makes you suffer for no good reason at all. And there's always the fact that our thoughts have a lot more power than we realize - but that's a subject for another blog post. The point is, if we have faith in God and do our best, things will be okay - more than okay.

I've recently gained a great deal of hope for dreams that I thought were lost, and I can't believe I ever lived without them. I think we often make the mistake of settling when things are good enough. I've learned that I shouldn't do that when God has so many great things planned for me. He has great things planned for you, too. He didn't send us here so we could have lives that are good enough. It says in 2 Nephi that men are, that they might have joy. We are here to find joy.

Now, keep in mind, that doesn't mean that joy will simply be given to us without us making an effort. And that doesn't mean that we won't have trials. We will most definitely have trials, but we are capable of finding peace and joy during the greatest of trials. We will have to work to have a meaningful relationship with God and to receive His blessings, and that's how it should be. But that doesn't mean that our lives have to be anything less than extraordinary. Sometimes hard is extraordinary. And it doesn't mean that we have to give up on the things we want most if they are truly righteous and attainable. This world is full of so much more potential than we give it credit for.

I hope I've reminded you all of the undying love that Heavenly Father has for you, and of the perfect plan that He has for you. If you take nothing else into this new year, please take that knowledge. Please take that hope. No goal or resolution is more important than feeling His love and loving Him in return.

Happy New Year, dear friends.

Bonnie Gwyn