Family

Guys,

I am learning so much about family. About families. About generational pull and all the ways that families are messed up. Even the best of families are stuck in subconscious relational and emotional games that they learned from their parents and their parents' parents.

And guess what? Family, no matter how messed up or perfect, is what this life is all about. There is no greater love than in the family unit. That means there is no greater place for pain, grief, joy and wonderment than in our families.

Life is about connection. We learn in the womb how to connect and disconnect with others; being close to others while at the same time learning how to separate our individuality from those same people. When we want to be too close too much of the time, we become enmeshed. When we get hurt, frustrated, disappointed or angry, we can become distancers and avoiders of that closeness--we disengage. The healthy person, the healthy relationship--yes, even the healthy family--is made up of individuals who know that they are a unique, separate, wonderful people and also are contributing, loved, valuable members of a bigger whole, too.

An African dictum that I recently heard and loved is that "Because I am, we are." The struggle to remain my own person and yet stay in relationship, even when it's hard, is a delicate balance. That balance is what some family theorists call a differentiated self, or a differentiated family.

I want to find this balance, but in the mean time, I rejoice to know that I am not the only one who struggles with this--there are theories about this, whole books and articles and websites about being one with someone while continuing to appreciate and love the unique aspects of myself.

Tyler, Sundy, and Emma

No, this is not our daughter. This is our "niece"--Emma Rudolph, daughter of Jenny and Andrew Rudolph. Is she a doll? Um, yes! She was so happy to sit in my lap and play with my fake pearls tonight.

It's a little hard sometimes to be so far away from close family and friends, so having Jenny, Andrew, and Emma 45 minutes away is a real life saver. Plus, the Perry-Hanchetts live down the road, too. Additional plus, we have made some great friends here in Oregon, too.

Life is good. School is challenging but it keeps me hopping. Tyler is the best friend I could ever ask for. We laugh at each other's blunders--we're good at keeping it real.

I'm happy for autumn time. I love the Primary children's program every year, even the boys who practically scream "I am a Child of God"--at least they know it and aren't afraid to show it. I love Oregon. I love Tigard, OR. I love Sundays. I love that my husband just fed me MORE not-so-healthy dessert even though I know how many calories are in that bite. I love living life. . .

Compulsions

So I'm blogging instead of studying. I learned about this yesterday in my Human Growth and Development class (this is not your typical ages and stages HGD class--it's all about relationships and how the mind wraps itself around those relationships). This--blogging instead of studying-- is a compulsion. I know, you think of gambling, pornography, over-eating--yes, these are compulsions, too. But according to Erik Erikson (or at least my professor's interpretation of him), any activity that "hijacks your brain" to help you "check-out" of what you should be doing (because what we should be doing causes anxiety) is considered a compulsion. Compulsions are common in our day of Facebook, Ipods, and the remote control--just tune me out because I can't handle life.

Well, maybe this is not compulsive right now (ha ha; rationalization is a key component of impulsiveness and entitlement) because I am blogging about what I study, right?

Oh, well. What I'm also learning is that we, as human beings and that includes me, Miss want-to-be-perfect Sundy Lynn Sunshine Anderson, are in process. To be "in process" means that we have not arrived, but we are figuring it out one experience at a time. Funny it is how trying to be perfect actually stunts growth and development (which, you recall, is the name of my class).

I wonder how much of my life has been spent agonizing over what I haven't done right or have done wrong instead of exploring what it is that I can do with my current state. But I must keep this thought at a wonderment stage, and not start regretting the time that I regretted the time that I didn't do that which is what I should have been doing. . . over and over in my mind: Do you get it? Do you get me?

Perfectionism is a stunting disease--it stops natural growth with fear, shame, embarrassment, doubt--I think I still pride myself on this infectious disease. I have always wanted to look perfect. Well, world, hear me now-- I am not perfect. I am striving, but I am not there, and that was never supposed to be the goal, anyway.

Life is about tasting both the bitter and the sweet and learning to prize the good. Beating myself up about how I have tasted the bitter is not the purpose of my mortal probation. That I would taste bitter is part of the plan. Perfection isn't based on how much work I do--my merits will never be the A grade I earn. It cannot be earned. There is One mighty to save who got the perfect score and laid it down for my soul. Perfection is the cost. He paid it because I can't.

So I give my all as a part of the process (I am, after all, in process)--to become a little nicer than I was yesterday, to have purer intentions than I did last month, to give more of myself to the Lord than I did in 2008--and I do this not so that I can claim perfection, but so that I can taste what sweetness is. So that I can prize the good--so that eating the fruits of righteousness can transform the parts of me that are obviously bitter. If I don't attempt righteousness, and hope that the Lord will save me from my sins, I will start trying to find joy IN sin, which isn't possible--pleasure will be my reward, which has a pretty short shelf-life. "In process" means that stagnation is not possible--I am either eating bitter fruit (often comes with extra sugar coating) or fruit that is whiter, sweeter, and purer than man can attempt to create.

I've spent a lot of my life attempting to prove to God, my family, my friends, myself, that I am worth loving because I am almost perfect. How sad to discover that all my toils have actually pulled me away from the people who love me anyway. And that their love is not given to me because of what I do or don't do or pretend to do or not do, but because I am. Because I exist. Because we've built a relationship and connected and shared pain and joy and suffered and rejoiced amid the carnage of mortality, however big or small that looked like on any given day.

So I have a new goal--I will exist. I will allow myself and others to be in process. Shame is no longer the cover I will carry over my burdens--Perfection through my own merits will be left along the roadside as I transform through the merits of Jesus Christ. My love will deepen, my joys will abound. I will taste both bitter and sweet and praise the Son of Man (indeed He knows my natural man pains) for His conquering of every disease, including perfectionism and compulsions of every kind.

Mastering the Masters

I am a graduate student. Whewhoo! It felt so right and happy to be sitting in my first class today with 25 other people who all got to tell their stories about getting to this place at this time. We all feel lead. We all want to help people overcome their challenges.

I introduced myself as number 2 of 4 (referring to birth order). I got lost in the details of how I came to be in graduate school right now (from childhood to miscarriage) that I forgot to tell people my name. It was a good laugh to realize that. Maybe they'll just call me "2x4" from now on.

I should be reading right now. Facebook has been getting in my way, and then I realized that I haven't blogged in over a month. I will have to learn to set aside distractions and study, study, study. Sundy will study.

Oh, how beautiful the dream looks and is starting to feel right now. We are all broken and need help getting fixed. I recognize who the Master Healer is, but I want to "learn the healer's art" in this phase of my mortality.

Therapy

It's official. I am starting a Master's program in Marriage and Family Therapy at George Fox University on August 31, 2009. For those who don't know, the university was founded by Quaker pioneers in 1891. The majority of my professors are also pastors and ministers of faiths other than LDS. I am in for a great learning experience. We have already moved into a new little town house located 5 minutes away from my campus.

Graduate school. . .I am scared. I'm taking 13 credits to try to stay in the 2 year track, but I've heard that that's a lot. I also have to sign up for my own therapy (at least 20 sessions of it) and cannot graduate from the program until I've done so. I was talking to a therapist who works where I work (she graduated from George Fox) and she said it was an extremely demanding program in lots of ways, but especially with personal issues. Every insecurity, issue, problem you have or have not dealt with will be brought to the surface. I feel like that has happened in my life before: getting ready for my mission, living my mission, getting home from my mission, getting engaged, getting married--maybe I've been prepared for this.

Actually, I know I have been prepared for this--the Lord has lead me to this decision and this experience. I do not know the meaning of all things, but I do know that he leads me. August 8th would have been our miscarried baby's due date. I would not be starting this program had our baby lived. Reassurance comes when I need it most--it will continue.

Marriage and Family

We just celebrated our 1 year anniversary yesterday--how love grows so sweet and rich in just one year. I wish we'd have planted a tree the day we were married. Then we could watch it grow and compare our developing love to roots sprouting, a trunk with limbs branching out, little green shoots. Time and Sonlight allow love to flourish.

Of all the beautiful things in this life, the beauty of a family happily interacting brings me the most joy. We just got back from Sunday dinner at my aunt and uncle's house--cousins, grandparents, me, my husband, all eating and laughing around the table, taking turns sharing memories. I zoomed out like a camera and watched for a second, hoping to hold the picture in my permanent memory card.

And then I think of the saddest things in the world--families that don't talk, don't share love or joy or warm apple pie with melting vanilla ice cream. I taught the young women in church today about forgiveness and how often it is the hardest to forgive the ones that are closest to us--how bitterness rots the heart and makes you stiff inside where there is no room for the warmth that only family can bring.

Next week I'm interviewing for a Master's program in Marriage and Family Therapy. I've spent the last few years trying to make life better for families in need. As I dig deeper into the lives of mothers, fathers children, I recognize patterns of behavior and belief the debilitate loving homes. Therapy is not a solve-all. Therapy is not comfortable. Therapy is not cheap (getting it or studying it). But most families wouldn't hurt to have someone help them "zoom out" for a moment to notice the trends, the cycles, the dirt that often gets swept under the rug but is there anyway, silently collecting for a day of reckoning.

I want to help in this beautiful and often painful process. I want to help strengthen marriages and families. I feel lead down this path, and it's only starting. . . .

Volunteers

I've spent the last month pretty much begging. Begging businesses, resturants, and even the organization I work for--begging for donations for volunteer appreciation. I've had a few successes, but mostly I've had a lot of frustration: no one feels that gratitude is worth money. Sure, saying thank you is always appropriate, but why spend money on "free labor".

It isn't even the lack of money that brings me the most frustration--it's the attitude behind the "we don't have the funds for that right now" that gets me sad. I see money and "stuff" thrown around for all sorts of advertising, staff development, partnership opportunities, but there's never enough for the lives of those who are lifting the real loads.

All of the dirty work--the labor and time intensive work--that is done at my social services center is done by volunteers. They spend the gas money to drive to the food bank for 3 truck loads of food (60 miles) each week. They stand in the rain to wait for the food distribution. They break the sweat that loads this food into trucks and onto our shelves. They sort through smelly, musty, smoky bags and bags of donated clothing, getting rashes from unknown contaminants.

Nothing is beneath them. They are without guile and without honor from their "superiors" bring sustained life to needy needy families. They are the least among us and yet are the greatest. I am humbled. I pay tribute. I appreciate volunteers.