It's No Shame To Be Poor . . . But It's No Great Honor Either

 "I Know, I know. It's no shame to be poor...but it's no great honor either."

If there's anything I've learned from Tevier and Hamilton both, it's that sitting at the bottom of the socially-financially-able pile really sucks.

Tevier's stirring "if I were a rich man" is enough to make even rich men wish they were rich men. 

I was born into a family who lived way below the poverty line. I'm still in a family that makes less than the poverty level.

So what the heck?

Why the preoccupation with trying to be something I'm not?

Is it that I simply buy into society's ideals? 

Is it that I don't have everything I want and I simply want what I don't have?

Is it more than that?

Bottom line: it is no shame to be poor.

Bringing My First Baby Home From The Hospital

I remember the night we brought my little brother home from the hospital. 

I was sitting in the backseat with my brand new baby brother. I was so excited. 

I felt so special because I was the only one in the car who got to sit next to him.

I remember my dad driving the car, my mom sitting in the passenger seat. 

I remember my mom's happy face.

I remember the way the old-fashioned car seat came up between my legs and buckled around the front. That's an important detail. Because I remember this moment vividly, even though I was young enough to be in a car seat. I was barely 3 years old. 

I remember sitting there as the car went into reverse.

I remember the velvety feel of the car seat cover. 

I remember that it was a big deal that my brother was finally coming home after being in the hospital for several weeks. 

I remember my mom asking me to help her get the milk flowing so she could pump in order to feed my brother.

I remember thinking that was a ridiculous request.

I remember the big machine that the hospital had loaned my mom to help her pump. I remember the tiny bedroom in the tiny apartment where we lived.

It's all etched in my memory, and I'm not really sure why. 

Maybe it was because my brother had almost died at birth. 

Maybe it was because my mom was treating me like a baby when I was really mature enought to know everything that was going on.

Whatever the reason, I remember it, and I remember it well. Very very well. 35 years later.

So what does this tell me?

My memory is really, really good.

I decided things about myself when I was very, very young.

And I definitely have some things to work on and to continue discovering about myself and my beliefs.

For example, I hold my brother's opinion of me in very high esteem. He is one person I really really want to be liked and accepted by. And I don't even know why. 

Perhaps it's because I have always liked and accepted him. From as long as I can remember, I felt special just being around him. Perhaps simply want to recreate that moment when everything was right in the world, when we were finally together in a tiny place and time, when everyone was happy, and I got to be the one with the special seat. 

I don't know for sure. But I'm thankful I remember. Because that memory, connects with all my other memories. And makes my existence. And ultimately, connected to a meaning, makes me who I am. 

Gavin Bears His Testimony

Gavin has never been shy or timid. If he seems disinterested in participating it's usually becuase he is genuinely disintrerested in participating. 

I remember when Gavin was probably about 8 or 9 years old. He wanted to bear his testimony in from of the congregation at church. He took his book of scripture and walked himeself up to the satand, said exaclty what he wanted to say. It was simple and eloquent and perfect. It was not a mere repeat of things he'd heard other people say. It was real and honest and true. 

Gavin has always been bold like that.

If he wants to say it, he will.

If he doesn't he won't. It's as simple as that.

And the other thing is that he is sure of who he is and what he knows. There is no room for doubt with this guy.

Gavin Steals The Show

One of the highlights of my motherhood was when our family performed in the ward talent show. It must have been in 2013 or 2014. Our kids were very little, and so we shose to sing a song as a family. We chose a very simple primary song that everybody knew, called "The Ox Cart." We'd celebrated Pioneer Day not too long beofre, and our kids had learned the song in primary, the words were very very simple, and the melody even simpler. Cigi plaed the guitar and we practiced at home in our living room. Everybody sang, even little Leland. Except for Gavin. He didn't want to rehearse or sig the song in the living room at all. We gave everyone a pair of sunglasses to wear. The song is very slow and drull, in a minor key, and it's meant to drag a little, being a song about the slow ox cart being pulled along as the pioneer crossed the plains. So we sang the song that way. And then we sped up the tempo, Cigi strummed faster and with more empahasis the second time, in a rock beat, and we half-rapped-half-shouted the verse the second tie around. With the sunglasses on, of course.

The night of the talent show arrived, and we were ready. Gavin would go onstage with us, even if he didn't want to sing.

We took our places, Gavin sitting right next to me in the very center of the family and the stage. I help the microphne out and away from me so that it would pick up all our voices. The guiatr started in nice and slow and we got throught the first verse. Just as the tempo and beat kicked up, we put on our sunglasses, and we were ready for the second time around. Right before we opened our mouths to sing, Gavin grabbed the microphone , yanking my hand away from the middle of the group, and put his mouth directly on the microphone. And sang, "Here comes the ox cart oh-how-slow! It's pulled by and ox-of-course-you-know!" He stole the show.