Can't Take the Home Out of Oklahoma

Almost two months ago, my brother and his kids saw Twisters. I was visiting them one evening, and my brother had the soundtrack playing over Amazon's Alexa. The country twang surprised me, as Blake is generally a pretty hard rocker, but when Out of Oklahoma came on, I was transported. I've probably listened to it at least 50 times since.*

Sometimes people forget that I was born in Oklahoma. Almost 11 years of my life were spent there, and they were perhaps the most important years. I learned to walk in Oklahoma. I learned to talk in Oklahoma. I learned to read, ride a bike, and swim in Oklahoma. I lived across the road from a farm and got used to the constant smell of manure. I caught crawdads with my siblings in the ditch behind our house, and I caught my first fish at Theta Pond. I belly-flopped from the high dive at Yost Lake. I had the best ice cream of my life at Braum's. I enjoyed cool October nights during Oklahoma State's homecoming festivities and marveled at all the floats made by college students. I learned how to recognize the weirdly green sky that warned of a tornado, and I sheltered in our cellar and wondered whether the wooden doors would hold.

Images of the soft and gentle, pale green plains and hills are burned into my brain. The miles of wheat dotted with perfect red barns. Native American shops selling dream catchers. Muscogee, Okmulgee, Pawnee, and Seminole are city names that are easy to pronounce. Stories of the Trail of Tears and Oklahoma Land Run are as familiar to me as stories of the Bible.

I can tell you the names of my friends in elementary school: Grace, Erin, Sarah, Michelle, Abbey, Laura, Katie, Ginny, Angela, Delisa, Kendra, Chris, Matt, Mathew, Joseph, Ahmed, Nick, Niles, and Mark.

What would I have been like if we hadn't moved? Probably more outgoing and confident. I don't remember having many cares in the world until we moved to Georgia, where I became shy and reserved. I struggled to make friends. I ached for the people I missed and the land I knew. People spoke differently in Georgia. They said "ol'" for "oil" and "Hey" instead of "Hi." They all seemed to be related -- first cousins and second cousins and third cousins, once removed. They attended the same churches and addressed adults as "ma'am" and "sir." I didn't understand this new place, and I missed my home.

Now, I often call Georgia home because most of my immediate family still lives there and because as most people do, I adapted and learned to love the Deep South. Now, I miss the tall pines and overgrowing kudzu and red dirt. I miss the winding highways and the homesteads with junk on the porch and broken-down cars in the yard. I miss the chatty cashiers and the finger waves from steering wheels as other drivers pass by on the road.

But every now and then, I miss those green plains and wheat fields. I miss the feeling of being a child with no worries. I miss home.

Thing I'm thankful for: waking up from bad dreams

*Lainey Wilson has lots of other great songs, but "Out of Oklahoma" is my favorite. If you're into country that has a rockin' feel, try these out: 4X4XU, Wildflowers and Wild Horses, Dirty Looks, and Things a Man Oughta Know.

Also, I finally saw Twisters about a month ago. I didn't like it as much as Twister, but it was still fun to watch, especially since it was filmed on location in Oklahoma. Fun fact: My hometown makes a surprise appearance!

Prosperity Theology Has No Place in Politics

By now, you've surely seen images such as these on the internet:

The message, of course, is that God is behind Trump. That God saved Trump from being killed. The last image is perhaps the most egregious, as here in America, we fundamentally and vehemently disagree with both autocratic and constitutional monarchies.

Still, Trump loyalists (who I consider separate from mainline Republicans) believe that God had a hand in Trump's escape from assassination and that he currently has a hand in the success of Trump's presidential campaign. It smacks of prosperity theology, and in my opinion, it's antithetical to Christ's gospel. Prosperity theology suggests that people of God will experience health and material wealth on this earth, and it implies that people who are not of God will experience the opposite––illness and poverty. So the logical conclusion, then, is that because Trump is alive, he was saved by God. And if he was saved by God, he must be a man of God. At the very least, he is the man God wants as the president of the United States.

We must ask ourselves: What about Corey Comperatore? He died in this attempted assassination. Was he not a man of God? If he was a man of God, why was he not blessed with life, as Trump was? Furthermore, where was God before the rally? Why did he not stop the gunman early in the morning? In fact, why didn't the gunman simply drop dead the night before? I suppose Trump loyalists would respond something like this: "Because God wanted us to see that he was sparing Trump's life. God wanted us to know that Trump is his anointed." You'd be hard-pressed to get a meaningful response about Comperatore's death, though.

When I was a junior in high school, a boy shot his girlfriend and then himself in a bathroom about 100 feet from my classroom. In the aftermath, a friend of mine said, "I feel so glad that she was saved. He wasn't, though, and that's too bad."

I'm so fed up with people acting like they know when God's hand is in someone else's life and when he's not. I believe in personal revelation, and I believe that individuals can feel the Holy Ghost's presence in their own lives, but to claim to know who will be saved and who won't is disgusting. To claim that God has saved one man and not another is disgusting. We absolutely cannot know for certain that God saved Trump that day. Perhaps he did. But perhaps the would-be assassin was a poor shot. Perhaps the security detail was poorly organized. Perhaps the wind picked up at just the right moment.

We've got to stop making meaning where there is none. People live through life-threatening events every day and not because God saved them for a special purpose. People die every day and not because God ignored them. Men and women of God experience heartache, disease, death, and poverty, and atheistic men and women experience joy and good fortune. The events of a person's life does not indicate what kind of person they are or were or could be. Let me say that again:

The events of a person's life does not indicate what kind of person they are or were or could be.

The outcome of the upcoming presidential election, however, will indicate something. It will indicate how many votes each candidate earned, period. It will depend on what we, the people of America, want for our country. God will not take away our agency. He will never take away our ability to choose––in this case, vote––for the person we think will be the best for the job. So did God save Trump's life? It's possible. Did he save Trump's life because he wants him as our next president? No! To do so would be in violation of each American citizen's right to choose.

*A note to my fellow Mormons: We believe that a war was fought in heaven over our agency, and in the Book of Mormon, Lehi states, "Wherefore, the Lord God gave unto man that he should act for himself" (2 Nephi 2:16). He doesn't want to choose our president for us; he wants us to make that choice. And he's not playing a game with us––trying to get us to choose who he has already divinely chosen. If he wanted Trump––or Harris––to be the next president, he'd make it a lot more obvious than something so open to interpretation. To put it in terms of prosperity theology, I'd say everyone within a 20-foot radius of Trump would've needed to die at that rally, while he was the only one left standing––untouched and without a drop of blood on his face. But even that's up for debate.

Movie Review: Civil War

At first glance, Civil War isn't a movie that screams my name. It's violent and bloody and in many scenes, action-packed. Such cinematic displays usually don't interest me. However, I'd actually describe the movie as quiet. With long stretches of silence and not a lot of information about each character, it reminds me of "Cast Away," and that's a movie I watch probably once every year or two. Essentially, I loved this movie. I've thought about it multiple times since seeing it a couple of days ago, and it's now in my list of Top 20 movies, maybe Top 10.

I don't even know where to start on the specifics, and I don't even know if I want to go into those because I think it's best to go into this movie blind. Don't watch the trailer, and don't read the reviews. Just go see it. Suspend your disbelief a bit. Enjoy the thought experiment that's presented to you.

I guess I'll just end with this: I think it should be required viewing for all Americans. I think it's an important movie that won't get the recognition it deserves, but I hope you watch it.

Thing I'm thankful for: gloomy, rainy days

What Does It Mean to Be a Friend?

I've been thinking a lot about friendship recently because 1) it's difficult to make friends in middle-age, and 2) it's difficult to let friends go in middle-age. In my youth and early twenties, I read articles in teen's and women's magazines about how to get a boyfriend, how to break up with someone, and how to survive a breakup, but you know what? I don't remember reading anything about how to get a friend, how to break up with a friend, or how to survive the end of a friendship. It's so awkward and painful, and I think more should be written on it. Maybe I'll pitch an article to InStyle or Women's Health . . .

And maybe I'll write about what I think a friend should be. It centers around a scripture from Mormon theology and is found in Mosiah 18:8–10. In these verses, the prophet Alma teaches that to be baptized and to be considered one of the Lord's people, we must be "willing to bear one another's burdens, that they may be light" and "willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort."

Let that sink in. We must be willing to bear one another's burdens, mourn with those that mourn, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort. If that's not what friendship is, then I don't know what is.

A couple of months ago, two people I thought were my friends said, "There's enough going on in the world; we don't need to add to each other's plates." It was then that I realized my idea of friendship is wholly different than theirs. They want lighthearted and agreeable conversation. They want laughter and fun. I want that, too, but I also want friends who care about my burdens. When I talk of frustration or sadness or a wrong someone has done to me, I want a friend who says, "Gosh, I'm sorry. That really stinks! What a jerk that person is for treating you like that!" That's it. That's all. We don't even have to dig into details. I just want someone who lets me know that they're in this life with me, and they'll be by my side when things are hard. They'll want to know of my joys, but also of my sorrows. I don't think it's too much to ask, and if they're Mormon, they should know it's at the heart of being one of the Lord's people.

Thing I'm thankful for: my best friend, Daryl

How to Know You're Dating a Potential Life Partner

Sure, the title is not as exciting as "How to Know You're Dating the One," but I don't believe in "The One." I believe in "a one," as in one of a few possible life partners. And how do you know you're dating a one you can marry and be happy with? Well, here's how I knew, in a nutshell:

• You are compatible.
  You get along, work well together, and have overlapping hobbies and interests.
• You can talk and talk and then talk more, and they like listening to you.
  Even if you're blathering on about your senior thesis on Lord of the Flies, they'll listen to you intently.
• You feel at ease with them.
  Silence isn't uncomfortable, and making a mistake isn't the worst thing in the world. If you trip and fall, it's no big deal because you care about each other.
• You look forward to seeing them.
  If you recently had an argument or spoke about something difficult, you'll still look forward to seeing them because it's important to you to work on your disagreements.
• You are on the same page about finances.
  You might be afraid to talk about money, but you do it because you know financial arguments are one of the most common factors of divorce.
• You are on the same page about intimacy.
  You've talked about what you will and won't do, how often you're comfortable with doing it, and whether there are any exceptions. If you can talk about intimacy frankly, then you can communicate about anything.
• You are not embarrassed by them.
  You're not embarrassed by the jokes they tell or by what they say when you're with your friends and family. You can show up to a dinner party with this person, leave them alone while you get more refreshments, and know they won't say anything weird while you're gone.
• You wouldn't mind raising a child with them.
  You like who they are, and you like their hobbies and interests. If there was a mini version of them in your life, you'd be fine with that; in fact, you'd probably love that.

Hopefully you can infer from this list that I don't use "knew" in a mystical, spiritual sense. I use it in the literal sense. In other words, I knew I wanted to marry Daryl through observation and through information he directly gave me––either because he offered it or because I asked him questions. People often say they "just knew," as if knowing is ethereal or magical––it shouldn't be. You should be able to list exactly why you love someone and know they're compatible with you before you sign a marriage license or buy a house together. If you can't explain how you know someone is a good match for you, then I'm sorry to say it, but you are living in a world of make-believe (and not the good kind). If you can say with confidence the eight statements above, though, then you'll be alright.

Thing I'm thankful for: thunderstorms

Movie Review: White Christmas

 

This might shock you, but I don't love White Christmas. Yes, I grew up watching it, and yes, I've seen it dozens of times. But I only like it. The music is great, the costume design is great, some of the dancing is great (That modern dance number is awful, though, am I right?), and the "Sisters" scenes are excellent––truly excellent.

I just can't get past the romantic plot, though. So many movies today center around a woman and man who fall in love, fight, and make up. The man, however, is almost always the one to apologize in the end, even if the women is the one who made the big mistake! I often wonder when that weird pattern started showing up in film, but I suspect it started with "White Christmas." Betty falls in love with Bob, eavesdrops on one of his private phone calls, misinterprets his conversation, and leaves Vermont in a huff. When she finally realizes the truth of his conversation, she rushes back to Vermont, performs the song-and-dance deal, gives Bob a present, and everything is fine again. We never see her explain her bad behavior to Bob, let alone offer him an apology.

How is this okay? I'll wager that most Americans have problems with communication in their romantic relationships, and I'm pointing at least one finger to the modern rom-com, where this unhealthy and unreasonable pattern of miscommunication and non-apology by a female lead has exploded. Perhaps it's fun for female audiences to see this on screen, but it perpetuates the notion that women are the better halves and men are simply handsome buffoons. I don't like it.

So will I still watch "White Christmas?" Yes, if someone really wants to, but I'd rather watch a few other early- to mid-Twentieth Century movies first. Here's a list, if you're interested:

• It's a Wonderful Life
• Meet Me in St. Louis
• Miracle on 34th Street
• The Shop Around the Corner
• The Bishop's Wife

Bah! Humbug!

Thing I'm thankful for: good dinner rolls

What to Say to People When Things are Hard

Yesterday, we had a Sunday School lesson about mental health. I thought the lesson was pretty good, though I wished there was a licensed psychologist there who offered some general tips. Still, the bishop did an excellent job of opening up the topic and letting people know that mental health struggles are a normal part of life. One thing I particularly liked was his answer to the following question: "You talked about what not to do or say to people we know are struggling with mental health; what are some things we should do?" His answer? "Search Google for what to say to people struggling with mental health." It was brilliant, and here's why:

1. He introduced the congregation to the topic but expected people to actually do some work on their own to learn more.
2. He encouraged people to simply search for answers on Google the way they would search for any other answer online. What a great use for technology!

I have a friend whose parents both died within a couple years of each other; she was only in her 30s. I had no idea what to say to her, so I literally googled, "What should I say to someone whose parents have both died." There were some great ideas, and the best part about it was that I didn't put the onus on anyone else to let me know what I should say or how I should act around someone who was feeling low. I'm reminded of the following Latter-day Saint scripture in Doctrine and Covenants, section 58:

For behold, it is not meet that I should command in all things; for he that is compelled in all things, the same is a slothful and not a wise servant; wherefore he receiveth no reward. Verily I say, men should be anxiously engaged in a good cause, and do many things of their own free will, and bring to pass much righteousness; for the power is in them, wherein they are agents unto themselves. (verses 26–28)

But since I'm on the topic and since I've experienced hard things, including depression, here are some ideas:

• "Gosh, I'm sorry to hear that; that really stinks."
• "You don't have to text back right now, but I wanted to let you know I'm thinking about you."
• [When a loved one has died] "Tell me about him." "What were your favorite things about her?" "Do you have a special memory of him?" "What was your dad's [or whoever's] name?"
• "I know you've been going through some tough things lately. Do you want to talk about them, or do you want a distraction?"

Most importantly, I think a good rule of thumb is to simply treat people like they're human beings . . . because they are. When difficult things happen to people or you think their situation is pity-able, simply treat them as you would treat anyone else. They don't need to be coddled or chastised or shamed. They need you to treat them like they're a whole and beautiful person who happens to have some troubles. Here are some good conversation starters:

• "Tell me about yourself; what are your hobbies?"
• "What have you been reading lately?"
• "Have you been working on anything exciting these days? Tell me about it!"
• "What's been the highlight of your week?"

It's surprising how often people get tripped up over connections and basic human relationships, but I guess not everyone had a psychologist for a father or a chatty Cathy for a mother. This is why I'd be fully in support of "soft" skills classes in elementary, middle, and high school. I wonder whether they'll ever come a day . . .

Thing I'm thankful for: walks on sunny Winter days