On faith

I was contacted last week about writing a faith-affirming essay to be included in a volume for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (the Mormons).

I cannot write the essay they want. Instead, I would write this one. 

***

In November, in Philadelphia, an atheist from Israel asked me, a Mormon from Australia, if I believed in God.

And I said I did not know.

"Ah, so you are agnostic," he said.

"No, an agnostic thinks that no one can know if there is a God. I just personally don't know if I believe in God today."

***

God has spoken to me. When I was a young teenager, I felt a wash of the spirit after reading the Book of Mormon for the first time. A few years later, on my own and lonely, I asked God if he would please send me strong visiting teachers, to be my friends. And God told me that that wasn't going to happen; I needed to build up my resilience to loneliness. Once I asked God if I could go on a date with a crush, and God smiled and said sure, but nothing will come of it -- this guy isn't for you. And once, afraid and alone on an overnight train from Germany, I asked God to please send me someone -- a girl -- who spoke English who could help me make it to the airport on time in the morning. God sent a girl about my age to my rail car, who was on her way to be an au pair in Ireland. But she had no idea how to get to the airport. So I found the way for both of us. God was laughing with me then. He was telling me that I needed to recognize that I was capable, and step up to help others.

Those were all small things. What of the bigger things? My Mormon faith told me that women should never work outside the home. And my mother testified that that was true. And my grandmother testified. Women were meant to sacrifice their talents to their husbands and families. When I received several full scholarships to PhD programs all over the country, I asked God if I should sacrifice these gifts? Even without a husband? Or choose a PhD program? But which one? And how to choose? And God was silent. In anger, months later, I asked God why he hadn't helped me make the decision. And God told me that he trusted me to make hard decisions. He trusted me.

***

How could I not know if I believe in God, when God has spoken to me so many times?

God spoke to Lucy Walker. When she was a young teenager, after the unexpected death of her mother, a religious leader more than twice her age sent her father away on a mission, and invited Lucy to live in his home, like a daughter. Soon after, he told Lucy that God commanded her to be his plural wife, in secret, and she must agree overnight to the union or she would be damned. Lucy spent the night in prayer and agony. But in the morning she was visited by peace and light and a sure understanding that the man was a prophet and she would be his plural wife. When you and I read this story, we recognize classic child abuse. Lucy saw it as the pinnacle of her religious experience and the foundation of her testimony. God told Lucy to marry her abuser.

God spoke to the young men who used civilian airplanes as weapons, and killed thousands in September 2001. Those young men sacrificed their very lives for God, knowing he would bless them with a glorious afterlife. But you and I know they were only terrorists.

Who is this God who speaks, condoning child abuse and murder?

***

I grew tired of being angry. I grew tired of having to give different answers to my child's questions every Sunday after church. I knew all the right answers to the Mormon temple recommend interview questions, but I could no longer with integrity give the right answers simultaneously to question number three, affirming my belief in the restoration of the Mormon church, and question number nine, was I honest. So I moved jobs. I let my recommend lapse. I still attended, played the organ, taught the women's meeting. Tried. But grew tired of being angry. I grew tired of the fact that no one cared if I came. They cared if my son came. They cared if my husband came. But even though my son and husband only came because I came, no one cared about me, the woman.

So one sunny summer Sunday afternoon, waiting for the tram to take us home from church, my husband responded to my anger with his own quiet words. "You don't have to keep going. Maybe it's time to take a break."

And I looked him in the eye and said, "Maybe it is."

***

God has spoken to me since my Mormon temple card lapsed. One afternoon, walking home alone from work in the park near my apartment, I argued with God privately, a one-sided conversation in my head. How could I continue to support the Mormon church, I asked God, when their policies towards their people were so cruel? When they willfully suppressed the talents of their women and the futures of their LGBTQ members? When they had been on the wrong side of every social issue since the nineteenth century? I told God that I couldn't fit in that space anymore, not unless my heart was torn out and replaced with a completely different heart.

"That's it," said God. "You need a new heart."

***

How does one obtain a new heart? Does one stay up all night praying, like Lucy? Or does one sacrifice one's life, like a terrorist? What about the things the Mormons say to do? To read scriptures, to pray harder? Those things have I done all my life, and yet I have this heart here in my hands. Jesus said to the young man in that situation to go and sell all and give to the poor. But I have a family to feed. And a husband who wouldn't let me.

Perhaps one takes a step back in life, to pause. To think. To evaluate. And then one keeps moving forward. Because God won't make the hard decisions for you.

In July, visiting my parents in the Mormon community where I grew up, I attended church at my Home Ward. My former young women's leader spoke. She related her experiences as the wife of a missionary. As she spoke, I felt the Spirit descend upon me, thick and tangible, and I knew I was in a good place, and this was where I belonged.

Simultaneously, I received a Revelation. This Spirit, this tangible, physical, physiological response, was a superpower of evolution. It led the teenagers from broken homes to face their empty futures, abuse, self-inflicted death, with peace and light and understanding that they were serving a Higher Good. That this would be how they Mattered. And their tribes, their clans, their people -- they survived and belonged and grew closer and powerful with the sacrifice of these lesser people. The Spirit is a massive evolutionary advantage for the homo sapiens.

***

I used to speak to God daily. But my prayers have changed. I don't want to speak to God the disappointed father. If there is a God, I hope he still trusts me.

***

Here, at the end of this essay, I think a little about my readers. Some readers will see my anger and my pride and shake their heads in judgement, and know that I am wrong to step away. And those readers are correct. Some readers will see the abuse and the irrationality of religion and shake their heads in judgement and know that I am right to step away. And those readers are also correct.

I am not agnostic. I know that people can know that there is a God. Lucy knew. The terrorists knew.

I just don't know if I know. And I cannot trust the Spirit.

For now, I have to walk forward within the constraints of my life, and act with integrity and morality. And initiative. More initiative, I think.

This is my faith.

Thank you for inviting the essay.

The seven horsemen

In January 2020, we had visits from the seven horsemen of the apocalypse.

First, in early January, fire. The bushfires in Australia raged so far out of control that they made international headlines, accompanied by pictures of burned koalas, and kangaroos jumping away from raging infernos. All our friends abroad, from North America, Asia, and Europe, wrote and hoped that we were safe. We were. Although only a few weeks before, I had spent hours pouring over airbnb listings of holiday homes, trying to decide whether to take our vacation in January in the areas that were now covered in flames. With those places now evacuated, we were happy we had not made a booking.

Next, poison. Although in Melbourne there were no fires, for a couple of weeks the winds blew toxic smoke to settle over the city. The air quality became worse than in Bejing. Tim bought masks to protect our lungs. We stayed inside as much as we could.

Third, the sword. The war-mongering leader of a country in the northern hemisphere massacred an Iranian official, leading the world to the brink of war. With commercial airplanes being shot down over Iran, I pulled out a globe and very carefully chose airline tickets for my conference in Germany in February that avoided Iranian airspace altogether.

The next week, ice. Our suburb was hit by torrential rain. A few miles away in the suburb of Caulfield, golf-ball sized hail fell from the sky. Sidewalks and roads flooded. Trams were cancelled. Homes and vehicles were damaged. And the storm didn't even put out the bushfires, since it swept south from Melbourne rather than continuing east where the fires were still raging.

The following week, mud. Far away in the centre of the country, windstorms swept the red desert sand into massive clouds. The clouds blew with the ferocious wind for miles and miles, until high in the air, they hit a wet cold front coming off of the southern ocean, and rained down on Melbourne. We heard the pleasant sound of rain falling all night. But in the morning, sidewalks, cars, and plants all had a fine coating of mud on them.

Sixth, disease. A new virus had been spreading only a short 12 hour flight north of Melbourne, in China. It finally reached Australia and a few other countries. Global panic ensued. In China, the city of Wuhan was locked off. One of Tim's colleagues in China was among the last to get out before all the trains were stopped. Soon after, Shanghai was also shut down. Tim's office in Shanghai received strict notices not to come in, at all. Work from home. Don't go in the streets. Shut the elevators in high rises so people weren't tempted to go out. Remember those airline tickets I carefully purchased to avoid Iran? I had chosen flights with a stopover in mainland China. The flights were cancelled by the airline. And then even Monash University shut their doors and moved the start date of the semester back a week, with requirements that the first week of classes involve no face-to-face meetings. Online lectures only.

And finally, the week after that came the seventh horseman of the apocalypse ... school. Jonathan started a new year of school.

I hope February is less eventful.

Smoke haze

Throughout January, I've received a lot of queries from international families and friends asking about the catastrophic Australian fires. My answer has been that the fires haven't really directly affected me, except for a couple of weeks of smoke haze blanketing Melbourne.

One of the five reasons I left my previous position was that the air quality in the winter was unhealthy, and there were no leaders in the state who could or would do anything about it.

Unfortunately, the air quality under the smoke haze has been far worse than even the winter inversions. Fortunately, it has blown away from Melbourne again, and our air is clear and fresh again.

Yesterday I flew to Canberra for a meeting for the day. There are still bushfires burning out of control near Canberra, and the city was blanketed in smoke.

I tried to take pictures from the wide airport windows. The nearby hills that are usually green in the summer were lost in the smoke haze.

It's not healthy to be outside in that smoke. I spent the time of my transit delays walking up and down the halls inside the airport, ticking up my step counter while breathing (somewhat) filtered air.

I was glad to leave. I hope it clears up soon for them, though, and doesn't come back to us.

And I wish there were leaders who could do things about air quality. Bush fires. Climate change. Somewhere in the world. I don't believe such people exist anymore.

Last post of 2019

This will be my last post for 2019. We've already got our plans for New Years Eve set up. We'll walk to the market this morning to get some groceries for the rest of the week. After dinner, we'll walk to the stadium and watch the early fireworks. Then we'll wander down the river to the city dance party in the park, where we'll be ready for the midnight fireworks. And then we'll walk home in the first hours of 2020.

When we were looking at lots of houses all over the suburbs, we kept comparing them to where we already lived, and the fabulous walkability of our lives. How could we give up a location that has such great access to markets and parks and events and New Years Eve? Especially New Years Eve, which has become my favourite holiday.

I logged into Instagram this morning and saw lots of pictures of holidays of far away family. There is nothing like scrolling through dozens and dozens of photos of snow on mountains to make me feel like I'm living in a parallel universe. My photos are of green parks in the early morning.

A very warm trip to the zoo.

Grilling outdoors. 

Outdoor market. 

Lots of walks in the trees. 

And a trip to the beach (blue bar, green bar, gray bar).

We live in a universe, where the weather is gorgeous and my shoulders are sunburned and we keep the windows open at night to let in the cool breeze. The cherries have been perfectly in season, as well as the apricots and nectarines. I hear the sprinklers running outside as I write. It sounds and smells and tastes like mid-summer.

So anyway, this is my last post for 2019. It seems I should offer some reflection on the year, or at least a top ten list. But instead my mind is stuck on the contrast between my photos and the photos of the people I love, so far far far away, living in an abstract parallel universe, where we celebrate the same days, but in such different ways. I'll take my celebrations every time!

Summertime!

There is a heat wave going on in Australia. You probably will have read about the bush fires burning out of control in NSW.

We seem to be far away from that here. We've only had one hot day in the last week. The temperature topped out on Friday at about 43 degrees C (109 F). But then we had one of our cool changes. The daily high since then has been about 22 C (72 F).

I have been off work since Friday, which is a very nice place to be in the summertime.

In the hot hot heat Friday afternoon, Tim and I took Jonathan to his ice skating lesson, and sat and shivered and shivered and shivered for two hours in the purple cold.

I tell you, 43 degrees C (109 F) actually feels really really good coming out of the ice house. While waiting for Jonathan to pack up his bag, I stepped out onto the hot asphalt and took my bare feet out of my sandals to warm them up. Ah!

Then we picked a nearby restaurant for dinner, and chose to eat outside.

Jonathan, who had been exercising, was way too hot. Tim and I, after spending two hours being slowly refrigerated, found it lovely to thaw.

But as I said, that was the only one hot day in this whole massive heat wave sweeping everyone else in the country. Otherwise the weather has been lovely. Perfect for a walk in the botanic gardens.

And up through the arts precinct to the city centre. 

There are a lot of people out on a sunny summer day in Melbourne just before Christmas. Lots and lots and lots of people. Standing-room-only on the trams. People up to your elbows on the sidewalks. Jonathan and I were going to do a little clothes shopping yesterday, but the lines for dressing rooms were too long in the city centre stores. So the only clothes we bought were socks. Merry Christmas!

And then finally, I decided that this summer, I am going to get into better shape. While traveling in November, I found that I really struggled to lift my suitcase up to the shelf above my head on the train. Like shaky-arms, sore muscles, afraid I was going to hurt my back struggled. That's not good. So over the weekend, I downloaded a full body workout app and started exercising! Abs, arms, legs! I am going to be strong! Strong! Strong!

Friends, I am so sore I can barely roll myself off the couch. And that is with the app settings on easiest possible. For example, I had to pretend I could do three whole pushups to even get started, because that's the lowest number it allowed when it asked. And apparently when the app asks how many pushups you can do, it means "in a row", and not "ever in your life". What?! Can't you see I can barely roll off the couch here?

Maybe I should just ask someone else to lift my suitcases for me.

This boy

This boy. 

Thoughtful and polite. Smarter than you realise behind that sweet smile.

Case in point:

The scene: High school awards ceremony.

Every single subject offered in the entire school gives a subject award to a student. The head teachers of each discipline come up to announce. English teachers. Maths teachers. Science teachers. Language teachers. No awards for Jonathan. What no French language honorees at all?

Tim leans over. "Do you think Jonathan feels bad that he isn't getting any of these awards?"

"No," I whisper back. "He's getting a more general award later." We knew that. That's why we came.

Then the principal stands. "And now I will award the students who received two subject awards."

Ah. There was a French award. And more maths and science awards.

And now the students who received three awards.

"And now could one young lady stand? She received four subject awards!" We all applaud. She sits down.

"And now could Jonathan please stand? This young man received six subject awards." The audience gasps. English (year 10), science (year 10), maths (year 10), maths (year 11), physics (year 11), French (year 12).

AND the overall award we came for. AND a principal's all-rounder award.

Hugs after the ceremony. Basking in the glow of being this boy's parents.

"Hey," he says. "Did you know each award comes with a gift card? I just earned a ton of money!"

Any suggestions on how a teenager should spend $400 at the university bookstore?

A post for November

In November, I was in the US.

Lucked out with travel -- a whole row to myself!

In Princeton....

We lived in one of these apartments for three months.

There were deer.

Blackboard.

In Philadelphia....

My hosts.

The houses on this street were built in the 1700s.

Art. A decorated hallway.

Ben Franklin at UPenn.

Love at UPenn.

Philadelphia 30th Street Station.

And with a couple of weekend trips to see my brother in Washington DC.

S. and the Washington Monument.

Nathan, A, S and the dinosaurs.

The whole family at the Natural History Museum.

Pretty sunset.

Nathan.

At the zoo!

More zoo.

November is autumn in Washington DC.

Carousel!

Family photo, with me instead of Michele.

Train station. Going back home.

That is why no news was reported.