The Worthless

“We sometimes confuse sin with sinner, and we condemn too quickly and with too little compassion. We know from modern revelation that ‘the worth of souls is great in the sight of God.’ We cannot gauge the worth of another soul any more than we can measure the span of the universe. Every person we meet is a VIP to our Heavenly Father. Once we understand that, we can begin to understand how we should treat our fellowmen.” (Dieter F. Uchtdorf, You Are My Hands, May 2010 Ensign)

This is something that has consumed my thoughts lately, and I have wanted to address it directly, but have struggled with my own views, feelings and words to be able to do it.  I was in the middle of my workout today and had to stop and write after reading a post on Facebook, of all places.

Have you ever wondered where your individual worth comes from?  What is it that creates worth in someone? And what determines who has more worth than another?  In asking these questions, I imagine most everyone would respond, well of course, everyone has value! No one person is more valuable than another!  And yet in this idealistic declaration, do we honor this so called "value or worth" of each life here on this earth?  Do we really believe what we say?  Do I really believe what I say?  I would always contest with anyone who would say to the contrary that someone is worthless.  Only because if one person is worthless that would open the possibility that I was also worthless.  Something I have often felt and battled more that I want to admit.  I would defend the "worthless" because I myself didn't want to believe I was "worthless".  But am I true to this assertion?  Do I really believe that each person has great value? What has spurred such a debate in my head and heart?

Just a short...but long 5 months ago, I moved to California.  Why? Well, it was absolutely unplanned and an unwanted endeavor.  However, it was something I felt moved upon to do.  It was the next transfer of my mission here in this life.  I now spend my days in prison.  Yep, you read correctly, prison!  It is a level 4 facility(which houses the most dangerous), and within this prison, I work specifically in the unit called Administrative Segregation or as it is so loving refered to, "the prison within a prison".  This is where the inmates who "can't play nice" with the other inmates or staff are sent.  They are considered the worst of the worst of individuals that exist in this world.  They can't go anywhere without an escort of one or two officers and if they are not in a cell, they always wear handcuffs and ankle chains.  I spend my days with murderers, rapists, thief's, child abusers, liars, manipulators, and con-artists. My first day, and everyday since, I pray for help and for protection.

What does a prison look like?  Well in this particular instance movies are fairly accurate.  High electric fences with watch towers, and several check points where they check my I.D and bags.  I then make a long walk to my office and to the unit where the inmates live.  It takes about 20 minutes from car to desk.  At one check point, I am given an alarm that I have to wear everywhere and a whistle in case I am at a location where the alarm would not activate, such as walking from one building to another.   In my unit I have to wear a vest any time I am with the inmates to protect me from a possible stabbing.

The prospect of working in this environment was terrifying.  There were many nights I would be up crying, feeling I just couldn't go back tomorrow, I can't do this.  I would pray for God's help and protection because I knew and still know that I could not do this relying upon my own wit, knowledge, instincts, or courage.

Interestingly enough, about a week before I started, I began to pray God would bless me to love them.  I wanted to see them as He saw them, I wanted to feel about them the way He feels about them.  I knew I could never accomplish anything if I was filled with fear, judgement, and hate.  It would destroy me.

One of the groups I recently facilitated with the inmates was on forgiveness.  We were watching a documentary that highlighted several "real life" tragedies and discussed concepts on possible ways to heal.  In the video, one of the women introduced the idea of separating actions from the person, the sin from the sinner.  I stopped the video, desperately wanting to discuss this idea with the inmates.  Did they know what this means?  Have they ever heard this idea before?  Did they agree? Plant the seed Dot.  My first question to them:

Me: "Do you believe that its possible to see someone and measure them separate from what it is that they do?
Inmates: "Yes"
Me:"Do you believe that every person on this earth has value independent of circumstance, position, race, or economic status?"
Inmates:"Yes"
(Note to self, ask open ended questions!)

I then began asking them to imagine or to examine their own worth, and to reflect on what they feel has made them who they are.  Then I asked one final question, "What do you think or imagine would change in the world if every. single. person. was treated as though they were truly valuable?  What would that world look like?"  Each of them silently seem to consider the question.  A few of them mumbled an almost inaudible answer, "...be different."  A few with raised eye brows, "it would change everything," while still pensive, with contemplative looks on their faces as if still examining what the real answer would look like, knowing somehow their answers didn't quite cover everything they were thinking and feeling.

Each of us knows keenly what it is to be treated as though we were invisible or perhaps even worse, like we didn't matter.  So if we all know what it is like, and how it feels, and the impact it has, and desire never to be treated that way ever again...then why is it that we so casually ignore or brush each other off?  Sometimes we are even deliberately cruel, feeling that it is necessary in order to get our point across.

I bring this up because there are two schools of thought at the prison.  One: These men are evil and are not worth the air they breath, and the world would be better off without them.  One of my first weeks working there, I was working with an officer who was not shy about the disgust he felt and his desire, if he could, to line them up and using a firing squad, in a simple count of three, eliminate each and every one of them.

There are a handful of others who comprise the second school of thought:  There is hope and we can help.  We are not going to be inviting these men over for dinner any time soon...or ever, but these are men who in many, if not all cases were born, raised, experienced, and taught "this is how it is kid.  If you don't do this, you won't survive."  I am not going to dive into the psychological warfare that goes into all this, I am simply presenting the simplicity of a principle...a universal truth.

In my short...but long 5 months, I have laughed more than felt scared, threatened, frustrated, or used.  I have received cooking ideas, poems, raps, heard beautiful singing voices, seen true artists, writers, experienced intelligent conversation, been treated with respect, seen loving fathers, and brothers.  I have witnessed and experienced the value of the sinner separate of the sin.  I have loved the sinner and not the sin.  What these men have done is wrong.  However, I am not going to treat them as though they are worthless, they are not.  They have as much value as I do.  I do not trust them, but I do feel love for them.  I see them as they can become.  I often wonder about the impact that each of these men have had in this world.  Could it be possible that each of their paths could have been altered because of kindness or a compassionate, patient act?  Could the trend of violence, abuse, theft, fear, desperation change by simple, very small contacts we have with one another each day?

The worst of the worst...thats who I spend my days with. They have taught me more about being like Christ, more about the real value we each have in the eyes of God.  My goal is not to rehabilitate or to change them. I know I can't do that. However, I can treat them with love, and compassion. Give joy, respect and create safe boundaries. I can encourage and empower the very best that has laid dormant in them.  I can awaken that in them. Something they never had the opportunity to experience before.  For the first time, I want them to experience and know the difference.  Then, each of them can understand the choice they have in front of them...who they can become.  Once you've experienced being in the light, it is more difficult to be comfortable remaining in the dark. They are in prison, but have not lost the opportunity to know who they are. Each day I make mistakes, It isn't easy to always love those who would constantly do you harm.  It's almost an impossible thing to imagine loving your enemy, until you are face to face with him, and have to work along side him.  There is always hope!  There is always love!  There is always a choice!  Remember the person who is beside you, in front of you, driving next to you, on the phone with you, on the other side of the tracks as you....they want what you want.  To be treated as though they matter,  as though they are of great value.   Don't let the routine of days after  more days erase what makes this earth beautiful.  Stop and admire the unique, remarkable people around you, and have the courage to pick up the heads that are down, give strength to the feeble and weak of heart, and to raise up the down trodden.  Good Luck!  We can do it!  We are ALL worth the effort!

What A Beautiful Scar? Where Did You Get It?

“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.” 

― Kahlil Gibran

Some of you might be wondering if the title is correct, let me assure you it is!

I often have conversations with my roommates, friends, and family to compare our strength of wit, physical prowess...you know the banter back and forth about who is better and who can do it better!  We compare our bruises and scars and tell grand stories about where they come from.  It is a symbol of adventure, courage and strength!  Coming home after playing volleyball or basketball with floors burns and bruises means that you actually played the game ferociously, without regret and you have a mark to prove it!  To show to the world you have conquered, maybe not the enemy, but you have overcome that weak part of yourself for just a few moments when nothing mattered to you but to give it your all!

I have also had conversations with friends who talk so negatively about their scars and stretch marks or lines on their face.  They talk of plastic surgery, or wish their "marks" away.  They are "ugly", it makes them "ugly".  Every time I hear this I wonder why. Why would you wish your life away?  Each one is an experience, a story of love lost or won.  A vacation, an adventure, a loss, a battle fought, children, a victory!  Each line represents knowledge, understanding, compassion, pain, love and laughter!  Why would you want to wish away the road map of how you became who you are!?  I can have long conversations with myself;)

Several years ago while I was living in Utah some friends and I went camping up in Little Cottonwood Canyon and decided to hike to Mirror Lake or White Lake...something like that I think?  Anyway when we got up in the morning we got started. It was a 4 mile hike which meant a total of 8 miles there and back.  I was afraid, but I didn't want to say anything to anyone.  I wasn't sure I could make it. I pretended I was all for it and totally psyched to get started. I remember the trip was in May, but at a certain point in the hike it got wet from snow run off and as we continued upwards there was snow, lots of it!  We were all in shorts and t-shirts.
 As we ascended the air got cooler but the sun was warm, a perfect combination that day.  At certain points when we'd stop to rest for a bit I would close my eyes and look upward towards the sun wanting to gain strength and courage to keep going.  I love to feel the heat on my face.  At the final stretch, we had to climb a staircase of snow up a glacier, created only by those who had gone before us.  People ahead of us who had made it to the lake just skied or sled down!
On our way down we had to cross a part of trail completely covered with snow and it was at a steep edge.  I took one step and began to slip.  I lost my footing and sat down.  I did not want to move too quickly because I knew one false move and I would be headed down quickly on the snow to the rocks.  It didn't help that I was wearing pants that zip off at the knee for shorts and made of very slick material.  I slowly tried to position both feet against the hard snow and slowly turn toward my friends behind me back on the trail.  As I began to turn and reach towards a friend the snow below me broke free and I started sliding, very quickly.  I shoved my hands into the hard snow hoping to slow myself and even grab onto something below the surface of the snow.  I kept my toes pointed up and tried to dig my feet in as deep as I could to try to stop myself, but it was no use.  All I was doing was cutting myself against the icy snow.  My friend jumped from the trail and ran along side me to try to help me.  I just kept my eyes on what was ahead...rocks!  I came to an abrupt stop about 10 feet down when my foot finally hit a rock barely visible above the snow.  I was breathing very quickly and heavily.  My friend came over and grabbed my hands and I flinched.  My hands and arms felt like they were on fire!  He pulled me up and started to ask me if I was hurt, all I could feel was the sensation of cold and hot at the same time on my legs, hands and arms.  I had numerous small cuts from the ice.  Other than those I was free from injury so we continued our journey and laughed about it as we trekked down.  I had survived the 8 mile hike and I had the scars as a witness of my journey.

The last few months have been a challenge for me.  I am filled with anger and I loose patience very quickly.  I find myself in a room with a group of my favorite people and I am physically unable to laugh with them.  I want to leave.  I often think about how my depression with melancholic feature B, PMDD, blah blah blah...get in the way.  They literally prevent certain things from taking place.  I often wonder how or who I would be without my deficiencies.   I wish I just understood it all.  I just want to do it all the best way possible and I hardly ever feel that that is accomplished.  I want to do everything that God wants me to do and I know I'm not doing that when I shut myself off from the world and all its possibilities because I lack motivation, or I'm afraid of doing it wrong and getting into trouble and being rejected and disappointing anyone.  I couldn't possibly be fulfilling the measure of my creation, by doing nothing or hiding in fear.  I fight so hard against my depression and anxiety because they are such a liability, a burden and in my opinion get in the way of becoming or being who I really am or meant to be.  They disrupt and prevent so much.  I get angry at myself for allowing it so much power over me, I hate myself for it.  There are days I am even angry at God for it.  I have had many conversations in prayer trying to convince Father in Heaven how much more of a profitable servant I would be if this were gone, if I could just be healed.  It is a constant war.  Some battles I win and some I lose.

I was reading the other night in an attempt to console myself and the author, Brad Wilcox, told this story, I will paraphrase.
A young man was trouble and wanted to speak with him (Brad Wilcox).  The young man was distraught by his flaws and mistakes...sins from his past.  He was feeling ashamed and hypocritical.  Brad Wilcox remembering an analogy he had heard years earlier, pulled out a marble egg that had been used for decorations and gave this response to this young man,"Look at the marble.  Isn't it beautiful?"
The young man agreed.
"What makes it beautiful is not that it is free from imperfections.  If it were clear and white, with no flaws, it would look plastic and artificial.  The marble is beautiful and useful because of the dark veins, not in spite of them.  When we repent, our sins are gone, but the memories linger, just like these dark lines.  However, as we keep our covenants and experience the sanctifying influence of the Spirit, it is as if those dark lines are polished over time.  They actually become part of our beauty...One day,...you too will be beautiful--just like the marble--not because you have no dark, jagged memories in your mind, but literally because you do"(The Continuous Atonement, Wilcox, 193-94).  After I read this I thought, I found my hope!

Our Savior, Jesus Christ, is perfect AND He has scars!  Scars that are a symbol of His love, His sacrifice, and the He overcame!  Because of His scars He knows what I feel in my darkest corners and he can comfort and help me there.  Scars, be it emotional, physical, mental, and spiritual are marks of character building, and when we use the Atonement we become like our Heavenly Father because of the scars, not in spite of them.  They are also a continuous reminder of the beauty of the Atonement.

I had the thought the other night, What would my life look like if I believed I was good?  How would that change the way I do things?  How would it change the way I treat others, if I simply acted as though I believed I was good?

Power does not come in perfection, power comes in a choice to act, to move.  It is not the outcome, but the action that matters.  I can act and choose to not let my weakness win.  I can choose to be more compassionate and loving.  I can choose to be true to my word.  I can choose to be honest.  I can choose to raise a voice against evil.  I can choose to ask for help. I can choose to be one more person who does good.  Even if nothing changes around me, I am still a good person doing good things and it will change me!
I remembered I have a marble egg in storage I received from a friend.  I pulled it out and placed on my desk as a reminder of my beautiful lines and scars.  I dwell so much on the dark and ugly and forget the purpose in them, that they are the things that are going to CREATE holiness and MAKE me beautiful...make me better.  " the marble is beautiful and useful because of the dark veins, not in spite of them...they actually become part of our beauty."(194)  There is always a choice in our experience.  It can change us to make us better or to make us bitter.  Each scar can carve in its place greater compassion, wisdom, and love.  Each blow, every hit,  is sculpting me.  Most days I am looking forward to how it turns out.  The good news is I can DO something about how I  turn out with all the carving and sculpting!  I am grateful for the opportunity to grow and to change...a beauty tip in marble, who'd have guessed?

The Best Teachers

"Tell me and I forget. Teach me and I remember. Involve me and I learn."

Benjamin Franklin

It's 1:30 in the morning.  My head is full and so is my heart.  I keep envisioning the year ahead with all its possibilities...for good and bad.  One aspect of my life that requires attention and much effort is school.  I imagine greeting the kids at school after the two week break. Asking them a billion questions because I want to know everything they did. I want to give them all big hugs.  I can't believe how much I miss seeing them everyday, and watching them in all of their pre-teen glory.  They act as though they have it all figured out.  It drives me crazy the amount of time they correct me on how to be a better teacher, or about how to handle difficult situations.  I often want to react, Cool it kid! Just sit down and shut up and your life will be a whole lot easier.  The reality of that is that it will be easier for me and easier isn't always better.  I know on the inside they are whirling with questions, hormones and insecurities. I've been reflecting on my first part of the year with them and I think I've spent too much time feeding that ugly animal in them.  The truth is they don't need me to tell them what to do ALL the time.  They need me to love them.  Isn't that really how we all grow is when someone takes the time to notice us and nourish us?

My junior year of high school we were given the assignment to write a comparative essay about the book we just finished, Of Mice and Men.  I think I choose to compare two different relationships in the book.  When I got the paper back I got a C-.  I was not very happy about it.  I believed I had worked hard, even done my best.  I didn't want to ask for help, even though I needed it badly.  I was behind in skill and even comprehension.  The previous year, I passed english class with a D!  I had gone to my teacher for help and she would miss our appointments, or blow me off when I tried to catch her after class.  I even took my mom with me before school one time and she was a no show! She would give me a brief response to my questions, which often left me more confused. She was one of the worst teachers I have ever had.  She never left her chair behind the desk, and most days she would talk about Beevis and Butthead ( a popular TV show at the time), which I thought, at 15, was highly inappropriate.  I knew because that was something we were strictly forbidden to watch!  Its funny to me that even at 15 I was eager to be taught and inpatient with the process.  Some things never change;)

It was my American Literature teacher, Jeff Krause, who changed learning for me.  It was his first year of teaching and he was amazing!  After my devastating blow, he offered to the whole class an opportunity for a re-write.  I took it home and looked over his comments for revision and what I needed to change and made the necessary adjustments, not considering taking it to the next level for improvement. I took it back the next day.  The following day after class he gave it back to me and said,"that's better, is it your best?"  He then invited me to see him after school.  I sat by his desk, very nervous about his feedback for me.  It was quite obvious the struggles I was having.  I always liked my English classes and found it thrilling to dissect characters and plots.  Writing was hard for me, and I needed someone to show me how to do it!  I was worried all he would have to say would be negative.

He put my paper out in front of us and began going through each page and making suggestions, "try this, or read this out loud, does it make sense to put it here or does it go somewhere else in the paper?"  He talked with me for about 30 minutes and then said, "go home and see what you can do and bring it back to me tomorrow."  I was amazed, that he would offer his time like that to me.  This process continued everyday for a week.  At the end of the week we were all to hand in our final revisions for a grade, but he had us do this individually by appointment.  I went in that Monday morning nervous for what he would say.  I hadn't ever worked like this on a writing assignment and I really wanted him to feel like it was good enough for...say, like a B?  He pulled out my paper and I initially did not see any red markings, nor did I see a grade.  He looked me straight in the eye and said, "Hello!  Well what do you think about your paper?"  I was totally confused.  "Uh", was my response.  He asked again, "what do you think about your paper?"  I had nothing really to base my answer on.  Certainly I had never actually written anything that was really good before.  I muttered something about working hard and it was better than the C- paper I handed in.  Surely it had to better than what I started with, I thought.  Then he asked an even more incredible question, "what do you think your grade should be?"  I smiled at him like, look mister! You're the teacher, and I have no idea what grade I should get on this paper.  He must have picked up on my feelings because he asked the question again but rephrased it.  "Okay, what grade do you think you deserve?" I was truly puzzled, but I wanted to figure out what it was that he wanted from me by the question, so I thought about it for several minutes.  I knew I had done what he had asked me to do at every step, and I had been faithful in going to see him for help, and I had worked hard.  My thoughts told me not to say more than a B, a B is good, a B is good.  Then I blurted out, "I think I deserve an A!  I worked hard on this paper, its a good paper..."

He smiled at me and softly giggled.  I was at the edge of my seat waiting to see how he would respond.  Of course every kid in class would be coming to him wanting an A, why would he give one to me?
"Dot", he said," you did an excellent job on this paper, it is very good and I also think you deserve an A".
 "Really"?! I said.
"Yes, really"!  Again he softly chuckled.

I just sat there as he wrote the A on top of my paper, I couldn't take my eyes off of it.  I was smiling from ear to ear and felt this ball of emotion in my throat.  I shoved it down and began to thank him over and over and over again for all his time and for all his help.  Mr. Krause opened up the world to me, and I've loved to write ever since.

I have always wanted to be a teacher like that.  He was one of the reasons I wanted to be a teacher.
Being in unfamiliar territory, I want to control it, even the outcomes of what I do and say.  I think I've been making the kids feel like whatever they do for me just isn't good enough.  The reality is is that what they do isn't good enough, but thats because I don't take the time necessary to notice them and nourish them.  Most of them are working at it and improving.  90% of the kids I work with are two grade levels behind, and they really struggle.  I want them to pick up after themselves, and keep their shirts tucked in (uniform standard), and to say mine instead of mines!  The list could go on and on about what they are not doing, but that's not really what matters.  I need to notice their strengths and nourish the areas where they are weak.

One of the goals I set this year was to reach out to one person everyday.  Not someone I live with, or someone that I normally and naturally attach myself to, but someone that I struggle to connect to and get along with...So, if you get a call...

I know that I can do better with my students to at least have them want to come to class, and feel comfortable asking questions and then allow the rest to fall into place.
I really struggle to step outside of my personal bubble or to let anyone inside that bubble.  That little bit of a ripple is chaos.  So in an effort to transform, I am doing it!  To shake me up and to hopefully improve the atmosphere with my students.  We don't change without somehow changing the people around us, and I want to make sure that I am making that change for good! After all, to get anywhere with anyone we need love and compassion.

I really, really struggle with my social anxiety, and personal insecurities and only when someone has put forth the effort in someway to let me know it was okay to take a step forward is when I have been able to really leap from where I'm at, and be open to listening to changes that I have needed to make.

  I have learned so much more from those who have opened themselves up to me, and explained life, asked me questions, put an arm around me and walked with me for a while, then from anyone just telling me what to do, or reading about how to change.  I am truly grateful to those people who have come and gone, and who are now a part of my life who have taken me by the hand, or given me a gentle nudge and said here let me show you, and then given me the chance to try it.  It is those small and simple acts, that truly last forever!

I need to stop getting motivated and inspired to write in the middle of the night!!!