remembering

This was my favorite place in France.

Normandy Beaches. Where D-Day happened.

They were our age. They were just beginning their lives.

But then World War II began and nothing was ever the same.

I wondered, "what would I do if B was drafted?"
"How would I help him live again after seeing so much death?"
There were so many who gave so much.
Countless wives and mothers received letters that their boys would never come home.
I asked as I saw pictures of the destruction and endless fighting for hope and victory,
"How would we fare if we were asked to grow our own food
and to give our all for the war effort?"

I am in awe of the young men and women who made my freedom possible.

This peaceful beach is what was code-named Omaha beach. The beginning of the invasion. and the beginning of the annihilation of a generation of young men.

This is the museum and memorial that the American government
has created to remember them by.

"If ever proof were needed that we fought for a cause and not for conquest it could be found in these cemeteries. Here was our only conquest. All we asked.. was enough soil in which to bury our gallant dead."

I am so grateful for the opportunity we have to remember.

just let it be.

after reading the news and being slightly discouraged, I feel a little like giving up.

there are children starving.  mad men murdering. and a whole lot of bombs going off in the Middle East.

let's just let it all tank.

"FIRST, though," i thought,  "i need to go to costco and get my year's supply."

"but then we can let it melt."

however, a little song on the radio reminded me of something important....

Don't get me wrong, the song was depressing, Broken Strings, by James Morrison and Nelly Furtado.  

Oh it tears me up

I tried to hold but it hurts too much

I tried to forgive but it's not enough

to make it all okay

You can't play on broken strings

You can't feel anything

That your heart don't want to feel

I can't tell you something that ain't real

it's the line-I tried to forgive but it's not enough- that really caught my attention and snapped me back into reality.  

because it's wrong.  so completely and utterly wrong.  and all the economy is dead, there is no such thing as goodness, peace is hopeless, and your life will never matter naysayers want you and me to believe that.  

I refuse to believe it.

every one of us has been promised endless treasure, gifts, blessings, and more happiness than we know how to receive by one simple act.

the atonement.

when the world seems to spin out of control, we can be grounded.  when the world seems full of hate, we can see the love.  when the world seems full of trials, we can feel the blessings.  and when loved ones hurt us, we can forgive and love again.  because with God, all things are possible.

So buck up my friends!  put our shoulders to the wheel!  

and remember the incredible love and support we have in a Father in a Heaven, and the sacrifice that has already been made to assure our eternal happiness and joy, 

on this earth and beyond.

where i come from

my grandpa from Provo

As I was bathing today (yes, we don't have a shower and yes, we have made sure to disinfect our tub from the millions of germies of others who have used it before us..eew.) As I put shampoo on my curly (and tangly! hard water shows no mercy) hair, I thought about where I come from.  And no, not the 'where do babies come from' question, but the places and people that I have come from.  

First, I thought about cougar town-Provo.  Because, as many of you might not know, I have deep Provo roots.   My great grandmother Ame Ridge grew up near Center street.  My Grandfather wore overalls and walked next to the canal on his way to Dixon Middle School.  He tells me stories about cows being driven down center street, and one by one, the cows would turn into the homes that they belonged to.  That was normal back in the day.  One of the attorneys I worked for, Dayle Jeffs, another Provo-ite, told me that he could remember all 6 of my grandfather's brothers name (in order) because he would hear my great-grandmother yell out into the street for the boys to come home for supper, every evening at dusk.  My grandfather's dental office was set right near the corner of 800 N and University Avenue, perfect for saving parking and seats for the 4th of July parade we attended every year.  One year, they tossed saltwater taffy from one of the floats and I ran all over the street with other ecstatic children to pick up all the goodies. I haven't eaten taffy since, probably because I ate so much I puked.  My mother was born in Provo and didn't even leave the house (in the Tree streets) once she started college at BYU.  I think she partly married my father so she could finally move out of the house (I say that sort of jokingly...).  Going to BYU never felt that far away from home, it seemed just an extension of who I was.  Provo belonged to me in a little way and I feel like I belonged there too.  

And then I thought about England.  Interestingly, it is part of who I am as well.  My great-grandfather lived in Middleborough, up North from here.  He was the last of his family to emmigrate to Utah as a convert to the Church.  He was a hard-working man and struggled to feed his family during the great depression.  This place, this country, is part of where I come from too.  So being here, it's really not that far away from home either, it is just an extension of who I am.

And I thought about all of that while I was in the tub.  What can I say?  Bathing takes a lot longer than a shower.

So, a little question for you, where do you come from?

a sobering and touching activity

This last week was Remembrance day. It's celebrated as Veterans Day in the U.S. But here, it is specifically in Remembrance of the First World War and other wars are remembered in conjunction. One of my favorite things that they do here is wear Poppy pins throughout the end of October all the way up to Remembrance day.
Why do they wear poppies? I will tell you.

After the first World War the fields and meadows of Europe were devastated. They had been bombed, trampled, and bled upon by hundreds upon thousands of men. After this great destruction, the first sign of life that emerged were the blood-red poppies. These poppies surrounded and engulfed the bodies and graves of men buried throughout the meadows of Europe. As one of the speakers said in our ward last Sunday, it is no coincidence that the creator of the world designed the blood-red poppy to be the first sign of life after such great destruction. It is the perfect color for remembrance--for the blood that has been shed by those men and women for our freedom, and ultimately the blood shed by our Savior for our eternal freedom. The poppy is a great testament to those who have died on our behalf and that it is possible to rebuild even in the wake of great destruction. (For more read "Flander's Fields")

For this reason, on Saturday night, Branden and spent an hour or two reading this site.

It is a special report/publication done by the Wall Street Journal. It has all of the men and women who have died during the Iraq war. It includes all nationalities (there are quite a few Brits, Poles, and a few others) and indicates the date of death for each soldier. It is a way to show not only the statistics of the war, but it gives a quick description of each soldier, given by the mother, friend, aunt, teacher, wife, or whomever the WSJ could get to comment on the man or woman. I cannot tell you how incredible it is to read the eulogies for these soldiers. I have watched so many specials on TV that try and convey the life and death of soldiers in Iraq. But so often the story is sensationalized and the true character or beauty of that person's life is lost in the rapid-fire pictures, sappy music, and ridiculous narrating (sorry Jessica, I know you are newswoman...but sometimes it's just too much :). But these short descriptions... they are like a breath of fresh air. And I cried. I cried for the lost lives, the lost love, and the incredible bravery and strength of these men and women. I have cut and pasted a few of them. Please go to this site. It's sobering and refreshing to see every single one of our lost servicemen and women being remembered.

Staff Sgt. Ronald Phillips
Age: 33
Hometown: Conway, S.C.
Died: Thursday, September 25, 2008

Wanda Phillips said a moment with a South African pastor during her son's high school days was his first nudge toward service.
"God said, 'If you serve me, I'm going to take you places," she said, reading from the family's written account of what Ronald Phillips Jr. was told that day. "You're going to be able to run with young people and go with teams. You're going to countries in the world."
"All Ron heard out of that was he was going to lead teams," said his father, Ronald Phillips Sr. "Well, he was a basketball player and said, 'Oh, Daddy, I'm going overseas to play basketball.' I said, 'Boy, that ain't what that means.'"
Phillips, 33, of Conway, S.C., died Sept. 25 in Bahbahani of wounds suffered when his vehicle struck an explosive. He was a 1994 high school graduate and was assigned to Fort Stewart.
He was known for his love of R&B music and his ability to just draw people in, whether at football game as a child, or fishing with his three brothers as an adult.
He is survived by his wife and two young children.


Spc. Lerando J. Brown
Age: 27
Hometown: Gulfport, Miss.
Died: Saturday, March 15, 2008

BC-MS--Soldier Death
GULFPORT, Miss. (AP) _ An Army National Guard soldier from Poplarville was killed in Iraq last Friday.
Sgt. Lerando Brown was shot in the chest and killed in Balad, his wife, Candice Brown, told the Sun Herald on Tuesday.
Lerando Brown, 27, was a member of the 288th Sapper Co., based in Houston, Miss. He is at least the 60th military member with strong ties to Mississippi who has died in the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan in the last five years.
Candice Brown said she was informed of her husband's death Saturday, about 36 hours after she last talked to him.
"I couldn't do anything but cry," she said of her reaction to the news. "I couldn't believe that. I was like, 'I just talked to him Friday morning and this cannot be true.'"
Candice Brown said she won't forget the silly faces her husband made to make her laugh, the 25 Christmas letters he sent from Iraq to first-graders at her school, the constant reminders through phone calls and e-mails that he loved her, and that she was his Cinderella.
"There is a part in my heart that is gone because that part of my heart ... was him," she said. "The biggest part of it is gone because he's not here."


Capt. Drew N. Jensen
Age: 27
Hometown: Clackamas, Ore.
Died: Friday, September 7, 2007

Army Capt. Drew N. Jensen
One of Drew N. Jensen's last actions in life was to look out for other wounded soldiers at the VA Hospital in Seattle.
Before his death, he designated that a $10,000 fund established in his name should go to help offset the housing costs of other families who travel far to be near their wounded loved one's bedside.
"He was an Army captain and his first thought was to take care of his men," said George Kraus, a retired Marine who helps administer the Aid to Wounded Soldier Program.
Jensen, 27, of Clackamas County, Ore., died Sept. 7 in Seattle of sniper wounds sustained May 7 in Baqubah. He was assigned to Fort Lewis. He was a 2002 graduate of the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, with a bachelor's degree in history.
As his group came under fire, Jensen spotted a lone soldier pinned behind a vehicle. Darting out from shelter, Jensen ran to help.
"Drew lived life without regret," his family wrote in an obituary. "He inspired those around him by embodying the leadership qualities he believed in and had an undeniable charisma that was only enhanced by his bright white smile."
He is survived by his wife, Mardie.
"It has been rough," Candice Brown said. "I have to take it day by day. I have the Lord on my side."


I am grateful for these men and women who are sacrificing their lives for our freedom and equally to those men and women who have lost them.

for your enjoyment

this was last year for michael's birthday- his gift. check out dustin's reaction...

boys are so easy to please.

to cut or not to cut....

here is my LONG curly hair.(remember-it's curly, so when it's straightened it's way longer than it looks in these picture)

this is what happens to long curly hair in England--

and so this is what happens by the end of EVERY day...

I am feeling frumpyness in my hair. And I'm not old enough to be calling myself frumpy.
So...

Do I cut it? or do I leave it? I'm finding that I often put it up in a bun...in this weather it's the only thing that I can do with it....so maybe i should keep it long for easiness? and can curly hair be short and not be...humongous? what do I do? more layers? bangs? what have you seen other curly haired people doing? what are you doing?

How do I get out of this...hair-rut?

help.

on a side note...

i have had enough of politics. so i am going to write about something else.

branden and i have made friends. and not just any friends, we have made friends with incredible people who can teach us, inspire us, and provide us the same opportunity to help them. after a few weekends of dinner parties, postgraduate events and discussions, i am overwhelmed by gratitude for this experience and the lifelong friendships i have already made.

there is yvonne from uganda, sara from japan, rodgers from zambia, marzia from italy, carin from france, and joanne from uganda. not to mention our LDS friends tom and laura h.- and james and his wife-the newlyweds.

a few days ago, all this thinking about new friends got me to thinking about all of you...my far-away friends! and then i got an idea. B's and my flat is sparsley decorated. due to our limited packing space we were unable to bring much memorabilia to remind us of home or of each of you.

i would like to propose a picture/postcard exchange. if you, my friends, would like, i would love to send you a postcard, picture of england (or europe), or other memorabilia i can fit into an envelope. in exchange, i would love to have you send me a picture (of you and/or your family), postcard, or other small american memorabilia (must fit in envelope...).

this solves my problem of having pictures to decorate our home and the problem of having no reminders of all of you. and you get an exciting memento from me, on the other side of the big ocean!

this is how i have figured it can work. please comment and leave your email address on this post if you are interested. i will then email you to exchange our addresses.

if you aren't comfortable leaving your email address...i might have it anyway, so just comment and we'll work out how to get your address.

sound good? great! i will leave you with some words...

Of all the things which wisdom provides to make us entirely happy, much the greatest is the possession of friendship.
-epicurus

much love to all.

vote today!

get out there and vote and make our ancestors proud!

and for those of you in California---

PROPOSITION 8: FROM SOMEONE WHO'S BEEN THERE

I am going to attempt the impossible: I want to try to discuss Proposition 8 in an honest, equitable manner.

To demonstrate the divisiveness of the issue, let me first point out that I could only call it "Proposition 8." If I'd called it by its original name, "Proposition 8: California Marriage Protection Act," you would think that I want you to vote "Yes on 8." After all, who wouldn't want to protect marriage? If I'd called it by its new name, as determined by California's attorney general and legislative analyst in July, "Proposition 8: Eliminates Right of Same-Sex Couples to Marry," you would think that I want you to vote "No on 8." After all, who would
want to eliminate someone's rights?

And, to demonstrate how far-reaching its effects, I didn't even need to call it "California' s Proposition 8." No matter where this email goes, to any of the 50 states that may have propositions up for vote, I'm confident people will know which state's "Proposition 8" I'm talking about.

Laurie Goodstein of the New York Times describes the Proposition with poetic imagery: "it is raging like a wind-whipped wildfire in California." More poetic still...from an article in Monday's San Francisco Chronicle:

"Michelle Sundstrom and her husband gave $30,000 to the Yes on 8 campaign and put a sign on their home. But in response, two women parked an SUV in front of their home, with the words 'Bigots live here' painted on the windshield. Sundstrom believes such responses must come from deep places of pain-and that gays and lesbians are entitled to the same rights as heterosexuals, just not the word marriage. Any animosity toward gays or lesbians is wrong, she said.

"There must be such deep, deep, deep hurt; otherwise there couldn't be so much opposition," she said. "They've lived with this. I guess we're getting a taste of where they live."

Wow. Perhaps all this craziness and hate-slinging is actually getting us somewhere. A heterosexual Mormon couple has a "Bigots live here" sign parked in front of their house, and what's their response? "They've lived with this. I guess we're getting a taste of where they
live."

And she didn't just say "deep hurt." She said "deep, deep, deep hurt." I know the depth of that pain. I grew up Mormon and gay back in the 1970s. That was when we were shunned, ridiculed, bruised, battered, and discriminated against by nearly everyone, religious or otherwise. We hid in the closets because it hurt too much to come out. People who did come out were called perverts, child molesters, predators, queer, sick, you name it. For those of us who were Mormon, it was even worse. We were attracted to the same sex, yet Mormon doctrine stated we were supposed to get married only to a member of the opposite sex. It is a direct conflict between the two strongest, most significant desires in life.

When I was in college, I met a woman with whom I thought I'd spend the rest of my life. But after a couple of years, we broke up. That was when I had this feeling, an impression, to talk to my bishop. I had no idea who he was because I hadn't gone to church in years.

That bishop used the power of the priesthood in my behalf, just as the divine plan had been laid out. He met with me for almost three years as I struggled and faltered. Suicide was a very real threat. I feel blessed, or lucky, or both, not to be among the many who have already pulled
the trigger. I wasn't suicidal because of the Church's unwavering stance onmarriage, however. I hadn't been forced to believe, or guilted into it. I had not been brainwashed. My testimony came from the heart.

In time, my spiritual identity began to gain strength over my sexual identity. I was finally able to choose the right. But it was a troubling choice. I had no desire, whatsoever, to spend a lifetime with a man - much less an eternity. So that left me with celibacy. To this day, sacrificing same-sex relationships is the greatest sacrifice I have made.

Years ago, a friend said: "The sacrifice of a loved one for an attempt to live righteously
cannot go unnoticed. The loss is real, the sadness is real, in a world where so few things are real." Now, the loss and pain are being publicly recognized by Church leaders. In a fireside for Latter-day Saints in California, Elder Quentin L. Cook said, "There are faithful temple-worthy members of the Church who struggle with this great challenge, often in silence, fear, and
great pain. Our hearts go out to these good brothers and sisters even as we uphold the divine truths the Lord has revealed about marriage."

Back when I was struggling with same-sex attraction, I couldn't find any LDS resources that
dealt specifically with the issue. I'd insist, "The Church doesn't understand. They don't even care enough to help." Finally I realized the Church I was critizing was not just "they", it was also "I". And perhaps "I" should quit complaining and start writing. So I did. The title of my book sums it up: Born That Way? A True Story of Overcoming Same-Sex Attraction. Few people were offering hope back then for people who wanted to overcome same-sex attraction. I felt compelled by the spirit to provide hope for others with struggles similar to mine.

The secular resources did more harm than good. Back then, the only claims you heard from the
"experts" were: "Sexual attractions are a permanent part of who you are. They're indelible, unchangeable, and unavoidable. " Fortunately, the "experts" are now realizing that, just like other aspects of who we are, sexual attractions are influenced by genetics, environment, upbringing, experiences - all of it. Nature and nurture are no longer pitted against each
other.

I've had the unique opportunity to witness the journey of many people who struggle with same-sex attractions. In 1990, I volunteered as a phone counselor - originally referred through Evergreen, an organization established to help Mormons who face this trial. Over the span of almost 20 years, I've seen some Latter-day Saints get married in the temple, and others work to remain celibate - either because they have not found a spouse yet, or because they have not developed attractions toward the opposite sex. I also have friends, who once had very strong
testimonies, who tried desperately to bring their lives into accordance with gospel principles, but finally gave up. At least for now.

THIS IS SO IMPORTANT:
Some people, no matter what they do or how hard they try, will never find themselves attracted to the opposite sex, in this life. They deserve our utmost respect. So do those who identify as gay or straight or bisexual or none of the above. They all deserve our respect.

It's not difficult for me to understand how the body of the Church in California has become divided over this issue. I have felt divided, too. Our family lived in California in 2000, when the Defense of Marriage Act came up for vote the first time. My husband and I were sealed together for time and all eternity, and our children were born under the new and everlasting covenant. We, as an eternal family, were and are the direct beneficiaries of the Church's unwavering stance on marriage. What once created angst so severe I considered suicide has led me to a life I never thought possible. One in which I have been happily married - to a man - for 15 years.

However, I know all too well what it's like to be discriminated against. "Eliminating" someone
else's rights seems wrong. And up until this past week, it seemed to go against my sense of fairness, democracy and justice as a citizen of the United States. It also seemed to run contrary to the core of my faith - the second greatest commandment - to love one another.

Despite my apprehensions in 2000, my husband and I acted in faith and supported Proposition 22 because the prophet asked us to. I hate to admit this, but it wasn't until this week that I was finally able to reconcile the opposing viewpoints I continued to debate with myself. I finally realized why the leaders of the Mormon Church have been taking such an active role in
all this. It happened when I read a National Public Radio report entitled "When Gay Rights and Religious Liberties Clash". It says, "In recent years, some states have passed laws giving residents the right to same-sex unions in various forms. Gay couples may marry in Massachusetts and California. There are civil unions and domestic partnerships in Vermont, New Jersey, Connecticut, New Hampshire and Oregon."

I was astonished when I read: "So far, the religious groups are losing." They listed examples such as Catholic Charities in Massachusetts. They had to pull out of the adoption business because they refused to adopt to same-sex couples. Even individuals' religious rights are being revoked. A woman declined to photograph a same-sex couple's commitment ceremony, saying her Christian beliefs prevented her from sanctioning same-sex unions. She was found guilty of discrimination.

When I read that article, it was like a light bulb went on. More importantly, I also felt a spiritual confirmation that the prophet truly is prophetic. Here is the impression that came to me as I read: It's not that the Mormon Church is trying to get into politics. It's that politics is trying to get into the Church. And not just our church. Any church or congregation or individual who believes that only a marriage between a man and a woman is ordained of God.

I'm sorry I couldn't see what the prophet could see-until this week. I'm sorry I'm not sending this letter out till now. And I'm sorry for my apathy - for being "lukewarm". Why, just last week I thought it was only a matter of time before same-sex marriages became legal everywhere. How wrong I was.

Yes, we're behind in the polls. Yes, it's the Friday before Election Day. So PLEASE, email this letter to anyone and everyone you think could benefit from it - as quickly as possible!

Unfortunately, someone has to lose with Proposition 8. Somebody's right to something will be limited at the end of the day on Tuesday.
I, for one, do not want it to be my right to worship as I please.

Sincerely,

Erin Eldridge

P.S. For those who would like to respond to this letter -whether in anger or frustration or support - I will do my best to respond to every email I receive. But please, be patient. All our kids are still at home and I work part time. Email riverwalk8@gmail. com.