Gray on our wings

One day last week I spent some time wandering through the Museum of Church History and Art. I enjoyed a collection of children's drawings, and then this one caught my eye:

It reminded me of the story that President Thomas S. Monson has told of a widow who wanted him to take her canary when she passed away. She wrote to him: "In the kitchen are my three precious canaries. Two of them are beautiful, yellow-gold in color and are perfectly marked. On their cages I have noted the names of friends to whom they are to be given. In the third cage is 'Billie.' He is my favorite. Billie looks a bit scrubby, and his yellow hue is marred by gray on his wings. Will you and your family make a home for him? He isn't the prettiest, but his song is the best."

Don't we all have imperfections, or a little gray on our wings? I certainly have a lot of gray on my wings.

"The world is filled with yellow canaries with gray on their wings. The pity is that so precious few of them have learned to sing. Perhaps the clear notes of proper example have not sounded in their ears or found lodgment in their hearts."

What we do about the gray on our wings makes all the difference in the world in our lives, as well as in the lives of those around us.

President Monson continues: "Can we not appreciate that our very business in life is not to get ahead of others, but to get ahead of ourselves? To break our own records, to outstrip our yesterdays by our todays, to bear our trials more beautifully than we ever dreamed we could, to give as we have never given, to do our work with more force and a finer finish than ever—this is the true idea: to get ahead of ourselves."

When I heard about a high school dance company using an inaccurate and frightening stereotype in their dance routine, I felt even more strongly that we need to learn how to lessen the hurtful stigmas that wound so many, especially in the mental illness community. How best to do this? One idea is to look beyond the obvious differences and see the person, instead of the disorder. To appreciate the gray on the wings. To listen and learn from others. To give them the help and understanding they often so desperately need. To not look away from them in horror or disgust.

President Monson makes this conclusion: "The Master could be found mingling with the poor, the downtrodden, the oppressed, and the afflicted. He brought hope to the hopeless, strength to the weak, and freedom to the captive. He taught of the better life to come—even eternal life. . . . We all have received the divine injunction: 'Follow thou me.' It guided Peter. It motivated Paul. It can determine our personal destiny. Can we make the decision to follow in righteousness and truth the Redeemer of the world? With his help, a rebellious boy can become an obedient man, a wayward girl can cast aside the old self and begin anew."

And when we put aside fears and misunderstandings about the trials other human beings are facing, we can begin to become the compassionate society that so many of us yearn for.

Payday Weekend

We had one of those great weekends that cause us to stop and count our blessings.

We had a family halloween party on Saturday with most of the kids and grandkids in the area (the family with the new baby was excused). It was so much fun to watch 6 of our grandchildren, ages 2 to 8, play together and do some arts and crafts projects, while we visited with our children. Two of them spent Saturday night and most of Sunday with us. We had a good time playing together, and reading a pop-up book of the "Wizard of Oz." They went to church with us, and 7-year-old Gabby sang in the Primary music program. She said, "And I wasn't even scared because I was in a school program." We were proud.

Then, on Sunday, our Soldier Brian came into town for a short visit before heading to Ft. Lewis, and his family. We haven't been able to see him in a year, and he looks wonderful. He just finished five months of officer training on the east coast. Every time I see him I'm impressed by how much he's grown in confidence. I am so very proud of my brand-new Army officer. Sailor Jeff's wife is in town for some schooling, and they talked about military life and argued over which branch of service is better. (Jeff is doing fine on his deployment, but we miss him badly.)

I couldn't help but look back and think of where we were 15 years ago. It wasn't pretty. At the time, we had 5 teenage children, ages 13 to 17, struggling with broken- and blended-family issues, 2 young children at home, and 2 daughters living with their mother. David was undiagnosed, and reacting badly to family stress. Of course, it didn't help when the kids pushed his buttons, as most will do when frustrated. They were a close-knit group, and frequently egged each other on. (Oh, the stories I could tell!)

I knew David had some emotional problems, but I couldn't convince him of that. One time when he had an emotional break I was able to get him into a psychiatrist. Unfortunately, the dr. was more interested in overmedicating David and pushing us out the door. It took another 10 years to get him back to a doctor. I went to a family counselor for several years who helped me through some of the worst times, but he never talked to me about the possibility of David having a mental illness. His counsel helped, but it would have been much more helpful if he had given me some coping skills for David's obvious mental health issues.

Time passed (quickly, it now seems, although at the time I wondered if it would ever end) and our house emptied out within just a few years. Jon left for the Marines and married; Brian served a mission to the Yucatan peninsula of Mexico and later joined the Army; Ben worked and then served a mission to Perth Australia; Lara, Brittany, and Shannon each married and became young mothers. The younger children, Jeff, Katie, and Krista, also eventually grew up, married, and left home.

We wonder sometimes how we made it through those tough years. Mainly with prayer and patience, coupled with good friends and family who helped out. Weekends like this seem even sweeter after all the storms we went through to get to this point.

Update: David went to the p-doc today. The dr. increased his lithium to 300 mg. and put him on risperdone to help control the voices and paranoia. Here's hoping it will help! He also counseled with him to not doing his "walks" anymore. That means I will feel more comfortable about calling next time I see those symptoms start to develop. I just haven't been sure about what to do when David gets in that frame of mind. It makes me feel better to know that more help is available.

The Soloist

David and I watched the movie "The Soloist" last night. It's the story of a LA Times journalist befriending a homeless street musician struggling with schizophrenia. Robert Downey Jr. and Jamie Foxx do an outstanding job playing the leads, and the music is an added bonus. I thought it was a moving and compassionate story of mental illness and homelessness. The DVD has some additional features that are well worth watching. One of the directors of an agency in LA dedicated to helping those who are mentally ill and homeless makes the point that all of them are someone's brother, sister, father, mother, son, daughter. She also mentions that the cost of helping them is less than the cost of having them in the legal system. She gave some helpful hints about how to help this neglected part of the population and the joy that comes from serving them. The directors insisted on filming the actual location and used some of the homeless people there as extras in the movie. They learned that they don't have to fear those with mental illness and shooting the movie was a life-changing experience for them.

David struggled with it in parts because it hit too close to home. I offered to turn it off, but he said, no, he wanted to face his demons. He thought it was an accurate description of how mental illness feels. I worried about it affecting his mood, but he got up this morning willing and ready to keep fighting his disorder. His illness is far milder than that of the musician, Nathaniel Ayers, but he asked me why it is that he has a home and a loving family while so many others with his condition don't. I don't have a good answer for that, but we feel grateful that he does. He says the movie gave him additional motivation to staying on top of his disorder.

I was intrigued by the story, so I read a little more about it online, and ordered the book from Amazon. Steve Lopez is the journalist who took an interest in the homeless population of Los Angeles, and found his life enriched by the experience. I'm glad to see an accurate, compassionate, respectful treatment of mental health issues in a movie. I hope more will be produced that will help ease the stigma.