I’m a few hours late in opening the thread. I remembered halfway through the General Women’s Session (I still love to say that…) and then forgot as soon as it ended. Better late then never! Please leave your thoughts and insights here!
Last August I cooked a t-bone steak. For the first time in my 51 years. If I cook meat its either chicken, fish, or the occasional pork loin, so my husband’s birthday dinner request was not met with much rejoicing. Chances were much higher that a bunch of expensive meat would be ruined than that it would be edible. But I tried anyway.
Love does not mean sacrificing any and all personal desires to fill the desires of someone else. It does not mean allowing people to mistreat you in the name of loyalty or peace or tolerance. It does not mean “never having to say you’re sorry.” It does not mean that you own someone (or they own you).
We are commanded to love others as God loves us. Charity. The pure love of Christ. With unfailing compassion, patience, and mercy. The past few weeks I’ve been pondering a great deal on love and relationships and family and eternity.
What does love mean to you? How do you show love in difficult circumstances? What does Christlike love look like? [click to continue…]
Update: The Kickstarter funded! There was a surge of support in the final days and it came through in the nick of time. Thanks to any Mormon Momma readers who shared or contributed. It’s going to be great.
When I was a kid, my sister, Nora, went to see a musical. It was all the rage, touring across the western states to sell out crowds. She bought the LP and we listened over and over and over. I memorized every song. That was my introduction to Saturday’s Warrior.
Fast forward to 1989. I’m married with my second child on the way. A VHS recording of the stage play is offered for sale. I bought it—I had a few friends in it—and my kids were introduced to a somewhat different version.
Fast forward to 2015. Lex de Azevedo—one of the writers of the original stage play–sets out to produce a feature-length, theater-release movie. With a refurbished script, a combination of old music and new music, and an amazing crew in place, the first script read through happened at BYU. My daughter, Alana Jeffery, read the part of the matron, along with other selected MDT students. Shortly thereafter, in March, auditions began in earnest. My daughter, Monica, auditioned—again and again and again. Finally, in early August, she was cast as the new Julie Flinders!
The Piano Guys are part of the deal along with Alex Boye and others you may recognize (like Vine star Kenny Holland). You can help support this wonderful, clean, family-friendly entertainment!
Today, Saturday’s Warrior is in the midst of filming. Friday, September 18 (until 8:00 pm), is also the last day you can join me in being a Saturday’s Warrior Kickstarter backer! Please click through and make a contribution. Kickstarter is all or nothing and if the producers don’t reach their goal they get nothing. Below are some of the promotional videos for your enjoyment!
As Mormons we are taught that we want to be kind to everyone, for that is right, you see. I understand and generally concur. But, as we read in the scriptures, to every thing there is a season. And this, my gentle friends, is football season. So let me tell you a little story.
I began attending BYU football games when Gary Sheide was the quarterback. It was 1972, and while my parents sat in the adult seats, my brother and I sat in the “knothole” in the end zone. I attended faithfully through high school. In college, I got up at 0’dark hundred, stood in the long lines, entered the lotteries, and did whatever must be done to obtain student season tickets.
In 1991 we moved to Florida and were left to sit in the Young Women room at the church—with Ernie Sego and Doug Littlefield—to watch the games on the library TV through the satellite system. We donned our shirts and took our pom poms, but it wasn’t quite the same.
On August 26, 2000, Sam and I drove our five children (including a two-month-old baby boy) from our home in Boca Raton to Tallahassee to watch BYU take on Florida State. It was a rare chance to see our beloved cougars play in person. We were thrilled. But tucked away in the tiny visitor’s corner of the stadium, the Seminoles schooled us on true fandom. [click to continue…]
I hate Twitter. OK, I don’t get it. I’m totes on there and all. Tweeter me at @AlisonMSmith. But I probably won’t answer because I don’t really know how. I can’t follow conversations and brevity is not my strong suit. Why is this a thing, anyway?
The only time I had any kind of Twitter success was when Facebook went down last winter and I had a brilliant way to deal with my anxiety.
My name is Alison. I am a survivor. I am broadcasting on all frequencies. If you are out there…if anyone is out there… #facebookdown
And to be clear, “Twitter success” for me means 23 retweets and 64 favorites. I’m on fire.
In spite of my ineptwittertude, someone messaged me a funny hashtag (another new fangled convention that I barely grasp) distracted me from my otherwise desperate life pondering a hopeless future with either Hillary or The Donald. Today I share some joy. I don’t even know exactly how #ThugMormon got started. Something about a BYU football player (who isn’t a Mormon) getting arrested, I think, and a radio host solemnly noting just how freaking thuggish Mormons are. (Feel free to correct this rough sketch with the truth in the comments.) Then the idea of our natural propensity to be criminally negligent took on a life of its own. Behold the badness. [click to continue…]
As the push to defund the Planned Parenthood abortion mill becomes stronger—and people stop letting warm and fuzzy words like “choice” annihilate their common sense and human decency (excluding, of course, the Obama administration, Nancy Pelosi, Barbara Boxer, and the like)—some are publicly mourning the loss of the “Women’s health care” that may, possibly, egregiously, never be seen again if Planned Parenthood were to be defunded by the hard-working and baby-killing-averse taxpayer.