It's Not About the Performance

I am a musician. Well, I guess that depends on how you define "musician," but I am a musician by my definition. :) And I participate in several music events a year, wherein I practice and then either play the piano in front of people, or sing in front of people. Some people would call this a performance, and sometimes it is.

As a director of a choir that sings at our local prisons for their LDS Christmas and Easter church services, I always tell my choir that it's less important that we "perform" than that we invite the Spirit. I tell them it's less about how we sound than it is about our testimonies. I don't want to discourage practice or effort, of course, but it's important to me that my choir not get hung up on performance and, essentially, perfection. I don't want them to feel bad if they miss a note, because the Choir's purpose is not about flawless execution.

It's about the journey. It's about authenticity. It's about connecting to our brothers and sisters in the prisons and bringing them messages of hope and love, not messages of musical flawlessness. It's about mutual growth; it's about baring our souls and sharing our faith. It's about service and sacrifice. (This is not to say we don't sing well. We are a quite talented group, if I do say so myself.) And, honestly, for being a total perfectionist myself, the Prison Choir (as we affectionately call it) is one thing that, for whatever reason, doesn't demand my perfection in my view. It's one of few (indeed, I can think of nothing else) of my endeavors for which I don't demand perfection in order to not be a failure. I am able to forgive myself for my mistakes during the practice season and for the mistakes I make at the prisons, because, somehow, God successfully gets it into my head, every year, that it's not about me. And, for reals, the dear offenders just don't care if we miss a note; they're genuinely grateful we're simply there.

Because... It's not about the performance.

I have seen addiction recovery as being totally recovered, like, not even having a desire to sin and use dangerous methods of coping. Like, recovery isn't recovery until recovery is complete. And that the journey from active addiction to constant sobriety is something that is a means to an end, and basically a sin in itself for as long as complete, eternal sobriety is not attained. So every slip is a huge setback and a huge disappointment, because it indicates that recovery has not been reached. And recovery seemed to be the ultimate and only worthy goal. Essentially, in my mind, total recovery was the performance; the perfect, flawless, rigid performance.

So yesterday was Thursday which means it was the night of my PASG meeting. I didn't want to go. I felt I had nothing to contribute, so why go? But I felt compelled to attend anyway, as I usually do, and I went, as I usually do. And it was seriously an amazing meeting for me. While I had little to contribute, I had much to learn, and learn I did. Many things. The Spirit was strongly whispering to my heart beautiful truths about me and my relationship to God.

And then, toward the end of the meeting, someone said, about addiction recovery, "if it takes a lifetime, that's okay." Sometimes when I hear stuff like that, I get discouraged. A lifetime? Will I be fighting this, slipping, hoping, failing, crying forever? I just can't handle the idea of fighting this till I die! But, yesterday, "if it takes a lifetime to recover, that's okay" sounded like comfort. It sounded like hope. It sounded like grace. It sounded like this quote by Elder Bruce R McConkie:

. . . everyone in the Church who is on the straight and narrow path, who is striving and struggling and desiring to do what is right, though is far from perfect in this life; if he passes out of this life while he’s on the straight and narrow, he’s going to go on to eternal reward in his Father’s kingdom. – “The Probationary Test of Mortality,” January 10, 1982

"It's okay if it takes a lifetime" sounded like "be kind to yourself. Be patient with yourself." Instantly, my choir came to my mind and how I focus more on the Spirit than on our performance. And it hit me- just like my choir isn't about the performance, neither likewise is addiction recovery about the performance.

You guys, It's not about the performance!
 It's about the process.

It's not about 100% success. It's not about completion. It's not about finishing addiction recovery because, honestly and truly, it may not ever be finished. Some people have depression their entire lives. Some people have diabetes their entire lives. Some people have Down's Syndrome their entire lives, or any given illness or disorder their whole dang lives, and sometimes, illness-- even psychological/emotional illness-- is lifelong, and that's okay, because it's not about the performance. Sometimes people have the disease of addiction their whole dang lives. It's about living life to the best of our abilities with what we have and what we know, to the fullest of our faith and hope. It's about learning the music as we go and sharing it, perfect or not, with those around us. It's about connection, faith, growth, and inviting the Spirit into our lives. Just like my choir, it's not about perfection; flawlessness. It's about finding joy and truth. It's about the process.

When my choir leaves the prisons, the inmates aren't going to hold in their hearts the memory of missed notes or forgotten lyrics. They will hold in their hearts the memory of our testimonies, of the Spirit invited by sweet, sacred music, of the messages of hope. They will hold in their hearts that we showed up, with something prepared, just for them.

And, also, not to compare God to an offender, but He also isn't as concerned about our execution as He is about the fact that we're here, that we prepare and try and work, that we allow the Spirit in our lives to guide us. If we slip or relapse- miss a note- well, that's just not as important as that we keep singing.

And if I don't "recover" tomorrow, it's okay. If I'm not "recovered" next year, it's still okay! Because . . . say it with me . . . it's not about the performance. 

I'm so inexplicably grateful for the Addiction Recovery Program. I'm profoundly, inexplicably grateful for my Savior and my Brother and my Friend, Jesus Christ, who patiently teaches me my worth, and stands ever before me with His arms open to scoop me in and keep me safe. Oh, how sweet is His grace. How sweet is His love.

The Grace Experiment: A Memoir (Day 1)

True to form, I woke this morning with my regular litany of accusations, all of which I would declare myself guilty. I stayed up too late, how could I? Well if I'd have done the dishes earlier, if I'd have spent less time on Facebook and done more good stuff, if I'd have done ______, then I'd have been worthy and probably would have been responsible to make it to bed on time. If, if, then, then.

But then I remembered grace. I remembered the experiment.

The word "grace" on its own is so powerful to me. I mean, the instant I hear it, or see it spelled out across my consciousness, I feel a calmness and a power. An exhale. Grace. It's a beautiful word. So, when I remembered grace, I felt calmer, and I shut up the guilt. I rejected the normal guilt of the morning and focused on readying for work.

I listened to a conference talk on the way to work and donned myself with an attitude of grace- of one who accepts the grace that is always, always there. And I had an amazing, happy day at work. I came home and did a few things and then headed off to my ARP meeting, and as I was driving, I remembered, with a 20-lb dumbbell of guilt and another 20-lb dumbbell of self-judgement, that I hadn't read the scriptures after work like I had planned to. So I hadn't read at all today. And those familiar voices, "seriously, Stephanie? How could you forget that?! Why are you always forgetting everything?" and just so much guilt over missing a simple duty and promise.

And then I remembered grace. And I smiled because grace makes me smile. And I hushed my frantic critiques and reminded myself the day's not over and that whether or not I read scriptures has no bearing on my worth. And I let it go.

And then I had a beautiful meeting where I actually tried to connect to the others in attendance which was awkward and bumbling but I had a wonderful time and it was a wonderful meeting. And I love those ladies, all of them.

So now I'm suuuuper tired and I'm going to bed with grace instead of guilt and maybe instead of all the worries I will think of all the blessings, and maybe I'll sleep better.

I hope tomorrow is as happy as today was.

The Grace Experiment: A Memoir (Embarking)

The other Sunday, I slipped. I spent the entire week, until last Monday, in a funk. It was a funk of self-loathing born of anger and frustration. How can I keep doing this when I know better? Why is this still a problem? I HATE THIS! I hate it! Why do I continue to indulge in something that I fully hate?

I was angry to the core and I covered my anger up with extreme guilt and self-loathing. And I was tired of fighting it. I didn't want to fight the negatives. I just wanted to wallow in them because, dang it all, I deserved that.

Anyway, I don't want to focus on that. Finally I pulled myself out of the sludge somewhere around yesterday. Today I had an appointment with my amaaaaaazing therapist, Soni, and gave her a bit of a rundown.

*******I interrupt this program to tell you the story of how I found my therapist. Last August, I made seriously horrible choices with a manfellow, and I therefore forfeited my temple recommend, which I'd only had for a few months after several years of not having it. I realized then that I was sicker than I had been admitting, because, I tell you what, I resisted almost nothing. I couldn't believe I was so weak especially after working so hard for so long. Anyway, I decided I needed counseling again. My last therapist had been the previous year, with LDS Family Services, and she was really great, but she said I was her healthiest client, and I didn't feel healthy at all, so I thought she thought I didn't need her. ALSO, she was all the way in Boise, and too expensive. So I prayed that I would find someone local, and someone who could really help me, and someone I could afford. At the time, I wasn't even employed! But I felt it was important, even so, to find a therapist. So do you know what I did? I Googled "Nampa counselors" and followed links till I found a website that had a long list of licensed therapists in Nampa.

Now, this was terrifying in a way. I was out there all by myself, referring myself, and I was terrified to find someone like David Ridley who would just ruin me further. I knew I would be looking for a woman for sure (because David Ridley poisoned me against male therapists- not that I believe all or even most male therapists are predators, but I figured my chances were better with a female, and that I could relate better anyway). And I read through the bios of several women therapists on the website. When I saw Soni's picture, I knew I needed to contact her. I hadn't even read her bio yet. I saw her picture and I felt that swoosh in the heart- you know what I'm talking about? I went to read her bio and hoped for some indication that she was LDS. She wasn't, but she was forthcoming about her Christianity, so we had that in common. And, she also didn't say anything about sexual addictions in her bio. I was slightly disheartened, but I emailed her right away, and she responded almost right away, and we set up an appointment, and I was humbled and impressed and inspired by her knowledge and her understanding and her compassion. And she is PERFECT. Well, perfect for me anyway. And isn't it awesome how God places people in our paths? She has certainly contributed to my healing, and continues to do so, and I feel so blessed to have been guided to her. ***********

Back to my post! So, I went to therapy today and told Soni what was up, and what was down, and she just guided the truth that I already knew to my consciousness. Grace. She talked a lot about grace. And you know what? I really feel like we LDS folk undermine grace. We say "faith without works is dead" like it's more important than "Come boldly to the throne of grace." There seems to be a cultural focus on works over grace. And we say the traditional Christians have it all wrong when they say all you have to do is accept Jesus into your heart as your Savior and you'll be saved.

But, here's the thing. If I truly and daily and completely accept Jesus as my Savior; if I accept His grace always, if I surrender my will to His, then I will be saved. I am saved. Every day. When we accept one thing, we, of a necessity, surrender another thing. If I accept that I am not 18 anymore, then I surrender the idea that I'm 18 still. You know? When I accepted that my marriage was over, I surrendered the idea that it would last forever. When I accept Jesus as my Savior, then I surrender myself. And when I surrender myself; my will, I will do whatever He wants me to do, and therefore, I will do good works, because I will do His works. We Mormons sometimes talk like works comes before grace, but I really think it's quite the opposite. Grace inspires good. Grace is what heals us and emboldens us, and enables us to do good. I was reading in Romans where Paul said, essentially, that belief is what inspires us to do good... but now I can't find the verse. I'll find it later. :)

Anyway. Grace abounds . . . always. And I'm going to work to stop rejecting it. Every day, I live in a place of guilt and fear. I make all my choices based on guilt or fear (or duty). I wake feeling instantly guilty for my upcoming failures and my last night's failures. I retire to my bed listening to the lullaby of the failures of the day. Guilt, guilt, guilty, every dang day, every dang moment. I'm so afraid that I won't hold myself responsible, that I make sure I beat the crap out of myself. It's not doing it for me anymore, so I'm trying an experiment; a trial, if you will. At Soni's brilliant suggestion, I'm going to work hard to start off my days with grace and not guilt. Can you imagine how different my morning will be tomorrow, when I welcome myself to the day and take notice of the grace around me? And then partake?

It's there. Always.

I'm going to work hard to reject guilt instead of grace. I'll give myself permission to take on my responsibilities, but without guilt. Without my own punitive sports announcer in my head. I free myself of tomorrow's guilt! I permit myself to see and invite and accept God's love for me, all day!

I kinda feel like tomorrow is going to be awesome. I shall report.