Chapter 1: “I Have a Family Here on Earth”

I have a family here on earth.

They are so good to me.

I want to share my life with them through all eternity.

Families can be together forever

Through Heavenly Father’s plan.

I always want to be with my own family,

And the Lord has shown me how I can.

The Lord has shown me how I can.

Children’s Songbook, 188

In many ways, I had an enchanted life growing up. I was blessed with two parents who both loved me and nurtured my faith in God. I know just these two things alone puts me leaps and bounds ahead of so many others in this world. I always had clothes to wear, food to eat, and working utilities. I could ask for my parents’ help with homework, and they made it a priority to spend time with me and my other siblings. I knew my parents loved me and each other. Many of these blessings are not enjoyed by many kids.

My parents worked hard to consciously cultivate a loving family environment. We had weekly Family Home Evening, where each individual went over their schedule that week (even the younger kids). We sang songs, had family prayer, took turns teaching a gospel lesson, played games, and discussed family vacations. The first time I taught a gospel lesson was in Family Home Evening at age 8 or 9.

My parents also took time to ask us kids about fun holiday traditions, service projects, or goals we wanted to set at various times of year. Us kids weren’t always the most attentive, and there were several times that FHE devolved into giggles and goofiness, much to my mother’s frustration. My dad sometimes joined in the silliness, or quietly laughed to himself to avoid my mom’s glare. 

My parents, despite moments of human frustration, were very loving, and us kids knew it. My dad made time to take each of us kids out for one on one time. And if I ever had a question with homework or needed a toy fixed, I knew I could take it to my dad and he would set aside his other work to help me. 

My mom, a good southern woman, taught me the importance of being polite and the class that comes with various social etiquettes. I learned to deny food offered to me at friends’ houses, how to accept birthday party invitations and give gifts, and how to sit at a meal at the dinner table.

But, like everyone else in this world, my parents are human. They have physical and personal limitations and shortcomings, and are shaped by their upbringing and environment. My parents were not always conscious of the negative messages that they passed along. There were times that, despite my best efforts, I felt inadequate, that I didn’t measure up, that they were frustrated with me and my limitations and imperfections. I sometimes felt like I was to blame for my mother’s frustrations, or if only I tried harder I might be better at listening and obeying.

Perhaps the most damaging message of all was the importance of appearing perfect, like we have it all put together all the time. At different times growing up, my dad was the bishop, my mom had been the Relief Society president, and my grandparents were long-time members who helped build up the church in the area. In many aspects, my family was an amazing pillar of our church community, and I was grateful to be part of such a wonderful family legacy. But there wasn't always room to be messy or human.

I knew our family wasn’t perfect. My siblings and I fought, and the house was often messy, and tempers sometimes got short. But we learned to keep our problems to ourselves, to turn and smile when someone from the outside voiced a weakness or need. And it became a source of comfort, like if I could maintain a facade of keeping it all together, I was okay.

Looking back, I see now that this drive for perfectionism was part of a maladaptive behavior, a way for me to cope with some of the difficulties I experienced. My family had cracks on the inside (as all families do), but when people told me how wonderful my parents were, or how much they loved and admired my family, it was reassuring to me. And it allowed me to continue in a family that wasn’t always open or willing to talk about difficult things.

This laid the foundation for how I would make sense of some of my childhood experiences -- in a well-meaning family that provided me with so many physical and emotional resources, yet were not always open about difficulties and imperfections, and were not fully prepared for what would come next.