Trials and Twilight

Just some random things on my mind today:

First, I've spent most of the afternoon today reading from this blog of a mom who lost a 14-month-old daughter in a tragic accident. Some of you perhaps follow Stephanie already, but her story was new to me and I found myself caught up in it. I started back with the tragedy itself and I have been working my way forward through all the adjustment and grief and change that the family experienced right afterward. I am amazed and blown away by her faith and her trust in Heavenly Father, even when things are so clearly hard. It reminds me in a way of my cousin Tara's attitude as she battles cancer.

I wish I could be more like that. I'm just not. I do have faith and I do find that Heavenly Father comforts me in my trials (if I ask) but so often-- quite often-- I feel like my challenges and my difficulties are my own fault so I don't feel entitled to ask. Does that make sense? If I'm feeling absolutely miserable because of the nausea, I feel like I can't ask for help because 1) I'm just being a wimp, women go through this all the time 2) other people have REAL problems that deserve that kind of help, not me. I know on one level that's silly, Heavenly Father cares about all of us, but still, I just don't feel that I need the support and comfort that someone going through something like cancer or the death of a loved one does, so why bother the Lord with it? Instead I should just be expressing gratitude that I am healthy, the baby is doing fine, my other kids are healthy and well, I have a loving husband, etc., etc. That should be enough for anyone, right? What more could I possibly need?

Sometimes this mortal life is just so hard though. But I feel guilty asking for help because it could be so much harder than it is.

OK, I'm rambling now. I don't even know if I made any sense, but hey, it's out there. Make of it what you will.

Another random thing swirling around in my brain today, brought up by Stephanie's last post pre-tragedy. She had just been reading The Host by Stephenie Meyer and mentions that she is a fan of the Twilight series. Now, this sister is clearly a well-educated (law degree and all), articulate, thoughtful woman with a great deal of experience in her life. And she enjoyed the Twilight books.

Of course, I enjoyed them myself, so why would this even strike a chord with me? It was because of something I read recently from a published sci-fi author whose weekly writing tips I receive by email. One week this author was trying to make the extremely sensible case of not comparing yourself to other writers. She wrote all about how envy of writers who "make it big" can eat you alive, if you let it. Then, ironically, she let her own writer envy show through plain and clear by using Stephenie Meyer as an example. She said that if you want to sell millions of copies of your books, you just needed a main character who was an immature, narcissistic teenage girl with an undead fetish. But then unfortunately, you would have millions of fans who all turned out to be immature, narcissistic teenage girls with undead fetishes. She then (in a nice, superior tone) shared that she would much rather have a smaller group of fans who were well-read, mature and intelligent.

Well.

I fumed about this for a whole week before I figured out why. It wasn't until I finally vented about it to Terence that I made the true connection. I enjoyed the Twilight series! Does that make me narcissistic and immature with an undead fetish???? And by implication (considering her example of her own fans) not well-read or intelligent?

Is it possible that Twilight appeals to a wider range of people than she assumes? After all, a ten year old boy in my carpool was reading it on the way to school this morning. Does he have an undead fetish? (He may be slightly immature, I grant you.) My husband listened to all the books on CD and enjoyed them thoroughly. (One of my friends' husbands did the same.) Are they teenage girls? And Stephanie, the author of the blog I stalked today, clearly does not fall into the category of unintelligent. Granted, none of us went to book signings and screamed insanely and wore Team Edward shirts. But that doesn't mean we didn't enjoy the stories. Enjoyed them enough to buy the books even. Which is more than I can say for this particular envious author. Nothing against her personally-- I think she gives fabulous writing advice on the average-- but I don't like being insulted. Just another random thought on my mind today.