"We seldom get into trouble when we speak softly. It is only when we raise our voices that the sparks fly and tiny molehills become great mountains of contention."
My
mother-in-law was named Karma, but she died long before I arrived on
the scene. For most of my husband's childhood and adolescence, he
was raised by a wicked stepmother, and this meant I inherited her
when it came time to have a mother-in-law. So even though I never
knew good Karma, I'm now experiencing bad karma thanks to my
husband's former stepmother.
It
isn’t easy to have a mother-in-law, and a step-mother-in-law
may even be harder than a natural one. There were a lot of
uncomfortable adjustments — for her, I’m sure, as well as
for me — but one of the hardest ones was that she was so
unreasonable about temperatures.
Oh,
did I dread going to the in-laws’ house. Fluffy did, too. It
was like visiting Equatorial Africa, but without benefit of the
animals or the indigenous peoples. It must have been seventy-five
degrees in that house. Even so, my mother-in-law walked around as
though she were a penguin on an ice floe, wearing sweaters, wrapping
herself in blankets and acting as though she were chilled to the
bone.
Once
she told us that they turned the thermostat down when we came to
visit, because they knew we liked the house colder than they did.
Who knows how hot it was when we weren’t visiting? I'm a
global warming skeptic, but I suspect if scientists did want to prove
it they should have started with my in-laws' house as being the
epicenter of the heat wave.
When
we left the house with her, of course, all we heard was how cold it
was. Fluffy and I, who never wore coats, would roll our eyes and
sigh loudly and disrespectfully when she bundled up in several layers
of coats and turned the car thermostat up yet again. After all, we
reasoned, when people are cold they can always put on another layer
of clothing. When people are hot, the only thing they can do is to
strip bare nekkid, which isn’t done in polite society.
Oh,
did we mock Fluffy’s stepmother for her wimpy behavior! We
thought we were gallantly putting up with her whining, but I’m
sure there was little gallantry about it. We were probably pretty
transparent about our feelings. We wanted the world to know how much
we were suffering, and how tolerant we were being — even though
we were not being tolerant at all.
This
went on for many years. It went on, actually, for as long as my
mother-in-law lived. In the past few years, however, Madame Karma
has started playing a nasty trick on me. My thyroid gland, which was
always in perfect synch with Fluffy’s, started drying up and
shriveling up like an autumn leaf. And when that happened, my
thermostat changed.
I
first noticed this in a happy way. All my life, I have been totally
heat-intolerant. It got so bad that when I was in college, I fainted
on the streetcar tracks in my home city of New Orleans, when a
streetcar was barreling down the tracks toward my supine body. My
sisters swore they would never go downtown with me again. I think
Sandee may have even kept that promise.
I
was no fun when the temperatures blazed — and “blazing,”
for me, was any temperature above, say, 65 degrees Fahrenheit.
(That’s about 18.33 Celsius for people in the rest of the
world.) I do not sweat anywhere below the neck, so my face would get
red and salty, and then I would get heat stroke. It was not pleasant
to travel with me anywhere in warm climates. I was a mess.
As
my thyroid started going out, however, strange things started to
happen. Suddenly I started tolerating warm places. I’m not
just talking about Florida, either. We could be in Panama or
Barbados or Costa Rica or Grand Cayman or Cozumel or the temple —all
hotbeds of, well, heat —, and suddenly I realized that the warm
temperatures were feeling strangely good.
Nay,
the temperature was feeling great. My traveling companions
would stagger back into the coolness for some cold water or ice
cream, complaining that the heat had completely worn them out. I’d
say, “What heat?”
All
this has not been without its consequences. Autumn, which has always
been my favorite time of year, has turned into a season of misery for
me. Fluffy has gone outside for walks lately in temperatures that
have been in the high sixties or even the low seventies, only to come
back and see me shivering next to a space heater, clad in my heaviest
flannel nightgown and wrapped in a blanket.
Needless
to say, I am dreading winter in all its incarnations. Our house is
awash in windows, and every last window was installed incorrectly.
There was no installation or mudding put between the sheetrock and
the siding where the windows went in, so the wind blows everywhere.
I shiver uncontrollably, and I deserve every bit of misery I am
suffering. No, we cannot afford to have the windows reinstalled.
Karma,
that old witch, has come back to tell me I was wrong. You see,
putting on a sweater does absolutely nothing to help people who are
cold. Putting on a sweater may help your shoulders or your upper
arms, but it does not help your hands or your ears or your face, or
even the half of your body that is not next to the space heater.
When you’re as cold as I am now, you are cold to the bone.
And
winter won’t even officially be here for another 47 days.
The
Bible does not mention the concept of karma. For the most part,
Christians and Jews do not embrace karma as an official doctrine.
But if you want to read between the lines, it’s there. Oh,
it’s there.
Ecclesiastes
11:1
— Cast
thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after many days.
Galatians
6:7
— Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man
soweth, that shall he also reap.
Job
4:8
— Even as I have seen, they that plow iniquity, and sow
wickedness, reap the same.
2
Corinthians 5:10
— For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ;
that every one may receive the things [done] in [his] body, according
to that he hath done, whether [it be] good or bad.
John
5:29
— And shall come forth; they that have done good, unto the
resurrection of life; and they that have done evil, unto the
resurrection of damnation.
Matthew
7:12
— Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do
to you, do ye even so to them: for this is the law and the prophets.
Matthew
26:52
— Then said Jesus unto him, Put up again thy sword into his
place: for all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword.
1
John 3:14
— We know that we have passed from death unto life, because we
love the brethren. He that loveth not [his] brother abideth in death.
Proverbs
26:27
— Whoso diggeth a pit shall fall therein: and he that rolleth a
stone, it will return upon him.
Karma
may not be mentioned in the Bible, or in the latter-day scriptures
either, but it doesn’t need to quack like a duck for us to be
able to see those orange, webbed feet. For good or for evil, you and
I are going to reap just what we sow.
As
long as we are reaping, we might as well enjoy it. I can testify
through sad experience that shivering in front of a space heater is
not the best way to live your life. The balmy 100+ degree
temperatures of the Caribbean are sounding better every day.
Kathryn H. Kidd has been writing fiction, nonfiction, and "anything for money" longer than
most of her readers have even been alive. She has something to say on every topic, and the
possibility that her opinions may be dead wrong has never stopped her from expressing them at
every opportunity.
A native of New Orleans, Kathy grew up in Mandeville, Louisiana. She attended Brigham
Young University as a generic Protestant, having left the Episcopal Church when she was eight
because that church didn't believe what she did. She joined The Church of Jesus Christ of
Latter-day Saints as a BYU junior, finally overcoming her natural stubbornness because she
wanted a patriarchal blessing and couldn't get one unless she was a member of the Church. She
was baptized on a Saturday and received her patriarchal blessing two days later.
She married Clark L. Kidd, who appears in her columns as "Fluffy," more than thirty-five
years ago. They are the authors of numerous LDS-related books, the most popular of which is A
Convert's Guide to Mormon Life.
A former managing editor for Meridian Magazine, Kathy moderated a weekly column ("Circle of Sisters") for Meridian until she was derailed by illness in December of 2012. However, her biggest claim to fame is that she co-authored
Lovelock with Orson Scott Card. Lovelock has been translated into Spanish and Polish, which
would be a little more gratifying than it actually is if Kathy had been referred to by her real name
and not "Kathryn Kerr" on the cover of the Polish version.
Kathy has her own website, www.planetkathy.com, where she hopes to get back to writing a weekday blog once she recovers from being dysfunctional. Her entries recount her adventures and misadventures with Fluffy, who heroically
allows himself to be used as fodder for her columns at every possible opportunity.
Kathy spent seven years as a teacher of the Young Women in her ward, until she was recently released. She has not yet gotten used to interacting with the adults, and suspects it may take another seven years. A long-time home teacher with her husband, Clark, they have home taught the same family since 1988. The two of them have been temple workers since 1995, serving in the Washington D.C. Temple.