4-9-22 BADGES

I have a blue painted jewelry box, similar to those cedar boxes we saw at Yellowstone as kids but could never afford. I got it as an adult, It's where I keep my badges. Well, at least I did. I'm not sure where the box is now. I'm just conscious of it because I went out to the garage to get some ice (that's where we keep our ice machine) and I noticed our license plate, which got me thinking. 

We've never been the type of folk to get vanity license plates. But, during the isolation of the pandemic, I spent time diving into stuff online. One of the things that I got caught up in researching was the subject of powerful women in world history. I particularly enjoyed one website on women in Utah history: BETTER DAYS 2020.  That's where I saw info about Utah being the first state that had women vote under an equal sufferage law. Now, lest you be from Wyoming and get all up in arms, I know Wyoming women cast the first votes, but the first election officially held with the new law allowing women to vote was in Utah, over 150 years ago now. In 2020 they celebrated 150 years of women's right to vote, and they offered a license plate to commemorate it. I decided I wanted a Women's Rights license plate on my car. So, while I was at it, and I was getting a new plate, I thought I'd see what kind of words I could put on it. As I considered many options that would speak our general support for many causes, I settled on this:

I told Dave after the fact. I knew he would be great with it. He was. 

Now our car has a badge.

I have lots of badges in my blue box of Badges. They include:

• My badge from when I served as a church leader/teacher in the Davis County Jail.
• My name badge from the Bountiful Temple, where I served as Historian of the temple.
• Name badges for my family from the sesquicentennial celebration of the Pioneers entering the Salt Lake Valley (we performed for the enactment celebration and our family hosted visitors at This Is The Place State Park)
• Badges from years of Mormon Arts Retreats
• Badges from Judicial conferences and ABA meetings
• Badges from Songwriters Conferences in Utah, Nashville and LA
• A VIP badge from a Chris LeDoux concert at the Delta Center when he sang one of my songs
• A badge from last week when we hosted a station at the Tabernacle reenactment
• A badge from Seatrek 2001 where I performed in the oratorio Kurt Bestor, Mark Robinette and I wrote and performed throughout England and Scandinavia
• Presenter badges from various conferences and workshops where I have wither taught or adjudicated.
• plus various pins and tokens from other events in my many decades of being a human.

Wow, thinking about all these badges I've worn, even more than the ones I have kept, I realize I labeled myself for other people in a lot of different places for a lot of different reasons. Most often it was to either let other people know my name and what I represent, or to allow me access to restricted places.

If you want to remain anonymous, don't wear a badge. If you want to be identified, a badge will help. This recent pandemic has led many of us to enjoy anonymity, and something in me Maes me think this is risky. There is something strengthening in allowing ourselves to wear labels. But be sure to choose them carefully, because sometimes we let single labels define us, and few labels should be so all encompassing. Except maybe ones like my new license plate. Reminding myself that we are people who love is a noble thing.

Then again, when I am super irritated at another driver on the road, or I do something iffy in the parking lot, I feel a little sheepish about being behind at the wheel of a vehicle that announces WE LOVE. You can't be an anonymous jerk.

And maybe, for me at least, that's a good thing. 

Here's to the many good people I know who wear the badge of Jesus Christ on their chest.