Provo Weekend Life

I wake up to a phone call. It's 5:30 in the morning and it's my best friend D calling, wanting me to go and support him at his dance practice in half an hour. I drag myself out of bed, trudge into my bathroom and get ready, and then stumble out the door to his waiting car. I nearly slip doing so--the ground is icy. Lately, we've had a bad bout of freezing rain. The following is an example of what it was like at BYU the other day:

We get to BYU campus and participate in the dance practice for the school Luau. He's in the Hawaiian section and I will only be practicing with him up until I go on my mission. There are a lot of Hawaiians and Polynesians there. This is my second practice with them. Last week I really struggled with learning the dance. This week was easier, even when more was added to the dance. 

Culture. Culture. Culture. As "white" as this town is, it's all about culture. There are so many opportunities here to learn about other cultures. They're legit opportunities too! For example, living Legends, a BYU dance group, does Native American, Polynesian, and Hispanic dancing and everyone in the group is part of the representative cultures. The dancers are required to have "Lamanite" blood in them. My best friend D used to dance with them. He used to do some Polynesian dancing and played the part of the chief--like the following video (except that this video happened years before he was in the group.

After dancing, D and I were hungry. We stopped by a Mexican restaurant in South Provo. Then we went home. He took a nap at his apartment and I fooled around on the computer at my apartment. I worked on downloading and uploading the pictures that we had "professionally" done the day before. People in the ward have since been calling them our engagement photos--no such thing! Just two best friends/practically siblings that wanted to get pictures done before departing for our separate ways in a month. Of course, I understand the joke--this is Provo--the marriage hot spot of the LDS community.

After I finished doing the technical stuff, I tagged along with D for the ward blitz--going off with the ward leadership people door-to-door meeting the new people, advertising ward events, and praying. D made sure to bring up my mission everywhere we went. Afterwards, D went and did his home teaching visits while I rested. We then went to Salt Lake City to recover his lost wallet that someone had found and had wanted to give back to him. There, we stopped by a Mongolian restaurant and had lunch. We also shot some video about icicles. Once we got home, I worked on the video editing of the videos. Then we went to the ward talent show and had Cafe Rio (Mexican food) at the event. Afterwords, I finished the last of the video editing--as seen here:

I woke up Sunday morning to D calling me to wake up. He knows I have a hard time waking up--especially on Sundays. I slept in an hour past his call and finally woke up at 10:30am. An hour later, our home teacher arrived to teach my roommate and I about humility. Then the home teacher and I did our weekly study in Preach My Gospel. He taught me how to teach the Atonement. Every week, he and I study Preach My Gospel as an effort towards my mission preparation. He is the ward missionary leader and a guy in the ward that I am cool with. He took me and another church member to church. It was fast Sunday. People raced for the pulpit and there were some very good testimonials given. Sunday school was good--very humorous but also spiritually uplifting. Relief Society was good too. Normally, I'm not that big of a fan on the whole sisterhood thing. I feel way more comfortable around guys than girls. I've even sat in on Priesthood a couple times before. However, for the first time it was a really good lesson. I mean, it was more heartfelt. Not from the manual and more from the heart--by inspiration. The subject? Girl talk! Yeah, that's not typically my thing but it was about all the "Goliaths" that we face in life and I call it "girl talk" because it was an emotional and very interactive lesson. After church, we all went to "break the fast". Normally, a committee prepares everything but many people had volunteered to help bring different types of chili dishes. It was very fun trying out the different versions of this traditional American food.

After the dinner, I went home and chilled, waiting for D to finish his home teaching. He ended up bringing one of his home teachees, my neighbor, over to my apartment so he could home teach her because the ward game night was happening over at her place. After the teaching, D and I drove over to his brother's place where we picked up his mom and went driving. I am learning how to drive and driving in this weather is insane. The roads are horrible--snow, slush, and salt everywhere. We tried to develop my winter driving skills. That was a frustrating experience, because before I had been driving in pretty decent weather; however, positive outcome was that I learned to parallel park. After driving for a little while, D and I stopped by his place to eat some leftover chili before going to my place to play our favorite card game--and, yes, the ward game night was still continuing next door. D left right before curfew (midnight) and here I am now.

I will wake up in a few hours, go with D's mom to do more driving and to go and test for my driver's license. I hope I get it but with these road conditions I'm terrified. She and I will then do the grocery shopping for the duo-ward Family Home Evening event going on that night where there will be a live animal or reptile show. We will also prepare the food and such. 

Anyways, there's my tidbit about my life in Provo. It is a great place to live!

To The Battlefield!

We are a sinful people. Our minds are carnal. Only a prideful person could ever dispute that. We are who we are--except for one thing. We have the Atonement of the Lord Jesus Christ. We can humble ourselves and be repentant. We can change. Yes we can! We can change and perfect our inhibitions--our actions and our thoughts. We can overcome. Yes we can! We can lean towards goodness and place our feet upon the path not taken. We can step away from the dark and into the light. Yes we can! As children of a most High God, can we allow ourselves to do anything but that? Can we allow ourselves to wear an unrighteous aurora? No, we cannot! Can we allow our shield of righteousness to be left on the ground to rust and to be trampled upon? No, we cannot! Can we allow the leaches of the world--the tyrants and the devils--to cling to us, sucking the goodness out of us? No, we cannot!

In my life, I have sinned. I have troubled my God with too many pleadings and demands. In my days, I have been thankless; I have been thoughtless; and I have been slothful. I have been as Alma The Younger--taking advantage of the irresponsible nature of my youth and the arrogance and ignorance that comes with that. I have murmured against those of authority--those who sought only to share with me what they felt I should know or how I should act. I have been to the great and spacious buildings--I have had my cups and my stomach filled with that of which the world could offer. I have glanced at the Tree of Life. I have glanced--and seen the trip too hard to make; the fruit too simple to be so glorious; and the sacrifices oh too much to make.

But now...

I see myself as I am now--troubled by the sacrifices that I am to make; troubled by the desires of my heart; and troubled by the cunning ways of the evil one. I see all this and I know--I know that I must decide who I will serve and which commander I will follow on the battlefield. For we are at war--that much is clear. Either I am to be with Christ or I am to be with Satan. The way of Satan is enticing--despite the hidden bondage made by consequences. The way of Christ is what it is: hard work and sacrificial. I guess what I am asking of  us all (and myself especially) is this: Is it worth is? Is it worth my time? Is it worth any loss I might have? I fear change. I fear loss. Can I answer any of these questions? Nay, but I can say that I have faith. I have faith in the power of Christ. For it is Him that I will serve. It is for Him that I will go on my mission. Thus, I have faith in a reward far greater than that that the world could ever give me. I have faith in the renewal of any losses that I face by things of greater value and of higher importance. I have faith in all this. I have hope that it will all be worth it and that all will be well.

To the battlefield!

The Mission: What I Will Miss Most

When you go on a mission you leave behind so much--family, friends, hobbies, possessions, etc. I always thought that the hardest thing for me to leave would be my computer and Facebook account. I might as well be surgically connected to my computer and I might as well have my own satellite too since I always have to have internet access, am always texting on my phone, and am always on a multitude of websites. Three months ago, I just thought that would be my hardest trial but I expected to get over it once I was out in the mission field. Now, I still love the internet and all the things that make my life fun, but I could totally drop it all right now. Sure, I'd miss it but I'm not emotionally attached to it all. I've discovered what I truly am attached to, emotionally. Or, rather, who I am attached to.

See, for me, I have never cared much about relationships. They have always been things flaunted about--able to be lit as quickly as a match and blown out as quickly as a candle. I'm not talking about romantic relationships either. Any relationship--family or friend. My family has felt my distance and they have seen me attempt to renew our relationship recently. I grew up in foster care and with that came the distance and the reluctance to have any care in the world for anybody. There have been many people who have called me "friend" and who have demanded of me my time and my support--which I will give but very few people have I cared about so much as to return friendship. Over the last two years people have come into my life who I have let in and who I have allowed myself to create relationships with. Thus, recently I have realized what means more to me than my computer and other material possessions.

My family and I still have a relationship to renew. I always say that my family and I don't have a relationship. Well, we have one that is struggling, in my opinion. One that crumbles too quickly and that is very hard to maintain. I feel confident that I will be able to leave them on my mission easily enough. I don't expect it to be much harder than it was when I left for college. A bit of me wishes it would be harder--that our relationship was that much better. Sure, I'll get homesick. I do every now and then, but I don't expect it to be unbearable.

The relationship that I expect to be hardest to leave will be my friendship with my best friend D. He is like a big brother to me. At first, he was my home teacher. He was committed to making sure that I got active in the church and that I made it to church every Sunday. That was Summer 2011. In Fall 2011 we went to Heber Valley Camp for a church outing together and our friendship hit it off soon after that when we had our first real hang out at the Haunted Forest. Winter 2011/2012 I went to his brother's wedding reception with him in Idaho. And we continued to spend more time together after that. For months, we look forward to our biggest event as friends yet--Summer 2012. We went to California together. We shared so many personal experiences together and we really bonded. He got me into the habit of reading my scriptures and taught me a lot about missionary work. He even suggested that I think about going on a mission a whole heck of a lot sooner than I had intended. I told him sure but that I'd have to talk that over with my parents. Stall tactic. I hardly ever talk to my parents. He called up my dad himself to ask for his support of me going on my mission. That didn't pan out as well as he had planned for it to go but that meant a lot to me two months later when he finally told me he had done that.

Little by little, I was feeling the pressure to go on my mission--not solely from D but my own inner self. My family, although LDS, had zero to do with the decision--It was something I had to make on my own. No one asked me if I got my papers in or looked them over to make sure I was doing everything like I should be doing. I just texted updates like "Sent my papers in" and "you should be getting the call sometime over the next two weeks". I don't think it was until my parents got the envelope that they started to show their excitement and support for me with the mission. Especially when I made them wait a week to open it so that I (and my siblings) could be there all together to open it. And D. Ha, my parents weren't in favor of having anyone but family there at the opening. I fought that ideal cuz I wanted D--the best influence in my college student life--to be there. I backed away and just prayed for my dad to soften his heart. He would mention D--probably testing to see if I would jump out and say I wanted things to be done my way. Because I always do things my way. I think I surprised him by not reacting. He came to and decided that D could come. D and I were overjoyed!

So, yes, D was there at the opening of my mission call and he has been there for me in every trial that I have had over the last 2 years of our friendship. We even celebrated our last chance to have a vacation together before my mission by going to Zion National Park before Christmas. We spend so much time together--playing games, going to church events, doing activities, etc. Yesterday we spent the whole day together. Mostly in Salt Lake City working on a project and then at my parents' house--walking the dog and just chilling. Just us--we had seen my parents just briefly as we were coming as they were going. This week we don't have much planned other than to go get our pictures taken professionally so that we can give them to his family and my family as a "goodbye, I'm going on a mission" type thing. Totally his idea.

Today, D texted me about how we should go to California again when I get back from my mission. We've always discussed that but in my mind I see our friendship (as close as it is now) coming to a screeching halt. I mean, by the time I get back he will have graduated and begun his career--might even be married or whatever life will bring him. Me--I'll be going back to school. We'll be living separate lives.

The following is the text message conversation we just had today:
D: when u get back. From ur mission we r going out to cali again. Me and u
Me: yeah, that'd be tight :)" *totally thinking pessimistically "yeah, like that'll really happen" in my mindset*
D: Ok lets plan for that! No backing out
Me: Ha--what if ur married and whatnot?
D: We will go no matter what! I promise!!
Me: ya? okay
D: So get ready to party!!!
Me: ha--thats so far off away cut *he and I call each other "cut". It's what he and his siblings call each other*
D: No its gonna be here in a jiffy!
Me: u think? seems another world away to me
D: Ive known u for 2+ yrs. How fast has that time gone???
Me: almost 22 months--ya its gone by so quickly!
D: So get ready to party!!!
Me: :) okay

Anyone who knows me knows I hate a broken promise. Or an impossible idea.

Having D for a friend means the world to me and leaving him while I am on mission will be the hardest thing I have ever done in my young adult life--and I've done some hard things especially within the last year.

But it will be worth it. I have faith in that. It will be painful--that much is obvious. But I am willing to do it. For the faith.

Huntington Beach 2012

 

Sea Kayaking 2012

6 Flags 2012

Zion National Park 2012

Just Chilling With My Dog 2013

The Mormon Update

Utah has it all! It is the Mormon homeland, the place of great mountains, and the place of the "best snow on earth". Lately, it has snowed and snowed. On some days, the weather has reached -8 degrees F (-22.2 degrees C). Personally, I am very jealous of my friend in Chile who is experiencing a beautiful summertime at the beach.

Inside from the world, let's get back to the Mormon Mothership. Here is your update:

• The average time spent for missionaries at the Missionary Training Center is now officially reduced by thirty-percent.
• The number of missionary applicants has risen by 471 percent.
• A recent stomach flu went viral at the Missionary Training Center--an epidemic of sorts. Over a hundred missionaries were affected. However, it only lasted a few days.
• A Chelsie Irish has come up with a great idea to help foster children by helping them to have proper storage cases for their belongings instead of trash bags. 
• Personally, I would like to thank Chelsie for her efforts. I grew up in the foster system and one of my earliest memories is having to put mine and my sister's few belongings in a box. Another memory is of being in a foster home that eventually became my forever home. However, there would always be rumors that I would end up going elsewhere (that happened for five years) and so we would have to stuff everything I had in trash bags just out of preparation. I have to say that this idea of hers is incredible and I am sure that it will help many children

Can I just say that I love being Mormon? Living in Utah, being Mormon is everything. I don't mean that in a prideful way. I mean, that being Mormon is our culture. It is the root of our humor and the centerpiece of our lives. Yesterday, a group of friends from my ward and I went to watch the Notre Dame versus Alabama football game at a sports bar. It didn't matter that there could be alcohol there--what mattered was that we could all just have a good time, no temptation. So what do Mormons talk about at a bar? They tell mission stories, talk about the player on the screen they think should have gone to BYU because he too is a Mormon, theorize about the scientific matter-makeup of the soul, and discuss whether or not a certain scripture passage in the Book of Mormon refers to the Catholic church--all while, of course, cheering on the winning team (Alabama) and just being around friendly faces.

Notre Dame is a Catholic school that is pretty famous here in America. As I sat by my home teacher watching the game, we chatted about the school. "It's like BYU, but Catholic" he said. "Oh, so they have an honor code?" I inquired and to that he said "No! But they do have Jesus." To that, I joked "Do they have Moroni too?" Later, after chatting about how bad BYU has done in our last season and about how Notre Dame is usually a strong (just not against Alabama that night) and aggressive team, I said "The only difference between Notre Dame and BYU is that BYU is too polite too win."

Honestly, I don't care about football but it was fun to have a good time. Some days, I realize just how empty my life would be if I wasn't Mormon. I mean, what would I laugh about?

God Blesses Families

(Personal reflection based off of the reading from Preach My Gospel, page 32)

I come from a circumstance where the sacredness of the family unit was not preserved. Before I converted to the church, I knew something was wrong. Why else was I in Foster Care? Why else had there been divorce in my family's past? To me, life was just a bunch of clutter; it was confusing. But then something good happened. God intervened on my behalf--almost as if He had picked me up and dropped me into an entirely different circumstance. I all of the sudden had a family that was different than my other family. The parents that I had loved each other and they were even good to each other too. These parents, they took me to church and taught me about God. They were there for me 100%. They did things that no one else would do for me and my siblings--like taking us to school, taking us to the doctors and the dentists (one of my siblings had never even been to the dentist at the age of fourteen!), and helping us with our homework. To these people that God had plopped into my life, family was everything. They couldn't have their own children and so having a family period was everything and they would do anything to get it and to maintain it. No sacrifice could be considered too great.

So these parents chose me--a rebellious child with a lot of baggage. I was tough and no one could control me. The tantrums that I threw were horrendous. I spit and I kicked. I cursed like a sailor too. I was verbally abusive and emotionally demanding. By the age of three, I had reaped all the negatives that my society had taught me. Did I believe in God? Did I have a sense of morality? No and no. If you tried to guide me in any way I would go the opposite. You had to let me choose for myself because no matter what your influence was, I would be the alternative. 

Sure, by the age of six I knew the Gospel through and through. I could quote scripture upon scripture like a Bible college student. As I heard on TV the other day, "I [was] Kingdom!" But no. That was the good little Sunday School girl in me, but get me in my home and I was--let's be blunt--a heathen.

At six years old, I was sent on an extended visit with my biological family. I stayed with my biological grandmother who, in my opinion then, was very Catholic and seemed to be directing her every motive at turning me into a Catholic. I wasn't having it. No one could force religion or opinions on me. I had my own mind and I was okay with that, whether or not no one else was. I had grown tired of the grandmother's attempts at trying to get me to pray her way and one day I reached my boiling point. I not only wanted her to stop the indoctrination attempts but I wanted to know for myself which church was true. Like I had heard it being said in James 1:5:

"If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, 

and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him"

So I threw a giant tantrum that sent the grandmother running from the room. I barricaded the door and paced around the room. I was trembling with anger and my eyes were fixed with too much emotion. For the first time by myself, I went down on my knees and I prayed. I don't recall exactly what I prayed for or in what context. I was using "thees" and "thous" and "thys" left and right--nervous that I could appear irreverent by any cause. I do remember that, but I also remember the feelings that I felt. I felt assured. I was calm and felt like there was some sort of insurance on my life. Everything was going to be okay no matter what happened. That peace was the best feeling that I had ever felt in my short six years of life. I felt a lot of other things too. I felt that one day I would be a member of the church because it was then that I felt, with every fiber of my small being, that it was true--that it was and is Christ's original church restored to the earth. 

After the extended visit with my biological family, I went home to MY family. I wasn't any different in attitude. I was just as bad as I ever was because I was six and I didn't know how to properly deal with my situation. However, I was different in perspective. I knew, for the first time, truth eternal. I could grasp that concept and that concept held me together through the drama that was unfolded over the next several years.

Two years later I got baptized. Two years after that I found myself in a temple room. I found myself faced with a concept of eternity--two mirrors facing each other and you could see through those two mirrors how eternity is. It goes on and on and on. It has always been and will always be that way. That day we had a ceremony called a "sealing"--a form of "family insurance" where we can be together forever--always connected--as a family unit. For me, that is how God blessed my family. He brought us all together in quite a miraculous way and molded us into an eternal unit. That is the miracle of it all and that is the greatest blessing I could ever expect to receive. 

Note: My childhood perspective of Catholicism (due to my experience with the grandmother) may be naive. Certainly I do not view Catholics in a negative viewpoint. I respect them and I enjoy learning about their history.