Amateur Journaling

Every Sunday, I lead a discussion on scripture in an adult Sunday School class. We read together, I ask questions, and others respond with their thoughts or perhaps another question in return. Some Sundays we have a full-ish room, others may be a bit sparse; but size doesn't usually matter as long as a few of us come ready and willing.

This particular last Sunday was a little light on attendance. A few of the usuals, a few who dozed in the lull of an afternoon without a child in tow, and a few every-so-oftens. The topic for the day consisted of a few chapters from the Book of Mormon detailing the beginning of Christ's visit to the Americas. To set the scene, many great cities were destroyed "to hide their wickedness and abominations... that the blood of the prophets and the saints should not come up any more..." before the Savior appeared. The previous quote actually repeats about six times in one chapter, so I asked everyone why they thoughts the exact same words occurred so many times, just to say the same thing about various cities?

I must say that just like any good teacher/mother, I'm not supposed to pick favorites. But I'm pretty sure everyone there that day felt the same amazing spirit that I did when we were interrupted by a dear woman translating the lesson/discussion for a man with a hearing impairment (along with other challenges).

"He wants to say... Because history repeats itself. We need to be careful, because history repeats itself."

A tidal wave of emotions hit me. Feelings of humility, gratitude, and awe swept me up and churned my heart in an undercurrent of love. Salty tears filled my eyes and I knew - these are the moments I cannot forget. I must hold on to this lifesaver thrown to me in order to keep swimming until I find the shore.

I wanted to stop and hold those two tightly, and whisper in their ear about their greatness and influence. But I didn't. I agreed, and thanked them and moved on in the lesson.

We continued, and then it happened again. Again. This time we read about, the Savior using one of His many analogies, where He likens Himself to a hen and His people to chickens (3 Nephi 10:4-6):

"4 O ye people of these great cities which have fallen, who are descendants of Jacob, yea, who are of the house of Israel, how oft have I gathered you as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and have nourished you.


5 And again, how oft would I have gathered you as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, yea, O ye people of the house of Israel, who have fallen; yea, O ye people of the house of Israel, ye that dwell at Jerusalem, as ye that have fallen; yea, how oft would I have gathered you as a hen gathereth her chickens, and ye would not.
6 O ye house of Israel whom I have spared, how oft will I gather you as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, if ye will repent and return unto me with full purpose of heart."

These verses sparked the questions as to WHY Christ wants to gather us. A few people spoke again, about how we gather children and love them and want to nurture and protect them. This gave way to another interpreted comment:

"Because we a precious. We are all precious to Him. He wants to gather us because we are precious."

Isn't it so true? ALL of us are precious; everyone from the President of the United States down to the homeless guy on the street corner.

At this point, I felt this strange dynamic of euphoria and being crushed all at the same time. I bursted with joy to have this level of participation from someone who never commented before. I also felt incredibly humbled - who am I to be standing at the front of this room? Who am I to continue on in this life and not recognize the mercy and graciousness that surrounds me daily?

I write this so that I do not forget. I write this so that I might influence others to remember those precious moments where they felt deep, abiding love - a love that builds you up and rips you apart all at the same time. I write this in hopes to always remember.

Amateur Identity

For some time now my thoughts have drifted around the idea of identity.  It started with my family, continued with this article on slavery in Mauritania, then again while visiting teaching earlier this year. About a year ago, pending motherhood consumed who I was and the effect it would have on my other identities - wife, friend, co-worker/employee, Sunday school teacher, family member in various capacities. Sometimes I feel like it finally seems as though those specific roles nestled into a comfortable place around my primary role as caretaker to my daughter. Other days, not so much.

Every now and then, I feel a little lost as to who I really am. I know I'm not exactly the same person I was 10 years ago... but doesn't she still reside in my basic persona? While obscure band t-shirts and canvas all-stars no longer crowd my closet, experiences of that age brought me to who I am now. I found parts of myself - hooking onto the liberal arts, establishing life-long friendships, and most importantly stopping in my tracks overcome with the love I felt from my Savior.

Now, those not-so-obscure-anymore bands remain on my iPhone, and I continue to find great strength in the women I met that year. When Corinne was just a few months old, I fed and rocked her to sleep every night. On one particular evening, my eyes rested on her peaceful, sleeping face and I siltenly plead for her to have friends like the ones I do - people who inspire her to be honest, hard-working, intelligent, well-rounded, happy, fun, active, and spiritual. People who she can always count on, no matter how much distance may separate them. I stared down at her for a long time, hoping that she could only be so lucky.

I know that I can work on instilling those same attributes as a parent, but I also I know how critical it is for her to have a good, solid group of friends. Thanks to such influences when I first arrived BYU, I stayed in Provo and realized my self-worth and testimony. During that time, I came to fully accept my identity as a child a of God who can receive innumerable blessings - like personal revelation and forgiveness.

I know that this identity is at my core, and will never change. While I may falter in my faith or understanding of this concept, it is an identity that will always be there, ready for me to accept.
When I first began writing this post, I had lines written describing former selves - the girl consumed by cryptic song lyrics and late-night (early morning?) parties... but once I began to recall that evening in the rocking chair, this post slowly morphed. While my past identities matter, they don't define me. Those identities slowly morphed, too.

At times I struggle, thinking I have no sense of self... I don't run marathons, letterpress, or sew. I grasp at the disappointment of not having an identity - I'm not a cool hipster, a super mom, or corporate success. Thus, I began exploring this dissatisfaction of self and began to write.

That night with Corinne proves that my current identity mainly focuses on my role as a mother to Corinne (possible in part by being wife to Scott, of course). But there is so much more to it! My persona as a mother stems from who I've become through my relationships with those around me, relationships that led to a grand turning point of my self-actualization. When I get down to it, I think that is all that really matters. The angst I've felt off and on for the past few months seems so futile - why feel bad that I'm not a crafter or a cook? That's not my identity. My hobbies (or lack thereof) do not define me (thankfully). Right now, I need to be at peace with letting my family - both earthly and heavenly - do is instead. I like to think I'm pretty good with that.

It Takes A Village

Be forewarned: this is yet another post mixed with bringing up baby. Shocker, right? But no baby pics. I post enough of those on Instagram. However, I do feel that having a child has made me more introspective than normal. And I promise, this ties into things other than how amazing my daughter is.

For the past couple of months I can't help but think about how I could never raise a child on my own. For example, a few months ago after a Sunday dinner at Scott's parents' home, the entire family participated in helping Corinne learn how to crawl on all fours. The poor gal was downward-dogging all over the place or inadvertently scooting backwards, and it was time to get her moving with purpose. We placed books under her hands, and my father-in-law pumped her legs, my sister-in-law stabilized her middle, all while I moved the books in sync with her legs.  That was all it took (three grown adults on the floor) - and the wee lass hasn't looked back since mastering her new skill of freedom.

Shortly thereafter, following yet another Sunday dinner, my mother-in-law worked on teaching Corinne to crawl up on something using a box like unto a mid-sized cardboard priority mailer. The very next day while getting ready for work, I turned to see my hard-working daughter sitting atop the landing at the bottom of our stairs (one step up from the main floor). Then this:

Corinne constantly surprises me with new tricks: clapping her hands, saying "uh oh," and playing peek-a-boo. While I know I do those things with her, I can't take the credit - it goes to everyone around her who influences the course of this growing human being's life.

And it isn't just those in close proximity. Many friends in far-away places also take part in the shaping of my daughter. Those who I've watched for years, raising their own the best they can, who impress me with their love, wit, and creativity. Who inspire me with a goal and a vision of a family.

There's also those who were in my own village as a child, who will probably never fully comprehend (or let alone even have an inkling of) the effect they had on my life and on what kind of person I am now. The youth leaders, the teachers, the parents of friends, the older kids; some of their parts consisted of short cameos, but their presence proved crucial nonetheless. Some still actively participate in the drama (Comedy? Romance? Tragedy? Depends on the act and scene, I suppose).

This reminds me of a question I brought while teaching a scripture study class at church yesterday - how has the testimony of another person affected your own testimony?

Did a person ever walk through your village and leave an abiding footprint?

One of my most vivid life-shaping experiences occurred my sophomore year at BYU. I've never been your ultra-conservative, ever-faithful, never-asking-questions kind of person. I want to know why I shouldn't go against the grain. I want to push the limit of my understanding and beliefs.

At that time, I wavered with my stance on abortion rights. My tent stood adamantly in the pro-choice camp (for many reasons, which may or may not be discussed another day). Yet, I questioned myself. I knew what my church preached and struggled to gain testimony of this pro-life concept.

One nondescript Sunday, hymns were sung, bread and water were partaken, and talks were given. The overall theme was that of tithes and offerings. Half-listening, thinking "I already pay my ten percent," I was blind-sided by one girl's closing testimony. She spoke of sacrifice. More importantly, she testified of the critical and gut-wrenching sacrifice of her birth mother's choice to let another family raise and adopt her. Her mother could have decided to terminate - it wasn't convenient to be pregnant or have a child; but terminate she did not. She made the most selfless decision from what seemingly began as quite a selfish one. Thanks to her mother's sacrifice, she grew up in a loving and faithful home, and ended up receiving an education at BYU. She felt unending gratitude to this woman and the choice to not only let her live, but live with another family.

Tears stung my eyes and I knew. I knew without question what I believed. Someone in my village quickly crossed my path, but left me with a life-changing impression. That day I chose to promote life; and just like when Corinne learned how to crawl, I haven't looked back.

I pray that I can bring up my daughter in a good village - one filled with laughter, confidence, stability, and affection. One that lends itself to random people coming in and shaping her to do good things. I'm grateful for the sea of faces I see when I think about the village that raised me; and the one that I continue to surround myself with today. But when I really think about it... I feel as though I never really left one and went to another; rather, my village just keeps on getting bigger and better.

Amateur Insight

Today I realized that I am my own woman. I am me... the me now. Sure, I'm made of the me's of my past, but I can be whomever I want right now.

This oddly came from a random bout of wasting time on Facebook (I know, you never do that, right?). I had been thinking about reviewing my friends list to trim down to those who I actually consider a friend and would want to know about their life and realized that a fair number of my "friends" had (gasp!) de-friended me. What the what?! I mean, seriously, what did I do to them? Weren't we so close back in the day? Didn't they come to my high school graduation? Vacation together? Wedding? So what, we hadn't actually spoken in a few years. Big deal! I still want to hear that you're happy with your new girlfriend/fiancée/dog/job/house/child. Wouldn't you be happy to hear about mine?

Obviously not.

So, like anybody else with insecurity issues, I felt a tad down... as if I wasn't worthy to show up in a measly news feed. I guess you felt so compelled by our lack of friendship to keep your good news from me? Awesome.

Then I got a grip (a few hours later).

Who cares? Who cares about stinking Facebook? We have bigger fish to fry - like world hunger, the national budget, and an energy crisis.

Well, maybe you care, if you're still reading this, that is.

Anyway.

Looking at my "friends" list (yes, I use quotations there for a reason), I realized that I have great friends now. I look at the pictures on my desk and see my husband's cousins from Christmas. I remembered that I have many, MANY family members with whom I need to build a relationship. I have a job with great co-workers, a church family, and a handful of die-hards from grade school and college. There are friends from the places I've lived: Chesapeake, Seattle, Yorktown, Provo, and now Maryland. And these people are now all over the place! I love these dear friends. I also love my family. Who needs a list of over 300 "friends" to tell me that I have people in my life that I love and they love me too? Who needs a list to tell them that yes, they grew up - they had pals, they did stuff, and it was fun for the most part. Who needs a list to define them?

And then I decided. Not me. I do NOT need a list! And suddenly, just like that, the bad feelings of lowliness lifted. I can be whomever I want. I don't have to be who I was 5, 10, or 15 years ago (although 15 years ago I was the ripe old age of 11). I don't have to have a label (although, as unfortunate it as it is, I do believe we are still generally labeled in our life... the artsy one, the family man, the liberal, the religious one, etc.), and even better, I do not have to have a label from my past.

Of course, we all have things we would change... but I'm grateful for my experiences. I'm grateful for the friendships I developed over the years, for the times and seasons in which I REALLY needed them. They truly were my friends. And at this time in my life, I'm grateful for where I'm headed now - a strange feeling of being a little child in adult's world, doing adult things (like wasting time of Facebook worrying about a friend list).

Looking at my life now, I have a wide array of amazing things to focus on... an incredible husband, a large family on both sides, great jobs for the both of us, membership in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (and the responsibilities that come with it), and many others that would make for an incredibly long post.

These are the things that define me (for now, at least). I am a wife, daughter, sister, cousin, niece, granddaughter, visiting teacher, analyst, and friend to many (both on and offline, for that matter). And I can try really hard to be the best I can in those roles... which is time consuming enough without crazy internet distractions. Most importantly, I know that I am a daughter of a Heavenly Father who loves me, and I love Him. And I can always be better at showing that love.

Amateur Home Buyer

Back in June, we finally put an offer on a house (after roughly four months of searching). Then we waited. And we waited some more. And we kept on waiting. Then, finally, we heard back (it was a short sale, ironically named for how ridiculously long the process takes). At first, the counter offer wasn't ideal and didn't seem right. But after tweaking some of the terms, it all appeared to work out in the end. It seemed like a no-brainer. On paper, it met all of our standards. Had the right number of bedrooms, bathrooms, and was the right location for the right price. We signed the papers, but didn't send them in right away.

We had to give our final answer of official acceptance on Tuesday.

For some reason, we were hesitant.

We hemmed, we hawed.

And hemmed and hawed again.

Come Tuesday morning, my dear husband says a prayer, asking specifically if we should buy this home.

Immediately I hear "Don't do it."

I'm sure I don't really have to tell you, but that wasn't exactly the answer for which I was looking. I was looking for it all to go smoothly, for this house to be the end of search, the answer to our prayers. I was looking for a reassurance and comfort about this huge decision.

But the answer hung in my mind like a coat in an empty closet. It was obvious. Don't do it.

I told Scott, and we discussed. How did we not receive this answer earlier? How did we feel okay with everything yesterday? Is it just nerves? Why? Why shouldn't we do it?

All I knew was that I couldn't ignore it. I knew our answer. I also knew that if we have faith and follow this prompting, we will be in the right place. While I'm sure everything would have been fine if we just went ahead with this house, it was not the best (or right, for that matter) choice. It wasn't the place for us.

We didn't go through with it.

It wasn't easy, but we gave word of our final decision. After hitting send, I truly felt a burden had been lifted. Instantly, I had zero regret and no second thoughts.

I can't even begin to express the gratitude I have for the power of prayer, faith, the Priesthood, and the Gospel. I am grateful for the promptings and personal revelations I receive from the Spirit. It isn't always easy to listen to the Spirit, let alone be open and aware enough to hear it. I think President Faust describes it perfectly in this latest Message:



I hope everyone can have this kind of experience in their life. What a blessing it is to have this source for peace and guidance.

Let the search begin (again)!

Amateur Teacher

While preparing for my Relief Society lesson tomorrow, a favorite passage from an old general conference talk came to mind:

 “In the depth(s) of prayer, we may finally be led to that lonesome place where we suddenly see ourselves naked in all soberness. Gone are all the little lies of self-defense. We see ourselves in our vanities and false hopes for carnal security. We are shocked to see our many deficiencies, our lack of gratitude for the smallest things. We are now at that sacred place that seemingly only a few have courage to enter, because this is that horrible place of unquenchable pain in fire and burning. This is that place where true repentance is born… where the conversion and the rebirth of the soul are happening… where the prophets were before they were called to serve… where converts find themselves before they can have the desire to be baptized... This is the place where sanctifications and rededications and renewal of covenants are happening… where suddenly the atonement of Christ is understood and embraced… [where] the soul begins to “sing the song of redeeming love” and indestructible faith in Christ is born… we suddenly see the heavens open as we feel the full impact of the love of our Heavenly Father, which fills us with indescribable joy. With this fulfillment of love in our hearts, we will never be happy anymore just by being ourselves or living our own lives. We will not be satisfied until we have surrendered our lives into the arms of the loving Christ, and until He has become the doer of all our deeds and He has become the speaker of all our words.” - Elder F. Enzio Busche, “Truth Is the Issue,” Ensign, Nov 1993, 24

This talk was shared with me by a dear friend a couple of years ago. I highly recommend clicking the link to read the entire talk - it is amazing. When I read this, a huge lump swells inside of me, ready to burst. 

Lately my thoughts have been gravitating toward how my parents for took the leap to join The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints while a young couple and since then dedicate their lives to raising their children in the church. Because of their righteous decision, my life has been innumerably blessed... I have the gift of the Holy Ghost, a temple marriage, and so much more. I am grateful for the unequivocal knowledge and testimony I have of gospel principles. Without my testimony, I know my life would be completely different and incomplete. 

I strive to continually feel my Savior's love, which is always around me; I just have to be ready and willing to accept it.