The poet Robert Browning wrote:
"Grow old along with me!
The best is yet to be,
The last of life, for which the first was made:
Our times are in his hand
Who saith, “A whole I planned,
Youth shows but half; trust God: see all, nor be afraid!”
Some of you may wonder: Is there any future for me? What does a new year or a new semester, a new major or a new romance, a new job or a new home hold for me? Will I be safe? Will life be sound? Can I trust in the Lord and in the future? Or would it be better to look back, to go back, to stay in the past?
- Elder Jeffrey R. Holland
---
As President Monson poignantly put it in the April 2009 General Conference: "The future is as bright as our faith." How true that is.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
Things I should have done.
Thank you Weiser Idaho for a memorable weekend.
I rode a horse, drove a tractor, fed cattle, peed in a lean-to, watched a dog cuddle with a dead calf, went to a high school basketball game, and remembered how much I love being a missionary. All of these were firsts except the first and last. I am all about firsts.
I found out today that my old music teacher died of stomach cancer on the 15th. One day as I put the neck on my saxophone, Tony, a die-hard astrologist, cried, "Whoa Lisa, when were you born?" I told him. He pointed to a poster of Charlie Parker, hanging on the wall above me. The birth date said August 29, 1920, only a few days after mine. Then he pointed to the neck of Parker's sax, and to the neck of mine. "You're both Virgos," Tony said. "And look, you play with the neck at the same angle Charlie Parker did." Tony thought I channeled Charlie Parker when I played. Maybe I did. I was playing "Fly Me to the Moon" pretty decently after two lessons, so I could have.
Tony got me started on the bass guitar, and he sold me my Fender Mexican Strat and little Danelectro amp. And I think he was my biggest fan. He encouraged me to pursue music as a career. "You have what it takes," he'd say.
Over Christmas I felt prompted over and over that me and my siblings needed to go visit Tony. We knew he was sick. Every time I'd drive by his studio I'd think, "Go see Tony." Of course I ignored it and we didn't go.
The summer before Grandma died, I thought and thought, "I need to interview Grandma on video." Then I thought, "No, I'll do it at Thanksgiving." She died November 5.
The morning Kaye died, I was cooking spaghetti sauce. Sister Morrill had just had surgery and was dozing in a Vicodin-induced super slumber. I needed some herbs; I wanted fresh basil from Kaye's garden, just across the street. I should just go get some, I thought. Really I need to. The thought came and came and came, but I stayed put and stayed put and stayed put because I wasn't supposed to leave Mo.
I will never know.
I rode a horse, drove a tractor, fed cattle, peed in a lean-to, watched a dog cuddle with a dead calf, went to a high school basketball game, and remembered how much I love being a missionary. All of these were firsts except the first and last. I am all about firsts.
I found out today that my old music teacher died of stomach cancer on the 15th. One day as I put the neck on my saxophone, Tony, a die-hard astrologist, cried, "Whoa Lisa, when were you born?" I told him. He pointed to a poster of Charlie Parker, hanging on the wall above me. The birth date said August 29, 1920, only a few days after mine. Then he pointed to the neck of Parker's sax, and to the neck of mine. "You're both Virgos," Tony said. "And look, you play with the neck at the same angle Charlie Parker did." Tony thought I channeled Charlie Parker when I played. Maybe I did. I was playing "Fly Me to the Moon" pretty decently after two lessons, so I could have.
Tony got me started on the bass guitar, and he sold me my Fender Mexican Strat and little Danelectro amp. And I think he was my biggest fan. He encouraged me to pursue music as a career. "You have what it takes," he'd say.
Over Christmas I felt prompted over and over that me and my siblings needed to go visit Tony. We knew he was sick. Every time I'd drive by his studio I'd think, "Go see Tony." Of course I ignored it and we didn't go.
The summer before Grandma died, I thought and thought, "I need to interview Grandma on video." Then I thought, "No, I'll do it at Thanksgiving." She died November 5.
The morning Kaye died, I was cooking spaghetti sauce. Sister Morrill had just had surgery and was dozing in a Vicodin-induced super slumber. I needed some herbs; I wanted fresh basil from Kaye's garden, just across the street. I should just go get some, I thought. Really I need to. The thought came and came and came, but I stayed put and stayed put and stayed put because I wasn't supposed to leave Mo.
I will never know.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Consider the lilies
Ceci n'est pas une pipe. A concept Magritte perpetuated to explain reality. What is and what isn't. If only he knew how well this relates to the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Our Brother would have us focus on what is. Who we are. What we are. I am a daughter of God. I am a strong, confident, talented woman. I possess potential limited only by my own choices.
Our other brother, that Lucifer, terrorizes us with the tempestuous swindling of what we are not. (I'll spare you what I am not. You can probably already tell me that and I don't like to focus on it anyway).
We, as beloved children of God, cannot and should not define ourselves by what we are not. That is not reality. That is not the way of the gospel. Though I've pondered on this idea for the past month, this week it has infiltrated my reality. Heavenly Father often prepares us for these things.
Onto the more superficial.
Substitute teaching. A near-perfect profession for one who's transient, like myself. Near-perfect because let's face it: Does anyone aspire to be a substitute teacher?
No, no. Probably not.
Yesterday I subbed at a middle school in Provo. I love subbing middle school, adapting to the different dynamic in each class, discovering immediately that the class clown is wholly unpredictable on sight alone. The period two class clown was in a friendly verbal dispute with a classmate. I only heard the class clown's final response, which was: "Tu madre." I laughed. I shouldn't have, but I did. And the class caught me. Another girl, who was a 5th period student of mine, had been told all day that she and I looked exactly alike. Sure enough, we did, and we were even wearing almost identical coats. Lastly was period 6. It had come up during class that I served a mission. I don't remember how. Later, I commented to one student (I don't remember exactly what) in formal, proper English. The kind of English no one really uses unless they write for The New Yorker. After the comment, the class clown said: "Dang, did you serve your mission in the medieval times or something?"
Comic genius.
Our Brother would have us focus on what is. Who we are. What we are. I am a daughter of God. I am a strong, confident, talented woman. I possess potential limited only by my own choices.
Our other brother, that Lucifer, terrorizes us with the tempestuous swindling of what we are not. (I'll spare you what I am not. You can probably already tell me that and I don't like to focus on it anyway).
We, as beloved children of God, cannot and should not define ourselves by what we are not. That is not reality. That is not the way of the gospel. Though I've pondered on this idea for the past month, this week it has infiltrated my reality. Heavenly Father often prepares us for these things.
Onto the more superficial.
Substitute teaching. A near-perfect profession for one who's transient, like myself. Near-perfect because let's face it: Does anyone aspire to be a substitute teacher?
No, no. Probably not.
Yesterday I subbed at a middle school in Provo. I love subbing middle school, adapting to the different dynamic in each class, discovering immediately that the class clown is wholly unpredictable on sight alone. The period two class clown was in a friendly verbal dispute with a classmate. I only heard the class clown's final response, which was: "Tu madre." I laughed. I shouldn't have, but I did. And the class caught me. Another girl, who was a 5th period student of mine, had been told all day that she and I looked exactly alike. Sure enough, we did, and we were even wearing almost identical coats. Lastly was period 6. It had come up during class that I served a mission. I don't remember how. Later, I commented to one student (I don't remember exactly what) in formal, proper English. The kind of English no one really uses unless they write for The New Yorker. After the comment, the class clown said: "Dang, did you serve your mission in the medieval times or something?"
Comic genius.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
The sky is falling!
I feel it necessary to announce I am ending my long time love affair with my most favorite appendage, my third limb as some say:
It's true. After a long courtship and engagement, my fizzy friend and I are parting ways. Explanation.
1. Soda is bad for you whether it's diet or not. Lying to myself doesn't change this fact.
2. One should never voluntarily put acid in his or her body.
3. My bursitis-inflicted hip flares when I drink caffeine. So does my heart rate.
4. Sometimes it takes the right person to tell you to quit, because from them it finally makes sense.
5. I'm going to save several hundred dollars this year from quitting soda, so maybe I can finally get myself that tube amp I've wanted forever.
Now, I expect all of you friends to support me. Please do not tempt me, call me wanting to get a sip, text me wanting to get a sip, or bring me a Diet Coke in the car ever again. (Megan, this especially means you since you frequently do this. I appreciate it. But since you can't drink soda now that Brutus is gone, I won't either. And if you can still drink Diet Coke even though Brutus is gone, you should just tell me you can't).
Goodbye, Lover.
It's true. After a long courtship and engagement, my fizzy friend and I are parting ways. Explanation.
1. Soda is bad for you whether it's diet or not. Lying to myself doesn't change this fact.
2. One should never voluntarily put acid in his or her body.
3. My bursitis-inflicted hip flares when I drink caffeine. So does my heart rate.
4. Sometimes it takes the right person to tell you to quit, because from them it finally makes sense.
5. I'm going to save several hundred dollars this year from quitting soda, so maybe I can finally get myself that tube amp I've wanted forever.
Now, I expect all of you friends to support me. Please do not tempt me, call me wanting to get a sip, text me wanting to get a sip, or bring me a Diet Coke in the car ever again. (Megan, this especially means you since you frequently do this. I appreciate it. But since you can't drink soda now that Brutus is gone, I won't either. And if you can still drink Diet Coke even though Brutus is gone, you should just tell me you can't).
Goodbye, Lover.
The weight of the world
I've returned from a successful trip to Houston. It was a great time and I will never forget it. Highlights include: Brazos Bend State Park (where we saw real alligators!), Half Price Books, Houston Temple, Good Company Texas barbeque, warm weather, Gulf of Mexico/the beach, "Slumdog Millionaire," seeing St. John's School AKA Rushmore Academy, realizing Houston is a really cool city, and kickin' it with Jeff, one of my dearest friends.
I'm afraid, however, that my post-mission honeymoon is over. As I've faced an afternoon of job searching today, I have felt a consuming feeling of urgency. A do-or-die ultimatum Darwin himself couldn't handle.
People: I NEED A JOB. And I will not rest until that paycheck is made out to me.
I'm afraid, however, that my post-mission honeymoon is over. As I've faced an afternoon of job searching today, I have felt a consuming feeling of urgency. A do-or-die ultimatum Darwin himself couldn't handle.
People: I NEED A JOB. And I will not rest until that paycheck is made out to me.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Holy General Authority, Batman!
Utah celeb sighting! Elder Craig Zwick and his sweet wife are currently sitting inches from me in the SLC Airport. Just had a nice chat with them. I actually met Elder and Sister Zwick in the MTC, had a nice chat with them there. My mom and Sister Zwick were sorority sisters. Elder Zwick and my mom apparently went on a few dates.
I am flying to Houston on a plane with propellers! How cool is that? Frontier Airlines only has Pepsi products. What kind of second rate airline is this?
Anyway, I gotta go. I'll write something worth reading soon. I love you lots.
I am flying to Houston on a plane with propellers! How cool is that? Frontier Airlines only has Pepsi products. What kind of second rate airline is this?
Anyway, I gotta go. I'll write something worth reading soon. I love you lots.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Saturday, January 09, 2010
The one thing I am always lusting after.
Take a guess.
Despite the photos, it has little to do with children and animals.
I'm in the ER with my friend Megan. They just gave her delota. She's a little high.
Despite the photos, it has little to do with children and animals.
I'm in the ER with my friend Megan. They just gave her delota. She's a little high.
Thursday, January 07, 2010
Briefs.
Thanks to the original Erin Leigh for this gem.
And yes, it's real.
In other news, my life is figuring itself out very well, thank you. Also, I am sick.
Today I did sealings in the Provo Temple. The wife's name was Nicholas. Pretty sure there was an error there, but she and Martin are sealed nonetheless. Good thing heaven is error proof.
And yes, it's real.
In other news, my life is figuring itself out very well, thank you. Also, I am sick.
Today I did sealings in the Provo Temple. The wife's name was Nicholas. Pretty sure there was an error there, but she and Martin are sealed nonetheless. Good thing heaven is error proof.
Sunday, January 03, 2010
Loved ones gather at day's end.
I am packing up my life. My former life anyway.
As my final act as a California resident, I am going through my mission boxes, again, and purging my collection. I haven't done it since I've been home.
By now the initial pain and shock of not being a missionary is wearing off. It has worn off, mostly. But looking at all this memorabilia brings it right back. My many journals. Pictures the kids drew me, notes from investigators and members, recipes from my sisters I reacquainted with along the way. My cookbook from Mrs. Yoder, the Mennonite mother I met at Shriner's hospital, who was there with her daughter Rhoda. I loved Rhoda. She was eight at the time. Tiny thing, in Shriner's because one of her legs was longer than the other. She said to me, "Someday you must come to my farm and meet all my cows, chicken, sheep, goats, turkeys and horses. And my brothers." I told her I wanted to, very much. But she was out of the mission, so I couldn't.
I really miss being a missionary, and few things I have done since I've been home have paralleled even one iota in importance. Please forgive me for writing about this again and again. I do not vocalize how much I miss it. If I do, I cry. A lot. I look at my tags and I cry. I think of the people I taught, who were baptized, who struggle to stay active, and I cry. I know it's their choice, but I am sad for them still, especially when I think of what they went through to be baptized.
I think about serving again in the future, with my eternal companion. And I am very, very happy to think about this.
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is where we find Christ's pure gospel. I love Him so very much.
As my final act as a California resident, I am going through my mission boxes, again, and purging my collection. I haven't done it since I've been home.
By now the initial pain and shock of not being a missionary is wearing off. It has worn off, mostly. But looking at all this memorabilia brings it right back. My many journals. Pictures the kids drew me, notes from investigators and members, recipes from my sisters I reacquainted with along the way. My cookbook from Mrs. Yoder, the Mennonite mother I met at Shriner's hospital, who was there with her daughter Rhoda. I loved Rhoda. She was eight at the time. Tiny thing, in Shriner's because one of her legs was longer than the other. She said to me, "Someday you must come to my farm and meet all my cows, chicken, sheep, goats, turkeys and horses. And my brothers." I told her I wanted to, very much. But she was out of the mission, so I couldn't.
I really miss being a missionary, and few things I have done since I've been home have paralleled even one iota in importance. Please forgive me for writing about this again and again. I do not vocalize how much I miss it. If I do, I cry. A lot. I look at my tags and I cry. I think of the people I taught, who were baptized, who struggle to stay active, and I cry. I know it's their choice, but I am sad for them still, especially when I think of what they went through to be baptized.
I think about serving again in the future, with my eternal companion. And I am very, very happy to think about this.
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is where we find Christ's pure gospel. I love Him so very much.
Saturday, January 02, 2010
The #1 reason why 2009 has to go.
Did you know the United Nations General Assembly declared 2009 the International Year of Natural Fibers?
Neither did I.
As stated by Wikipedia:
Thanks for helping the world be a bit more peaceful in 2009, United Nations. We need you!
Neither did I.
As stated by Wikipedia:
Tentatively, the objectives of the International Year of Natural Fibres would be:
- To raise awareness and stimulate demand for natural fibres;
- To encourage appropriate policy responses from governments to the problems faced by natural fibre industries
- To foster an effective and enduring international partnership among the various natural fibres industries;
- To promote the efficiency and sustainability of the natural fibres industries.
Thanks for helping the world be a bit more peaceful in 2009, United Nations. We need you!
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