An Easter Quiche

In the days leading up to today's holiday, I've been thinking about family traditions for Easter. Growing up, we didn't do the basket and bunny thing.  Yes, I know we dyed eggs during the week, maybe went shopping for a new dress and had a nice family dinner the day of, but we didn't have Easter Sunday morning egg hunts or baskets full of candy and toys.  And I was/am okay with that.

Now that I am starting my own family, though, I've been wondering what sort of holiday traditions Mitchell and I will have with our kids.  In an effort to be a little more home-maker-y, I decided that I would make breakfast for us this morning before going to church (Our typical Sunday mornings consist of Mitchell getting up around 6:00am to get ready and prepare for church leaderships meetings that begin at 7:30.  Since actual church doesn't start until 10:00, I am still fast asleep when he leaves.  Therefore, we never eat breakfast together on Sunday mornings, ergo I was trying to make today a special day.).  I had it all planned out: a spinach quiche with a side of bacon and freshly cut fruit.  A glass of coconut milk for him, a glass of orange juice for me.  Maybe some buttered toast, as well. It was going to be a beautiful moment, the start of a beautiful family tradition, sitting together at the table enjoying our Easter quiche breakfast.

That was the hope and dream.  Here was the reality:  I had to be at the church this morning to practice a song at 8:00.  Mitchell had a meeting at 8:30.  I finally got out of bed at 6:20, showered, dried my hair, got half dressed, then went downstairs to make the quiche.  The side of bacon was quickly abandoned when I put the quiche in the oven at 7:15 and knew I still had to finish getting ready.  When I had a wardrobe malfunction, the freshly cut fruit was replaced with a banana.  The timer on the oven went off, but the quiche needed another five minutes.  It was 7:45 and Mitchell still wasn't dressed.  At 7:50, I took the quiche out of the oven, eyed it suspiciously and very hesitantly cut myself a slice.  After the first bite, I knew that it had been a failure.  Shrugging my shoulders, I put the whole thing back in the oven to keep it warm, then called upstairs to Mitchell to let him know I was leaving and that if he wanted to try what I made, it was in the oven.  Otherwise, he should probably just grab a banana and a PowerBar on his way out the door.

So there you have it.  My first attempt at an Easter family tradition was a complete and total failure.  But here's the best part…

As I was sitting in Sacrament Meeting today, where I participated in a women's musical number and also sang in the choir, I realized that today is not about quiches.  It is not about baskets and bunnies.  It is not about trying to keep up with or out-do the Jones' and all their crafty Easter traditions.  Today is about celebrating the miracle of the Atonement and the Resurrection of our Savior, Jesus Christ.  Today is about being thankful for my many blessings - for my marriage to Mitchell, for Baby Jackson who will be here before we know it, and for the wonder of the gospel in my life.

I know that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God.  I know that He suffered and died for the sins and pains of all.  I know that He was resurrected and lives today.  I know that it is only through Him that we are able to return to live with our Heavenly Father and our families for eternity.

And I know that no amount of ruined Easter quiches will ever take this testimony away from me.

SPS: Isaiah 55:8-9

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord.

For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts."

I had a wonderful weekend in Portland, witnessing the wedding of my very best friend Joanna to the most wonderful Chris.  Before the actual ceremony, the brother performing the sealing made a comment that immediately touched my heart and made me think of this scripture from Isaiah.

He said that Joanna and Chris "had been walking towards each other" all their lives.

I love this thought, both for its imagery and its truthfulness.  And I love how this thought relates to this scripture.  We might have our own thoughts, our own plans, but I have learned through many experiences - some painful, some not - that Heavenly Father's thoughts and plans are much, much better.  And He will lead us through His ways, on His path until we end up where we need to be.

This applies not only to marriage, but to every aspect of our lives.  Careers, friends, talents.  One way or another, we are walking towards what we need in order to have the ultimate joy and happiness.

SPS: Mark 4:36-41

"And when they had sent away the multitude, they took him even as he was in the ship. And there were also with him other little ships.

And there arose a great storm of wind, and the waves beat into the ship, so that it was now full.

And he was in the hinder part of the ship, asleep on a pillow: and they awake him, and say unto him, Master, carest thou not that we perish?

And he arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be still. And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm.

And he said unto them, Why are ye so fearful? how is it that ye have no faith?

And they feared exceedingly, and said one to another, What manner of man is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?"

I can't even begin to describe how perfectly this story from Christ's life reflects some of the hardest trials of my life.  With the rain pounding, the waves rolling, the ship rocking, I have been forced to my knees and cried out, "Master, do you not see that I am having a hard time?  Do you not see that my heart is breaking?  Do you not see that I have no strength left?  Carest thou not that I perish?"

In my weakest moments, I fall prey to the adversary's lie that no one cares that I am struggling, that I am alone in my trials.  Time and time again, though, that lie is replaced with the eternal truth that the Savior does care, that family and friends do care, that I am not alone.  In His own way and in His own time, the Master always comes to my aid and calms the storms, just as He did for His disciples.  The winds and the waves truly must obey Him, and His reassuring voice can be heard above the noise of the storm, if only we are willing to listen: "Peace, be still.  Be not afraid.  Have faith.  I am here, always."

As dear friends have shared with me some of their own personal trials and struggles in life, I know that we have all felt this way - like the storms are never-ending and our constant cries to heaven are falling on deaf ears.  I testify, though, that heaven hears.  I know that the Master is always listening, is always watching, is always mindful of how much we can bare on our own.  He is aware of the weather in our life, and He will always lead us out of danger and into the sun once again.

See also: Hymn no. 105 "Master, the Tempest Is Raging"

SPS: Hebrews 10:35-36

In my church, we have a program for children, ages 3-11, called Primary, where they learn about Jesus Christ and His gospel through lessons, activities and songs (if you have never been in a Sacrament Meeting program put on by the Primary children, you are missing out on one of life's greatest joys - they are just so darn adorable). I have very fond memories of my time in Primary, and I am grateful to leaders and teachers who helped nourish my testimony of the Savior at such a young age.

One of the songs the Primary children sing is called Scripture Power, and I love the simple, but important message: 

Because I want to be like the Savior, and I can

I'm reading His instructions, I'm following His plan

Because I want the power His word will give to me

I'm changing how I live, I'm changing what I'll be

Scripture power keeps me safe from sin

Scripture power is the power to win!

Scripture power, everyday I need

The power that I get each time I read.

I'll find the sword of truth in each scripture that I learn.

I'll take the shield of faith from these pages that I turn.

I'll wear each vital part of the armor of the Lord

And fight my daily battles, and win a great reward

Scripture power keeps me safe from sin

Scripture power is the power to win!

Scripture power, everyday I need

The power that I get each time I read.

In an effort to strengthen my testimony of Jesus Christ and His gospel, I've decided to start a new weekly blog post: Scripture Power Sundays.  My goal is to share a scripture each week, as well as my own personal thoughts about how the verse(s) applies to my/everyone's life.  I hope my words can be a benefit to others who read them, but I mainly want to do this for myself.  Countless prayers have been answered because I was humble enough to turn to the scriptures for help, and as I move forward with my second year of teaching, I know that I will need all the help I can get.

This week's scripture is Hebrews 10:35-36.

"Cast not away therefore your confidence, which hath great recompence of reward.

For ye have need of patience, that, after ye have done the will of God, ye might receive the promise."

I've read and heard this scripture many times before, but today a young man who is preparing to serve a 2-year mission shared this during his talk to the congregation, and I was reminded of the great truth that Paul is teaching: As we go throughout our lives, striving to life righteously, encountering trials and hardships along the way, we cannot lose our confidence, or faith, in the Lord.  If we hold to that faith, if we are patient and continue to do what the Lord has asked us to do, He has promised to bless us with the greatest of all the gifts of God: eternal life.  

I imagine a person who has experienced disappointment and heartache; a person who is physically and spiritually exhausted from trying to do the right thing, wondering when the trial will end, when the blessing will come.  I imagine this person ready to give up on everything they have worked for, not because they don't believe, but because they are just so tired and battle-worn.  I then imagine the Savior lifting this person up off the floor and gently saying, "Cast not away therefore your confidence.  Don't give up.  Be patient.  I am with you always.  The blessing will come, I promise."

This person is me.  This person is you.  This person is anyone who has ever had a hard time.  And the promise is the same to everyone: Have faith, be patient and I will bless you.

Divine Intervention

Heavenly Father knows each of His children so well.  Through His divine intervention, He places specific people in our lives at specific times, knowing that we will need each other to get through both the happy times and the hard times.

As I have looked back over the past (almost) three decades of my life, I recognize that this has been the case during my most difficult trials.  Houston, Cleveland, Dallas, Provo, Spain, Provo, Los Angeles, Dallas, Austin, Dallas: in all of the different places I have lived I have been blessed with friends and mentors to help me and teach me and guide me and love me.  Through their inspired words, phone calls, notes, emails, texts and visits I have felt the loving hand of Heavenly Father at work in my life.  They have been angels in my life, and I only hope that I have been the same support to these wonderful individuals as they have been to me.

Zach commented to me a few times that he felt our meeting was bad timing - that if only we had met during a different time in both of our lives, things wouldn't be so hard or so complicated.  After I thought about this for awhile, I told him that no, our meeting was not bad timing; it was the right timing.  For whatever reason, we were meant to meet at that specific time in both of our lives.  That we needed each other, to learn something from each other.  How else would our paths have crossed - he a Marine from Utah and me a teacher from Texas - if not for divine intervention from above (and some masterful matchmaking from his mother... Love you, Robin!)?  Even through the pain of losing him and missing him everyday, I know that we were part of each other's lives for a reason.  I treasure the time we spent together and the friendship and insight and knowledge I gained from being with him, even if it was only for a brief time.

This past weekend in Portland, I was reunited with one half of my best friend.  Seven years ago, two girls (twin sisters!) were put in my life who were the two halves of my one personality.  And ever since those good ol' days at The Cove, we've never looked back.  They have been a constant in my life, a rock on which to lean and rest, laugh and cry.  We might not talk for months at a time, but I know they are there, and they know that I am here, for anything.  We tend to get really awkward when expressing our emotions and feelings (or rather, Rachel does... bwahahaha!), but I love these two girls with my whole heart.  We have always attributed our friendship to divine intervention - Heavenly Father knew we would need each other during those days at BYU, and would continue to need each other throughout our lives.  As I spent time with Joanna today, finally able to tell her everything that has happened in the past year of my life, she did exactly what I needed her to do - just hold my hand and listen.  Seeing her this weekend after more than two years filled a hole in my heart that I didn't even know was empty.  And seeing Rachel in Utah in three weeks will fill another hole.

The three of us have a running joke about being "replaced" by a new friend or a new roommate ("So, I went out with this new friend last night..." "A new friend?!  Are you replacing me?!?!").  The one exception I will make is for worthy young men who promise to love and care for these amazing young women.  Well, Joanna is finally replacing us.  When I received the news that her engagement was official, I was overwhelmed by pure joy and happiness.  More joy and happiness than I have felt in a long time.  And after meeting our replacement this weekend, I can honestly say that I am happy to be replaced by such an outstanding guy who is perfect for my best friend in every way.

I am grateful for a loving Heavenly Father who knows me; who, through His divine intervention, blesses me with what I need and who I need.  And I am grateful for all of the angels, both here and in heaven, who have answered unspoken prayers, who have followed promptings and inspiration, who have been what I need and who I need.  I can only hope that my own efforts to be a good friend have touched your lives as much as your efforts have touched mine.

The K and the J of KJ&R.  See you soon, R!

happy easter weekend.

decorated easter sugar cookies with a friend.  consumed many of the aforementioned cookies. happy friday night.

slept through the alarm and woke up at 9am.  happy saturday morning.

cleaned the house.  put on running clothes and "ran" errands.  picked up mom and dad from the airport.  finally went grocery shopping.  happy saturday afternoon.

went to an easter party at a friend's house.  asked personal and awkward questions by a precocious 9 yr. old girl ("how old are you? are you married yet? do you have a boyfriend?").  battled a group of children for time on the trampoline.  tossed around a football with a sweet little girl who can spiral the ball like a pro. had a sing-a-long with friends at the piano. happy saturday evening.

attended church services this morning.  sang in a trio during sacrament meeting.  sat with mom during sunday school.  bore my testimony during young women. happy sunday morning.

prepared a lovely easter dinner with dad as my sous chef (honey-baked ham, summer corn cakes, caprese salad, and carrot & zucchini bars with lemon cream cheese frosting). happy sunday afternoon.

finally organized my study and tackled the pile of papers that have been sitting on the floor for the past three months.  currently enjoying a journey to middle earth (i seem to spend a lot of time there.  should i be worried?).  happy sunday evening.

grateful to friends and family who love me and support me.  grateful to my Heavenly Father for the plan of salvation.  grateful to my Savior for His atoning sacrifice.  happy easter weekend.

Not the End of the Story

A sweet friend emailed me this article, and I love its beautiful and positive message: Death is not the end of the story.

I miss Z, terribly.  I miss hearing the sound of his voice on the other end of the phone.  I miss our late-night rendezvouses.  I even miss the frustration he would often make me feel.  But I know that on the darkest and most devastating Fridays of our lives, we must always remember that Sunday will come.  Sunday will come because He who made the ultimate sacrifice rose again the third day.  The angels' question to the women at Christ's tomb is a gentle reminder of hope to all who grieve the loss of a loved one: "Why seek ye the living among the dead?"  Jesus Christ is not dead; He lives, both body and spirit - whole, healed, glorified, immortal and eternal.  Z's physical body has passed away, but his spirit still lives.  He is waiting, along with all who have gone before him and will yet join him on the other side of the veil, for the day when his body and spirit will be reunited - whole, healed, glorified, immortal and eternal.  Everyone who has ever lived will receive the gift of the Resurrection.  The Savior's Atonement, and His eternal love for us, makes this possible. On that day, I know we will all shout for joy and embrace one another as brothers and sisters, friends and family. 

I know that my Redeemer lives.  I know He is the Savior of all mankind, my Elder Brother, my Teacher and my Friend.  I know the Plan of Salvation was created by a loving Heavenly Father, and the Atonement of Christ is at the center of this Plan.  I know that death is not the end of Z's story - or anyone's story - because death was not the end of His story.

The End of the Story

As parents, we try to impress on our children important lessons about life. If you’re nice, people will tend to be nice to you. Eat well and you’ll be healthy. Listen to your teacher and you’ll learn. But there’s one lesson we learn all by ourselves. Sometimes life just isn’t fair.

I was reminded of this anew last week by a long-dreaded email. It was the invitation to a funeral for a woman I had known years ago. We were never close, though I do know her family. But her story makes me cry nonetheless. When a 31-year-old woman dies, leaving a husband and two children who are too young to even remember her, what is there to do but cry?

I know what it is to bury someone you love. I am still haunted by the memory of my husband picking up my son’s tiny casket, and carrying it to his grave. Such things are the very blackest parts of life.

When we are in mourning like this we face a crossroads. The most inviting route is often the grimmest, for in our darkness, despair is almost welcome. I believe, though, that there is another choice. As difficult as it is, we must not let death steal our life.

I will never be the same since my son died. I only had him for 29 days, but they were the most precious of my life, and I will cherish them forever. My friend Kerry only had two years to smile upon her children, but her mark is still there, for it is the mark of an undying love. And that’s what love is—undying. Death does not end a relationship. It only changes it.

My grandfather was married three times to three wonderful women. He had each wife for almost the same number of years before cancer stole all of them, until, at the age of 88, he decided maybe it was time to remain single until he was called home. In these later years his house was adorned by pictures of all the women he had loved—the grandmother I never knew, the one I had called “Nana”, and the one who had stood so proudly at my wedding. He had such sorrow in his life, but his life was also bigger for allowing room both for love and for grief. We cannot, and should not, block out our tears. They are just as much a part of love as the hugs and kisses were. But let us not shut out the smiles, too. Smiles and tears can coexist. And that is the challenge that, I think, faces all of us at that bleak crossroads.

Perhaps it is appropriate to be thinking such thoughts as Easter is upon us. After all, on Good Friday life seemed extremely unfair. The Teacher was dead. And yet, the story did not end on Good Friday. For Sunday was just around the corner, and on that day we were shown, once and for all, that the bad is not the end of the story.

I do not know if you believe the Good Friday story; I do, and it’s one reason I can smile through the tears. Yet all of us, at some point, will need to decide how to deal with the grave. Dylan Thomas once wrote “Do not go gently into that good night; rage, rage against the dying of the light”. It’s poetic, it’s passionate, and I think it’s wrong. Death is not the dying of the light.

Changes come, even those that aren’t welcome. But with those changes often comes a greater ability to love and cherish both those we can hug, and those who are now beyond our reach. The bad is not the end of the story; the sorrow is not all that is being told. Life may not be fair, but it is still good, and there is so much more to be written. That’s a lesson no one can teach us. We must learn it ourselves as we stand at the crossroads, reject despair, and choose the road bathed in tears, but full of hope.

(emphasis in bold added by me)

Stay Strong

I remember having a conversation with my older sister many years ago about our greatest fears in life.  One of her greatest fears was that she would reach a point where she was so strong in her faith and her testimony of the gospel, that Heavenly Father would send her a big trial.  My greatest fear was just the opposite: that Heavenly Father would send me a big trial and my faith and my testimony of the gospel would not be strong enough.

The past two months have been a big trial.  I have never felt so lost and weak and broken.  I have never felt so much pain and sorrow.  I have never cried so many tears.  I have never had so many questions. I have never been so angry.  I have never hurt so much.  I have never felt so alone.

I've come to the important realization, though, that I don't have to be alone.  I don't have to overcome this trial by myself.  I don't have to be strong enough, because the Savior is strong enough for both of us.  His strength is enough to overcome any trial, and as long as I continue to have faith and trust in Him and in the Plan of Salvation, this, too, shall pass.

I was in the car on Saturday, listening to a song that reminds me of happy times with my sisters.  As I was reminiscing, smiling and singing along, a very strong feeling came over me.  I could almost picture Heavenly Father's face and hear His voice as He calmly whispered to me, "It's going to be okay.  You are going to be okay."

A few years ago my mother gave me a necklace for my birthday: a simple silver ring on a chain that had been engraved with the words "stay strong." These words hold many personal meanings for me, and I probably wear this necklace more than any other.  Without realizing it, I usually end up clutching the ring in my fist, running a finger over the engraved reminder.

I still hurt.  I still miss Z terribly.  I still have so many questions.  I still feel alone sometimes.  But I know that it will be okay.  I know that if I stay strong, if I continue to trust in the Lord and have faith in His plan, everything will be okay.

"his real desire was...just 'to be himself' again"

heavenly father knows me so well.

i found comfort and understanding in the most unlikely of places last night.  way back in august, i ordered a book that proves just how big of a geek i am: the letters of jrr tolkien - a compilation of personal letters from tolkien to his wife, children, friends, editors, publishers and fans.  in many of these letters, he describes in great detail the mythology of the lord of the rings, as well as his own thoughts behind his characters and stories.  when the book first arrived, i excitedly read the first few letters, then added it to the stack of books on my nightstand, to be finished at a later date and time (refer to image, top right).

the stack has only grown since august (refer to image, bottom right) and i didn't pick up this particular book again until last night.  i flipped through the pages, reading letters at random, fascinated by the words of this incredible man.  i've read biographies about tolkien, but to read his own words is much more personal.  i finally came across a letter that tolkien had written in "reply to a reader's comments on frodo's failure to surrender the ring in the cracks of doom" (pg. 325).  tolkien's response to this reader - his explanation of why frodo was not a failure - spoke directly to my own questions about why this tragic accident happened and why Z was called back to his heavenly home at this time.  this will probably not make sense to anyone else (especially if you have no idea who frodo is (which, if that is the case, my literary soul weeps for you)), but for me it was a moment of pure revelation and understanding (and i do not use the word "revelation" lightly or in mockery of sacred things; rather, i say it with the utmost respect and reverence, recognizing that all enlightenment comes from the spirit).


from tolkien's letter, dated september 1963 (pg. 326 - 329):

Frodo indeed 'failed' as a hero, as conceived by simple minds: he did not endure to the end; he gave in, ratted. I do not say 'simple minds' with contempt: they often see with clarity the simple truth and the absolute ideal to which effort must be directed, even if it is unattainable. Their weakness, however, is twofold. They do not perceive the complexity of any given situation in Time, in which an absolute ideal is enmeshed. They tend to forget that strange element in the World that we call Pity or Mercy, which is also an absolute requirement in moral judgement (since it is present in the Divine nature). In its highest exercise it belongs to God. For finite judges of imperfect knowledge it must lead to the use of two different scales of 'morality'. To ourselves we must present the absolute ideal without compromise, for we do not know our own limits of natural strength (+grace), and if we do not aim at the highest we shall certainly fall short of the utmost that we could achieve. To others, in any case of which we know enough to make a judgment, we must apply a scale tempered by 'mercy': that is, since we can with good will do this without the bias inevitable in judgment of ourselves, we must estimate the limits of another's strength and weigh this against the force of particular circumstances.

I do not think that Frodo's was a moral failure...

Frodo undertook his quest out of love - to save the world he knew from disaster at his own expense, if he could; and also in complete humility, acknowledging that he was wholly inadequate to the task. His real contract was only to do what he could, to try to find a way and to go as far on the road as his strength of mind and body allowed. He did that. I do not myself see that the breaking of his mind and will under demonic pressure after torment was any more a moral failure than the breaking of his body would have been...

I think it is clear on reflection to an attentive reader that when his dark times came upon him and he was conscious of being 'wounded by knife sting and tooth and a long burden' (III 268) it was not only nightmare memories of past horrors that afflicted him, but also unreasoning self-reproach: he saw himself and all that he done as a broken failure. 'Though I may come to the Shire, it will not seem the same, for I shall not be the same.' That was actually a temptation out of the Dark, a last flicker of pride: desire to have returned as a 'hero', not content with being a mere instrument of good...

'Alas! there are some wounds that cannot be wholly cured', said Gandalf (III 268) - not in Middle-earth. Frodo was sent or allowed to pass over Sea to heal him... So he went both to a purgatory and to a reward, for a while: a period of reflection and peace and a gaining of a truer understanding of his position in littleness and in greatness, spent still in Time amid the natural beauty of 'Arda Unmarred', the Earth unspoiled by evil.

...His real desire was hobbitlike (and humanlike) just 'to be himself' again and get back to the old familiar life that had been interrupted. Already on the journey back from Rivendell he suddenly saw that was not for him possible. Hence his cry 'Where shall I find rest?' He knew the answer, and Gandalf did not reply.

new year's eve was one of the last night's that Z and i spent time together.  we had each celebrated midnight with other friends, but met up later that night (or morning, rather) to join with the remaining time zones in ringing in the new year.  i can't even remember what we were talking and laughing about, but i do remember just looking at him and seeing how truly happy and excited about life he was and saying to him, "i've missed you."  he replied, "i've missed me, too."  i didn't quite understand what he meant at the time, but i do now. the effects of war, PTSD and medications; the effects of trials, challenges and struggles that no one person should ever have to deal with had taken their toll on him.  he had been broken physically and mentally, as well as emotionally and spiritually. he was in so much pain, pain that i didn't see or couldn't have even comprehended. he had been wounded beyond my - or anyone's - ability to heal him.  he just wanted to be himself again, but "the force of particular circumstances" was too much for him to overcome.  so Z was "sent [home] or allowed to pass" in order to be healed and find peace for his mind, body and spirit.

some readers of this post might think that i am absolutely crazy for drawing parallels between frodo's journey in middle-earth and Z's journey in mortality, but it's important to know two things before you make a final judgment on my level of sanity.  first, i love, love, love tolkien.  i love the hobbit and the lord of the rings, and i love middle-earth (it's my happy place)  consequently, Z was also a big fan of the lord of the rings.  second, i have been praying with all the energy of my heart for some sort of understanding as to why this has happened. tolkien's book of letters has been sitting by my bed for almost six months, and i know picking it up last night and thumbing through its pages was not a coincidence.  so, call me crazy if you want, but i choose to believe that this was a direct answer to honest and earnest prayer.  not what i expected, of course, but i'll gladly and humbly accept it.

kindness of friends

have you ever observed a child become so overwhelmed with one emotion and, without understanding what he is feeling or how to deal with it, he bursts into tears and just cries and cries and cries?

well, this has been me for the past two weeks.  i just can't seem to stop crying.  there is so much going on inside my head and heart that i don't understand and don't know how to deal with, so i just cry and cry and cry.  i think i'm getting dehydrated.

tonight unexpected emotions caused the waterworks.  a family at church has been very, very kind to me over the past few months - mainly in the form of delicious home-cooked meals, but more precious to me than food is their amazing example of Christ-like love and service.  in the days immediately following Z's death, their home became a safe-haven for me.  with so many memories and reminders of him at my house, i didn't want to be at home.  so, i spent as much time as possible out of the house - which turned into spending the next several days and evenings at the home of this incredible family.

an invitation to come over for dinner tonight came via text as i sat physically and emotionally exhausted at my desk at school.  i arrived earlier than agreed upon in order to help family members prepare the food and to feel like i was earning my spot at the table.  dinner was fabulous, as usual.  the conversation was comfortable and relaxing.  i helped clear away plates and put away left-overs, thanked my lovely hosts and started down the front walk to my car.  i hadn't even pulled away from the curb when that now all-too familiar feeling spread across my chest, accompanied by a tightening in the throat, a stinging in the eyes.  and then the dam broke and the flood waters poured forth.  cried and cried and cried.  in addition to the constant feelings of sadness and pain were intense feelings of gratitude and humility.

as has been stated in previous posts, i am a fiercely independent person.  it is extremely hard for me to admit when i'm struggling, so asking for and accepting help is not one of my strengths.  but in the past two weeks, i have never felt so weak.  and in my weakness, i have discovered new depths of humility.  i have gained a new understanding of charity as the pure love of Christ.

i am grateful for the kindness of friends - all of them - who emulate the love of the Savior in their actions and words, those who "succor the weak, lift up the hands which hang down, and strengthen the feeble knees" (doctrine and covenants 81:5).  my heart (and stomach) is full.  thank you.

7 Lessons in Losing

The past eleven days have been a painful and emotional blur.  The only thing that has kept me somewhat grounded is being able to express my jumbled thoughts and feelings in complete sentences (ie: blogging).  I've been writing this post in my head for the past few days and it's time for me to actually put it all together.

1. It's gonna hurt.  So let it hurt.  I know I have a very low tolerance for physical pain.  In contrast, I always thought I had a high tolerance for emotional pain, seeing as how I've been through my fair share of disappointments and heartaches, but always seem to recover and move on.  Nothing could have prepared me for the combined physical and emotional pain of losing a close friend.  It hurt.  A lot.  It still hurts.  There's been a constant dull ache in my chest and throat for the past week.  The real hurt comes and goes in debilitating waves of sadness.  I never knew the human body could produce so many tears.  So, yes.  It hurts.  It's probably gonna hurt for a while.  And I'm okay with that.

2. People want to help you.  Let them.  I am a fiercely independent person.  I prefer to handle things on my own; so, consequently, asking for help is not easy for me.  But dealing with the death of a loved one is not a time to be an island.  I've had angels helping me at both home and school.  I've probably never accepted so much help in my entire life.  And I've never been so grateful.

3. Stay busy.  I took two days off of work last week in order to help his family and process my own emotions.  During the day I was with friends, running errands and doing things.  It was only in the evenings, when I finally stopped moving, that I slowly unraveled and crumbled under the weight of sorrow and pain.  Going back to work on Wednesday helped.  Being with my kids kept my mind distracted from other thoughts.  But when I was left alone during my conference period, there were no more distractions.  Thankfully, another class full of frustrating (and distracting) teenagers was only 50 minutes away.  I've kept myself busy and distracted for a while now.  In the past couple of days I've slowed down a bit, which has not been good for my emotional stability.  Time to find a meaningful project to dedicate myself to.

4. Find reasons to laugh and smile.  One of the saving graces from last week was the ability to remember the good times, the fun times.  The ability to laugh at the small things.  Work provided many opportunities for grins and giggles.  Dear friends and simple pleasures put a smile on my face.   Of course it's a sad time.  But that doesn't mean that you have to be sad all of the time.  It's not what he would want.  He would want his family and friends to smile and be happy.

5. Pain is not a contest.  At one point last week I was telling myself that I shouldn't be hurting as much as I was, that there were other people from his life that were in even more pain - his mother and step-father, his sisters and brother, his many aunts and uncles and cousins, his friends that had known him for years, his Marine brothers.  Then I realized that grief is not a competition.  My pain is just as real as someone else's pain.  And my pain is mine, personal.  Comparing grief is a waste of energy and emotion, especially when that energy and emotion could be used to comfort one another.

6. The Plan of Salvation is everything.  Without the Plan, life has no purpose and death has no meaning.  Without the Plan, there is no reason to hope and have faith that we will see each other again after this life.  Without the Plan, there is no reason to believe that we can live with our Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ and our families for all eternity.  Without the Plan, there is no comfort, no peace.  With the Plan, there is everything - purpose, meaning, hope, faith, belief, comfort, peace.  The Atonement of Jesus Christ is the center of this Plan, which provides strength and support to all who are suffering.  I have never been more sure of the truthfulness of this doctrine.  As a dear friend reminded me, I will see Z again, "healed, whole, and blessed."

7. Not lost, but found.  I've thought a lot lately about the phrases we use when someones dies: I lost a friend. I'm sorry for your loss.  But did we really lose him?  Is he really lost?  I experienced a very clear moment last week of being taught Truth by the Spirit in answer to these questions.  In our many conversations, Z would often comment that after 6-7 years of not living at home (due to his military service), he wasn't really sure where "home" was. The Spirit told me last week that Z finally found his way home.  Not to an earthly home, but to his heavenly home, for "...the spirits of all men, as soon as they are departed from this mortal body... are taken home to that God who gave them life" (Alma 40:11).  I wish it weren't so far away, but Z found home.  He was welcomed there by the open arms of those who love him.  He is safe and happy and at peace.  He is home.

"i just like to smile. smiling's my favorite."

i left school today with the biggest smile on my face. it took me a few minutes to realize that i had been smiling all day and my cheeks were now hurting from all the smiling. even on the drive home, the smile stayed there, as if permanently plastered on my lips. i started to think it strange that i was smiling even though there was no one else around. it took me another few minutes to realize why i was smiling.

i am happy. truly and genuinely happy. it was a moment of pure joy. while i am generally a happy person (or rather, i like to think of myself as a happy person), i can't ever recall feeling this much happiness at one time. i quickly took a mental inventory of my life to figure out what was causing such an overwhelming feeling at 4:25 pm on a wednesday afternoon. i made the following conclusions:

for probably the first time in my life, i am comfortable with myself. yes, there are improvements to make in many areas of my life, but i like who i am and i better understand how i am. it's been an uphill battle to get to this point, a battle that has left its fair share of physical and emotional scars, but a battle well worth the sacrifice. it's a wonderful feeling to be at peace with yourself. to acknowledge your talents and strengths, to accept your faults and weaknesses, to laugh at your own ridiculousness, and to understand there is a season and a time to every purpose under heaven.

in the past decade, i have spent more time than i care to admit feeling very lonely. even when i have been surrounded by people - family, friends, peers, coworkers, strangers - i have felt alone. i don't feel alone anymore. i'm still a bit of a homebody - my ideal weekend consists of staying in my pajamas, curling up on the couch and alternating between watching movies and reading books all day - and i'm okay with that. but there are people in my life right now that make me feel not alone. for example: last night i spent time with a friend, just watching a movie and talking. this morning i traded texts with close girlfriends, each one providing some much needed advice and comic relief. this afternoon another friend treated me to lunch (which is kind of a big deal when you consider the fact that i haven't had a real lunch in about two months!). the teacher across the hall from me is my new favorite friend - her and i talk and commiserate and laugh and share and vent and have all kinds of fun together. she has decided that i need to live in dallas and work with her at our school for the rest of my life - basically i'm not allowed to change jobs or get married and move away. as always, my family is my saving grace. a talk with mother, a phone call from sisters or brothers, a text from father and i am good to go. i am grateful for people who make me feel loved and remembered.

i have found my calling in life, and that calling is being a teacher. my students make me so happy. they are frustrating and stubborn and at times disrespectful to authority figures, but they are also kind and smart and funny. they make me laugh and i love going to work everyday. when i am in front of a class - anywhere from 3 to 28 students - i feel comfortable and natural. i know how to talk to them. i know how to teach them (or rather, i'm learning how to teach them). i love talking about literature and themes and words and characters and definitions and writing. explaining spanish grammar principles is a highlight of my day. this week i've let my students make snowflakes, which are now hanging from the ceiling of my classroom. i can't imagine myself in any other profession, and i have to laugh when i think that i thought i wanted to work in a big office downtown. more than anything in the world i want to be a wife and a mother - but until that blessing is realized, i am perfectly happy being a high school teacher.

the overwhelming emotion i felt this afternoon hit me with such force that happy tears welled-up in my eyes.  in that moment i recognized a message from heaven: you're doing okay.  you will be okay. it will all be okay.

i have a feeling that smiling is going to be my favorite for the foreseeable future.

other somethings...

i've come to a realization.  as soon as you find something to be sad or upset about, heaven will make sure another something is placed in your path to turn your frown upside down.  in the past week, these are some of the "other somethings" that have made me happy...

1. sharing an inside joke with a co-worker
2. college football
3. staring contests with little babies
4. driving around in my truck
5. new music (courtesy of mayday parade and needtobreathe)
6. an hour-long telephone conversation with a new friend
7. participating in the baptismal service for an 8-year old child
8. going to bed at 9:30 pm
9. being nice to salespeople
10. students telling me that i'm their favorite teacher
11. rainy days
12. text message from dad in london
13. being able to tell a parent their student is wonderful
14. having my gas tank filled for free
15. jeans day at work
16. getting to know the families in my ward
17. laughing with a friend about the awkwardness of dating
18. sharing books with students and friends
19. telephone call from sister
20. a chance meeting with an old college friend

that last "other something" just happened tonight.  she's one of my favorite people from my byu days.  we hadn't seen each other in 3 years.  seeing her and talking and laughing about the roller-coaster ride our lives have been since graduation made my heart so happy.  and it was yet another confirmation to me that heavenly father knows me personally.  he knows i needed to see her tonight.  he knows i needed her hugs.  he knows.  he knows me and he knows you.  he knows that we have good days and bad days.  he knows what we need in order to make the good outweigh the bad.  if we are humble, we will be able to recognize those little gifts of happiness - the "other somethings" - he puts in our life.  those little gifts are clear expressions of his love and concern for each of his children here on earth.

thank you, erin, for being my "other something" tonight.

(just to clarify, erin's sitting on top of the counter.  really.  i'm not that short.)

pressure...

once again, it's saturday. once again, i'm tired beyond belief. only this time, my tiredness is coupled with an achy body, a soar throat, a stuffed-up nose and a massive headache. ugh. i usually pride myself on never getting sick. looks like my winning streak is at an end.

this was an interesting week. i'm starting to fall into a nice rhythm with the kids and i think we are starting to have fun, and maybe even learn some things along the way. almost all of my classes are done with the first unit of study, which means we get to move on to something new this coming week. hallelujah. i think my seniors were going to stage a mutiny if we didn't finish with renaissance and enlightenment poetry soon. i'm also finally getting a handle on the speed and pacing of my lessons. we have 50-minute classes, and as much as i want to steamroll our way through the material, the students need more time to process and apply the information. there are still days when i feel like i'm in a blasting zone (bomb! bomb! bomb!), but it's getting better. they are great kids - some more motivated than others - but i've learned that as a teacher you can't take anything personal. some of these students come from rough, rough, rough personal backgrounds, so the fact that they are even there in class is a small miracle.

what made this week so interesting, though, is that i had my first official breakdown. not during school or in front of the kids, but after school in the evening when the full weight of my responsibility as a teacher finally hit me with the force of a bullet train. it wasn't pretty. but then, a very clear message of inspiration and hope:

"And Alma and his people did not raise their voices to the Lord their God, but did pour out their hearts to him; and he did know the thoughts of their hearts.

And it came to pass that the voice of the Lord came to them in their afflictions, saying: Lift up your heads and be of good comfort, for I know of the covenant which ye have made unto me; and I will covenant with my people and deliver them out of bondage.

And I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs, even while you are in bondage; and this will I do that ye may stand as witnesses for me hereafter, and that ye may know of a surety that I, the Lord God, do visit my people in their afflictions.

And now it came to pass that the burdens which were laid upon Alma and his brethren were made light; yea, the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens with ease, and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord.

And it came to pass that so great was their faith and their patience that the voice of the Lord came unto them again, saying: Be of good comfort, for on the morrow I will deliver you out of bondage." (The Book of Mormon, Mosiah: 24:12-16)

it was a tender mercy from the lord, reminding me that help will come from heaven as i deal with the pressures of my responsibilities as a teacher.

and now, i must go deal with the pressure in my head by consuming as many drugs as recommended.

happy weekend.

"I Know That My Redeemer Lives"

Yesterday I sang at the funeral service for a man whom I had never met, but through the eulogies and tributes given by his children and close friends, I know he was a great man.  I was asked to sing an arrangement of an hymn entitled "I Know That My Redeemer Lives."  I've sung this song on previous occasions, but it's been many years.  Because I had not previously known the departed brother, I didn't expect to be overly emotional.  But as soon as my lovely accompanist started playing the music, I could feel the tears swelling in my eyes.  I half-sang/half-whispered the first line, surprised at my inability to compose myself.  We paused, and as soon as I was able to find my voice, I started again. The third verse concludes with a very powerful message, especially for a funeral: "He lives to grant my daily breath, He lives and I shall conquer death, He lives my mansion to prepare, He lives to bring me safely there."  Once again, I was surprised at how emotional I became.  Trying to sing while at the same time fighting back a torrent of tears is not easy.  I was only able to make it through the song by not looking at the family seated on the front row and trying my hardest to keep a big smile on my face.  Sounds odd, I know, but a big smile was the only thing that prevented my lips from quavering and my voice from breaking.  Somewhere in the middle of the song, I realized that the emotions I was feeling could only be partly explained by the fact that I was at a funeral.  The real reason that I was finding it so hard to sing a song that I've sung so many times in my life was the fact that I was essentially bearing my testimony through music.  It's a simple testimony, but a powerful one: I know that my Redeemer lives.

Now out of all the gifts and talents that heaven bestows upon us here in this life, I know that one of my gifts is the ability to sing.  I am not athletic or particularly physically strong, I am not creative in the homemade crafts department, I am a disaster in the kitchen... but I can sing.  I've always been able to sing and I'm grateful whenever I have the opportunity to share that talent with others.  What has struck me most over the years, though, is that when I have been asked to sing, for example, during a Sunday worship service, more often than not I am struggling in some way.  Maybe I haven't been reading my scriptures as consistently as I would like, maybe I've been letting my personal prayers become less personal, or maybe I'm just having a hard time with life in general.  Whatever it's been, those are usually the times that I'm asked to sing in church, and the song that I sing is exactly the message that I need to hear.  So my musical number becomes so much more than just a song.  It becomes a reminder to me from heaven that He knows who I am and He is always there to comfort me, help me and guide me.

I am grateful for tender mercies and I am grateful that I have been blessed with the ability to share my testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ through music.

Sit and Be

Bailey Baby and I have developed a routine over the past few weeks.

Every evening, just around bedtime when I'm unwinding from the day's activities, lounging in my La-Z-Boy and enjoying a bit of television before lights out, Bailey leaps up onto my lap, makes herself comfortable and just lies there while I stroke her back and rub her tummy.  I call it our "sit and be" time.  We simply sit together... and be.

I think everyone needs to take time each day to just sit still and be.  Enjoy the moment for no other reason than the fact that you are able to sit still.  It's soothing and pleasant.  A time for meditation and reflection.  And it's a great way to take time to count your blessings.

It also reminds me of one of my favorite scriptures:

"Yea, for this cause I have said: Stop, and stand still until I command thee, and I will provide means whereby thou mayest accomplish the thing which I have commanded thee."
(Doctrine and Covenants 5:34)

Our "sit and be" time only lasts for a little while, but I look forward to it every night.  Since Bailey Baby spends her entire day just sitting and being, I'm not sure if she enjoys our time together as much as I do.  I like to think that she does.

"And He shall reign for ever and ever!"

This makes my choir-trained heart soar with joy.  Beautiful song.  Beautiful message.

"Let this be a time..."

"Christmas is a time for remembering the Son of God and renewing our determination to take upon us His name.  It is a time to reassess our lives and examine our thoughts, feelings and actions.  Let this be a time of remembrance, of gratitude, and a time of forgiveness.  Let it be a time to ponder the Atonement of Jesus Christ and its meaning for each of us personally.  Let it especially be a time of renewal and recommitment to live by the word of God, and to obey his commandments.  By doing this, we honor Him far more than we ever could with lights, gifts or parties."

(President Dieter F. Uchtdorf)

Smooth and Creamy...

Way back in May, I took a trip down to Houston with friends from my old ward in Dallas to work a shift at the Church's peanut butter plant. As an added bonus, I got to visit the neighborhoods I grew up in - born in Spring, I'm a Native Texan and proud of it!

To learn more about the Houston peanut butter plant, click here and here.

(childhood homes)

(childhood stomping grounds)

(Houston temple)
(peanuuut, peanut butter!)

Mission Accomplished.

Brother Jason came home today from serving a 2-year mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in the Oregon Eugene Mission. His faithful service has been a blessing to our entire family. I can't believe how much he has grown - spiritually and physically (apparently he has developed some nice, strong biceps!). We were all very happy that he chose to serve a mission, but we're also very happy that he is finally home.

Two years is a long time to not see a member of your family (only weekly emails and phone calls on Christmas and Mother's Day), but I know that his call to serve in Oregon was inspired from on high and that the message he shared and testified of is true. I consider my own experience of serving a mission in Spain to be one of the best and most fulfilling of my life. It might seem like a big sacrifice to leave behind family and friends, school and work for a 1 1/2-2 years, but in reality you receive so much in return that it can hardly qualify as a sacrifice. It is an honor and a privilege to serve. A blessing that I am eternally grateful for.

We were all there to meet Jason as he got off the plane this afternoon (minus Sister Kim who will join us this weekend, and Brother-in-Law Art and the Nephews). It was quite the emotional scene. There was a homemade sign, balloons and bells. It was awesome.

And Jason is now home. Which is even more awesome.

(waiting at the airport)

(Chris was really excited to see his little brother)

(the Missionary returns!)

(hugs for Mom and Dad)

(hugs for the siblings)

Jason and I will be making a road trip up to Utah in a week - so excited to spend more time with my not-so-little-anymore brother!