service, charity, and why we need to ask for help

Several weeks ago, the compassionate service committee of which I am a part (now under new leadership) met on the couches of our committee chair’s living room and we talked.

We discussed the possible needs of our fellow ward members, particularly of those who we know do not come to church frequently. We were successful in compiling lists of people we know are having rough times in life. We were less successful in planning ways to buoy these sisters up and share with them the joy we know this life and most especially this gospel can provide.

Perhaps, we said, some of them would like rides to church. Perhaps they would like more involvement from their visiting and home teachers. Perhaps they need friends to invite them to activities. Perhaps they need someone to wash their dishes for them, or to hold them while they cry. Perhaps they need hot dinner made for them. Perhaps their family is in crisis or they are struggling with depression. Perhaps they need someone to understand them, and perhaps we could understand. We’ve been there, all of us. We know how it feels to be human.

But we don’t know what they need, and we’re not sure how to find out, because we humans are too used to saying “no” when people ask if they can help.

We try to counter this by asking specific questions and offering specific services, but sometimes this just leads to people feeling like we are intruding into their lives, which is not our intent.

This, friends, is why we need to ask for help.

It’s my belief that most humans sincerely want to help each other. We want to reach out and be kind, but frequently we don’t know how. It’s easy to feel like to be a good person we need to constantly be offering help rather than asking for it. I think we need to do both.

This month’s visiting teaching message included the following thought from Elder Nelson:

The Lord said ‘My work and my glory [is] to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man.’ (Moses 1:39.) So His devoted daughter-disciple may truly say, ‘My work and my glory is to help my loved ones reach that heavenly goal.’

By asking for the help we need, we give others the opportunity to grow through service and love, reaching closer towards the heavenly goal of immortality and eternal life. Additionally, we help them feel more comfortable approaching us when they are the ones in need.

I think the key in learning to serve others lies in developing charity towards them.

Pray unto the Father with all the energy of heart, that ye may be filled with this love, which he hath bestowed upon all who are true followers of his Son, Jesus Christ. (Moroni 7:48)

the gratitude of lambs

This poem is about two years old, and it feels so applicable today. :-)


The Gratitude of Lambs

on these bright pastures, I forget
that once I fought my gentle Master’s hands,
and clung to thorns and mud and dried-dead sickly grass
and bid him let the wolves destroy
my aching lonely soul.

he spoke with softness
but I only heard the storm,
and stubbornly,
I wandered prodigal,
lost a little
more
with each abandoned foothold.

where cliff fell quick to sea I stumbled,
prayed sintossed
from rock
to
rock to
rock;
he set me free.

with love he lifted me,
with truth he taught me peace.
I joined his flock in meadows
and they welcomed me—

my shepherd knows
the gratitude of lambs.

the way things go

Several weeks ago I realized that my deodorant was giving me a rash, so I switched brands. You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to find unscented deodorant at regular stores (scents=skin irritants=bad idea for me) but I finally found one labeled in two places as unscented. In the store it smelled like nothing, but I had just finished sniffing Axe deodorants to help a male friend decide which one would please the ladies most, so my nose must have been overwhelmed.

It took me a few days after arriving home to realize something was up. A scent unlike sweat wafted from my underarms. I flipped the deodorant stick over and read the ingredients: right there at the end was listed fragrance. Fragrance? Are you kidding me?

So far, no rash, but I’ve learned not to trust Secret brand product labels.

 

Tattoos I drew during a lazy evening with a friend.

Entertaining dialogue between one of my roommates and the cleaning check supervisor person.

        What I found when I opened my   planner the other day. I was correct in anticipating that I would ignore my instructions to “See Anthro Syllabus. Important!” unless something was due.

Tonight I am going to see the play “Absent Friends” with my awesome friend David.

Then it will be weekend!

alienation

I've never kept a friend for long.
I like to say that it's because of so much moving but I know it's more than that.
Lately I've burned most every friendship that I have.
I don't know why I do it.
I'm not even sure how I do it.
But that's what siblings are for, eh?
Automatic friendship?
No wonder God gave me such a gloriously large family.
That's what I'm thankful for tonight.

That and fall leaves:

garbage moments

A quirk all of my roommates sooner or later have remarked on is my eagerness to take the trash out.

Since this is something people frequently ask me about, I periodically come up with different excuses for this lone example of Catherine the Neat.

Lately I’ve been citing the cartoon Rose is Rose, in which Jumbo and Rose often fight over who gets to take the trash out and have a magical “garbage moment” surveying the beauty of nature.

While I can’t claim to do it only for the view, it certainly helps.

fight part two

I’ve been learning this week how to break arms.

It’s an important life skill, I am sure.

It hurts to practice, but I absolutely love it. I like the power feeling of knowing that if you cross me I can break your arm. Even if you are a body builder, if I get the technique down I can break your arm, because it is my arms and legs and hips all against one of your arms.(For the present we will pretend I know how to do this from more than two positions.)

Who knew I’d turn into an adrenaline junkie? I love the fight sequences in self defense and am this close to signing up for juijitsu winter term. Perhaps I’ll settle for just going to juijitsu club weekly; it all depends on my schedule and ambition.

I went to the gym last night and reflected while doing bench press (a mere 45 pounds—just the bar—but I can almost do three sets of ten reps with that and I am gradually getting stronger) that the rush from that is comparable only to the rush I feel from outdoor rock-climbing and exceptionally happy times with my beloveds. Weight work feels fantastic, and I’ve relied heavily on it to preserve my sanity these past few weeks. When I am angry I lift weights and feel less angry. When I am insecure I lift weights and feel less insecure. When I am anxious I lift weights and feel less anxious. When I am lonely I lift weights and feel less lonely. When I am sad I lift weights and feel less sad. It is kind of like nephews (whom I have praised in the past as fitness aids, antidepressants, and natural birth control) but more readily available to me.

In closing I present you with a baby pygmy hippo.

fight

I hiked Squaw Peak with Benj on Saturday. I think Squaw Peak was the first mountain I ever summited, and that less than a year and a half ago.

The first time I hiked Squaw Peak it wore me out and I was sore for days. This time I felt great as soon as my post-hike headache subsided, and even worked out at the gym later in the day.

Basically I am getting really strong.

Tonight after FHE I fought in the grass with my Alabaman friends Jason and John. They have cool accents and John’s in a Juijitsu class taught by the same guy who teaches my self defense class so we know many of the same skills.

That was the best part of my day today.

my jesus with your feet bearing new life

Self Defense class yesterday was an emotional hour. While fighting on the artificial turf I thought about how vulnerable I am to manipulation, violation, hurt. Only recently did I realize how inadequately I protect myself. I am often more concerned about not hurting others than I am about not being hurt myself, and at times this can be a very bad thing indeed.

With these thoughts came glimpses from this poem, probably from when I was 16, possibly 17.


fog drifts across
stiff sparkling cheeks to settle in and haunt;
today’s tears dry in stinging bright nonscars.

dear friends touch
raw wounds with god-forgiven trembled fears;
soft truth makes weeping lips delight.

I prayed for rain; trees grew from stone.
I prayed for wings; he sent me saints.

lord, help me hope as I have never hoped,
(my jesus with your feet bearing new life)
lord, help me love as I have never loved.

and we'll be we

I recently emerged from a highly unpleasant (to put it lightly) experience with someone I had thought of as a good friend. Over the last couple days I’ve gone through a wide range of emotions causing me to feel somewhat bipolar—anger, pain, confusion, shame on the negative end of the spectrum, and hope, comfort, clarity, and peace on the positive end. I feel reshaped. My views, priorities, opinions, feelings have changed drastically. I feel a fierce protectiveness about my happiness and safety and a deepened love for God. I feel my prayers have been answered in an exquisitely painful and unlikely way, and more certainly than ever I believe life will go up from here.

With all this boiling through me my thoughts return often to a poem I wrote four or five years ago.


I want someone to see my whole soul and to love it,
every inch and thought and fear.

I want to be held close 'til just one heartbeat can be heard,
to hold hands tight and breathe ‘til we’re not lonely anymore.

I want someone to laugh with while sunset and rise merge all together,
and I want little children’s cheeks to kiss and tears to dry.

I want someone to see my whole soul and to love it,
every inch and thought and fear, and we’ll be we.


I'm certain that out of this pain will come the love I have been looking for. Suddenly I feel I can accept it when it comes.

hunger, space goats, and taboos.

This, my friends, simply won’t do! I know I’m walking a lot (I average some five miles a day) and I know my self defense class is killer exercise and I know I’m smiling more lately and that takes energy because one cannot really smile without bouncing as well, but really, this is a little bit ridiculous! Feeding this stomach (we won’t call it an appetite because that would imply that I enjoy the eating) has become a part time job!

Case in point: I ate a full meal right before going to bed last night. I went to bed around 1:30, and got up around 7:30, and in those 6 hours I consumed nearly 500 calories! This can’t go on or I’ll never get any sleep!

I’ve gained nearly 20 pounds since coming to BYU. Most of it is muscle I am sure, but I did notice today that I’m too awesome for the skirt I was wearing (translation: I’ve gone up a size or something.) The obvious solution would have been to go home! My room is a no clothz zone. Problem solved! But the teacher in Sunday School liked my comment, and then someone cornered me before RS and asked me to say the prayer, and soon I was stuck. If we ever get to vote on a 2 hour block schedule I’ll be all in favor.

I’ve been playing Settlers of Catan and Star Munchkins with various friends this past week with excellent results—I’m winning most of the games. Munchkins is a pretty awesome game especially because it has Space Goats in it.

Beloveds, there is so much to tell you all. Perhaps one of these days I’ll find time will and energy to write a proper family email instead of rambling on this blog. For now, I’m starving and it’s bedtime so I’m off to find something high calorie and easy.

P.s. check the new recipe on Neinerschts Virtual Kitchen. Credit goes to James!

this happiness thing

After learning that the last medication I had been prescribed (by a doctor I visited because mine was not available that day) was highly addictive, frequently used as a recreational drug, popular as a date rape drug, and partly responsible for Michael Jackson's death, I returned to my regular doctor for a second opinion. He put me on a mild mood stabilizer which I am loving. These topics can be kind of sensitive to discuss, but since I am generally a proponent of openness I feel comfortable expressing my appreciation for this miracle of modern medicine. I don't know how long these effects will last, but for these first six days on it I've been feeling like my true self--energetic, spontaneous, productive, happy.

What a good feeling it is.


(Picture: enjoying the hike to Garnet Canyon)

rainstorms in the land of smiles

I got my first letter from Thailand today. It was, as advertised on the envelope, 100% joy.

I’m convinced that there never has been in the past or ever will be in the future another missionary as happy as Jacob.

He even loves the nearly-constant rain and the thunder and lightning that comes with it.

I’m not such a fan:

schedule

My new schedule consists of:

Self Defense
Survey of World Religions
Intro to Computer Programming (3D animation)
Anthropology
Personal Finance

and,

if I get in,

Folk Music Ensemble.

It's a good mix, don't you think?

trying

I was so happy while in Garnet Canyon and the letdown after that high has been heavy. It was a true high like I rarely feel anymore. I had all this surplus energy and smiled so much it gave me headaches. I introduced myself to new people at Ward Prayer the night I returned to Provo; Madison commented on how out of character that is for me.

Today I am the usual me again and I don’t like it. The day started with a call home in which I related my desire to curl up in the nearest elephant graveyard and die. Classes were daunting—it was the first day—but I attended because missing the first day is never good.

I think I give off some kind of danger aura when I am feeling like I often feel; today the people I sat next to in my classes moved to other rows so that even in crowded auditoriums I had an entire row of chairs all to myself. The crowds were overwhelming and like a coward I retreated from them and hid in remote hallways where I read Matthew Kelley’s Perfectly Yourself. 

After classes I picked up fliers about a depression support group and a tutoring program at a local elementary school and then I signed up for a Folk Music Ensemble audition to be held the day after tomorrow. The better groups tour a lot and are way too intense for me right now, but I’m hoping for a just-for-fun quartet or something like that. They’re heavy on violinists though so we’ll see if they even want me.

This blog is always supposed to be positive so here are ten happy thoughts:

• siblings
• movies
• pillows
• french fries
• salads
• mountains
• cliffs
• waterfalls
• red lipstick
• toothbrushes

I don’t like nights

when I am unhappy without valid reason, but tonight I’m having one. When logic and emotion disagree it leaves me feeling frantic and discouraged.

TRC (teaching resource center at the missionary training center) today was disjointed and in some ways difficult, but it was clear that the Elders were trying and I felt their testimony as they spoke. They teased me about having different husbands each time that I volunteer, and on the way home Becca and I discussed the difficulty of giving up not only drinking but also all that comes with it (we played the part of drinking buddies in the scenario today) such as the magnificent wine collections many people have and what should happen to them if the owner joins the church.

My hands are healing excellently from my fridge cleaning adventure and I’m contemplating subjecting them to outdoor rock climbing. I tried on climbing gloves today but found it hard to give up the integrity of skin on rock. It is intimately painful and makes me feel entirely in control. The gloves of course were in a store and that was REI, where I collected an excellent sleeping pad that folds up to the size of a water bottle and weighs just 23 ounces. The selling point is that it’s thick enough once inflated to keep space between my bones and the sharp rocks beneath the pad. I can’t sleep with pressure on my bones.

Tomorrow will be a good day and the day after will hopefully be better, and soon I’ll be in school again. I am currently registered for

Personal Finance

Intro to Computer Programming

Self-Defense

Intro to Linguistics (Modern)

The Doctrine and Covenants

LDS History 1805-1844

I want to add Survey of World Religions with the famous Gaskill, and if I succeed in that endeavor I plan to drop LDS History since three religion classes at once is getting a bit heavy.

serotonin sunday: raw thoughts

On Friday I forgot to take my meds, the aftereffects of which convinced me that the only dose change happening in the near future is an increase. The low hits me somewhere between 10 and 30 hours after the missed dose, and it’s an unhappy place to be.

I’ve had a good weekend—fun times at the MTC with a friend, successful cleaning check (I think I’ve checked the sheet 100 times to see the little check mark next to “Pass”), some schedule organizing, inspirational hike with Becca, lovely dinner at Chadders with Becca and Marat, enjoyable Sunday spent primarily outside. Logic tells me I’m happy but the rest of me can’t feel it.

Always with depression comes more intense questioning than usual, challenging the basic truths that are supposed to guide my life. Most dominant among these questions is: why am I here?

I know that theoretically I am here to learn and grow, make and break covenants and suffer consequences and repent and vow to live more righteously. Somehow this 80-year journey is meant to prepare me for godhood and perfection. During it, I am supposed to become better.

The problem is, I don’t feel like I do. I make positive changes—the most drastic being the change from being a secretive child with a chronic lying habit to being a fairly open and almost always honest adult—but I feel like as I kick each bad habit I just move on to new ones and my overall goodness level remains about the same. Some habits have more religious significance than others, but even the ones that don’t get me in trouble with the church cause stress and unhappiness and I don’t see that they are necessarily less detrimental. This makes it hard for me to feel motivated to actively try to improve. I think I’m a decent person as is, and each time I try to eliminate something negative from my life it just seems to get replaced with some other negative—which, though disheartening, seems human. Part of mortality is being constantly flawed.

I suppose the point is to gradually decrease the seriousness of our flaws. At the risk of sounding arrogant, I feel like I’ve reached good human status, and that the flaws I possess now are just evidence of my humanity. I’m good at getting back to good human status when I slip below that, but progression past good doesn’t seem to mesh well with my humanity. So I keep changing my behavior without feeling that I’m making progress towards perfection.

But then I wonder, if I’m not progressing, what am I doing here?

white glove red hand

Dear Management,

I better pass the cleaning check tomorrow, because I would hate to put my hands through this again. On the plus side, my fridge looks totally awesome.

Catherine

Update: I passed!

sisters

no trespassing

    The same week I went back to the farm, I found that I love corn on the cob. Once it’s cut off the cob, that is.

return of the phantom blogger

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking lately. For once, I believe it has been beneficial. I’m starting to see a light at the end of a long, difficult tunnel I wandered into quite some time ago. I don’t know all the steps needed to get out, but I believe I’m on the way. With faith in Christ, it will all work out.

This week I’ve taken a break from reading the Old Testament to study Richmond Lattimore’s translation of the New Testament. I can’t praise it enough—it’s simple, clear, easy to follow. It reads rather like a novel, with no verse numbers and subtle chapter breaks, and I’m often surprised to find after what feels like a short time that I’ve read fifteen pages. Bible reading is normally a slow thing for me, with more than three pages feeling like a chore. Lattimore’s New Testament has brought me extraordinary peace this week. I bore a stuttered testimony today of Jesus Christ, and felt a trust in him that is brand new to me. He will provide.

hey kirsten, wanna arm wrestle?

              

Excuse me while I weightlift nephews. :-)

faith, hope, and catherine

I woke up Sunday morning dreaming I was back in Täby, where I came to love this church. Everything about the chapel in my dream was Swedish and familiar, and a family friend named Ingemar was at the microphone speaking on faith. Apparently he didn't get the memo about not using visual aids in Sacrament meeting talks, because he had an entire flip chart full of graphs and charts that he was referencing. The one that I remember was a Venn Diagram with one circle labeled "Faith" and the other "Catherine", thus demonstrating that Faith and Catherine can coexist.

Faith is a favorite topic of study of mine. I reflect often on what distinguishes faith, hope, knowledge, and belief, and wonder regularly what roles doubt and certainty are meant to play in testimony.

In this church we like to tell each other that we know. We know Joseph Smith was a prophet, we know the Book of Mormon is true, we know Christ lives, we know this is his church.

I'm uncomfortable with these statements for several reasons: first, I don't believe them. Second, they're not true for me. Third, the pressure to be certain seems to me to have eclipsed real faith--the hopeful, trusting faith that Alma teaches us in his famous Alma 32 discourse--the kind that is more of a hope than a knowledge.

We're occasionally taught (like in the last General Conference) that faith and doubt can't coexist, but I remain unconvinced. Doubt and certainty can't coexist, but faith, Alma teaches us, is not certain.

The word choice is a cultural thing more than anything. Sure, some of the people claiming to know may really have certain knowledge of the truthfulness of what they are saying, but I think that's the exception. Whatever the case, I tend to feel like a sore thumb when I stand up to bear testimony and say that I believe. There's really nothing I can say I know, although on several points I feel I'm close. There are two things I believe to the point of rarely doubting: I believe in the existence of a God who cares about me, and I believe that priesthood blessings I've received (such as my patriarchal blessing) have been directed by that God. Beyond that, I believe this church is good for me and I believe that scripture study and prayer make my life better. All the rest is hope--I hope these prophets are what I sustain them as, I hope this plan of happiness will really lead to happiness, I hope that with God's help I can be full of charity and faith, I hope that someday this life will be worth the pain and struggle.

I'm not sure whether hope counts as faith, or if it's some kind of precursor, or something different entirely. Mormon teaches about the importance of having faith, hope, and charity, but doesn't specify what differentiates faith and hope. The Bible Dictionary defines faith as "hope for things which are not seen, but which are true" and as "confidence in something or someone" and charity as "the pure love of Christ"; there's no entry for hope, and I blame its absence for how baffling I find its inclusion in the faith-hope-charity triangle.

I think we can still coexist.

illustrated scriptures

    

               

Try Peeps of Mormon and The Brick Testament.

mysterious mishaps!

I thought today would be another day in which nothing happened. I was so wrong! After an afternoon in the library and a top secret meeting, I began a long walk home. While walking I discussed between my alter egos questions such as why anyone would build a house this short (yes that is the ground and not some kind of second grassy roof):

 

Unable to solve the mystery, I dropped in at A1 driving to inquire about finally getting my license. Unfortunately, no one there paid any attention to me, and after trying unsuccessfully to figure out if any of the people there were actually staff and not just students, I gave up and left.

Once home I watched two movies: Tara Road (very good) and Sleepless in Seattle (fine, but thoroughly unconvincing). When I watch movies on my own, I turn on subtitles and then watch in fast forward.

Next came a long walk searching for a way into the mountains. No luck, but I did find a lot of dead ends with spectacular views. After that a lot of housework and bribing down dinner with the promise of fudge for dessert. Then phone calls, a couple games of sardines, Mary Kay makeovers, and finally returning to my apartment where I abandoned modesty as usual  (possibly the only advantage to living in an apartment full of girls), and in doing so noticed this rip in my beloved corduroys:

I mean, seriously! What kind of friends do I have that no one pointed it out? No wonder people were staring at me strangely all night long!

father's day

            

curiosities

Life is full of mysteries:

Who writes this stuff on the fridge? (truly, I picked the tamest one to post)

                  

What really happened to the toilet paper roll holder thing in my apartment? (it disappeared over a month ago)

                  

And why, oh why are there 6 waffles in our little garden?

                  
It's been a lovely day, förresten. More on that tomorrow.

sweet saturday

This morning I woke up not wanting to do anything. I slept my 14 hours (typical right now) and wandered my apartment sullenly. Now that my roommates have started doing dishes (!) I'm out of my usual weekend activity. I certainly appreciate the change, but it leaves me feeling restless and uneasy.

It was with reluctant hope that I left home around 1:30, my belly mainly full of chocolate. My mind wanted to spend all day in bed, but among my sparse good traits is that I'm fairly reliable: what I say I'll do, I generally do. Yesterday I promised Sister Thompson that I would be at the MTC at 2 p.m. today for TRC. I arrived right on time.

Today I met with missionaries assigned to serve in Boise, Idaho. I adore Idaho--I love the flat dry land rimmed by mountains and the multitude of pickup trucks. They appreciated my enthusiasm and I their faith. I love volunteering at the MTC because for one thing it is spiritually charged and for another it is healthy for me to be taught basics in a setting where I am pretending to learn them for the first time.

Today I played the role of a former investigator interested in joining the church but fearing I would never be able to live a good enough life to be a faithful member. As the elders addressed my prescribed worries with scripture, I felt urgently compelled to ask a question on behalf of real life Catherine. As I expressed my genuine concern, one of the elders met my eyes and I felt the pretense fade from both our faces. Replying, he quoted another scripture--and then bore a sincere and humble testimony, the gist of which was "I've done what you are trying to do, and I believe that you can, too."

The commitment I was asked to make at the end of the lesson is one I've made dozens of times before. I think that today was the first time I believed I might be able to keep it.

Today I failed. Tomorrow I'll succeed.

roommates: part 1

       

                  

I don't know my roommates very well, and frankly that's not on my Top Ten Grievances list. They are all very nice, but the only interest I seem to share with them is boys--and they've actually got 'em while I just want 'em.

Tonight, however, I bonded with a roommate. It started when she came into the kitchen where I was doing dishes as usual (but with a dishwasher now! thanks be to Mothers Who Know that lazy dishwashers need vinegar) and said "you have eczema, right?"

"yes"

she does too.

We commiserated and compared scars (raising in me questions about the possibility of my marred legs being eczema's work), swapped tips (she said "my doctor told me to stop eating dairy" and we both said "not happening!") discussed medicated lotions and shared stories and embarrassments.

Then we said goodnight.

Right now we are on opposite sides of a wall, applying medicines that only barely help

                                                                  and trying not to scratch.

Ye Olde Testamente

Like any good Mormon, I have spent much of my life pretending the Old Testament doesn't exist. It wasn't until recently that I made any attempt to read it cover to cover, but as you are probably aware, that effort is now underway.

I started with Psalms because I'm really rather fond of those--at least I was until I got halfway through and tired of the repetition. It makes sense; they were never meant to be read one after another all the way through. To break up the monotony I turned to Numbers. I know you are all rolling your eyes now, but hear me out: Numbers is a jewel of scripture entertainment. Not only does it contain my favorite scripture story ever and forbid the consumption of raisins, it also tells stories about talking donkeys and explains the probable origin of the trial by water used in witch trials.

While we're talking about origins, did you ever wonder how that whole "Mormons have horns" myth started?

for best results

If you have had the kind of week I've had, it's time to put away that chocolate and accept that even fail-proof remedies occasionally fail to cheer. But don't despair; for things chocolate can't heal, God gave us families.

I can't think of a single member of my family that hasn't brightened my grim world this week. If you are reading this and feeling glum because you can't remember talking to me this week and therefore think you've had no impact, turn the frown upside down because I just listed off the entire family (I checked our family portrait to be sure I didn't miss anyone) and yes you made a difference and I can tell you how but probably won't in this post.

If all of this still looks gloomy, there is still hope if you follow these instructions very carefully:

1. find a friend (for best results, select a sibling)
2. over dinner with person chosen in step 1, explore the joys of drawing with Crayola Slick Stix
3. watch Pixar's new stroke of genius, Up (for best results, watch it in 3D)

When you get home, climb through your apartment window and remind yourself not to leave the keys at home next time.

It worked for me.

careful, kids

bad things happen in parking lots:

For those who don't recognize it, the pamphlet is for the Young Women's new "Virtue" value.

dishes: a photo essay

I think all our dishes are converting.

I say this because from the time they heard the word

                  

                                  "bless this food amen"

they have lain as if dead

                          

and some say that they stinketh.

                  

only baptism

                          

can make them clean and white again.

                  

wishful thinking

I really didn't want to be here this morning. I sent my spirit to Salt Lake to listen to my dear friend เจคอบ deliver his farewell talk before leaving for the land of smiles. Unfortunately, I couldn't find a way to get the rest of me there. Blame it on the weight I'm gaining from my meds (a pound a week; how long can that really continue?). OK, to be fair, it's more the fault of UTA and TRAX for not offering transport from Provo to SLC before 9 a.m. on a Sunday. Unreasonable, right? Missions are a good thing and I'm glad he's going, but it's still hard to accept that it will be two years before I see his shining face again. Unless I happen to run into him at the MTC. Or he sends pictures. Or Thailand closes down due to Swine Flu and he gets transferred back to BYU to call me to repentance.

            

Safe journey, friend! You'll have more letters from me than you'll know what to do with.

impressionable

I've spent a lot of time studying this week. Before you jump to the conclusion that I've become a good student overnight, let me clarify: I haven't been studying for classes, I've been studying for life.

In lieu of doing homework, I thought I would present some of my lessons learning here:

From The Miracle of Forgiveness, pages 42-45, I learned that my behavior sometimes meets the criteria for being hated by the Lord because I am a rebel. Where Spencer Kimball wrote that "one would wish that the rebellious would stop and ask themselves questions such as...", I stopped and asked myself the questions he listed.

Do my philosophy and my critical efforts bring me closer to Christ, to God, to virtue, to prayer, to exaltation?

What have I gained by my criticism--peace, joy and growth, or merely satisfaction to my pride?

My mother suggested that my changed calling last week was punishment for planning to preach feminism.

I am still reflecting on all of these things. It's doubtful that I'll reach conclusive answers any time soon.

In the middle of my musings, I called my aunt to arrange a time to visit her. Over the phone, and later through a series of email exchanges, we discussed ideas of fallibility and our role as members in sustaining human leaders. We talked about logic and faith and Brigham Young; she is a fan, I find him frustrating.

She sent me this article, which now lives in my purse for frequent perusal and generous sharing. Terry Warner is a friend to my family and a brilliantly kind man with many deep insights into life.

My favorite part of this article is the message about obeying commandments out of love even when they don't make sense. I liked Warner's discussion of how our actions impact others and build up or break down their faith.

I was accused once by a bitter friend of a friend of destroying her faith in Christianity and strengthening her atheism because in trying to defend a religious belief through logic I had offended her. From time to time I re-read her rant against me and wonder if I'm doing any good when I try to defend my personal beliefs, most of which match with what is taught by the LDS church. I worry that it's not only my enemies I hurt.

And so it would seem better for me to be quiet and orthodox. But then I talk it through with Hugh B. Brown and get answers like this:

“I should like to awaken in everyone a desire to investigate, to make an independent study of religion, and to know for themselves whether or not the teachings of the Mormon church are true. I should like to see everyone prepared to defend the religion of his or her parents, not because it was the religion of our fathers and mothers but because they have found it to be the true religion. If one approaches it with an open mind, with a desire to know the truth, and if one questions with a sincere heart what one hears from time to time, he or she will be on the road to growth and service. There are altogether too many people in the world who are willing to accept as true whatever is printed in a book or delivered from a pulpit. Their faith never goes below the surface soil of authority. I plead with everyone I meet that they may drive their faith down through that soil and get hold of the solid truth, that they may be able to withstand the winds and storm of indecision and of doubt, of opposition and persecution. Then, and only then, will we be able to defend our religion successfully.”
“It is not only your right to question, but your duty to question.”

"Preserve, then, the freedom of your mind in education and in religion, and be unafraid to express your thoughts and to insist upon your right to examine every proposition. We are not so much concerned with whether your thoughts are orthodox or heterodox as we are that you shall have thoughts. One may memorize much without learning anything. In this age of speed there seems to be little time for meditation."

Where does personal pursuit of truth become rebellion?

jumper

My music tastes have changed drastically since I was introduced to non-classical music about six years ago, but this song has been one of my favorites the entire time:

Jumper (2006 Remastered LP Version) - Third Eye Blind

I am listening to it today as a friend tries to convince me to step back from a ledge I can't stand to move away from.