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.

just my luck

 

                         

While preparing to practice violin (I am learning this piece) I somehow managed to cut open the tip of my first finger. Fifteen minutes of steady pressure later, it is still bleeding steadily and I don't even know what I cut it on.

So the good news is I can't practice much tonight, right? Or was that the bad news?

cope, kenneth

I made an awful mistake a few days ago. I called a friend this morning and cried on the phone as I related what had happened.  He was kind and provided the friendly support I so needed at that moment.

When we finished talking I reflected on the second verse of a favorite hymn, "Each Life That Touches Ours for Good"

What greater gift dost thou bestow,
What greater goodness can we know
Than Christ-like friends, whose gentle ways
Strengthen our faith, enrich our days.

I consider everyone that I know reads this blog to be that kind of friend. Thanks for the kindness and support, my loves.

Even more than Christ-like friends, I'm grateful for the friend I have in Christ.

 

Gethsemane - Kenneth Cope

it's only inspiration when I like it

At a quarter to seven last night, I returned a missed call and was asked to come to the Clark building in half an hour to meet with the bishopric. Obediently I walked a mile to the building and sat calmly opposite one of the counselors who after much smalltalk asked if I would accept a calling as a Relief Society instructor. I happily said yes and scampered home content: I've never had a teaching call, but have been wanting one, and RS instructor is ideal. I would only need to prepare a lesson once a month, and would be able to corrupt my sweet sisters with my version of feminism.

My phone rang again half an hour after I arrived home. "This is Brother Clay," the voice on the other end told me. "I have good news: I gave you the wrong calling." I listened politely to his jumbled explanation and was then informed that instead of being RS instructor, I would be a member of the compassionate service committee, which already has about half the ward on it. It was not good news and I briefly considered apostatizing. I certainly did not plan to show up to be set apart as one of a million members of a do-nothing-committee.

I mulled things over for an hour or two, and by bedtime I had made up my mind. I'm not going to apostatize. I don't believe my calling was inspired, but I'll accept it anyway. Not just with words the way I did on the phone with Brother Clay; I'll try to serve and to do so compassionately, even if my efforts only reach my roommates. Sure, I'm still disappointed. Lamer than getting a lame calling to begin with is getting a great calling and then having it replaced half an hour later with a lame one. On the bright side, this way my bishopric got to see me be enthusiastic. If they had asked me in the office to be on the compassionate service committee, they would have seen me as the slug I felt like last night. Maybe even that wouldn't have been so bad, come to think of it.

Even slugs can serve compassionately, right?

vanity

 

            

My new system of organization involves a "top five" list of daily priorities. Number four today was "get a haircut" and so far it's the only one I have checked off.

This is the first time I've made a major change in my hair since 6th grade. I like it, but am waiting to see how it holds up to neglect. I told the haircutter "low-maintenance" and she accommodated by only using four products and two styling tools.

I own shampoo and a brush. No blow-dryer, no flat-iron, no shine serums or finishing sprays. Tomorrow I'll wash it and find out whether I miss its silky shine enough to turn into a girly girl.

the good life

25 truths

In the middle of February, having been tagged an absurd number of times to fill out 25 things lists, I created one. I titled it "fashionably late" and then I left it in my drafts folder for three more months.

Now it's outdated. For example, number five on my list was "I don't like ice-cream"--but by some bizarre twist of fate, I've gained a deep appreciation for chocolate ice-cream since February and now sometimes crave it. All this after a lifetime of not caring for it in any form other than home-made vanilla with more milk than cream and freshly blended fudge sauce made from scratch.

Encouraged by this change in tastes, I made an effort to be brave and try raw salmon in the form of sushi; it tasted just fine but a lifetime of revulsion got to my throat and I couldn't swallow. Sad.

Yesterday I went back to bed soon after getting up. I've been feeling sick, but the real reason is that I sleep too much. It's become almost a hobby.

When I finally got up, I took out all the trash in the apartment and then tackled the dishes. I washed and dried for over an hour but then one of my roommates came in to help and I abruptly stopped. Five things I hate to be watched doing are:

eating
cleaning
shaving
clipping nails
blogging.

For all these reasons, it's nice to have my own room even though eating in bed has disadvantages like the orange juice I just spilled on my pillow.

I have been eating in my room this morning because the kitchen smells abominable. Last night one of my roommates decided to grind an entire pot of pasta with sauce down the garbage disposal, and the poor disposal vomited it all back up the other drain. Believe me, it ain't pretty. Maintenance promised to come fix it, but hasn't yet. I will head over to the office in an hour if they still haven't come and complain that this really does need to be fixed today. Inspired by this story, I attempted a temporary solution to the stink by pouring baking soda over the whole mess.

But boy am I getting sidetracked. Some things I love to do that most people wouldn't guess are:

physical labor
reading about fashion
learning about childbirth and all related topics
talking to myself
massaging feet.

Five things that make me stare:

cowboy hats (especially if they are black)
dresses
awesome cars
stealth bombers
babies

Five things people don't like about me:

I'm too forceful
I flirt so much no one can tell whether I mean it
I'm lame at parties
I hog pillows
I eat weird food.

Friends, I'm out of random truths. Two random lies:

I want to climb Everest!
and
I love seafood!

Didn't count 25 items? Don't feel bad; me neither.

reflectitious

I came home yesterday to a quiet apartment after a weekend away. In my absence no one had taken out the trash or washed the dishes so the kitchen was a mess but I ignored it. My bedroom was much worse; chaotic from quick packing and a lack of storage space. I added my backpack, violin case, and three bags of food to the clutter and then I tried to sleep in several different places before resorting to earplugs. It felt beautiful to rest. I love afternoon naps because I know I will wake up ready to eat and study scriptures and go back to bed, and then I'll wake up on time in the morning which usually seems impossible.

I had a great weekend in Idaho with friends. I shoveled dirt and played with kids and watched action movies and even went to Sunday School where I was fed false doctrine and reminded not to take offense even though it was kind of offensive. I loved hearing the primary kids sing on Mother's Day and I enjoyed the wide dry fields of sagebrush and the backyard campfire over which we roasted mini marshmallows.

I didn't like coming back to Provo although I felt ready. Provo means school and too hot walks to campus and efforts to make friends now that the ones I had last fall and winter are moved away and leaving on missions. I feel my world spinning today but I am at peace. Life is changing fast and I am changing with it and I think I like the changes. More and more I focus on missionary work although I'm not preparing for a full time mission. I am hungry for truth and the convert I am teaching is myself. I've been told that the gospel's not hard; life's hard. I sometimes think the gospel is hard too, but it is beautiful as well. Today I am developing a series of complex gospel thoughts and questions that all tie together. If I organize them into something coherent, maybe I'll post tomorrow.

puppylovin'

Becca has this puppy for the weekend and brought me over to be cheered by it today. I've smiled and laughed and jogged a lot today thanks to this gorgeous creature:

 

I think everyone needs weekend puppies.

mold

I love everything about my new apartment except for the carpet and the bathroom tiling. I might be extra sensitive because one of my apartmentmates is bugging maintenance to spray her room for mold, but somehow raised green splotches on white tile seems like an excessively poor choice for bathroom decor. I mean, I understand selecting carpets that hide dirt well, but by the time you are trying to make mold blend in with the bathroom walls, frugality has gone too far.