In the spirit of the season, here are my two bits of thanksgiving:
I am grateful for the past four years of my life. Really.
I am grateful, especially, for this year.
I am grateful for the phone call from a friend that comes after I woke up late, spent all day working, rushed over to finish a VERY last-minute audition CD, arrived 15 minutes after call time to my play only to find I'd forgotten half my stuff, lost part of my costume during the performance, and have been battling a very nasty cold for a week, and then I get this message that says "Hey, just calling to make sure you took time today to remember how amazing you are."
I am grateful for my dog, who, even in her aged condition, is always glad to see me - and lets me know it.
I am grateful for the gift of unconditional love and for people through whom I have learned what love is and can be.
I am grateful for patience, and especially humility.
I am grateful to be reminded who I really am. Thanks to those of you who through example, time, and love have shown me this in ways I will never forget. Your gift is priceless. I can never repay you, but I can do my best to "pay it forward."
I am grateful for toothpaste. Having gone without it for the past two days, I have authority to speak on the subject.
I am grateful for Frederic Chopin.
I am grateful for the hard work it takes to become a person who's life really means something.
I am grateful for Beethoven's Sonatas. All of them.
I am grateful for YFF. And Livin' in Life. And Yagottawanna. And Nauvoo. And for all you kids in AZ and IF and St. George next year, I'm already grateful for you.
I am grateful for T.B., K.B., L.L., and J.D.
I am grateful to have the best job in the world.
I am grateful for all the people who's floors, couches, and spare rooms I've occupied this year.
I am grateful for the toddler in the cart in front of me at Walmart who smiles at me and totally makes my day.
I am grateful for the book of Isaiah and what he teaches about joy.
I am grateful for the gift of loving someone so much that I find the power to overcome pride, selfishness, and even my deepest fear for their sake.
I am grateful for the process God has taken me through to teach me that life is not about me. I am grateful that the same process has taught me to trust Him.
I am grateful for people who forgive my mistakes even when those mistakes hurt them.
I am grateful for FAMILY. I'm especially grateful for my future family. Pretty sure I love them already.
I am grateful for God, through whom I receive everything else.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
magnum mysterium
Today I fell in love with a baby centipede.
Yup, I know what you are thinking. If you are a boy, it's "Awesome! I wanna see it!" and you already have about twelve plans in your head for scaring a sister or girlfriend or blowing it up or pulling it to pieces or putting it under a microscope and seeing it wiggle. If you are a man, it is probably more along the lines of "That's a little strange, but hey, if that's what you want, I'm cool with it." (Large smile to all you men out there.) If you are female of any age, it is probably something like "Eww!" (Unless, of course, you are like me and find such things fascinating.) If you are a grandparent, you probably don't really care as long as I am happy, well fed, and loved. (and that is why we love grandparents so much.) In any case, now I have reached out to all my audiences, please let me explain.
I was sitting on the back porch this frosty morning, happily enjoying sunshine and the air filling my lungs after my morning exercise when I saw what looked like a tiny worm squirming along the sidewalk in front of me. Upon closer examination, I found that it was, indeed, my new friend the baby centipede. The angle of the sun was such that I could see the shadow of all of its hundred legs as they moved beneath it, and stillness of the morning and the falling leaves and gratitude something shifted. Did you ever stop to think how cool light is, and all of creation, for that matter? Suddenly, I had a moment of complete identification with Einstein and his fascination with light, and Galileo's discovery of the Solar System, and Beethoven's inspiration for "Ode to Joy," and probably Adam and Eve as well - after all, can you imagine just waking up one morning into this world? Yet, it is something I get to experience every day if I will just look. Whatever the actual process of creation, this planet certainly has a Creator. I had a moment with Him and a centipede this morning.
On Monday I found my calling in life. Really. It was kinda out of the blue, and after weeks of seeking I wasn't really looking for it at all in that moment. In fact, I was looking for something completely different. I'd been experiencing a lot of doubts and fears, and was attempting to practice through them, when suddenly I stopped playing and asked "What is going on?" I knew that I had been making the right choices, and it was unusual for me to face such a bombardment when I demonstrated such a determined desire to be in the right state of being. After a prayer, I felt to improvise for a moment on a familiar theme. Leaving that one, I moved on to the next, and suddenly I knew. It was almost like remembering something I'd always known, so obvious that I didn't even know I'd forgotten. It fits my family, my education, my dreams, and is so different that I never would have recognized it had it come in any other way.
What, you may ask, does all this have to do with the title of a Catholic Mass? Everything. Way too often we divide things into separate chunks and pieces, forgetting that they are really about Him, and the "great mystery" really is that the greatest events and people and things are inseparably connected with the small ones; just as the Babe who had the biggest effect on the history of the world came first to animals in a stable. It really is all connected. Even the centipede.
Yup, I know what you are thinking. If you are a boy, it's "Awesome! I wanna see it!" and you already have about twelve plans in your head for scaring a sister or girlfriend or blowing it up or pulling it to pieces or putting it under a microscope and seeing it wiggle. If you are a man, it is probably more along the lines of "That's a little strange, but hey, if that's what you want, I'm cool with it." (Large smile to all you men out there.) If you are female of any age, it is probably something like "Eww!" (Unless, of course, you are like me and find such things fascinating.) If you are a grandparent, you probably don't really care as long as I am happy, well fed, and loved. (and that is why we love grandparents so much.) In any case, now I have reached out to all my audiences, please let me explain.
I was sitting on the back porch this frosty morning, happily enjoying sunshine and the air filling my lungs after my morning exercise when I saw what looked like a tiny worm squirming along the sidewalk in front of me. Upon closer examination, I found that it was, indeed, my new friend the baby centipede. The angle of the sun was such that I could see the shadow of all of its hundred legs as they moved beneath it, and stillness of the morning and the falling leaves and gratitude something shifted. Did you ever stop to think how cool light is, and all of creation, for that matter? Suddenly, I had a moment of complete identification with Einstein and his fascination with light, and Galileo's discovery of the Solar System, and Beethoven's inspiration for "Ode to Joy," and probably Adam and Eve as well - after all, can you imagine just waking up one morning into this world? Yet, it is something I get to experience every day if I will just look. Whatever the actual process of creation, this planet certainly has a Creator. I had a moment with Him and a centipede this morning.
On Monday I found my calling in life. Really. It was kinda out of the blue, and after weeks of seeking I wasn't really looking for it at all in that moment. In fact, I was looking for something completely different. I'd been experiencing a lot of doubts and fears, and was attempting to practice through them, when suddenly I stopped playing and asked "What is going on?" I knew that I had been making the right choices, and it was unusual for me to face such a bombardment when I demonstrated such a determined desire to be in the right state of being. After a prayer, I felt to improvise for a moment on a familiar theme. Leaving that one, I moved on to the next, and suddenly I knew. It was almost like remembering something I'd always known, so obvious that I didn't even know I'd forgotten. It fits my family, my education, my dreams, and is so different that I never would have recognized it had it come in any other way.
What, you may ask, does all this have to do with the title of a Catholic Mass? Everything. Way too often we divide things into separate chunks and pieces, forgetting that they are really about Him, and the "great mystery" really is that the greatest events and people and things are inseparably connected with the small ones; just as the Babe who had the biggest effect on the history of the world came first to animals in a stable. It really is all connected. Even the centipede.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Timp: The Real Story
SayGoBeDo is not just about doing, I'm discovering. It is about trusting. Good people, those who really make a difference for the better the world over, are those who find the right Voice and not only listen, but trust it, whether they call it Allah or the Universe or Jesus Christ. Here is an example of one such moment in my life recently, in an excerpt from a letter to a missionary serving in South America. Let me know what you think.
Hola! Greetings from the land of cold and freezing rain. I am so glad to read your emails, and hear how the work is coming from the land of sunshine and steamy jungles (do you actually have steamy jungles in Paraguay?) Actually, it has been gorgeous here until very recently, and we have had tremendous hikes, including one very eventful one up Mount Timpanogos a few weeks ago. Because I believe we can learn so much about our purpose on earth from nature, do you mind if I share a bit of that experience? Thanks. :)
So there we were, about an hour or two into the 4 hour hike up the huge mountain, and it was nearing midnight. We had heard that hiking Timp at night so as to see the sunrise from the top is one of the best hikes in the whole area, so we decided to give it a go. We left house after work at around 9, and our plan was to climb to the top, sleep for two or three hours, watch the miracle of nature in the morning, then come back in the morning in time to work again the next day.
As we discovered just a few minutes into the hike, traveling in a small group through the densely treed wilderness in the middle of the night is no easy can of oysters. We had several scares of having large animals crash through the underbrush at what seemed like frighteningly close distances, and the girls in the group were just a little jittery (the man, of course, was strong and stoic as always.) We were very grateful for the small light our flashlight and headlamp could give. At one point I was quite terrified by seeing two glowing things in the distance that I took for the light reflecting off of a sign or something, and then suddenly discovering that they were eyes. It turned out to be a deer, but I have rarely been so uncharitable to a deer in my life. Just a few steps after, the batteries in one of our flashlights went out. I asked where the third one was. It wasn't. You can imagine my dismay when I discovered that my tiny headlamp was the only remaining source of light we had in that vast wilderness, and that I had not added new batteries here either.
However, it was dark in front and dark behind, so we decided we might as well keep going. I began to have visions of us spending the night somewhere on the trail in the pitch blackness. I took the lead with my headlamp, and began to pray silently. I knew that in many ways this predicament was our own fault, but I still pled with a merciful God to have compassion on us. Again, it is difficult to describe how big and black the wilderness is when you are out in the middle of it with no tent and only one faint light. As I prayed, I felt assured that our Father heard, and that we would have light. On the outside, it seemed that this would be less and less likely as my headlamp continued to flicker and grow dimmer - at more than one point it was only the faintest glow, not really a light at all - yet still I trusted in the Voice that told me we would have light. Finally, I announced to the others that we would be going in the dark and save the light of the headlamp for when we really needed it. I turned it off and we continued. It was VERY dark, and at points we had to strain to see the trail. Still, I trusted in the voice of the Spirit, that somehow we would have light when we needed it.
We went on in the dark for probably five or ten minutes, maybe a little longer, when I suddenly felt the urge to look behind me to the mountain sheltering our path to the south. There was a glow behind it. I could have cried for joy. Turning to the others, I said "Good news. We are about to have light." Within moments we walked into a patch of moonlight so bright that even a floodlight would have done little to aid our ability to see more clearly. We saw the trail and the bits of darkness caused by the trees held no fear. That moonlight carried us the entire way to the top, so that we no longer had even the smallest need for a flashlight for the rest of our journey. Once the moon arose, the trail ceased to be a terror and became instead a spiritual and emotional as well as a physical journey of discovery.
The point is, as you have already guessed, first that God always keeps His promises. Always. Even when the light begins to flicker and you wonder how much power He has over Energizer. I have no doubt that He can extend the life of batteries, but instead He gave us something even better. He is the Light of the World, and that His light shines in even the darkest places.
I know He lives! I know that He works miracles in your life as well as mine!
Much love! I'd keep going but I, too, must sleep.
Goodnight!
Emily
Hola! Greetings from the land of cold and freezing rain. I am so glad to read your emails, and hear how the work is coming from the land of sunshine and steamy jungles (do you actually have steamy jungles in Paraguay?) Actually, it has been gorgeous here until very recently, and we have had tremendous hikes, including one very eventful one up Mount Timpanogos a few weeks ago. Because I believe we can learn so much about our purpose on earth from nature, do you mind if I share a bit of that experience? Thanks. :)
So there we were, about an hour or two into the 4 hour hike up the huge mountain, and it was nearing midnight. We had heard that hiking Timp at night so as to see the sunrise from the top is one of the best hikes in the whole area, so we decided to give it a go. We left house after work at around 9, and our plan was to climb to the top, sleep for two or three hours, watch the miracle of nature in the morning, then come back in the morning in time to work again the next day.
As we discovered just a few minutes into the hike, traveling in a small group through the densely treed wilderness in the middle of the night is no easy can of oysters. We had several scares of having large animals crash through the underbrush at what seemed like frighteningly close distances, and the girls in the group were just a little jittery (the man, of course, was strong and stoic as always.) We were very grateful for the small light our flashlight and headlamp could give. At one point I was quite terrified by seeing two glowing things in the distance that I took for the light reflecting off of a sign or something, and then suddenly discovering that they were eyes. It turned out to be a deer, but I have rarely been so uncharitable to a deer in my life. Just a few steps after, the batteries in one of our flashlights went out. I asked where the third one was. It wasn't. You can imagine my dismay when I discovered that my tiny headlamp was the only remaining source of light we had in that vast wilderness, and that I had not added new batteries here either.
However, it was dark in front and dark behind, so we decided we might as well keep going. I began to have visions of us spending the night somewhere on the trail in the pitch blackness. I took the lead with my headlamp, and began to pray silently. I knew that in many ways this predicament was our own fault, but I still pled with a merciful God to have compassion on us. Again, it is difficult to describe how big and black the wilderness is when you are out in the middle of it with no tent and only one faint light. As I prayed, I felt assured that our Father heard, and that we would have light. On the outside, it seemed that this would be less and less likely as my headlamp continued to flicker and grow dimmer - at more than one point it was only the faintest glow, not really a light at all - yet still I trusted in the Voice that told me we would have light. Finally, I announced to the others that we would be going in the dark and save the light of the headlamp for when we really needed it. I turned it off and we continued. It was VERY dark, and at points we had to strain to see the trail. Still, I trusted in the voice of the Spirit, that somehow we would have light when we needed it.
We went on in the dark for probably five or ten minutes, maybe a little longer, when I suddenly felt the urge to look behind me to the mountain sheltering our path to the south. There was a glow behind it. I could have cried for joy. Turning to the others, I said "Good news. We are about to have light." Within moments we walked into a patch of moonlight so bright that even a floodlight would have done little to aid our ability to see more clearly. We saw the trail and the bits of darkness caused by the trees held no fear. That moonlight carried us the entire way to the top, so that we no longer had even the smallest need for a flashlight for the rest of our journey. Once the moon arose, the trail ceased to be a terror and became instead a spiritual and emotional as well as a physical journey of discovery.
The point is, as you have already guessed, first that God always keeps His promises. Always. Even when the light begins to flicker and you wonder how much power He has over Energizer. I have no doubt that He can extend the life of batteries, but instead He gave us something even better. He is the Light of the World, and that His light shines in even the darkest places.
I know He lives! I know that He works miracles in your life as well as mine!
Much love! I'd keep going but I, too, must sleep.
Goodnight!
Emily
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Little Things...
I really do love them. For instance, Friday morning Paul, Heidi, and I planned a crash course blind date to Logan - for that evening. There are few things more delightful in the world than jumping onto oversized Luvsacs in an abandoned game room after making and eating one of the worlds best Honduran meals. For those of you who have not yet discovered Baleatas - now is the time! Needless to say, we enjoyed the time with our new"blind" friends.
Saturday my brother and I came out of rehearsal with a prayer to be able to find people to serve. That prayer was answered immediately. We passed a car pulled off on the side of the freeway, a common occurance, but suddenly we both knew we needed to stop. She didn't have a cell phone and was missing a jack for her flat tire. When our equipment couldn't loosen the nuts, we drove her home, and with the assistance of her husband and neighbor, succeeded in changing the tire. I am so grateful for acting on inspiration - say go be do - that answers prayers, both hers and ours.
The hike on Saturday? 500 pictures couldn't do it justice. I know, todays snow may put a damper on things, but if you haven't been out yet this fall, in the words of one of my most distinguished friends, "you've got to go!"
Saturday my brother and I came out of rehearsal with a prayer to be able to find people to serve. That prayer was answered immediately. We passed a car pulled off on the side of the freeway, a common occurance, but suddenly we both knew we needed to stop. She didn't have a cell phone and was missing a jack for her flat tire. When our equipment couldn't loosen the nuts, we drove her home, and with the assistance of her husband and neighbor, succeeded in changing the tire. I am so grateful for acting on inspiration - say go be do - that answers prayers, both hers and ours.
The hike on Saturday? 500 pictures couldn't do it justice. I know, todays snow may put a damper on things, but if you haven't been out yet this fall, in the words of one of my most distinguished friends, "you've got to go!"
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Life, and apples
If I were to write a short story right now, it would be called "The 500 Apples, in Twelve Uses," and subtitled, "A tale of living." Let's see if I can give you an idea:
Use #1: Food for tweety
It all started one afternoon as I was contentedly teaching an online class while gazing out the window at the September wind dancing through the branches of my aunt's apple tree. As I discussed grammar with my students, my busy eyes doted on the sight of the waltz - or maybe the tango - being danced between the breeze and the tree. All of a sudden I saw a little bird who in spite of the dance was stubbornly hanging on to the branch of a tree, eating his fill of an apple. In spite of my annoyance that he was touching our future crop, I admired the pluck and determination of little tweety, and determined to hang on until the apples ripened - and my somewhat confusing life ironed itself out.
Use #2: Windfall Apples
When I first went back to Southern Utah, I'd thought I'd only be staying for a couple of days. I'd had the craziest month of my life trying to get back - my car broke down, was towed, I was told there was nothing wrong with it, then it REALLY broke down; my computer quit (a big deal in my profession); my car got stuck Idaho when I drove my sister's back to make it to rehearsal; I had other things to be doing; there were tremendous changes in my life that broke my heart and required my full attention etc. etc. Finally, I just grabbed my stuff and left. After about an hour of sitting on a friend's couch in Southern Utah, I knew why I was there, and knew that the next few weeks would change my life forever. Like the apple who suddenly find's itself flying towards the ground when it fully intended spend it's days solidly on the tree, this was not what I expected, but totally worth it.
Use #3: Windfall Apple Crisp
I came back up for rehearsal after staying a full week, days beyond my plans. My brother and I picked up the best windfall apples from under the tree and made a crisp - kind of like an apple pie without the crust. I didn't have a recipe, but that never stopped me, and the results, to the suprise of the skeptical, were splendid. I knew I'd stepped into a new phase of life, one without the fear that permeated the past. Like many would be who found the apples we ate for desert had been picked up off the ground, those around me were a little skeptical. I told them to know them by their fruits.
Use #4: Apple Crisp, again
Somehow, in cooking, I have a hard time doing the same thing twice. That second week in Southern Utah was unique in many ways. My relationships down there shifted exponentially. While some things were cut back to the basics, others grew. I found out what it is like to have someone I really look up to go through a hard time, and still be okay with it. Fred (okay, I've never really met a man by that name outside of the movies, but I haven't asked if I could broadcast his life story to the worldwide internet audience. Although I'm sure he'd be okay with it, "Fred" is my favorite cover-all pseudonym) helped me get back to my roots as I learned again how to ride a bike, this time in tandem. We ascended hills and wobbled down city streets, much to my alternating fear and delight. At canyon park, we practiced jumping off the swings, and I thought of how very far and long it had been - both spiritually and emotionally and in time - since I'd been in that place doing that precise thing. We rode up the canyon and got soaked in freezing October rain on the way back down, much to my perfect delight. Miracles do happen. I'd seen them both in my life and in those God leads to me. This time, we made windfall apple crisp again, only I added walnuts and orange. It was even better.
Use #5: Apples for the Road
Millions of young people in the United States, millions more in Canada. Three hundred youth and maybe fourty councilors. One of me. Somehow the numbers do not seem to match up.
These were my thoughts as I walked into L.'s house in Cedar on Monday for my third consecutive week. I found Lloyd sitting at the table. (No, that is not his real name, and no, it was not his house, but it is the nickname we decided on for him that day, so I think it counts). I asked him what he was doing there. In the typical fashion of almost all my good friends, he said "Oh, I just had a feeling I should come here, so I did." Talk about SayGoBeDo! I tried hard not to distract him from his science homework, but finally my trying outweighed his textbook. We began talking. I told him about wanting to reach more youth. I've seen too many miracles in my small store of experience directing and speaking at youth conferences to not want to connect with more. I wanted to find an already existing nation-wide youth organization and begin building bridges. He immediately began telling me about a mentoring program where he had previously been involved. "In fact, why don't we go talk to them right now?" "Now?" "Why not?" "But, um... well, why not?!" We left immediately and met with the leaders of the individual groups at the high schools in town, and got names and numbers of those higher up in the organization to make things really begin to roll. I love the people in my life, and those apples gave me food for thought on the drive.
Use #6: Apple Butternut Soup...?
It was almost as hard to pack up and come back this weekend as it was to go down in the first place. Rehearsal and performing is picking up here, limiting my ability to live in two places at once, and although I know I'll see everyone again soon, I still miss it. I got back in time to put the finishing touches on my aunt's suprise birthday party on Saturday. It has been difficult for her to get out much, and I'll never forget the look on her face when she saw her friends hiding behind their menus at one of her favorite restraunts. Perhaps, yes, it is worth it to be back. Afterwards, we celebrated with mini cakes and popcorn and trick-or-treaters at her house. Today, for the first time in my life, I made a Butternut cream soup, and yes, I actually did follow a recipe. I thought about adding apples to it, since they were actually harvested this week and we have apples filling the refrigerator and the storage room and the kitchen counter, but I didn't. I wanted to try conforming for a change.
Use #7-12: To be continued...
There are still probably four hundred of those 500 Apples left, and I am only half way through their possible uses. Let me know if you have ideas. I would love to enjoy apples, and life, with you one of these times.
Use #1: Food for tweety
It all started one afternoon as I was contentedly teaching an online class while gazing out the window at the September wind dancing through the branches of my aunt's apple tree. As I discussed grammar with my students, my busy eyes doted on the sight of the waltz - or maybe the tango - being danced between the breeze and the tree. All of a sudden I saw a little bird who in spite of the dance was stubbornly hanging on to the branch of a tree, eating his fill of an apple. In spite of my annoyance that he was touching our future crop, I admired the pluck and determination of little tweety, and determined to hang on until the apples ripened - and my somewhat confusing life ironed itself out.
Use #2: Windfall Apples
When I first went back to Southern Utah, I'd thought I'd only be staying for a couple of days. I'd had the craziest month of my life trying to get back - my car broke down, was towed, I was told there was nothing wrong with it, then it REALLY broke down; my computer quit (a big deal in my profession); my car got stuck Idaho when I drove my sister's back to make it to rehearsal; I had other things to be doing; there were tremendous changes in my life that broke my heart and required my full attention etc. etc. Finally, I just grabbed my stuff and left. After about an hour of sitting on a friend's couch in Southern Utah, I knew why I was there, and knew that the next few weeks would change my life forever. Like the apple who suddenly find's itself flying towards the ground when it fully intended spend it's days solidly on the tree, this was not what I expected, but totally worth it.
Use #3: Windfall Apple Crisp
I came back up for rehearsal after staying a full week, days beyond my plans. My brother and I picked up the best windfall apples from under the tree and made a crisp - kind of like an apple pie without the crust. I didn't have a recipe, but that never stopped me, and the results, to the suprise of the skeptical, were splendid. I knew I'd stepped into a new phase of life, one without the fear that permeated the past. Like many would be who found the apples we ate for desert had been picked up off the ground, those around me were a little skeptical. I told them to know them by their fruits.
Use #4: Apple Crisp, again
Somehow, in cooking, I have a hard time doing the same thing twice. That second week in Southern Utah was unique in many ways. My relationships down there shifted exponentially. While some things were cut back to the basics, others grew. I found out what it is like to have someone I really look up to go through a hard time, and still be okay with it. Fred (okay, I've never really met a man by that name outside of the movies, but I haven't asked if I could broadcast his life story to the worldwide internet audience. Although I'm sure he'd be okay with it, "Fred" is my favorite cover-all pseudonym) helped me get back to my roots as I learned again how to ride a bike, this time in tandem. We ascended hills and wobbled down city streets, much to my alternating fear and delight. At canyon park, we practiced jumping off the swings, and I thought of how very far and long it had been - both spiritually and emotionally and in time - since I'd been in that place doing that precise thing. We rode up the canyon and got soaked in freezing October rain on the way back down, much to my perfect delight. Miracles do happen. I'd seen them both in my life and in those God leads to me. This time, we made windfall apple crisp again, only I added walnuts and orange. It was even better.
Use #5: Apples for the Road
Millions of young people in the United States, millions more in Canada. Three hundred youth and maybe fourty councilors. One of me. Somehow the numbers do not seem to match up.
These were my thoughts as I walked into L.'s house in Cedar on Monday for my third consecutive week. I found Lloyd sitting at the table. (No, that is not his real name, and no, it was not his house, but it is the nickname we decided on for him that day, so I think it counts). I asked him what he was doing there. In the typical fashion of almost all my good friends, he said "Oh, I just had a feeling I should come here, so I did." Talk about SayGoBeDo! I tried hard not to distract him from his science homework, but finally my trying outweighed his textbook. We began talking. I told him about wanting to reach more youth. I've seen too many miracles in my small store of experience directing and speaking at youth conferences to not want to connect with more. I wanted to find an already existing nation-wide youth organization and begin building bridges. He immediately began telling me about a mentoring program where he had previously been involved. "In fact, why don't we go talk to them right now?" "Now?" "Why not?" "But, um... well, why not?!" We left immediately and met with the leaders of the individual groups at the high schools in town, and got names and numbers of those higher up in the organization to make things really begin to roll. I love the people in my life, and those apples gave me food for thought on the drive.
Use #6: Apple Butternut Soup...?
It was almost as hard to pack up and come back this weekend as it was to go down in the first place. Rehearsal and performing is picking up here, limiting my ability to live in two places at once, and although I know I'll see everyone again soon, I still miss it. I got back in time to put the finishing touches on my aunt's suprise birthday party on Saturday. It has been difficult for her to get out much, and I'll never forget the look on her face when she saw her friends hiding behind their menus at one of her favorite restraunts. Perhaps, yes, it is worth it to be back. Afterwards, we celebrated with mini cakes and popcorn and trick-or-treaters at her house. Today, for the first time in my life, I made a Butternut cream soup, and yes, I actually did follow a recipe. I thought about adding apples to it, since they were actually harvested this week and we have apples filling the refrigerator and the storage room and the kitchen counter, but I didn't. I wanted to try conforming for a change.
Use #7-12: To be continued...
There are still probably four hundred of those 500 Apples left, and I am only half way through their possible uses. Let me know if you have ideas. I would love to enjoy apples, and life, with you one of these times.
Monday, October 11, 2010
"once upon a time, or in search or prince charming..."
Yes, I've finally started.
I've been meaning to create this blog ever since I finished YFF this year. For more than a month leading up to the youth conference, my group of councilors and I wrote about our SayGoBeDo moments - times when you have this little thought to do something for someone and then actually act on it and see lives change - and it inspired me so much that I decided to do my own. Life gets crazy, though, and my travels and other plans kept me from it until this morning when I write from my friend's desk in Cedar City. Sometimes you just have to act through the circumstances, rather than waiting for them to fix themselves.
The past couple of months have been some of the most challenging, and the most rewarding, of any I have yet been privileged to live. I am surrounded with the best people I could honestly ever imagine, doing a work that is worth a lifetime. Just this morning I was offered an opportunity to speak in Arizona, somewhere I have been excited to visit for a couple of years now. My students, both private and those I meet at speaking events, are truly geniuses and I love nothing better than to see the light come into their face and voice as they find out who they truly are and begin to act on it. I have seen examples of heroism, dedication, love and service from 13 and 14 year -olds that would change the mind of even the hardest critic of today's teenagers. Although my occupation will change in the near future, these young people will always be a part of my life.
I am still in search of prince charming. That is certainly not for lack of opportunity, for from the blind date on Friday to the new best friends on Saturday and Sunday, I am increasingly amazed with the quality and number of wonderful men there are in my life. Rather, this summer I again got an unmistakable confirmation of the path it would be best for me to take my life, and I choose to wait even a little longer. He's worth it, I know.
I've been meaning to create this blog ever since I finished YFF this year. For more than a month leading up to the youth conference, my group of councilors and I wrote about our SayGoBeDo moments - times when you have this little thought to do something for someone and then actually act on it and see lives change - and it inspired me so much that I decided to do my own. Life gets crazy, though, and my travels and other plans kept me from it until this morning when I write from my friend's desk in Cedar City. Sometimes you just have to act through the circumstances, rather than waiting for them to fix themselves.
The past couple of months have been some of the most challenging, and the most rewarding, of any I have yet been privileged to live. I am surrounded with the best people I could honestly ever imagine, doing a work that is worth a lifetime. Just this morning I was offered an opportunity to speak in Arizona, somewhere I have been excited to visit for a couple of years now. My students, both private and those I meet at speaking events, are truly geniuses and I love nothing better than to see the light come into their face and voice as they find out who they truly are and begin to act on it. I have seen examples of heroism, dedication, love and service from 13 and 14 year -olds that would change the mind of even the hardest critic of today's teenagers. Although my occupation will change in the near future, these young people will always be a part of my life.
I am still in search of prince charming. That is certainly not for lack of opportunity, for from the blind date on Friday to the new best friends on Saturday and Sunday, I am increasingly amazed with the quality and number of wonderful men there are in my life. Rather, this summer I again got an unmistakable confirmation of the path it would be best for me to take my life, and I choose to wait even a little longer. He's worth it, I know.
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