On being imperfect

I made an amazing discovery today.

I am stunningly imperfect. 

In a good way. 

I'd been walking through the woods in Branson (which is easy in Branson, since they are everywhere), pondering life, the universe and everything.  I'd just gotten off a phone conversation with one of my best friends, who had taught me a bunch about gratitude and appreciating life for what it really is.  I came to some rustically dilapidated ruins that looked like they could have been the remains of someone's attempt to build a porch in the middle of nowhere, on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Ozark hills and Table Rock lake.  I helped myself to one of the bent wood surfaces, hugged my legs, and leaned my head back against the dilapidated railing. 

There in front of me was the world.  Tiny weeds poked through the slats I was sitting on.  Gravel spread on the surface around me in someone's attempt to civilize this place.  To my right, the hill sloped steeply downward, only to zoom back up again on the other side of the small ravine.  The autumn trees covering the slopes were painted red, yellow, brown, and green in a way that can only happen in a Branson autumn.  Beyond and to the direction I faced were the waters that shine so brightly in summertime, but now reflected the deep dull grey of the sky.  Above, ravens circled and called to each other.  It was a classically flawed and beautifully telestial landscape.

Just like me.  And everyone else I've had the privilege of meeting on this journey. 

We are all imperfect.  And that, my friends, is the point. 

Think of it.  In all of eternity, you only get now to experience pain.  Or mosquitoes.  Or the irritating sensation of feeling so much for another human being but not having language to communicate it.  Only now do you get to experiment with arguing.  Or being sick.  Now you know what it is like to be late.  Or feel frustrated because you say one thing and do another. 

I'm all about the quest for perfection.  Anyone who knows me knows this.  Still, I'm finding that true "perfection" in this life comes from accepting what is - all the trials and fatigues of mortality - with all of your heart.  Only when you love what is can you really understand what can be.  The true joy of life is not in no mistakes, but mistakes with grace. 

To life, exactly the way it is! 

Today.

Reflections on November 7th

I woke up this morning wondering what I could do for my country. 

I have wanted to rush off and start a campaign, to create posters, to advertise on TV.  I listened to the voice that directed me, and It tells me to love myself, to start a family, to make sure I feel beautiful today. 

I have wanted to go and help and assist and provide for all of the people in need.  I was told to make sure I was confident in the direction I was going first.

I have wanted to start a business that will teach and change people to make millions so that I have influence, and push it through to completion.  I was directed to be like the Lilies of the Field, and that if I trust in the Voice, I will be provided for.

I have wanted to follow the path that the rest of the world points out to me – that of career, “responsibilities” (which is often only another way of saying “distrust” in anything higher than me to provide for me), and the “realities of life.”  I have been told that politics and business and the economy determine my destiny, and that I must fight these battles against other people in order to have a place in this world.  Instead, my directing Voice tells me that I am to be still – even in the world of 2012 – and I shall know who is God.

As I pondered these things this morning, wondering how it is that I can focus on small, individual things like this when the world is in such chaos – and even worrying that unless I join the fray, what I truly care about will be lost, when the following realization came to me once again:

It was not intended that we find a way to make ourselves free, happy, and prosperous on our own. 

Our human efforts, no matter how great they are, can never free us.  It was never intended that they could.  We have only two options.  We either serve the God of this Land, who is the God of the whole earth; or we serve something else.  If we serve something else, we will never be free.

When I say that I am committed to doing whatever it takes, to doing my part regardless of any cost, I really mean it.  Sometimes, though, more often than not, my part starts with being able to look at myself in the mirror today and say “I love you.” There are generals who would rather face an army of enemy tanks than do that.  But unless we are willing to do that, how can we possibly do any of the rest?  How can God guide and save people who will do anything for Him except receive His love? 

So today, and every other day, I am in it to do my part, now and forever.  I am not waiting until the next Presidential Cycle, or the economy to crash, or war to happen in my own or other lands.  I am in it to truly live in a way that the God of this land wants me to live, all the time, every day, today. 

You can

So, at last, I'm back, a repentant procrastinating blogger. :) I'm not making any promises - my life is far too exciting to say that I will never leave you so long neglected again - but here I find myself with a couple of hours on a Sunday when I have no other plans, so I'm taking advantage of the opportunity. 

I'll admit it.  I'm radiantly happy.  I feel a deeper and fuller sense of life now than I think I ever have ever.  I know who I am, and what I'm on this planet to do, and what I need to do to get there. I'm making more money and influencing more people for the better than I ever have before,  and I know Who I'm working for. It honestly makes every single day an adventure.  I was talking to my best friend and personal assistant the other day, and she said "I used to watch movies or read books of people who changed the world, and I wondered what it would feel like to be them.  Well, now I know." Touche. She hit it right on the head.  Yes, this may be the "calm before the storm," but I prefer to think of it as the "calm in the eye of the storm."  I know what it takes to do what I do because I'm already living it every day. 

Take last night, for instance.  I had the opportunity to do a presentation for a beautiful family in Ogden.  About half-way through, I felt a nudge to call out one of the young men in the family and invite him to do something he had been procrastinating for years.  I obeyed, and there before my eyes I watched him change.  Not just a little change, but a big, huge, powerful, destiny-shaping change.  It made everyone in the room cry, including myself.  I have so much confidence in him, and in the world because there are people like him.  I can't wait to see what he does.

I'm a big disbeliever in the idea that this world is lost, that there is nothing that we can do, and that we should just "grit our teeth and bear it." This is not the time for losing, this is the time for winning, and the people that we reach through our choices can be and will be affected forever.  So, dear reader of this blog, can you. 

Little (and big) things

The longer I live (and it is now the ripe old age of mid-twenties), the more I realize that it truly is the little things that make all of the difference in our lives. I know that is the case for me. Some of the most sacred and special experiences of my life have come when I was in the kitchen making potatoes for dinner, or waking up from an afternoon nap to help myself get over a cold, or especially when spending time with a child. It is the little things that help me move from fear to hope, mediocrity to greatness, doubt to perfect love. At this Christmas season, I'm learning again just how powerful my own "little life" really is, how much help I have to offer, how much my smile can uplift, how much courage God has given me to be able to do His work. I believe this whole world would change for the better if we all started to focus a little less on the big thing just around the corner and a little more on the "little things" of here and now. Like this blog. It is a little thing, but I keep writing because I care about you. As a good friend of mine says, "I love you big."

A key to life

Humility is not putting yourself down, just like it is not puffing yourself up. Humility is a dedication to the absolute truth, and the truth is that without God we are nothing, but with Him we are everything.

Mud

Five inches deep, maybe more. My toes gushed into it, and I felt a thrill largely akin to that of a five-year-old who gets to sink their hand into a bowl of brownie mix. It was almost the same color as well, and the texture of chocolate pudding. If I hadn't known better, I might have tasted it to see if the graininess was undissolved sugar. As it was, I watched the river run by on the other side of the rock that sheltered my gooey bowl of goodness from the full force of the current, and thought.

What a helter-skelter life this is. I'd finally resorted to the park - and mud playing - after several days of running around crazily trying to balance what one of my friends described as the "hundreds of spinning plates" of life. It seemed, especially yesterday, like the moment I got one going I had to run off to try to fix another, and by the time I got back the first one had stopped spinning.

I had just recently returned from a miraculous weekend in the mountains of Colorado. There, with three of my best friends, several dozen young people, and a smattering of ambitious adults; we crossed toxic rivers, saved lives, proposed new systems of education to the unknowing world, looked into each other's eyes, ate, danced, played, and generally found ourselves. As always, I came away with new best friends, new perspectives, and a new opportunity to find who I really am. I went into it feeling confident, and came out transformed.

Every time I take a group to do a youth conference, the members of my team challenge each other individually on ways we can each take things to the next level. We live by the motto that if we want the youth to become something, we'd better do it ourselves first. This time, we sat around a picnic table next to the lodge. There was a feeling of confidence in the group - two of them were veterans of this kind of event with me, all three had participated in the large youth conference I help with every year, and one had even been at last year's Colorado trip with me. We knew what we were getting into, and we were poised and ready for what the next few days might bring. After some small chat, I asked who wanted a challenge. K. asked first, and after a moment of pondering and inspiration, we gave him one that literally changed the dynamic of the entire conference. I have never seen one person's love affect the entire group quite so pointedly.

Then it was my turn. I asked, and S. thought for a moment, and then said "Don't talk." I know how that sounds, however, our trust was such that I knew exactly what she meant. I'd already told them how sometimes my weakness has been to step it up too much when that saygobedo voice tells me to be still. (strange enough for me, who used to not be able to say anything in a group!) I told her I accepted, and that I had a reciprocal challenge for her: "Take charge." There, just an hour before the youth were slotted to arrive, we switched roles. She was to run the schedule, make things happen, and communicate with the leaders, I was simply to inspire the youth, coach her, and have the time of my life.

Wow. The next three days were powerful, for me and for all of us. It had been quite a bit of time since I was not the "responsible" one who ran everything, made decisions, took the lead and delegated. It gave me an entirely different conference experience. Thinking back, my favorite moments include playing with magnets with four or five 13-year-old boys, letting them draw me pictures off of Pokémon cards, or sitting on rough ground and chatting while waiting to be led blindfolded up the hill during our simulation. I was able to love the moments and taste the pure joy of simple human interaction. I love being me, and being present.

Getting home, I thought I knew the way to keep that feeling forever. Then, the whirlwind of life struck me and I was caught again in the furious game of spinning plates. After two great days, a mediocre day, and a couple of really difficult days, I found myself at the riverbank, playing in the mud.

It had taken me about four hours to get to the point where I felt free enough to play. I’d been vision questing all day, seeking answers and direction for my life. In contrast to the Native American tradition from which the term comes, I didn’t have three weeks to spend fasting and praying in the wilderness for my “totem,” vision, and name to present to the tribe that I might take my place and identity as a man (or woman) among my people. All I had was six hours in the park, but I was determined to make the best of it. I wanted to know myself and my purpose so clearly that I could take myself and the people I lead to the place where they want to go – who we were meant to be.

I learned a great lesson from mud playing, and from the Colorado mountains, and from looking at Pokemon with a 13-year-old simply because he thought it was the greatest thing in the world. First, play is perhaps the most definite sign of maturity. It is only a truly mature person who chooses to enjoy the moment for the moment in the way that children constantly do. Many times, we get too caught up in trying to spin plates – and showing other people how many plates we can spin – that we miss the whole point. Life is not about spinning plates. Life is about living.

Second, I learned that the best things generally happen when we cease to worry about who is in the spotlight and start thinking about how we can serve. I had one of the best weekends of my life while helping my friend lead. Truly successful businesses and organizations follow this principle.

Third, I learned that direction comes to those who seek it. Heaven favors those who take the time to set aside the demands of other people and truly live. If you try this, you may just find themselves up to your knees in mud – and loving every minute of it.

Dear World,

To whoever may be reading this, I have a message:

I LOVE BEING ALIVE!

Life is so worth it. No matter how hard it seems in the moment, miracles are probably just around the corner. If my life is any indication, they are!

Love to you,

Emily

Ecce Homo

The Saturday before Easter, my now best friend and I went on a hike up a large mountain bordering our city. I was filled with frustration at several things, not least among them being the way that God seems to switch life on me without my permission. I could imagine nothing better than to expend my energy in a strenuous hike up a switchbacking trail. I didn't really feel like talking at first, but at some promptings from my friend, not to mention some distinctive Divine nudging, it all slowly came out.

See, I'd been figuratively climbing a mountain in my life for some time. To me, it seemed like a perfectly good one. I thought I had it all figured out, and I thought the destination was the best one imaginable. I thought I understood how to be happy, and I thought I'd been faithful to that. Then, when the carpet seemed to be pulled out from under me, I was as frustrated as a child when someone smashes the sandcastle which seemed to them to be a mansion. After some tears and pleadings, I went to Father in Heaven and asked simply the only question which really mattered, "What is the next step?"

So there I was, climbing a mountain on that brisk spring Saturday. The answer to the next step in my life could not have been more clear, but I found myself wondering if God really knew me or my needs. What He had told me to do did not seem to make any sense, and did not appear to hold a candle to the sandcastle that had been so inconsiderately smashed. I wondered if anything else could be half as good as what I thought I'd lost.

In the film Peaceful Warrior, the main character Dan Millman, a world-class gymnist, is taken on a hike by his mentor, who he calls "Socrates," or "Soc." Soc told Dan that they were going somewhere very special, in fact that he'd been waiting for a long time for Dan to be ready to go to this place. They hike uphill for more than three hours, and when Dan asks again how soon they would arrive, Soc looks around at the simple meadow where they stood and announces "We're here!" Suprised, Dan looks in vain for the great sight he thought they were going to see. When Soc points out the rock near their feet and tells him that was what they came for, Dan is at first extremely disgruntled. He had been so happy coming up because he thought they were going to see a great sight. The normal human tendency would be to get angry and say "That's all?!" However, at some prompting from Soc, Dan realizes the truth. He did not need to lose the happiness he'd found through the process, because whether it is a rock or one of the seven wonders of the world, what really matters is who we become and the joy in the journey. The journey is what really matters, not the destination.

There on my mountain that day, I too experienced several significant shifts. In the first place, I chose to let my friend in. In addition, I chose to take one moment at a time. I did not know where this "next step" God had in mind would lead, but I found that I didn't need to know the final destination in order to live right now to the fullest. I choose to take the next step for what it is, a part of the path God has in mind for me, trusting that the final goal is simply a culmination of fully present "next steps."

Fast forward one week. Never in a million years could I have imagined the joy and peace that have come to me, even in one week, of following a path that at first made me question if God really knew me. I have tasted the joy of being a true woman. Through the example of my best friend, I have begun to recognize what it means to be a true man. The sandcastle I'd built for my future life, based on the experiences of the past, has been dramatically changed forever. I think I've glimpsed what it is like to live in a mansion.

Last night, my friend shared with me again the story of ideal manhood. Since it is barely a week after the celebration of Easter, I thought it appropriate to repeat again here. The Jews in Jesus' time were looking for a Messiah, a Deliverer who would free them from the oppression of the Romans. They wanted something great and grand and dramatic, something that would take them from the humdrum of everyday life and make their existence different from the outside in. To put it in other words, they wanted someone to bring them to a perfect final destination, and they wanted it in their way. When Jesus actually came to them, many did not recognize Him simply because He did not fit the mold of how they thought things "should" be. "Does God even know what who we are or what is really going on here?" Yet, Jesus brought them the way, the path which changes everything from the inside out. He brought them a way of living, which, if followed, turns life into a joy and makes the ordinary extraordinary. It makes earth itself into heaven. There is nothing on this earth more powerful than being a true man and a true woman, and that comes from taking each "next step" as directed from the Source of all power. I know, because I've experienced it. Jesus showed the ideal which we are all striving for. Pilate put it this way:

Then came Jesus forth, wearing the crown of thorns, and the purple robe. And Pilate saith unto them, Behold the man! (John 19:5)

What never fails

Every once in a while, there are small, seemingly insignificant choices that end up making all the difference in the long run. Like the choice to say "Hi" to someone who ends up being a best friend, or the feeling to go to that one seminar which ends up starting you on a new career path with an even bigger "Big Dream," –you know what I mean, those little things that change lives at set you on a new path, sometimes without your even realizing it.

Such an experience was mine over a year ago, a moment that changed everything and continues to shape my life in a profound way. So small seemed the decision at the time that I can't even remember when it happened; all I know is that it was sometime around when 2009 became 2010, December or January.

I sat in a sacred place, thinking and contemplating my life, its challenges, and the direction and help needed to move forward. As I pondered, it seemed to me as if I had the experience similar to King Solomon in the Old Testament: “Ask what I shall give thee.”

A little surprised, I thought carefully about my answer before responding. Solomon, as we know, could have chosen riches, long life, or the “life of his enemies.” Instead, he famously chose wisdom, and with it received everything else he could have asked for. I knew all the “right” things to ask, things like wisdom and understanding and humility, yet there were other things pressing in my life that I thought I wanted more than anything else, ever. I knew that nothing I chose would be frowned upon; but that some desires and choices are greater than others. I was given to know that whatever I chose I would receive.

It was not an easy decision. At last, however, I found my real desire. More than intellect or prominence or even the intensely personal things I’d been seeking as I pondered previously, I wanted charity. To me, this means more than the giving or receiving of temporal goods. It means, as one author put it, “the pure love of Christ.” I wanted to truly love in that way, a way that can change lives, heal hearts, bind up wounds, and free nations. It was not an easy decision, but it was the real one. Satisfied, I returned my request to my Creator. I felt He heard and granted it. I went on my way and back to my busy life, and, although it occasionally came back to me, for the most part I promptly forgot the experience.

The Universe has a way of granting our desires by testing them. Shortly thereafter, I entered one of the most painful and difficult periods of my life. Confusion seemed to reign as I sought to understand what was from God and what was the demanding voices of others around me. The peace I experienced when I requested charity seemed to be turned upside down, and in the face of my own pain I couldn’t quite seem to see anything else. In blindness and confusion I made a series of decisions that dramatically threatened the other thing I thought I wanted most in the world, in fact, the very thing that I had been so tempted to choose in the place of charity. I stepped too far and in the face of my mistake found myself left alone and questioning every truth I had ever known. I was forced to come to my senses and I realized that my actions had come at the expense of those I cared most about, ironically in the name of “love.” I had hurt the person and people I loved most by attempting to force them to be the solution to my pain. I don’t think I’d ever been more uncharitable in my life. Since there was little else to do but choose to learn from the experience and hope for forgiveness, I decided to learn.

Experience is a harsh schoolmaster, but it is an effective one. Over the subsequent months, I learned many things about myself, about God, about reality, about truth, about obedience. I learned about humility. I learned that real happiness is a result of small, simple choices and experiences every day - the “little things” I sought to fall in love with; of acting in truth no matter what the cost; of service to other people; of knowing the True and Living God. Perhaps that was the most important, for I found that it is only through Him that I can really learn what it means to love another person more than I love myself.

I learned. Through pain, through mistakes, through soul-searching, through experimentation, through friendships, through prayer. It has been just over a year since the since the painful experience with the opposite of charity that abruptly shifted my view of myself and the world. In that time, I have learned many things, just a few of which I would like to share with you here. Although I am not perfect yet, I hope that something here may be helpful to you and give you the permission most of humanity is seeking: the permission to truly love.

Charity is coming out from under a blanket when you want nothing more than to hide for the rest of your life because you feel so hurt and humiliated. It is choosing to try again and allowing disaster to be a catalyst for change. Charity is starting over again.

Charity is standing on the top of a mountain and shouting at the top of your lungs to the city below you the message you carry in the depths of your heart for them. You find yourself doing this because they are worth it. It is ceasing to care about what they think and starting to care about them.

Charity is suddenly wondering if you recognize the man across the street as the one who was responsible for the greatest sorrow of your life, and then finding that you hope it is him so that you can wish him well and share that you truly care about him. It is offering a prayer for that man, wherever he is, and petitioning the God of Heaven with all of your heart for his happiness.

Charity is feeling a bubble of happiness in seeing a homeless woman you’ve seen a dozen times before and realizing that your message is for her, too. It is listening to her story with such an overwhelming love for her that you forget stereotypes and only remember that we all want to return Home. Charity is knowing, as you part ways, that she is your sister.

Charity is awakening at 2:30 a.m. to be with a roommate who just lost her father, taking her to the emergency room, staying with her in recovery, and flying across the country at your own expense so she does not have to be alone. Charity is finding when you return that it is your own life that is changed forever because of the experience.

Charity is working on yourself moment after moment, day after day, so that never again will you be the cause of pain to those you love. It is a moment-to-moment process of choosing to master yourself so that you can love others. It is choosing to curb your own desires and change and feel pain so that they do not have to. Charity is working to master the details of life, even and especially the little ones, so that you are the best possible instrument through whom God can love His children.

Charity is knowing your own life does matter. It is looking to God as the source of your worth rather than anyone or anything else and being so full of His love that you cannot help but share it with others. Charity is giving your heart over to God so that you do not have to protect it anymore and are suddenly free to love others without worrying about yourself.

Charity is realizing that you care about another person far more than about yourself and that you would give your life if it meant they could find theirs. It is choosing to feel the depths of agony over the person you love most rather than close off your heart. It is feeling rather than security, faith rather than protection, risk because it is worth it.

Charity is hoping when there seems to be no hope, believing when believe requires everything you have, trusting always, forever, no matter what.

Charity is wanting his happiness so much that you pray for it daily and desire it more than anything else, even your own. Charity is loving unconditionally, regardless of whether it is returned.

Charity is happiness so deep that nothing can shake it, and sorrow only for the pain or “sins” of the world.

Charity is loving the young people you work with and the country you live in so much that you obey every little thought or prompting to help them, even if it does not seem convenient or make sense at the time.

Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not, charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.

Charity never faileth.


I realize now I have received and continue to receive my request, not in the way I anticipated or was expecting, but in a way that continues to change me to the core of my being. By allowing me to experience the opposite, God planted in me a desire for true charity that was a seed from which my life now grows. I don’t know what will happen next. I don’t know if or when I will receive the other things I could have asked for instead of charity. I believe and know that Father in Heaven is able to grant them to me, and that He will, but if not, I will still trust in Him. I would rather go through every trial this world has to offer with Him than a single day in the lap of luxury without. Perhaps that is because I’ve tasted charity – the love that changes lives, and nations, and me.

Next steps

Happiness!

Cedar City, Heber Valley, Davis County, St. George, Idaho Falls, St. George again, and back to Mesa! That is my lineup till the middle of July. And this is not counting day-to-day mentoring and trainings, and I haven't even started advertising! I love my life!

I set the intention to speak and do youth conferences to really change lives, and the Universe answered that intention. I know there are young people waiting at each of these places who I will touch and be touched by, and I cannot wait.

Freedom: Part 1

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me; because the Lord hath annointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; He hath sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of prison to them that are bound. Isaiah 61:1

Freedom: Part 1
It started, I believe, on January 13 of this year. I told my Higher Power that I was done running into invisible walls and hurting people around me when I tried to force my way through them. I told Him what I wanted, and said I would do anything – anything He asked of me in order to change.
The answer was slightly surprising to me. I was to write a book. About freedom. What surprised me even more was that I was to finish it by the time I went to Arizona – a mere four weeks away. I’d told Him I would do anything, however, and I meant it.
Fast forward three and one-half weeks. I had put together one presentation for Arizona, but the overall flow of the day, especially my portion of it, had not yet been completed. I’d experienced some of the most intense soul searching moments yet during those three weeks, and the process of writing had given me more insights than I knew were there to be had. Yet there I was, three and one-half weeks into the experience, knowing I still had much to do to prepare to speak, not to mention travel arrangements and my day-to-day work. Physically, I did not feel well either, and I wanted to save my strength for the youth I would be addressing that weekend. Even more, although the writing was not quite finished, I felt I’d learned the lesson I was to learn through the writing process. It was time for me to move on, prepare for the Arizona forum, and maybe catch up a little on the sleep I’d been missing.
I went to bed. Thirty minutes later, my phone rang. I answered to C’s voice. It had been months since we talked, but he’d had some life changes and he wanted me to mentor him again. Through the course of our conversation, I realized that I couldn’t just give it up, even with such a small amount to finish. I got up and got to work.
The writing was completed on schedule. Thank heavens for C. This meant, however, that I did not have time prepare a polished speech for the rest of my Arizona audience. I left trusting that it would all work out, just as God had said it would. He said that if I would do my part in writing the book, He would take care of the rest.
According to the promise, everything did work out. Lives were changed in Arizona, including mine. As has often happened to me before, words and ideas came in the moment they were needed. After the conference was over, my speaking partners and I were able to go to this beautiful building, which in itself was a miracle.


This was only the beginning.

Je crois

One of the most recent stories that reminds me we are not alone in this world, and that I'm not crazy for acting on the feelings and impressions I receive rather than what the world tells me to do.

On Wednesday I went to my friend L.'s house to practice and discuss our plans for going to Arizona next week. I've been asked to be in charge of the youth portion of a forum down there, and L was one of the people I brought on to my team. We were discussing the 45 minute presentation he had put together to share with the youth, and some possible changes and revisions, when there was a knock on the door. It opened and S. walked in. I was very surprised and overjoyed, for she is one of my best friends and I had not seen her for several months. It was pure providence that we happened to be at the same house at the same time. L. had to leave to run some errands, and S. and I just sat there in his house and talked and talked and talked. One of her biggest fears and most powerful gifts is speaking. As we discussed our dreams and current projects, I kept having the feeling to invite her to come to Arizona with us to speak to the youth. I hesitated, however, because our schedule was pretty well filled, and I didn't know how we would fit her in. At last I decided we could take the time planned for Q&A at the end and let her use it. I asked her to come. She was scared but excited, and said she would see if she could get off work to be there.

Fast forward to last night. I had just gotten out of an Institute class and was on my way over to J.'s house to wish him a happy birthday. I had never come to his house from that direction before, and got a little lost. As I wandered around looking for his street, my phone rang. It was not J., as I thought it might be, but A., one of the people I'd asked months ago to come to Arizona and speak at the forum with us. As we talked, it came out that she is doing a lot of very powerful things with her life, and that because she is so busy she feels like she may not have time to prepare as fully as she would like for her portion of the forum. She did not want to back out of her commitment to me, but she was wondering what my thoughts were on her situation. After hearing her circumstances and feelings, I said, "Let me tell you a story." I told her about S. happening to be at L.'s house the night before, and my feeling that I should ask her to come speak. A. replied that it had been about that time that same night that she felt pretty sure that she should not come.

The point of the story is, of course, that there are greater things at work in this world than what we can see with our eyes. Immediately after hanging up with A., I called S., and she said she was planning on it. Then I started driving again. I thought that J.'s house was to the east of where I was, but kept having a feeling I should go west instead. I went west, and within two minutes was parked in front of his house.

It is moments like this that remind me that whatever seems to being going on on the outside, God really knows what He is doing. I believe Him.

Je crois.

Miracles

God loves me.

For instance, today I told the Universe that I wanted a place to practice the piano, since this house does not have one and music has my heart. Tonight I went for the first time to the home of a church leader I just met yesterday, to celebrate families in what my church calls "Family Home Evening." We started talking, it came out that I am a pianist, and he led me to one of the nicest pianos I have ever put my fingers on. Oh, and he said "You can come and practice anytime. Just call my wife. We are the only ones who live here, so it is open most of the day." Just like that.

But it doesn't stop there. I'd been feeling for several weeks that I needed to switch to this church unit. Since there are several options where I live and I'd settled for a while in another one, I wondered why but did it anyway. I almost didn't make it on Sunday since I'd had a nonstop weekend, and the directions online were much less than adequate. I actually walked into the wrong congregation (one with a lot of noisy babies), and was tempted to go home or back to my other ward, but no, it was the right thing to do, so after a little hunting I found the right congregation. Wow. Ever walk into a group and have the feeling that you've known these people before, even though you know you've only met maybe one or two (in this case three) of them before? I know they are new best friends already.

This weekend? I'd just finished a fabulous date up the canyon (dutch oven dinner in the snow, although cold, cannot be beat, even though it just might have taken us 45 minutes to start the fire) and made it home safely (after the cops told us the campground where we'd cooked our food was closed [we'd already eaten, thank goodness] and after we went and played games at my cousin's house), and was feeling satisfied, but tired. I called a friend I knew was coming in from Chicago en route to southern Utah. I debated going to see her since I'd also driven up from Idaho that day (long story), but again, felt it would be best. I met her and a few other friends just after having a slightly traumatic experience, and they needed to see me precisely at that moment. God loves them too.

Oh, and I also chose recently to drop half my source of income. Why? I have no idea. Because God told me to. However, I have been completely amazed in the past couple of days by what I have learned thus far. And, I know that the right job is on it's way. Crazy? No. Perhaps last year at this time, yes, it would have been, but I have since learned to know His voice. He is the master of "I promise, I deliver." Try it sometime - just make sure you are talking the right Heavenly Father.

Do you ever have the feeling that something tremendous is about to happen, and you kind of have an idea of what it is but don't really know how it will work out, but just know that it will? Yup. That's my life right now.

"Greater love..."

As one author eloquently put it, "Cancer sucks." I don't know why sometimes one person or one family is blessed, as mine has been, to see a miracle. I have seen from some and felt from others the pain of losing a loved one to this disease. A husband loses a wife, children are left parentless, grandchildren can no longer hug a grandma.

This video tells the story of a miracle in my own family. I will never forget, or be able to thank God enough for how much He blesses us. However, as I watched this story unfold, both in picture and in real life, I was struck by another realization, perhaps equally as powerful as the knowledge of His ability to work miracles by healing cancer:

Painful as it is to lose a loved one here, it would be even more painful to end this life and realize that you had actually lost them - for good. As Job put it, "If a man die, shall he live again?" I know that he can, and that he will, and I also believe that our actually seeing and being with the ones we love after death depends in a large measure on our actions and obedience here. Families can be together forever, but it has to be chosen.

I realize, as I walk the streets and visit the grocery stores and look into the faces of the people, just how precious each one is. I don't know what I would do if I found one day that they were lost, actually lost, and even more so in my own family. As tragic as cancer and war and abuse and death are, I find that I would rather face - and learn - from them than the other option of no trials and no learning and therefore no freedom and no family. I'm for this Plan one-hundred percent, in spite of the pain, and the mistakes, and the abuse, and the sickness, for through these I find the abilty to joy, and receive, and love, and be faithful.

Cancer sucks. Yes, my friend, it does. So do mistakes. I believe we will see a time where we find a permanent cure. I also believe we will see a time where we find a cure to fear and hatred and greed and mistrust. Until then, I give thanks for their possibility, and the chance to learn to love because of them. I believe in you, and in me, and in our brothers and sisters.

Gratitude

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.

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.

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

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!"

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.

"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.