Mountains to Climb

The air couldn’t have felt cleaner and clearer than it did the morning we climbed Badger Mt.  I had this crazy date idea a few days before to climb Badger Mt.  Our group of six, me and Chris, Harrison and Brittany, and Christian and Lauren, walked along Dallas road to the base of the trail.  I thought that the hike wouldn’t be too hard, maybe a few steep spots, but for the most part pretty easy.  (Shows how many times I’ve climbed Badger Mt.). I was certain that the view from the top would be absolutely amazing.  A few nights previous Chris and I had driven up another part of Badger Mt., and the Tri-Cities at night was a sight to behold.  I couldn’t wait to see it during the day.

The "kids" climbing Badger Mt.

As we started to climb my breath became shorter, and my heart rate sped up.  My muscles were aching by the time we reached the halfway point.  I knew I was out of shape, but I didn’t know I was that out of shape.  I soon realized there were several factors that I hadn’t calculated into the hike that contributed to my “out of shapeness.”  One was that Chris and I were talking a lot, which caused me to suck even more air than normal.  A second factor was that as we continued to climb so did the sun.  Sweat dripped from my forehead.  There were also times that a road would cut through the trial and we would have to ask Harrison which why we needed to go.

As I reflect back on our ascent I think of our lives.  How many times do we start a journey in life anticipating it to be only slightly challenging?  At the beginning we think we can see the path to the top clearly, but in reality the only one who can see it is our Heavenly Father.  Hardly known to us are all the obstacles that will befall us.  Heavenly Father prepares us though, and provides ways for us to overcome them so that we can reach the top.  The best and only way to reach the top safely is through our Savior, Jesus Christ.

Our journeys are easier when we follow the paths that the Lord has set forth for us.  They are clearly marked and easy to follow.  Sometimes while traveling up the switchbacks of life it’s tempting to cut corners.  But as Chris so wisely taught me when I suggested cutting corners up the mountain, it harms the wildlife.  The trails we walk on were made for a reason.  Cutting them ruins the trails and creates runoffs that slowly break down the trail.  Following the marked path may take a little extra time and effort, but in the end the wildlife isn’t hurt, and accidently stepping into an unseen rabbit hole results in no sprained ankles.

As we neared the top of Badger Mt. I turned around,

“Harrison,” I called, “Are we almost there?”

“Yeah, we’ve been at the top for a while,” he said.

“Oh.”

After wiping off the slight blush that brushed my cheeks, Chris and I found a spot where we could look down at the Tri-Cities.  The view was better than I had imagined.  We could see the Columbia River sparkling in the distance, the spread of green trees that marked Richland, the new communities in West Richland, and out in the distance the fields of wheat, corn, and alfalfa.  The view wouldn’t have been as beautiful if the journey hadn’t been so difficult.

This is also the case in our life’s journeys.  At the end of our own personal mountains we climb, whether they are mountains of physical pain, emotional trials, family problems, or sin, the view is amazing when we get past those obstacles and finally arrive at the top. 

Chris and I at the top of Badger Mt. with the Tri-Cities
stretched out behind us

Our journey’s through life reminds me of a song by Hilary Weeks,

I had it all mapped out in front of me

Just where I wanted to go

But life decided to change my place

And I found a mountain in the middle of my road

I knew there was no way to move it

So I searched for a way around

Broken hearted I started to climb it

And at the top I found

Every fear every doubt

All the pain I went through

Was the price that I paid to see this view,

And know that I’m here I would never trade

The grace that I feel

And the faith that I find

Through the bittersweet tears

And the sleepless nights

I used to pray He’d take it all away

But instead it became

A beautiful heartbreak

Climbing mountains is hard, but it’s necessary to make us stronger, and to better prepare us to meet our God at the end of our lives.

And just a pointer when climbing mountains (whether they be physical or spiritual) it’s better to climb with someone rather than alone.  ;)  If they’re cute it makes it a whole lot better.

Love is really spelled T-I-M-E

Several weeks ago finals had come to BYU-Idaho.  If you wanted to find me I was usually in library with a pink binder on one corner of my table, an open text book to the side of me, my computer in front of me, and papers littering almost every free space on the table.  Thus it wasn’t out of the ordinary to find me walking into the library at 5 pm to meet with a girl for an English project.  The girl was already there, and it looked like she had been there for a while. 

“Am I late?” I asked.  “We’re we supposed to meet at 5:30?”

“No, at 5, but that’s okay.”

“I am so sorry!  I was with one of my friends who I don’t get to see that often.”

“That’s fine.  It’s more important to spend time with people, than homework,” she said, “It’s those relationships that we get to bring with us to the next life.” 

I sat stunned.  Usually when someone is late for a group project people aren’t too happy.  But this time my partner taught me a truth that helped me make important decisions the week before finals—a week when most people are to be found buried under books and papers.    

About a week before my first test I received a Facebook message from my aunt who lives in Arizona,

“Hey Amanda, we are in town visiting my grandparents in I.F. We're heading to Rexburg to see my old stomping grounds. Call us if you have time for a visit.”

I called them about thirty minutes later.

These were some of my favorite cousins.  They had lived at our house for about a year total when they only had two little girls.  They now had five girls and a boy, and their oldest was now a Mia-Maid.  As I pushed my tests and papers  to the side I reflected on what my partner had told me.  Yes, tests needed to be studied for, papers had to be written, and even though I would bring with me whatever knowledge I attained in this life to the next, I knew that being with my family was perhaps the most important thing I could be doing.   We had a wonderful afternoon walking around the BYU-I campus, eating at Wingers, and finally walking around the Rexburg Temple grounds.  Even though it had been around three years since I had seen them, the four oldest girls didn’t hesitate in being my best friends for the afternoon.  Our relationship was strengthened that day, and was worth any paper or test. 

My cousins and I in front of the Rexburg Temple

Several days later I once again left behind my books and notes to spend my evening with some high school friends, one of which I hadn’t seen since before my mission.  When we arrived at her house my friend gave me a hug, “Amanda, it feels like we never said good-bye!” 

It did kind of feel like that—just like we were back in high school again, except for the fact that her two little girls needed constant attention, and my other friend announced that she was going to have a baby in a few months.  Instead of talking about the upcoming school dance, we talked about raising kids, instead of laughing over a prank we pulled, we laughed over the perpetual energy of my friends two-year old.  Instead of staying up until twelve talking about what it would be like going to college, we said good-bye at nine, having already been worn out because of college life. 

When I came home my books and notes were right where I had left them.  Those books and notes weren’t going to change, but mine and my friend’s lives were, and I didn’t want to miss it.

When I take my last breath I won’t regret not studying harder for a test if it came at the “price” of strengthening relationships with my family and friends. 

Barbra Bush said, “At the end of your life, you will never regret not having passed one more test, winning one more verdict, or not closing one more deal. You will regret time not spent with a husband, a child, a friend, or a parent.”

Let’s remember that when a friend or family member calls on us for an afternoon together, or an hour to talk.  They are the most important things in this life. 

Loaves and Fishes

Sunday afternoon.  The kitchen was an inferno with two burners going, and no AC.  I was stirring the rue while Vanessa picked up the bowl of Mama Rolls to wipe the counter beneath it.  As I poured the rue into the veggie mix I hoped that this would be enough to feed eight people.   We would need a miracle. 

That day at church we had a spiritual lesson in Relief Society on being a missionary at a Mormon college.  My mind reflected to my own mission, and how much I missed it.  Goosebumps covered my arms the entire hour of sacrament meeting as talks were given and songs were sung on the Restoration.  There was hardly a dry eye in the congregation after the closing prayer.

As me and my roommates drove home, we saw two boys walking ahead of us.  When I recognized one of them as a friend from the ward, a thought slipped into my mind, “You should invite him over for dinner.”  I was making clam chowder at the request of my roommate, Andrea, and her fiancé.

“You know, I think I’m going to invite him over for dinner,” I said to my roommates.

I did NOT just say that! I thought. I had already contemplated inviting people over for dinner that morning, but no one I thought of felt right, not even this particular friend.  So why have that thought now?

As I walked into my room I couldn’t shake that feeling.  I had had enough experience in the sticks of Chicago to recognize when a thought wasn’t my own.  

I picked up my phone.  “Hey,” I said, I could feel sweat forming between my cheek and phone, “so I had this feeling to call you and invite you . . . and your roommates over for dinner.” 

Roommates?  Where did that come from?  I’m not going to have enough food!

“Yeah!  That would be great!  I’ll ask them.”

He said that at least two of them would come. 

I went out to the kitchen and told one of my roommates, Vanessa, what I had done. 

“Uh…are you going to have enough food for them?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, adding water to the chopped veggies. 

The smell of cooking clams and veggies filled the apartment when my friend called me back.  “Hey Amanda, so my roommates can’t come,”

Well at least we’ll have enough to eat! I thought as my white spoon made swirls in the rue.

“But I’m really glad you called, because there are these boys from the ward that I have been wanting to get to know, and they said that they could come.  I’m not sure you’d know them; they don’t come very often.  There’s two of them, maybe three.”

 My hands felt slick from the steam emanating from the rue.  It seemed to fill the whole apartment.  “Ok,” I said slowly.  Four extra people?  That’s more than he had said originally.  I was trying to do calculations in my head.  There was no way this pot of clam chowder was going to feed nine people!  Five of whom were boys! 

 “I don’t have to eat a lot,” he said, sensing my worry.

“Oh no, I think we’ll be fine,” I tried to reassure him, the swirls in the rue becoming less beautiful.  I hope.

After I hung up I looked at Vanessa who was already cutting up extra veggies. 

 “It’s going to be like the Loaves and Fishes!” she said. 

“If Christ preformed that miracle 2,000 years ago, He can preform one today!” I agreed.  She scraped the last of the veggies into the pot.

Vanessa and I put our faith to the test.

God provided when Christ was presented with seven loaves of bread, and two fishes with the task of feeding 5,000 people.  We had faith that He would help us feed these boys. 

“They’re boys!” Vanessa and I stared at the pot of finished chowder.  I had asked if she thought this would be enough.  “There’s five of them!  My three brothers could easily eat this… times two.” 

“Loaves and Fishes!” I said, tasting the chowder.

Our bowls and cups were mismatched, and the chairs stood at awkward angles as we tried to cram them around the table.

The final count of dinner guests was eight total.

While eating we talked about our missions, snowboarding, and boating.  The two unexpected guests were reserved at first, but quickly warmed up to our enthusiastic company.  One of the boy’s faces lit up when he remembered a miracle from his mission.  His convert had recently been sealed in the temple.  We could tell that this dinner party was a step in the right direction for them.  By small and simples things are great things brought to pass.

Vanessa and I were the last ones to fish out our clam chowder.  It was way more than half way gone.  I bit my lip, and I knew Vanessa was thinking the same thing: Boys like seconds. 

Our portions were small. 

The dinner conversation was full, but what about their stomachs? 

When they left Vanessa and I went over to the pot of clam chowder.  Did they have to scrape the bottom of the pot to get enough to eat?

The kitchen had cooled off a bit as I took hold of the ladle.  “Oh my gosh!” I said, scooping out a full ladle of chowder.  “Look how much is left!  And check out the rolls!”  I picked up the “back-up” pan of rolls.  “We didn’t even have to use these!”  We lifted the towel from the bowl of rolls.  “There’s like a third of the rolls left!” 

“Loaves and Fishes!” Vanessa said. 

“And they did all eat, and were filled: and they took up of the fragments that remained twelve baskets full.” Matt 14:20

My friend was so thankful that I had called him and asked him over for dinner, not for him, but for the two boys.

When the Lord tells you to do something, He will always provide a way to accomplish that task, as He did Sunday night when He provided extra Mama Rolls (loaves) and clam chowder (fishes) for those who were hungry physically and spiritually. 

Rising to the Call of Duty

In the summer of 1776, fifty-six men gathered together in Philadelphia and essentially gave their lives in signing the document that Thomas Jefferson penned—The Declaration of Independence.  Many of those men were pursued and torture by the British, and some even died, because they signed The Declaration of Independence.   

Since then thousands upon thousands of American’s have given their lives to preserve the freedom that these fifty-six men had envisioned almost 240 years ago.  These faithful American soldiers rose to the call of duty when their country needed them.  Many of them suffered disease, hunger, thirst, homesickness, and eventually death.  They fought for you, and they fought for me. 

Yesterday and friend and I went to the Rexburg 4^th of July Parade in celebration of America’s Independence.  It was your typical parade with cheerleaders, dancers, floats, community societies, tractors, the mayor, and . . .

That’s right, only in Rexburg, Idaho would you see LDS missionaries in the middle of the 4^th of July parade, and have it be considered normal. (Side note: If we ever did that in Illinois, we would probably 1) be shot 2) be kicked out of the area.  I can just hear President saying, "There are more effective ways to do missionary work."  Okay, so I'm expatriating...but still...). 

As my friend and I were munching on our Jimmy Johns sandwiches a little while later he mentioned that missionaries were a lot like the soldiers that serve our country. 

“They both, in a way, give their lives, but in different ways.”

A soldier will sacrifice his physical life, while a missionary will sacrifice his personal life for the freedom of their brothers and sisters from the bands of Satan.  Young men and women will rise to the call of duty when God needed them.  Many of them suffer homesickness, disappointment, and heartache.  But in the end they always see their rewards. 

A missionary’s purpose allows people to be free from sin and find eternal freedom with their Father in Heaven.

In 1776 those fifty-six men declared, “all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”  

Only through the message that God’s soldiers bring to the world can we realize what Life, Liberty and Happiness truly mean.

Because these great American soldiers fought so valiantly, God’s soldiers are able to go all over the world and free people from their sins.  These two groups of soldiers fight hand in hand.  How grateful I am for all those who have risen and will yet rise to the call of duty to fight physically or spiritually for the freedom that God wants us to have. 

"One, Two, Three" Ostler

Several weeks ago I ran into a good a friend of mine whom I knew before my mission.  He lives in Sugar City, which is Rexburg’s next-door neighbor, so his family is close by (that information is important in a few sentences).  After some chitchat the subject turned to our social life.  Dispite his family being close by, I thought he would still hang out with a lot of his friends.  But he surprised me.  “You know,” he said, “I don’t really hang out with anyone.” 

Wait what?  But you’re soooo likable and friendly!  Why not?

“I usually just go over to my cousin’s apartment, or hang out with my brother when he comes into town,” he continued, “And I’m okay with that.”  He wasn’t ashamed of being with family more than friends, in fact he preferred it. 

To tell you the truth I only kind of understood why he preferred family to friends.  I soon came to realize what he meant though.

That weekend I left on a jet plane from Rexburg to Tri-Cities, not realizing how hard it was going to be for me to come back again.

At the airport my family greeted me, including Jackson.  I could not only see his big smile, but I felt it in my heart.  It had been a little over two years since we had said good-bye.  Our means of communication had been e-mails.  His Spanglish, misspelled words often strengthened me on my mission, especially in those times when I was going through a refiners fire.  It was a Celestial reunion as Jackson and I joined in an RM hug (don’t ask me what that is, I made it up). 

The minute our family got in the car to go home the fun began!

(Side Note: Two of my dad’s brothers and their families came to Tri-Cities that weekend.  It was a mini-Ostler Reunion.  So we had a house FULL of Ostlers!)

As Jackson finished family prayer in Spanish our first night together I instinctively put my hand in the middle of the circle (a tradition that was started by one of my roommates) and told everyone to follow suit.  There were eighteen Ostler hand’s stacked on top of one another, like a lopsided card tower that was about to fall over.  “On the count of three we’re all going to say ‘Ostler,’” I said, “One, two, three,”

“OSTLER!”

Jackson playing Bonce Ball

Benson about to score a point...I think

That weekend the girls were to be found on the balcony watching the boys run themselves into the ground playing soccer and Bonce Ball. I could feel the loving competition as Tyler and Ben (both soccer players) faced each other in a battle over the ball (they really wanted to kill each other), and the slight annoyance from everyone else when Wilson, for the second time in one game, lay in a curled up ball on the ground, acting as if he was going to die because an evil someone had hit him with the ball. 

As the weekend rolled lazily on I found odd pleasure in my brothers annoying me, and great laughter in watching Grandpa lay down next to Grandma’s grave and announce, “This is where I’m going to be buried!”  Oh Gramps!  I felt peace and awe as Uncle Lee and Grandpa told us about memories of Grandma and how she was a woman of strength, courage, and faith.  She raised seven children, and made sure her boys received their Eagles and served faithful missions, as well as help all of her children gain testimonies that led to temple marriages. 

In the Celestial Room in the Columbia River Temple I tasted just a little bit of the joy that will be felt in the eternities, when those who were endowed gathered together in quiet and reverent laughter as we enjoyed each other’s love. 

The Ostler crowd isn’t your normal family (although someone define for me what a normal family is, PLEASE!).  In our family it’s not uncommon for my nineteen year-old cousin to be telling me how good looking he is, my uncles to be wrestling on the floor like fourteen year old boys, the teenage boys shaking their hips like girls to 80’s music, and for all of us to be teasing each other until the sun comes up…that’s when we all go to bed. 

How grateful I am that I am sealed to my family for eternity.  I never ever have to wonder if I will see them again.  For eternity I can enjoy their laughter, their teasing, and all the pleasantly awkward moments that arise at the dinner table and elsewhere. 

I now realized why my friend loves to be with his family.  There is such joy that comes from being with those you will be with forever.  No family is perfect, nor is it meant to be in this life.  But with our families we are meant to have joy.  That is the truth my friend knew, and I discovered.

The day we visited our grandmother’s grave we all put our hands above her headstone.

“One, Two, Three”

“OSTLER!”  

Forever.

For more information on families:

The Family: A Proclamation to the World

The Importance of the Family

Strengthening Families

Beauty and Laughter

“[E]very life has peaks and shadows and times when it seems that the birds don’t sing, and the bells don’t ring.”

The stage was dark.  I could make out a group of dancers kneeling together on left stage.  A loud note sounded, and the lights on the stage came on dimly while a dancer jumped over the kneeling group.  All the dancers were dressed in black, with bits of shinny fabric that looked like shards of glass, woven into their shirts.  They glinted off the lights as the dancers’ movements became sharp and aggressive.  It was almost like a jazz style of hip-hop.  Their faces looked as if they were in spiritual pain—they were miserable and lost.

 “Yet in spite of discouragement and adversity, those who are happiest seem to have a way of learning from difficult times, becoming stronger, wiser, and happier as a result.”

As the dance progressed, I pushed my back into my seat, hoping that the dancers pain wouldn’t flow into my heart.  Didn’t the choreographer know that the name of this program was “Beauty and Laughter”?  This dance was not portraying Beauty or Laughter.  It made me think of all those people in the world who didn’t understand why hard times happen—they didn’t understand the purpose of life. 

Gradually the music changed.  It wasn’t loud and sharp; there were now violins, cellos, and flutes, slowly filling the air with hope. The dancers stopped making aggressive movements.  They quizzically looked at one another, at their hands, at their surroundings.  Their dancing became more fluid and beautiful.  The sparkles woven into their black shirts glinting in the stage lights.  The dancers were coming to understand that there was hope in this life full of pain and suffering.  I soon realized that this dance was about redemption. 

“Adversity, if handled correctly, can be a blessing in our lives . . . We can say, as did my mother, ‘Come what may, and love it.’” ~ Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin

This semester Extravadance (the dance company at BYU-Idaho) preformed dances about the Beauty and Laughter seen in the world. 

There is Beauty all around us, each and everyday.  Everyone finds it in different ways.  Some find Beauty in the regal mountains, some in song, some in work, others in family.  Despite all these things God has given us, there is still pain and suffering in our lives.

The other day I was having a hard time.  I didn’t know what Heavenly Father wanted me to do with my life.  My future was foggy.  I couldn’t even see past the end of the month.

As I sat at the edge of my bed contemplating certain events that had taken place in my life, a peaceful feeling lightly touched my heart.  I knew that Heavenly Father was there, and that He was aware of me.  He would guide my life in the way it needed to go.  My attitude of “Come what may and love it” changed my perspective.

“There is beauty and clarity that comes from simplicity that we sometimes do not appreciate in our thirst for intricate solutions.” ~Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf

As I sat in my seat at Extravadance, I glanced down at my program finding the name of the last dance, “Beauty and Laughter” by: Mormon Tabernacle Choir. 

That’s weird, I thought.  I didn’t know that they had a song called that.

As the opening chords sounded I recognized the song, as “This is the Christ.”  As I watched the dancers, all dressed in white, move gracefully across the stage, I noticed that each was happy to be alive—to be dancing.   I realized this last dance summed up what all the other dances were portraying—that Christ was the reason we have Beauty and Laughter.  If it were not for His Atonement, Death, and Resurrection, then we would not have life.  We would be experiencing the hopeless nothingness that the dancers dressed in black had experienced.  But because of Him we can feel that gentle peace in our hearts when our future seems foggy, when friends abandon us, when loved ones are lost, and when children go astray.

This is the Christ, the holy Son of God,

Our Savior, Lord, Redeemer of mankind.

This is the Christ, the healer of our souls

Who ransomed us with love divine.

Christ is my Beauty and Laughter

Dancing in the Rain

Sitting in the exam room at the orthopedics office I stared up at the off-white ceiling, trying not to think of the gentle pain pulsing through my ankle.  I knew what the doctor was going to say when he walked in, “Your leg is still broken, and you’ll have to stay in The Boot for six more weeks.”  Well there goes my summer! 

Seven weeks ago I was sentenced to life in a walking boot in order for my stress fracture to heal.  Okay, not life, it was only six weeks, but still....  For once I walked slowly, a feat most of my mission companions couldn’t even imagine.  I didn’t go dancing, or running.  My exercise consisted of Pilates in the mornings.  (I became so tired of Pilates that I was tempted not to do them). 

Though I had to admit life in The Boot did have its perks.  It was a great conversation starter.  Many people, more than half of whom were males, would ask what had happened.  I became great at telling them the quick story then moving onto more important matters, like his name, and if he wanted to take me on a date.  Okay, I actually didn’t ask them out, but I did make a lot of friends, and I swear if it wasn’t for The Boot I wouldn’t have gotten some of the dates that I did.

*Note to self: if your lacking on dates, put The Boot on. 

Despite this I was tired of wearing The Boot.  I wanted to run, jump, and play.  Most of all I wanted to dance.  I had been hoping and praying that my leg would heal.  I knew that Heavenly Father was listening, but whether or not He would answer my pleas was a different question.  Maybe I still needed to learn a life lesson. 

I was supposed to take off The Boot on June 1^st, but alas, I was still in pain!  That’s how I ended up at the orthopedics office. 

After the looking at the x-ray, the doctor came in.  I prepared myself for the worse.

“Well Amanda,” he said, “your bone looks healed up.  I saw where the break was, and it healed over nicely.” 

Wait what?

Really! 

Oh my flip!

It took about fifteen minutes for the truth to really sink in.  When it did I cranked up Hillary Weeks, and we both jammed our hearts out on the car ride home. 

I invited my worries to step aside

I needed room to see in front of me

As the raindrops fell on my overcoat

 I let them roll right off of my back

I waited for the rainbow

Cuz me and heaven, we both know

This storm is gonna pass.

And I danced in the rain

I let my dreams know I hadn’t forget them

I let my heart take the lead

And I told my hopes to get themselves up again

And I danced (to the music of the day)

I looked (for the blue above the gray)

Yes I danced

In

the

rain.                                                                       

(Hillary Weeks “Dancing In The Rain”)

One of the best parts about not wearing The Boot is that I get to wear two shoes!  How thankful I am for Heavenly Father answering mine and other’s prayers in behalf of my leg healing.  I am Living Proof that He hears and answers the prayers of His children. 

And you better believe I’ll be out dancing!

Reflecting on Times Past with T.S. Eliot

This semester I was privileged, yes privileged, to take a T.S. Eliot class from Brother Samuelson.  It was a block class, which means that it’s finals time for Mr. Eliot!  For our final project we could anything we wanted.  We just had to incorporate our interpretation of T.S. Eliot’s poetry or drama. 

In one class it was stated that T. S. Eliot didn’t want people to put concrete things to his writing.  He wanted readers to interpret his poetry with their lives in mind. 

This brought peace to my soul, because when I was reading The Four Quartets I couldn’t help but apply what Eliot was saying to my own life.  For my final project I took lines and stanzas from The Four Quartets (a collection of four poems) that stuck out to me, and identified a time in my life when I experienced or learned the lesson that Eliot expressed in his poem.  What happened was a blend of personal stories from my mission in Chicago, Illinois.  The Four Quartets are woven into each story to create a beautiful melody of experiences and changes that took place to me while I was serving the Lord.

This is my favorite part from my stories.  It’s about my thoughts and feelings from my last Sunday in Illinois.  The excerpts are from The Dry Salvage, the third poem in the collection. 

Standing in warm March night air I realized my mission wasn’t what I thought it was going to be a year and a half ago.  I thought I’d be solitarily helping other people.  I thought I wouldn’t change at all. 

But I was wrong. 

We had the experience but missed the meaning

For one and a half years I had thought that I was there for others, when in reality I was there so Heavenly Father could make me into the woman that He needed me to be.

And approach to the meaning restores the experience

He needed me to be a mother possessing patience and love.

He needed me to be a woman of acceptance, of compassion, of service. 

The only way that that was possible was through the experience of my mission. 

In a different form, beyond any meaning,

We can assign to happiness.

Chocolate on My Desk

In the mission field there are curfews that were to be strictly followed.  In that famous little white handbook it clearly states that at 9 p.m. missionaries are to stop proselyting and return to their apartments, unless they are in an appointment then they can return by 9:30 p.m.  Missionaries then did nightly planning for a half an hour, got ready for bed, and were supposed to be in bed by 10:30.  Oh the simple life of a missionary! 

No such rules exist at college. 

It is true that the library at BYU-I closes at 11:30 p.m., and that all students must be in their apartment complexes by 12 a.m. but that doesn’t mean that they must stop working.  Their homework can go on into the wee, or sometimes late, hours of the morning before they down a yogurt, and dash off to class red-eyed and unable to keep their head up while the teacher drones on about the changes that took place in American literature in the early 1900s. 

As an RM I am used to a set schedule, therefore without one I have found myself in a predicament. 

When do I stop doing homework? 

I found the answer a few nights ago while sitting in the library.  It was 10 p.m. and I had been sitting at the same desk since 4:50 that afternoon.  The most important homework was done, but I knew that I would be hurting the next day if I didn’t finish just a couple more things. 

I glanced up at my computer to check a reference for my English paper and noticed that the little battery symbol was red. 

We all know what that means, “I’m getting really tired.  I’ve been hard working the whole day.  Can we go home now?” 

When I got home I found this on my desk

The little print says: Use: For relief from chocolate cravings, school pressure, lovesickness, and hungry stomach. Directions: Remove wrapper, bite of desired amount.  Repeat dosage until symptoms disappear.  Warning: Over dosage may cause mild chocolate addiction.

Needless to day I ate the whole thing J

My dear sweet roommate had been watching me stress out over homework for the past couple of weeks. 

I am so thankful for Heavenly Father being so aware of me.  I would have stayed at the library a little bit longer and exhausted my body even more if my computer hadn’t been about ready to die.  He prompted Andrea to get me a treat and leave a simple but heart felt note.  This told me that He knows me.  He knows that sometimes it’s not wise to stay at the library until ALL of your homework is done.  It’s more important to go home, rest, and relish in the chocolate that your roommate left for you. 

When your computer is about to die that means that Heavenly Father is aware of you.

Lesson Learned…well almost.

The Beginning

For those of you who followed my mission blog, Thank You.  I appreciated your support in my service to the Lord.  This blog is a continuation of that blog, only now it’s about my post-mission life.  A friend of mine from the Tri-Cities said that she wanted to see a blog about my quest for Mr. Right.  Well, this blog isn’t exactly that, it’s more for experiences from my life as it unfolds after my mission.  But don’t worry; I’m sure I’ll include some dating adventures in here too!  

Hope you enjoy.  And if you want to hear about something special, or a specific topic, just let me know via Facebook, e-mail, or leave a comment here on the blog.  Thanks J

~Amanda