good times

I was teaching primary in my ward last Sunday; the topic was how we can all be missionaries. The lesson suggested that I, the teacher, bring in a guest speaker who served a mission and have them talk about being a missionary. I decided to bring in some full-time missionaries and have them talk about how we as members can help them do their job. When I actually got to primary, it was only me and a kid who's family just moved into our ward. The missionaries and I told this cutie about missionary work and asked him questions and stuff. At one point, I told this kid, "I love how smart you are," because he was giving us some really good answers and asking some really good questions. He then told me something to the effect of, "Yeah, people are surprised sometimes at how smart I am cuz I'm only just a kid." Toward the end of the lesson, the elders gave him a couple pass-along cards to give out, and he was SOOOOO EXCITED to make friends and give the cards to them. I told him that when he gave them away, if he wanted more he could ask any missionary for some because they have a bunch more in the trunk of their car, and he got even more excited. It was pretty epic. Good times in primary. :)

duct tape and jury duty

I was biking to class this morning (I'm taking statistics at DVC...2 more weeks left!) and realized that I hadn't packed breakfast. I thought that since I was going to be late anyway, I might as well stop by 7-eleven really quick and grab something. I ended up being almost 30 minutes late to class, but was able to catch up quickly. Class is almost 3 hours long, 7:30 to 10:20, and we always take a break around 9:00. On my break, I turned in this prerequisite form thing and a copy of my unofficial transcript to DVC so I can enroll in this one English class in the fall, and the lady enrolled me in it right on the spot. I'm #1 on the wait list! This means that as long as I pass the stat class I'm currently in, the English class in the fall, and also the physics class I'm taking in the fall, I'll have my Associate's degree! :D :D :D

On my way home, I needed to use the bathroom kind of badly, so I stopped by this one family in Pleasant Hill 2nd Ward's house (they gave me, this one boy, and their 2 sons who were in seminary with me rides from seminary to school) and used their bathroom, talked to the mom, thanked her again for letting me use their bathroom, and she told me that she's glad that I know that I can come there. :)

When I went to leave, my bike sounded weird when I moved it. I looked down at my bike and realized that my back tire was flat. I walked toward home and tried to be fast because Brother Peers was gonna come over at 11:30 to pick up at least one of my family names and take him through an endowment session tonight. I knew Brother Peers had other places to be after he picked one of my ancestors up, so I didn't want to keep him waiting. While I was walking, 4 bikers stopped/asked me if I needed help, which made me feel good.

I ended up getting a ride part way home from this elderly couple in my ward who live near me and got home about 11:40 and hoped that I hadn't missed Brother Peers, that he was just running late or something. I then took the back tire of my bike off and apart. I realized that the problem was that the 2 patches I put on a couple months ago weren't holding anymore. I ended up putting 4 more patches on before the air stopped leaking, went inside and ate some cookies, and then put my tire back together and on my bike.

It seemed to take forever. I had plans to go to the Red Cross and go through their volunteer orientation this afternoon, so I was kind of rushing. While I was putting it back together, I got 2 messages from Brother Peers saying stuff had come up but he still wanted to pick up one of my family names. I called him back to let him know it was a good time for him to come over and he got to my house just as I was washing the grease, courtesy of my bike, off my hands.

A few minutes after he left, I departed for the Red Cross. I got about half way there and my tire went flat again. I called them and told them what just happened and told them that I was still coming. They told me to come back for the orientation another day, probably so I won't miss anything. I then turned around and spent about half the walk home wishing I had duct taped my bike tire tube. 'Why didn't I think of that earlier?' I asked myself laughing.

When I got home, I stretched and then played on my computer...a lot...still laughing about my day. When my mom got home, she asked me if I had brought in the mail. I hadn't because every time I checked for it, it hadn't come yet. She came in excitedly laughing at me and handed me my first ever jury summons. I'm wondering what an effective way to keep my juror badge visible, like, on my shirt or something would be...duct tape?

Agility

My mom runs agility with my 4-year-old Australian Cattle dog, Jersey. Agility is like obstacle courses for dogs, A-frames and dog walks to walk across, tires to jump through, tables to stand/sit/lay down on while the judge counts down from 5, tunnels and chutes to run through, and various kinds of bar set ups to jump over. There are various kinds of mistakes your dog can make. There are 'refusals,' which is when your dog refuses to go over/through the obstacle you tell it to. There's the 'wrong course' sign that the judge can give, which obviously means that your dog either went onto the wrong obstacle or went the wrong way through the tunnel. If your dog knocks down a bar on one of the jumps, you get a fault. If your dog jumps off the table before the judge finishes counting, it's a fault. As you can see, there are quite a few things your dog can do wrong.

At an agility competition, it's hard to find someone who's mean, whether you know each other or not. People just talk to each other and joke around. We all love dogs, and we're all equal. When you and your dog perform well in the ring or 'run well,' or even if you don't, people clap for you. When your dog knocks down a bar or makes some sort of mistake, everyone watching winces and 'feels the pain' with you. Everyone encourages each other because they know what it's like to not just do well, but make mistakes too. Everyone is willing to help each other and answer each other's dog questions because they know what it's like to be new and to not know, no matter how long they've been doing agility.

I always feel so good, so welcome, at an agility trial. Everyone is so friendly. In a sense, is this not a Zion society? Is this not the model Christ would have us follow? While this isn't church or anything, doesn't Christ see us equally and want us to help and encourage each other this same way?

I love you this much

He can't remember the times that he thought,
'Does my daddy love me? Probably not.'
But that didn't stop him from wishing that he did
Didn't keep him from wanting or worshiping him

He guesses he saw him about once a year
He could still feel the way he felt standing in tears
Stretching his arms out as far as they'd go
Whispering, "Daddy, I want you to know...

I love you this much and I'm waiting on you
To make up your mind, do you love me too?
However long it takes, I'm never giving up no matter what
I love you this much!"

He grew to hate him for what he had done
Cuz what kind of father could do that to his son?
He said, "[I hate] you daddy," the day that he died
The man didn't blink but the little boy cried,

"I love you this much and I'm waiting on you
To make up your mind, do you love me too?
How ever long it takes, I'm never giving up no matter what
I love you this much!"

Half way through the service while the choir sang a hymn
He looked up above the preacher and he sat and stared at Him

He said, "Forgive me, Father," when he realized
That he hadn't been unloved or alone all his life.
His arms were stretched out as far as they'd go,
Nailed to the cross for the whole world to know:

I love you this much and I'm waiting on you
To make up your mind, do you love Me too?
However long it takes, I'm never giving up no matter what
I love you this much!

A Good Place to Be

The human body is an interesting thing. Women are always looking for ways to make theirs more appealing, more "beautiful." We often compare ourselves to other women, usually picking out their "perfect" physical qualities, wondering why we don't look like that. I noticed myself comparing my body to that of another girl I've been acquainted with for a few years. This girl has long, blonde hair, she's beautifully skinny, and her face is completely "perfect-looking." It seemed to me as if people would completely ignore me to go talk to and hang out with her. She doesn't treat me very well sometimes, and I wished people would see that part of her and stop ignoring me. I wished I looked more like her so that people would notice me more.

When I was biking home from Institute one day, I was thinking about her, a little jealous and being hard on myself for not being more physically appealing. For some reason, I thought about some of the good things about my body and started making a list in my head:

• I have some fat on my body, but it's more to love
• my muscles are pretty strong
• my body can keep up with me and the stupid things I do
• I have a really strong immune system
• how many people can say that they got hit by a car and didn't break a bone or need surgery or anything, and was sent home in a moon boot, a sling, and told to take ibuprofen?

The list just went on. I then asked myself, 'How many of these things can the girl I'm comparing myself to say? I mean, yeah, she's perfect-looking, but does she get sick all the time? Do her bones break easily? Etc.' I then thought to myself, 'Would I give up all these good things about my body to be better looking?' I decided that I wouldn't; I realized how much I really do love my body, and that I wouldn't trade it for anything. My body was made by a perfect God, and it was made with love just for me. My body, having been made by Someone Who is perfect, is perfect just the way it is, and the other girl's body was made perfectly for her. Why wish for something that isn't good enough for me?

Jeremy's Egg

I found this really ~GREAT~ story the other day called 'Jeremy's Egg':

Jeremy was born with a twisted body, a slow mind and a chronic, terminal illness that had been slowly killing him all his young life. Still, his parents had tried to give him as normal a life as possible and had sent him to St. Theresa's Elementary School.

Doris Miller, often became exasperated with him. He would squirm in his seat, drool and make grunting noises. At other times, he spoke clearly and distinctly, as if a spot of light had penetrated the darkness of his brain. Most of the time, however, Jeremy irritated his teacher.

One day, she called his parents and asked them to come to St. Theresa's for a consultation. As the Forrester's sat quietly in the empty classroom, Doris said to them, "Jeremy really belongs in a special school. It isn't fair to him to be with younger children who don't have learning problems. Why, there is a five-year gap between his age and that of the other students!"

Mrs. Forrester cried softly into a tissue while her husband spoke. "Miss Miller," he said, "there is no school of that kind nearby. It would be a terrible shock for Jeremy if we had to take him out of this school. We know he really likes it here."

Doris sat for a long time after they left, staring at the snow outside the window. Its coldness seemed to seep into her soul. She wanted to sympathize with the Forrester's. After all, their only child had a terminal illness. But it wasn't fair to keep him in her class. She had 18 other youngsters to teach and Jeremy was a distraction. Furthermore, he would never learn to read or write. Why waste any more time trying?

As she pondered the situation, guilt washed over her. "Oh God," she said aloud, "here I am complaining when my problems are nothing compared with that poor family! Please help me to be more patient with Jeremy."

From that day on, she tried hard to ignore Jeremy's noises and his blank stares. Then one day he limped to her desk, dragging his bad leg behind him "I love you, Miss Miller," he exclaimed, loudly enough for the whole class to hear. The other children snickered, and Doris's face turned red. She stammered, "Wh-Why, that's very nice, Jeremy. Now please take your seat."

Spring came, and the children talked excitedly about the coming of Easter. Doris told them the story of Jesus, and then to emphasize the idea of new life springing forth, she gave each of the children a large plastic egg. "Now," she said to them, "I want you to take this home and bring it back tomorrow with something inside that shows new life. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss Miller!" the children responded enthusiastically – all except for Jeremy. He just listened intently, his eyes never left her face. He did not even make his usual noises. Had he understood what she had said about Jesus' death and resurrection? Did he understand the assignment? Perhaps she should call his parents and explain the project to them.

That evening, Doris' kitchen sink stopped up. She called the landlord and waited an hour for him to come by and unclog it. After that, she still had to shop for groceries, iron a blouse and prepare a vocabulary test for the next day. She completely forgot about phoning Jeremy's parents.

The next morning, 19 children came to school, laughing and talking as they placed their eggs in the large wicker basket on Miss Miller's desk. After they completed their math lesson, it was time to open the eggs. In the first egg, Doris found a flower. "Oh, yes, a flower is certainly a sign of new life," she said. "When plants peek through the ground we know that spring is here." A small girl in the first row waved her arms. "That's my egg, Miss Miller," she called out.

The next egg contained a plastic butterfly, which looked very real. Doris held it up. "We all know that a caterpillar changes and turns into a beautiful butterfly. Yes, that is new life, too." Little Judy smiled proudly and said, "Miss Miller, that one is mine." Next Doris found a rock with moss on it. She explained that the moss, too, showed life. Billy spoke up from the back of the classroom. "My Daddy helped me!" he beamed.

Then Doris opened the fourth egg. She gasped. The egg was empty! Surely, it must be Jeremy's, she thought, and of course, he did not understand her instructions. If only she had not forgotten to phone his parents. Because she did not want to embarrass him, she quietly set the egg aside and reached for another. Suddenly Jeremy spoke up. "Miss Miller, aren't you going to talk about my egg?" Flustered, Doris replied, "but Jeremy - your egg is empty!" He looked into her eyes and said softly, "Yes, but Jesus' tomb was empty too!" Time stopped. When she could speak again, Doris asked him, "Do you know why the tomb was empty?" "Oh, yes!" Jeremy exclaimed. "Jesus was killed and put in there. Then his Father raised him up!" The recess bell rang. While the children excitedly ran out to the school yard, Doris cried. The cold inside her melted completely away. Three months later Jeremy died. Those who paid their respects at the mortuary were surprised to see 19 eggs on top of his casket...................all of them empty.

communication

Communication is a funny thing. People tell stories, ask questions, and give responses, and we just assume that the people we're communicating with understand what we're trying to say, just as we assume we're saying it in a way so that they will. But are we really understanding each other? When we realize that there's been a misunderstanding, there's usually feelings of embarrassment and wondering if the other person trusts or even likes us anymore.

I had one such experience about a month ago. I called and talked to my Visiting Teaching companion because she knows the person better than I do, and I was curious as to know how to communicate with this sister better. She lovingly asked me a question that was posed to her when she was a teenager: "Are you really so self-centered as to think that the other person is thinking about nothing but you and this problem, which might not even be a problem in their eyes?" After some thought on my part, she asked me another question: "Are you really worried that she doesn't trust you anymore, or is it YOU who doesn't trust HER?" After some thought, I realized that it really was me who didn't trust her; I had heard this sister ask me things in a completely different way than she meant them, but the questions she asked me and how she asked them really did sound to me how I interpreted them. I felt like I couldn't trust how this sister asked questions.

Did I misunderstand how she was asking me questions, or was it really the way she asked? We may never know. All we can really do when miscommunication happens is analyze how we're feeling and realize that it might really be US and not THEM with the problem, the awkwardness, the embarrassment.