It's been a long time

A tranquil river that winds its way through the Korean Folk Village in Suwon, South Korea

It has been quite awhile since I have posted to this space. Not because nothing has been happening, or because I had nothing to say...more because not blogging about anything was a way to avoid articulating things I didn't want to confront. 2014 was a year I am glad to put behind me. I was looking forward to things being different in 2015, but alas, thus far things are continuing in very much the same vein.

An apartment building in San Francisco, California, near Chinatown

It wasn't that I experienced terrible tragedies in 2014 -- on the contrary, I had some amazing opportunities and experiences last year. It was that everything seemed to be piling on top of me all at once: school, my personal life (such as it is...), my home life, important decisions to be made, fears about my future, constant challenges and fears in my immediate family circle, significant financial worries, continual car problems, depression about my current struggles and challenges, etc. It was a constant barrage of small- to medium-sized things that slowly piled higher and higher and higher.

The Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, California

I did some amazing things last year, though -- I visited California (San Francisco and Los Angeles) for the first time, I got to visit Seoul again for the first time in four years, my family moved across the United States to live the same state as me and I got to spend the holidays with them, I met amazing people, I learned a lot about myself and my Heavenly Father, I experienced in a very real way being carried by grace through trials and challenges that I knew were too big for me, but not too big for Him. It was a very instructive year, but it wasn't a very fun one.

Brightly painted beams support a tiled roof on the walls of the outer court at Gyeongbok Palace (the former imperial residence) in the middle of Seoul, South Korea

This is my last semester of graduate school (for now, anyway -- who knows, I may be crazy enough to go back to school and do it again sometime down the road), thank goodness. But that means two sources of stress coming to bear on me at the same time: 1) the aforementioned thesis, and 2) being finished with school means now there's a big fat question mark on every day after 9 May 2015.

North Korean guards on duty at the border of North and South Korea, Panmunjom, in the DMZ

Right now, the main source of my stress, anxiety, depression, fear, sense of inadequacy, and trepidation is my Master's thesis. (That doesn't mean that the second isn't also making its presence felt, however.) My thesis is about the first half of the first volume of Kim Il Sung's collected Works, which is supposed to contain speeches, etc that he gave from the summer of 1930 until the end of 1943. (The last half of the volume covers just a few months in 1945, following the end of World War II when the Japanese, who had been occupying Korea for the last 35 years, were defeated and Korea was "liberated".) Kim Il Sung would have been just barely 18 in the summer of 1930, and the events as they are narrated in this portion of the Works don't match up with the history most historians and Korean scholars accept. That being said, what the Works claims Kim Il Sung said was most likely fabricated out of whole cloth -- the topic of my thesis is exploring why that portion of the Works was written the way it was.

A South Korean soldier guards the door that leads to North Korea in a conference room that straddles the border -- he and I are both standing on ground that is technically in North Korea

I was due to turn in my finished draft to my committee this last week, but when I met with my advisor to give her a (very) rough first draft two weeks ago, she was concerned that I would need more time. I didn't want to move my date back because 1) if I did, I would no longer be able to graduate in May (but I could still walk in the graduation ceremony), and 2) I was afraid that with too much extra time I would just procrastinate everything until one and a half weeks before the new due date anyway. But to make a long story short, she (and the other members of my committee) won the battle and I'm now defending at the end of April, and due to turn in my draft to my advisor the Monday after spring break (~sob~ for my spring break turning into thesis-writing time...).

On the street in Sinchon-dong, Seoul, South Korea, an area popular with college students

It's a discouraging turn of events, but it does give me the opportunity to practice confronting my fears and sense of inadequacy and not procrastinate. I'm trying to look at it from that point of view and not be depressed about this stress continuing through the next two months of my life instead of being over in three short weeks. That will teach me to put things off...

The aforementioned Gyeongbok Palace at sunset

Why I'm Depressed and Not Lazy

Avoidance has long been my method for coping with overwhelming and/or difficult things. Things I didn't want to do. This list is long, but (part of) it looks something like this:

waking up in the morning

doing my homework

doing my chores

cleaning my room

paying my taxes

practicing (anything)

finding a job

making a decision about health insurance

deciding on a topic for my thesis

applying (for anything)

etc, etc, etc

Here's the thing about avoidance: It's not a great coping mechanism. It doesn't get things done, and it's not productive. (Though, to be both honest and fair, some times when I'm avoiding one thing (i.e. a final paper), I get a lot of those other things done, like cleaning my room.) It makes the last minute incredibly stressful. (Take, for example, the time ~cough~lastsemester~cough~ that I was finishing up my last week of classes, taking all my finals, writing all my final papers, and packing and preparing for a marathon cross-country drive home. All in the same week. Yeah, I didn't get much sleep and I was pretty much a wreck. It wasn't a good time.)

I had an epiphany just now, while boiling water to cook up some ramyun for my dinner. Two of my non-shared New Year's resolutions were to be more self-compassionate and to try to deal with hard things promptly instead of avoiding them. My epiphany involved the intersection of those two goals. Right now, I'm really struggling with that second goal. 

My life is exceptionally hectic-feeling right now. I'm trying to juggle making some professional contacts, nailing down a research question for my thesis (thankfully I think I've finally found a topic), dealing with getting the ball rolling so I can do research for my thesis, four classes (each with a not-insignificant number of expectations), homework, a new church calling, beginning research for important papers for each of my classes, new responsibilities in regard to a possible (unexpected) future career, finding something to do and some way to support myself this summer, and all the other mundane stuff like taxes and healthcare insurance and feeding myself. Honestly, I think at this point it might be a tender mercy from the Lord that I'm not in a relationship, because it would just be one more thing to juggle.

But...do you know what I did yesterday with my day off from school? Instead of catching up on all the things I'm responsible for, I went to Home Depot and dropped some cash on some materials to make myself a headboard. Yup. That happened.

Here's where my epiphany (finally -- were you getting bored? sorry) comes in:

I'm depressed.

Okay, that's not the huge epiphany. I've been struggling, off and on, in one way or another, with depression for a long time. The epiphany came when I realized, Maybe I'm not lazy. Maybe I can stop berating myself with that label and realize that my procrastination and avoidance are symptoms, not part of who I am.

That being said, there are definitely times when I deliberately make poor choices with my time. ~cough~all-nightkdramawatching~cough~ But right now? Struggling to finish or even start my Korean homework (normally a class I love)? Not answering emails for days and dreading checking my inbox? Starting decorating projects instead of catching up on work? Making ramyun and grilled cheese and eating cereal at almost every meal because I can't work up the motivation to cook? Falling off the wagon on my calorie-tracking and not even wanting to try to get back on? That's depression. Situational depression, yes, thank goodness, which means that at some point it's going to have to end. But what an amazing moment of self-compassion to realize that all that stuff I'm not doing? It's not me, it's my situation. And I can fix that. I can get help to fix it. And it can end.

How grateful I am to know that my Heavenly Father loves me, because lately, that's just about all that's getting me through the day.

(For more on this topic, I suggest reading Elder Jeffrey R. Holland's talk, "Like a Broken Vessel". It's marvelous, and gives me a lot of hope and strength.)

August Update

It's been more than a month since I've updated, possibly the longest time I've ever gone without writing on my blog since I started. The problem isn't that I haven't had enough to write about, but that I had too much. It's been a crazy, stressful month.

The first half of August I spent tying up loose ends at my jobs in Logan. There were a lot of things to do at my office job, in particular. We had to hire someone to replace me, and then she spent a few days with me learning the ropes. It never seems like you do a lot until you have to tell someone else all about what you do, and then you do way too much. My nannying job didn't require anything like that, but the little girl I'd been taking care of turned one the Monday of the last week I was there, and of course there's a lot of hullabaloo for that momentous birthday. (On a side note, it seems that one is the magic number for the kids I nanny, something akin to Cinderella's midnight curfew: the day after the first little boy I nannied turned one I left to move to Utah; just a week after the little girl I nannied turned one I moved to SLC.)

And there was that weekend -- the weekend before I moved -- that I got sick and puked my guts out every hour or so all night. That was fun.

About a week later, I moved down here to SLC with no place to live. A kind friend generously lent me the use of an empty room in her basement for a few weeks while I searched for a place to live, but come 1 September I would have to be in my own place. Needless to say, not having a plan or a permanent place to live -- not to mention living out of half-unpacked suitcases and boxes -- has been stressful. Add in going back to school and some fun hormones, and the latter half of August has been...interesting. I did find a place, though, and just in time -- I signed the lease to rent a room in a small house with three other girls yesterday morning.

To say it was a relief is a huge understatement. I found the place last Wednesday, but it wasn't until this Thursday morning that the landlord told me he'd decided to rent to me. The wait was interminable and nerve-wracking, especially since I wanted to live there so much. The house is located in a quiet family neighborhood just off a major road that goes past the university. It's got two bedrooms, a living room, a small bathroom, a small kitchen, and a small dining room upstairs and a laundry room, a small bathroom, and two bedrooms downstairs. It has a decently sized backyard (with a laundry line! I'm excited to hang my sheets out to dry) and a small front yard. All the other girls are RMs (returned missionaries), and all are about my age, going to school or working. I have one of the upstairs rooms, which is a real blessing. After living in basements intermittently over the last two and a half years, I've learned that basements are not a good place for me. I need good natural light to stay happy and positive. More details and pictures to follow when I actually move in.

And school. Graduate school. That started last Monday, the 26th. I even remembered to take the traditional first-day-of-school picture! Since no one was around to take it of me, I had to do it selfie style.

My schedule isn't very grueling. Because I'm a grad student, I only have to take nine hours to be full-time. Because I have the FLAS Fellowship, I'm not allowed to work. And because the Asian Studies MA program at the U is interdepartmental and very, very small (think seven people total), I'm taking all undergraduate classes for graduate credit. I also have a couple of Institute classes, but they don't require work outside class, and I'll be spending a few hours a week helping with a professor's research study for one of my classes. And I have no classes on Fridays.

My goal for this year is to treat graduate school like a job: up to campus by nine, and no going home until five. Hopefully this schedule will allow me to do all my work during those hours on campus and I won't have to bring anything home with me. That was the best part about working: once you're home, you're done. No homework, no papers, no readings. All your time is yours. I loved having guilt-free free time in the evenings, and I'm hoping to preserved that. Thus far I haven't done too great...but I'm working on it.

Three Generations

Ever since I moved here two and a half years ago, I've been meaning to sit down with my grandparents and interview them on camera about their parents, their own lives, and my parents. Then both of my grandfathers died, and I lost that opportunity forever, something I still regret. The impending deadline of moving away for graduate school finally prompted me to action, and these last two Mondays I've taken my camera over to my mom's mother's house to interview her.

Last week didn't go too well, simply because I neglected to make sure my camera battery was charged. I still managed to get about twenty minutes of interview time, though, mostly about how my grandmother's parents met and a little bit about my great-grandparents. I had just started asking her about her mission when she began to feel ill and our session was cut short.

This week I remembered to charge my battery, and got some great stories about my grandma's mission, but halfway through my camera cut us off again. Not because of the battery this time, but because my memory card had run out of room! Thankfully I had my other card with me, but soon that, too was filled up. Not surprising, since I hadn't erased any of the pictures on either card since I got them for Christmas last year. Today I got more than a half an hour of interview footage. Next time I'll make sure my battery is fully charged and my cards are empty!

The three generations the title of the post refers to is the three generations of sister missionaries in my family: my grandmother, my mother, and me. When I realized that a few weeks ago I was so excited: what a wonderful tradition and heritage! Of course, I always knew my grandmother and my mother served missions, but I had never really processed how unusual that is. Up until last October, when President Monson lowered the age that sisters can serve from 21 to 19, sister missionaries made up a tiny percentage of the overall missionary force of the Church. Most women of my grandmother's generation in the Church didn't serve missions, and both my mother and I were far outnumbered by elders on our missions. I hope, though, that one day I'll be able to help add a fourth generation to that tradition, and that in my daughter's (or daughters'!) day there will be just as many sisters as there are elders.

Quote of the Day

My youngest brother, age 8, said to me as I was tucking him into bed this evening:

"I hope the apocalypse doesn't come when I get married."

Just a little bemused by this seemingly out-of-left-field statement that came out of our discussion about our baby niece, I asked him why. "Because I want to have kids," came the matter-of-fact response. Hard on the heels of that revelation came, "But kids are a pain in the neck."

I wonder if he realizes the irony of his observation.

Grad School Is Happening

I've made some big changes in my living space and I just got back from an awesome vacation, but this is all I'll share for right now:

It's happening!

Happy V-Day to Me!

For someone who has no special someone, I sure did have quite an impressive V-Day haul.

And this isn't even counting two cupcakes and the three other cake balls I already ate before taking this picture.

It started this morning when I arrived at my nannying job. The woman I work for is a professor at the university, and she made cupcakes for her class for the holiday and left one for me in the fridge as a valentine from the little girl I take care of. Then, when she got home I had another because she had some left over. (Let me tell you, that cupcake is possibly the yummiest thing I've ever eaten. At least this morning, anyway.) Then I arrived at work to find my boss had left six delicious red velvet cake balls in a cute bag on my desk. After work, as I was on my way downtown to do a little pants shopping a random group of girls passing by handed me the yellow paper heart.

Then I arrived home to find this waiting for me on my bed!

I know I knock them sometimes (physically as well as verbally), but little brothers have a few redeeming qualities. I have to say, I'm not very good at expressing it, but I'm very grateful for mine.

Just a few minutes ago there was a loud knock at my door and these showed up, thanks to some awesome friends. I'm pretty sure the one on the top left is meant to be a zombie cupcake. I already ate it. It was delicious.

I know Valentine's Day is dreaded by some, but to be honest I didn't spend the day dwelling on it. I even managed to forget that today was even V-Day several times. As I was shopping after work I wondered why the stores seemed so deserted and under-staffed...only to realize that, Duh, it's Valentine's Day! Anyhoo, I'm grateful for all the people who have gone out of their way to make me feel loved and appreciated today. Right back atcha!

Dear World

I AM AN AUNT.

Gratitude, Part I

November is the month of Thanksgiving, but that's not the reason I've decided to list at least five things I'm especially grateful for each day. It's just a happy coincidence. That being said, here are today's five things.

1. I'm grateful I have a job. I have spent too much of my recent life unemployed to not appreciate being able to bring home a paycheck each month, even if my income and my time is split up among three different jobs. I may not have been particularly productive this last summer, but I have learned a valuable lesson about work: work is not something to be avoided (which is my first inclination), but in fact a divine principle. Work is enlightening and ennobling. Unemployment is degrading and soul- and self-esteem-destroying.

2. I'm grateful I can walk to my job. It's not terribly fun to be without a car, but every time I'm tempted to grumble (...very loudly...) about it, I remember that I'm so blessed to be so close to my various forms of employment. Without a car I could be jobless, but I'm not. Plus, walking is healthy and keeps me active. 

3. I'm grateful that the local public transportation is reliable and free. It's not as nice as Seoul's public transportation, which is both vast and much more efficient, but I save a tremendous amount of money each month by not having to pay anything for transportation costs. Yes, it's inconvenient when I want to go grocery shopping or go anywhere after 8:00pm, but it's hard to argue with free and reliable.

4. I'm grateful for a good education and parents who value education. For this reason taking the GRE with only two weeks of preparation is only stupid and stressful instead of impossible.

5. I'm grateful that I listened to the prompting of the Spirit when I walked out of the library from picking up my GRE prep book (see above) and stopped to ask the girl crying on the bench if she was okay. As soon as I saw her I knew I needed to ask if she was okay. [Side note: It always puzzles me that we ask that question when people are obviously not okay.] I walked out the door of the library and immediately made eye contact with her tear-filled, red-rimmed, pleading eyes. As soon as I did I knew I needed to talk to her; as soon as I knew that my first impulse was to squash that knowledge and walk on past pretending she wasn't sitting there crying her eyes out in public. I took a half step past her and immediately felt horrible about myself, so I stopped and asked, "Are you okay?" I asked if she needed anything. She gave a half-choked sob-laugh and said something about relationship stuff. I sympathized a little bit and tried to be comforting. She stood up and gave me, a complete stranger, a hug. I think it was more for herself than anything, but it felt like a thank you. I complimented her scarf and told her to have a good day. I hope she did have a good day, because I sure felt fantastic as I walked to the bus stop to catch the bus home.

6. I'm grateful for friends who are awesome enough to crawl under my bed to help me put it on risers. No kidding, my friend Wendy did this last night, and in a dress no less. That's friendship, people. Thankfully for my embarrassment level under my bed is clean, uncluttered, and dust-free so it wasn't a terrible ordeal for her.  

7. I'm grateful for gorgeous fall colors. I love fall. Right now the tree in our front yard is a stunning, intense yellow. Sadly most of the trees have lost most or all of their leaves, but a few brave souls are holding out. 

Night Hiking: NOT a good idea

None of these are from this hike (my camera's  dead). They're from my mission.

It's officially fall here. It's been getting gradually cooler and the leaves have been starting to display hints of color for weeks, but this last Wednesday it was like someone suddenly flipped a switch and it was autumn in earnest. The daytime temperature dropped about fifteen degrees Fahrenheit and the nighttime temperatures dipped into the low forties. I woke up Thursday morning shivering (I only had one blanket on my bed and my bed is right under the window) with a cold nose for the first time since probably March. Since autumn is my favorite season this isn't really a bummer. I enjoy cardigans and sweaters and hoodies and I almost always wear long pants anyway.

But that's not the point of this post. Or rather, that's only to give you the necessary background for this post. Along with the gorgeous autumn leaves and the cooler temperatures comes the only thing I don't like about fall: less light. It gets darker faster. Well, a friend and I, hearing how gorgeous the canyon was with all the fall leaves, decided to leave right after work to go do a hike up there. We'd decided on a 3-miler that winds up the mountain, across the top of a small ridge, and back down again. Since it's not an up-and-down hike, we'd also have a 1.5 mile walk back to the car once we got back down the mountain: all together, 4.5 miles. We got there in pretty good time, and we started up about 5:30. The thing is, that hike is steep. And I am out of shape. Plus, I like to stop and admire the scenery from many different angles on the way up (and rest, because I'm very out of shape).

The rumors weren't wrong -- the trees were stunning and the views on the way up the trail and at the top were gorgeous, especially as the setting sun sunk behind the mountains. The problem is that we were only about halfway done by about 7, which is when (right now) the sun starts to set in earnest. On top of that, instead of hiking east to west so we'd be on the west side of the mountain coming down, we'd hiked west-to-east and were making our way down a very steep path in the rapidly fading light. And we hadn't thought to bring a flashlight. Or rather, we'd thought, but hadn't turned that thought into action. Let me tell you, coming down a mountain when you can barely see five feet in front of you is a little nerve-wracking. Thankfully (and with the help of some whispered prayers), we made it to the bottom right as full dark fell. That still left us with a 1.5 mile treck along the river at the bottom of the canyon to make it back to the car in the dark. With no flashlight.

Well, obviously this story ends well since I'm here to update about it. But it certainly wasn't my finest hour. Nor am I particularly anxious to reprise the experience. Once was one time too many. And it was great to sit in a car with headlights (the climb up did something painful to my left hip flexor, and the climb down made my knees and toes very unhappy). However, it was almost worth it for the chance to see the amazing fall foliage up close and breathe in the crisp, autumn air. On the other hand, my poor legs hate me today, particularly that hip flexor. I've been hobbling around like an old person and avoiding stairs (a challenge, since I live in the basement). Next time I'm going to take a sturdy walking stick with me. Gandalf's staff with the glow-y crystal would have been handy.

First Day of Work

This is my new office. I suppose that's a bit of a misnomer, since it implies that there's an "old" office, when in fact this is the first office I've ever had. A bit of a thrill went through me when I reported for work this afternoon at one PM and heard, "You have your own office over here." I almost feel like a real grown-up!

To back track just a bit -- Obviously, the kick in the pants I got last week, combined with my computer biting the proverbial dust, did the trick. A good friend told me about this position, but I was initially reluctant to apply because it's not full-time, but half-time instead. I was wanting a full-time position for several reasons, but one of the most pressing was my upcoming 26th birthday (a month from today! crazy!). Turning 26 means I can no longer be on my parents' insurance, and gaps in insurance coverage can cause problems down the line. But when you're starving, metaphorically speaking, you can't afford to quibble with the available food not being 100% organic health food -- you've got to take what you can get. Plus, I knew they would seriously consider me because of my background and experience, and I wasn't getting a lot of consideration (*cough*or any *cough*) the other places I was applying. So I applied, and I interviewed last Thursday, and just a few hours after my interview they called me up and offered me the job and told me to come in Monday.

Here's the skinny on my current place of employment. I work for the Intensive English Language Institute at USU. The name is pretty self-explanatory -- it's a place where people come to learn English. Intensively. It serves mostly international students, but there are a few students who are US residents, mostly immigrants and refugees. My job is to do the "grunt work": filing, answering email inquiries, spending time on the telephone with insurance companies trying to straighten things out for students, copying, compiling orientation packets, scheduling catering for some events, etc. I work half-time, so basically I show up after lunch and close up the office at 5pm. Sadly, I only get three days off for Christmas (which I admit I'm a little puzzled about, since there are no students around).

Since there is currently a workshop going on that is being run by our faculty, I haven't really met anyone besides the IELI adviser, the IELI director, and one or two faculty. Oh, and the IT guys who came to help me get my computer set up. The only real work-y thing I did today was answer a phone while everyone else was out. I'm not yet in the system and I'm still fairly clueless about everything, so I spent the day reading the orientation packet and figuring how to get my (Windows 7 - ugh!) computer to let me type in Korean. I'm excited for the semester to start and for the students to get here, because I love students. And because presumably I'll know a little more about what's going on and be more comfortable in the office and know more people. I'm really excited about this job, even if I am doing "grunt work", because I feel so passionately about IELI's mission to help international students learn English and have a wonderful experience at USU and in America. I'm also hoping to be able to keep working my old job at the high school, since it's only in the morning and this job is only in the afternoon. That way I'd be working 35 hours a week, almost full time, which would keep me busy and stop me from sleeping too late in the mornings. We'll have to see how that works out, though.

A Sisterly Perspective

Yeah, the one where I'm taller than her? That was taken a loooooooong time ago.

I'm not going to lie. Life feels pretty tough right now. Tough, and maybe a little bit pointless. It isn't (pointless), of course, but it feels that way. And it feels hard. And challenging. As I was telling my sister earlier while we were talking on the phone, obstacles in life seem insurmountable when you've got your nose pressed right up against them, scraping the brick (or whatever else your obstacles are made out of). It takes backing up twenty feet and scrutinizing them to realize that they're really a stepping-stone to where you want to be. What I'm struggling for right now is that perspective.

That's why I'm grateful for my sister. She's not the only sister I've got, but she's the only grown-up sister I've got and she also has the dubious honor of being my best friend. She gives me a little of that perspective, coaxing me to step back from where I'm stubbornly rubbing my nose into the brick, trying to wear a hole through it, and see the bigger picture. I've got a lot of blessings, but I think she's one of the best. Thanks, sis, for being my perspective and my best friend. I couldn't do it without you.

Ten Things That Are Really Awesome About My Life

When I find myself contemplating how awful my life is, I know it's time to pull out the big guns. Because really, how awful can my life be, right? So here they are:

Ten Things That Are Really Awesome About My Life

1. I have a body that works.

Seriously! How awesome is that? It may not be Natalie-Portman-Kiera-Knightley-Emily-Blunt-gorgeous, but everything works pretty well. All my arms and legs move like they're supposed to, I don't have any illness or conditions, and aside from some fillings and glasses and some flabby abs, everything in pretty good condition.

2. I have a mind that works.

I have to be honest, I'm pretty stoked about this one. I'm not a genius, and I'm not claiming to be one, but I can usually learn things pretty easily. (Unless it involves math; then it's not so easy.) I can think through problems and come up with solutions and make rational, reasoned decisions.

3. I am passionate.

I think life would be pretty lackluster without things to be passionate about. They make life fuller and more exciting.

 4. I have an education.

And I have the student loans to prove it, too. Despite the fact that no one is beating my door down to hire me, I know that my education has helped me to grow tremendously as a person.

5. I wake up in a comfortable bed each morning; 

I go to bed in that same bed each night.

And that bed is safe and bug-free and the room is climate-controlled. This is a luxury that many people in the world don't get to enjoy.

6. My family is supportive and loving.

I didn't realize what an amazing thing this was until I got old enough to realize that not everyone had a family where this is true. My family isn't perfect, of course, but we all love each other.

7. I have friends that love me for who I am

It's taken a long for me to come to believe that there are people that actively seek out my companionship, but I am so grateful for the ones that do. I'm grateful for each person who knows me and still loves me anyway.

8. I find enjoyment in learning.
Which is not to say I love doing homework, but I'm grateful to be blessed with a natural sense of curiosity and a thirst for knowledge. You don't get to take much with you when you die, so I'm glad I don't have to learn to enjoy the only thing you do get to take.

9. Many, many amazing people have invested in me. 

I have been privileged to interact and serve with some truly extraordinary people. So many of them have taken the time to instruct me and teach me by their example. These many people have done a lot to make me a better person.

10. I have potential and a future.

Nothing but my own limitations really stand in the way of becoming what I want to be. I'm healthy, educated, and intelligent; I face no danger of being taken away from my family and friends and made to do something I don't wish to do. 

Being Employed Is Fun to Do, Or How I Got the Job

Perhaps you've heard the news? That's right - I'm employed!

Let me tell you, it is such a nice feeling. Being employed has far more perks than simply getting a paycheck. Being employed means my parents, my grandmas, and everyone else will stop asking me how the job search is going. It means that every day I have to be up and ready to be out the door by 715. It means that every day I get to help people and do something I'm passionate about. It means that every day I get to wake up with a sense of purpose and the knowledge that I'm going to accomplish something with my time. It means I wake up every day and dress like an adult instead of a college freshman. It also means I need to buy some new powder, new make-up remover, a new pair of slacks, and a pair of brown dress flats.

To be honest, I've been quite lazy about finding a job this last year (shocker, I know). When I first moved here last January, everything in my life had shifted around and turned upside down and the emotional stress of adjusting made me want to just hide in my room and watch dramas. It seemed like every time I got my act together enough to start looking for a job (which wasn't often), something big happened: my grandpa died, finals, I had to take my grandma to the emergency room and she was in the hospital for a week, my family came to visit, my other grandpa died, the new semester started, my grandma had a stroke and was in the hospital for a few days, I went home for Christmas break. And in between those big things there were papers and projects and homework and I was always "too busy". I was living a pretty easy life, or at least one I didn't have to pay a lot for, at my grandma's. And (it shames me to admit it) there was my refund check. Let's just sum all that up by saying I wasn't particularly motivated, though I felt guilty because I knew I should be.

Fast forward to last month. I'd moved out and was now paying rent and buying groceries, which obviously meant I was spending more money than I had been before. But I was still unemployed, and that was beginning to become a real problem. Fueled by panic, I started the job search in (semi-)ernest. I did some humbling and a lot of praying, accompanied by a spot of fasting. I checked the university's job boards every day. (The thing about college job boards is that they're usually looking for someone with specific skills or qualifications: web design, accounting, some kind of science, computer programming, a food handler's permit. I don't possess any of those skills of qualifications. In fact, there were no jobs for nice girls who write well, are willing to smile, and speak kdrama-enchanced Korean.) I know that networking is actually the most effective way to find a job, but networking scares the heebee jeebies out of me. And I wasn't really anxious to work at a call center or fast food joint. I wanted something that I could feel good about doing, something that would leave me with the knowledge that I'd improved someone's life. Fast food doesn't really do that for me.

One day about a week ago on the church's employment website, I ran across a listing for an ESL aide at one of the local high schools. I sent in an application, more to say I'd done something and not really expecting anything to come of it. Monday I was out in town running errands, then headed up to campus to visit the employment missionaries at the Institute. Somewhere in there I noticed that my phone had died, but didn't think much of it, because honestly, no one really ever calls me about anything important (not to say that your calls aren't important to me - they're just not usually very time-sensitive, is what I mean). When I got home and plugged in my phone, I discovered I'd gotten a call from the high school, asking if I could come in for a job interview the next day. It figures. The one time there's a truly important call, my phone dies. It's Murphy's Law.

Well, to make a longer story slightly shorter, after a night of less-than-swell sleep, I got up, got dressed up in my biggest big-girl clothes, did my make up, and waited on tenterhooks until my appointed interview time. I sent up several silent pleas to Heavenly Father than I would do my best in the interview, since I tend to get very nervous when meeting new people and when I get nervous I also get very literal and say silly things. But the interview seemed to go well - I met with the assistant principal and the two ESL teachers, and they were friendly and interested. I left with a feeling of having done my best, even if I didn't end up getting the job. I got home, changed my pants, and was about ready to head up to campus for class when I got a phone call from the assistant principal. I was the second-to-last person they interviewed, and even with my schedule restrictions, it was clear from the interview, he said, that they'd like to offer me the job.

And that's how yesterday, for the first time in almost seven years, I came to be at a high school early in the morning on a Friday.

Comfort

The world has been weighing heavily on my mind and heart lately. I'm sure if you've been reading this blog recently you know that the question of What Happens After Graduation has been on my mind a lot. That stress, plus the stress of trying to find a job for before graduation (you know, so I can pay my rent and feed myself and all that trivial stuff), some good ol' fashioned chemical and hormonal imbalances in my brain, and other random stressful things have all been wrecking havoc on my piece of mind.

Tonight after pouring my heart out in a rather desperate prayer, I felt prompted to open my scriptures, and this is what I read:

"HEARKEN unto the voice of the Lord your God, while I speak unto you . . . my daughter; for verily I say unto you, all those who receive my gospel are sons and daughters in my kingdom.

"A revelation I give unto you concerning my will; and if thou art faithful and walk in the paths of virtue before me, I will preserve thy life, and thou shalt receive an inheritance in Zion.

"Behold, thy sins are forgiven thee, and thou art an elect lady, whom I have called.

"Murmur not because of the things which thou hast not seen, for they are withheld from thee and from the world, which is wisdom in me in a time to come."

Doctrine and Covenants 25:1-4

I'm grateful that the Lord has preserved His words so that we can read them today. I'm grateful that the Spirit can make those words, spoken in another time and place to another person, completely relevant and powerful to me in my life, just as if those words were spoken directly and solely to me. It seems a fantastical claim, but I know that it's true that God knows each and every one of His children - that would be all of mankind - intimately and personally. Furthermore, I know He has a plan for each of us, a plan meant to make us the best and the happiest we can be. And I know that by embracing the gospel and following that plan that "the best and the happiest we can be" is so much more than anything we could ever possibly imagine.

Small Mercies

More than a month ago I wore my favorite pair of earrings when I went to church with a friend. I was staying at my aunt and uncle's house and they were supposed to take me and my little brother to the airport before the sun got up the next morning. I came home, and because I was feeling so awful (I'd gotten suddenly sick while at my friend's house), I took them off and put them on top of my carryon. I had a fleeting thought that I should probably put them in my makeup bag lest they get lost, but I was in such a hurry to get in the shower (my favorite way to make myself feel better) that I dismissed it.

The next morning as I was boarding the airplane, something small plopped onto the seat as I put my carryon into the overhead bin. It was my earring. Just one.

I was so upset with myself. I love those earrings. I bought them for approximately $3 on the side of the road outside a subway station while I was serving a mission in Korea, but they were still beautiful and had a lot of sentimental value. (Not to mention every time I wore them someone complimented me on them.) And just because I'd been in such a rush, I'd failed to take care of them properly and now one was gone.

Fast forward a month and a half.

This morning I got up, got dressed, and started putting on my makeup. I decided to wear one of my favorite sweaters, one that I usually pair with those earrings. I felt a little pang and told myself (again) how dumb I was. I thought about wearing my freshwater pearl drops but I wasn't really feeling them today. I went over to the little earring cup I keep on my dresser to see if there might be another pair that would work, knowing full well that there wasn't. I thought, though, that I should find the one earring I did have and stare at it morosely for a while. I looked down. Instead of the one white (fake, plastic) pearl that had been greeting me accusingly for the last month and a half, there were two. I blinked. Nope, still two. I picked both of them up and stared at them a little bemused. Still two.

Honestly, in the grand scheme of things, how important was my $3 earring that really only had sentimental value? Not very important at all. And yet, there it was in my hand. I'm sure people could come up with ways to explain this away, most of them involving subconsciousnesses and perhaps forgetfulness, but I know that it was there because God heard a silly prayer about that earring and answered it. It was important to Him because it was important to me; because I'm important to Him. The fact that He did hear and answer that prayer has significance far beyond the intrinsic value of the earring itself. God knows us. He loves us. He wants us to have joy, and He knows the smallest desires of our hearts. He answers prayers. He cares about us, and He demonstrates that care through very small, oftentimes (to us) imperceptible mercies. I know people look at wars and famines and natural disasters and wonder if there is a God, but I look at my earrings nestled next to each other on my dresser and I know that there is.


"In His mercy, the God of heaven, the Creator and Ruler of all things everywhere, had heard a prayer about a very minor thing. One might well ask why He would concern Himself with something so small. I am led to believe that our Heavenly Father loves us so much that the things that are important to us become important to Him, just because He loves us."

- J. Devn Cornish,  "The Privilege of Prayer"

An Update for Katy

‎"For I the LORD thy God will hold thy right hand, saying unto thee, Fear not; I will help thee." 
- Isaiah 41:13

Monday, Monday

The plan for today involved getting the job hunt started in earnest. After sleeping in, of course.

Instead, what happened was a knock on my door shortly before eight this morning. It was my grandma, asking me to take her to the ER. Now, I admit that I was a little bit "Oh, stop being such a baby" about the whole thing, especially since my grandma is just a bit of a hypochondriac. But she told me that she'd called our neighbor (who's a retired doctor) and asked him what she should do, and he told her to go to the ER. So we got into the car and drove to the ER on this dreary, cold, rainy Monday morning after finals.

It turns out that my grandma has some sort of gall bladder problem, which has given her gall stones (and a lot of pain and nausea) and caused pancreatitis. Since she can't eat lest she aggravate her pancreas, she'll have to stay in the hospital for a few days until she stabilizes enough to do the surgery to remove her gall bladder. On an unrelated tangent, it amazes me how quickly news spreads. Already half my grandma's friends and people from church have called asking for an update on her condition; two people had brought her flowers by the time I got back to the hospital after I ran home to check on my grandpa and eat some food.

I'm so grateful that this didn't happen last Monday. Or the Monday before that, even. That would have probably ended me. I would have croaked from the stress of too many things going on in my life. I think now I've finally managed to process - on an initial level - that my grandpa is really gone. I've gotten all my final papers in and that stress out of the way. If this had come on top of those two, I don't know if I'd have made it. I might have just curled up in a ball and stayed catatonic for a while until it all went away. Too bad that doesn't actually solve any problems. Now I need to tackle finding a job for the summer, finding a way to get to that job, and finding a place to live this autumn. And finding out what the heck I'm going to do with my life after next May.

"For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened."

Picture here

Lately I've been feeling rather sorry for myself that I don't have any friends here at USU. I think it came to a peak this last Sunday morning. I'd made some not-so-good choices Saturday night (stayed up waaaaay too late), and when I'd gotten up to take my grandparents to church (their's is at 9 am and mine's at 12:45 pm), my grandfather refused to get ready in his passive-aggressive way and my grandma said her hair wasn't done so she would only go to Relief Society. So I stomped back down to my room in a temper to watch a Taiwanese melodrama that made me feel even worse because everyone was making themselves miserable through bad choices and miscommunication (such is the melodrama genre). I got ready and was headed out to church only to find that my grandpa was finally ready and determined to go to church. I tried telling him that church was over, but I think the dementia has taken away a lot of his logic and reasoning abilities, and I just couldn't convince him to stay home and wait for my grandmother, so I dropped him off on my way and hoped my grandma would find him (otherwise he would have walked down to the church himself).

Anyway, that morning as I was reluctantly pulling myself out of bed, I'd sent up a little prayer that someone would notice me at church. I wish I could be more outgoing and just integrate myself, and I have been trying, but it's not something I'm really good at. So I sat there as Relief Society was about to start, with an empty chair on either side of me, feeling sorry for myself. The lesson was definitely one I needed to hear, on Elder Scott's talk from October's conference, about building character. In it, I made a comment and said something about my mission, as did a few others. Well, at the end of the lesson, the girl sitting in front and to the left of me turned right around with a bright smile on her face and asked, "Hi! What's your name? Where did you serve, again?" My goodness. It felt like sunshine had flooded into my gloomy soul, and the first thing I thought was, "Thank you, God, for hearing my prayer."

Strangely enough, it turns out that this girl had also served a mission, but not just that -- she'd served in Hong Kong with my brother, and her last name was Sanders! I'd even heard of her before, since my brother had written to us one time about the Sister Sanders people kept asking him if he was related to. The conversation was short and she moved on to her friends almost right after that, but it made such a huge difference in my mood that day. It's amazing how such small things can make such big changes in our lives. I know it didn't mean much - or anything - to her, but it literally was an answer to a very desperate prayer of mine.

And that's not even the end! This morning when I woke up I asked the Lord to help me reach out to others and for others to reach out to me so I wouldn't feel so lonely at school. In my first class, a girl presenting remembered me by name and asked me to read something for her. Before my second class, I saw my cousin coming out of the classroom and got to say hi to him. As I was chatting before class with the one person I've managed to have more than three conversations with and add on Facebook, she invited me to a flapjack party at her boyfriend's apartment this Friday. Going out of that class, I saw my other cousin (his older brother) and got to say hi to him, too. Not five minutes later, on my way to my next class, I saw one of the three missionaries from my mission at USU and got to chat with him for a few minutes. Before today, the most interaction with other people I'd had on campus amounted to running across one of the other missionaries I served with and saying hi on our way to class. Coincidence that today should suddenly be so different? I doubt it.

I've had so many similar experiences with prayer -- lost things were found expeditiously, answers and guidance came, blessings were received, peace was granted, burdens were lifted. Truly, I know that if we but ask, we will receive; if we knock it will be opened to us (see Matt. 7:7-11). I love what the Bible Dictionary entry about prayer says: "As soon as we learn the true relationship in which we stand toward God (namely, God is our Father, and we are his children), then at once prayer becomes natural and instinctive on our part (Matt. 7:7–11). Many of the so-called difficulties about prayer arise from forgetting this relationship. Prayer is the act by which the will of the Father and the will of the child are brought into correspondence with each other. The object of prayer is not to change the will of God, but to secure for ourselves and for others blessings that God is already willing to grant, but that are made conditional on our asking for them. Blessings require some work or effort on our part before we can obtain them. Prayer is a form of work, and is an appointed means for obtaining the highest of all blessings" (emphasis added).

Prayer is one of the most precious gifts God has given us, and it is sadly underutilized by His children -- myself included. I hope that each of us can be more diligent in using this precious gift we've been given, for ourselves and in behalf of others.

"Have miracles ceased? Behold I say unto you, Nay"

Moroni 7:29


Two weekends ago I went to Busan to visit an old companion of mine. She was my only Korean companion, and she was also my first junior companion. She's literally an angel -- I've never known a sweeter, more generous and giving person in my life. I was sad that I was with her for only a transfer before I got transferred to another area.

Busan is about three and a half hours away from Jeonju by bus. We decided that I'd take the 930 bus and she'd meet me at the terminal and we'd figure out our plans from there. No big deal, right? My first stroke of bad luck was getting to the bus terminal in Jeonju and realizing that my phone hadn't stayed on after I turned it on that morning. The battery had died the day before, but I'd been sure to plug it in that night, and hadn't bothered to drop my charger in my bag, because I was only going to be gone for the weekend, right? It turns out that my phone hadn't charged, I'm not sure why, and I was headed to Busan to meet my companion without any way to contact her -- because, of course, the only place I had her number was in my phone. I didn't have anyone else's number memorized, either. I got on the bus and hoped that she'd be there waiting for me when I got to the station like she said she would be; otherwise, I wasn't sure what was going to go down.

I made it to Busan and into the terminal. I walked along slowly, looking all around me: no luck. I headed upstairs, looked outside, waited for twenty minutes; no sign of her. I started panicking slightly. The only person I knew in Busan was her; and unlike Seoul, I didn't know my way around, I'd never been there before, and I didn't even have her address so I could try to make my way to her house and wait for her there. I prayed. I looked around some more. Still no luck. I prayed again, a little more earnestly. Dear God. I know this is my fault for ignoring that little niggling in my mind this morning that said to put my charger in my bag. I know this is my fault for not having the presence of mind to keep a written copy of her number with me. But God, I really don't know anyone here, I have no way of getting in touch with her with my phone dead, and she's not here. Help. Please.

I tried turning on my phone, to see if that would be the answer to my prayer. Maybe it would miraculously stay on long enough for me to retrieve her number, and then I could call her from a payphone. After a few tries it wouldn't even turn on anymore. Strike that idea.

Before I could completely abandon myself to despair, a tiny little thought niggled its way into my brain. What if I called the missionaries? My companion was a return missionary, and missionaries love return missionaries. Surely they'd have her number. The phone book would probably have the number for the church, and it was lunch time so maybe they'd be at the church making copies or something...it was the best shot I had. I went downstairs and found -- miraculously -- a phone book in one of the phone booths. I looked up the name of the church -- 예수 그리스도 후기 성도 교회. There were some fifteen entries, at least. I had no way of knowing which was her ward, so I just started from the first one and decided to work my way down the list. No one answered at the first number, so I tried the second. Success! Someone answered, but I could barely hear him. I asked if the number was for the Haeundae Ward. He said no. I asked if he knew the number. He said yes, but asked me why I wanted to know. I explained what had happened, and added that I was trying to get ahold of my companion. He asked who it was. I told him. Ah! he said, I know her. Would you like me to give you her number?

I gave her a call, and after a few minutes of searching for each other, we discovered that we were in competely different terminals. Turns out there are more than one, and which one you end up at depends on where you leave from. I left from the only one I knew about, and she went to meet me at the only one she knew about. If I hadn't been able to get in touch with her, I would have had to turn around and go home -- I never would have found her, no matter how long I waited, and she never would have found me, either. I have no idea who it was I called on the phone. I found out later, after I told my companion the story, that it really was miraculous that I was able to get in touch with her -- a little while before, she had switched phones and her number had changed, and most people didn't have her new number. Even if I had reached the missionaries, for instance, they would have had the wrong number. Somehow, I got in touch with one of very few people who had the correct number.

We had a great weekend together, even though it did rain. (The area she lives in is very famous in Korea for its beaches. We walked along one for about five minutes, and then the heavens opened in a very Noah-like fashion that lasted all weekend.) I was able to charge my phone and got home without any further incidents, but now I have a really cool story about personal revelation and listening to the Spirit and a firmer conviction that God loves us even though we're pretty much always screwing up. There was nothing I did that made me deserving of the miracle I received, but I took God at His word that if I asked in faith, I'd get an answer, and He did. I hope all of you will have an occasion to do the same -- but perhaps in a less dramatic fashion.