Journey to 13.1

Just about to start my first training run for the half.

A few weeks ago, after I turned in the final draft of my thesis to my advisor, my visiting teachers took me to dinner to celebrate. Sitting around eating burritos in Freebird in Sugarhouse, they asked what was next. I jokingly said I was thinking of running a 5k by my birthday. Both of them said no way - that's so much time, you can totally run a half-marathon!

Record scratch.

A HALF-MARATHON?!? 13.1 whole MILES?!

Well, long story short, I'm registered to run a half-marathon the day before my 29th birthday. Because I'm notoriously un-self-motivated (as the sixty pounds I've gained since my mission can arrest to), I roped my little sister into doing it with me. She had her second baby a few weeks ago and was just cleared to start exercising again, so I thought she would be a) up for it, and b) at about the same fitness level. (Except she's probably more fit than I am, ha.) She agreed, like a crazy person, so now we have 20 weeks to go from total dweebs to rockin' 13.1-milers.

I'm not going to lie. This is terrifying. I'm not a big believer in myself. I stay far away from hard things, and when I can't avoid them, I procrastinate and whine about them (see my Facebook page or my Instagram for proof of this re my thesis #annmarievsgradschool). But the other morning, I was lying in bed at my sister's house, with my baby niece snuggled in my arms, breathing slowly and totally adorably as she took a morning nap. I, having been awoken by her early-morning serenade and unwilling quite as yet to get up and greet the day, invited her to come lie in bed with me. As she slept and dreamed next to me, I lay thinking about this terrifying prospect of running a half-marathon. It was such a wonderful, precious moment - Baby J is so confident and full of life, so sure that she can do anything. I didn't want to spoil that memory by chickening out of something that would be hard but worthwhile. I didn't want to look back in ten years and admit to her that I didn't believe in myself but that of course she can do anything. I want her to think I'm the coolest, most amazing auntie on the planet, and part of that means I'm going to have to keep up with her - and since she's just like her momma, she's a 3-volt machine running on 90 volts.

So here's to doing hard things. And believing in yourself, even if only for the sake of others.

Here's me on W1D1 (stealing my roomie's mirror): 188.6 pounds, hips 43", waist 37", upper arm 14", thigh 27"

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

Autumn

A few weeks ago, some friends and I made an evening trip up Emigration Canyon to soak in the autumn colors. Here's a few pictures from our excursions. My photography is untrained and uninformed, so the pictures that do turn out well are basically happy accidents. The picture above is one of my favorites from the trip - I love the composition and the plants in the foreground and the shape of the clouds above the mountains and the glow in the sky and the lake in the middle.

Pictures from the Beach

I'm in Korea now -- yay! ~cough~ but also I miss my mom ~cough~ -- but the first part of the week I was in Los Angeles visiting my lovely friend Julia. Monday afternoon we hied ourselves to the beach (Topanga State Beach, to be precise). The idea sounded relaxing and romantic (in the "idealized view of reality" way, not the other one)...but the execution left a little bit to be desired. Julia informs me it's almost always cold there, but thanks to the heat wave and the relentless Santa Anna winds, it was actually quite comfortably warm. The only problem was that those same winds were blowing so hard they were picking up the sand and hurtling it at us. It hurt! It also made reading very difficult. But we still had fun nonetheless! Here are some pictures from our adventures.

This father and son were so adorable! The little boy looooved chasing the gulls, so the dad picked him up and ran around helping him "fly" with the birds. It was the most beautiful thing we saw all day!

This was not a gust that blew the towel out like that. Basically, it was that windy almost constantly the whole time we were there.

The amazing Julia balanced this small rock on the larger one, and it actually stayed that way for awhile! The wind eventually blew it off, and we couldn't manage to get it to stay again, but at least I got this shot for proof!

Saturday night adventures

Look who showed up to my hotel tonight! Someone must have tripped the fire alarm (accidentally or not), because I was happily updating my Instagram with pictures of my adventure today when it went off about 9pm~ish. Two honest-to-goodness fire trucks came racing up the street, sirens blazing and lights twirling, and some real, live firemen went into our building and checked everything out. I can attest that San Francisco's Fire Department is definitely quick-response. They were here in less than five minutes. Not that I hope I'm ever in an actual fire, but if I ever was, I'm glad to know help would come quickly.Thankfully, there was no fire, but it did make tonight the most interesting and exciting Saturday night I've had in a long, long time!

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.

The Evolution of Me

You know those graphics that show the evolution of man from Neanderthal to homo sapiens, going from stooped to upright? The same general principle holds for the pictures below.

I'm not even sure what I want to say about this, but the general feeling is one of disappointment. Yes, a part of that is that my waist is no longer that tiny (I can't get over how small it looks in that second picture -- I don't remember being that slender). I can't lie; I'd like to look like that again. But there's more. What I see -- and what you reading this can't see -- is all the memories and emotions and circumstances and attitudes surrounding each of the split seconds in time these pictures represent.

While I'd love to be a size six again, what I really wish I could recapture is the excitement, the anticipation, the innocence, and the hope in my eyes in those first few pictures. I miss that about myself. When did I get so cynical and fatalistic? When did I start "fixing" my problems with a large bowl of ice cream instead of working out my frustrations by going for a run? I don't know that the person I was in the first picture would recognize the person I am in the last picture.

When did that happen?

And how do I change it?

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.

September Recap

Green Day released a song when I was in high school called "Wake Me Up When September Ends". Now, I've never wanted to sleep through September; it's one of my favorite months, and not just because I was born in it (though that does make it pretty awesome). But it does feel rather like I have slept through it, just because it's zoomed by. A lot has happened this month, actually -- I moved, I got my first grown-up job paycheck, my mom came to visit, I had a birthday, I got a second job, there was a temple open house and dedication, my best friend left on a mission, I made new friends, and I made old friends better friends. Oh, and I ripped my favorite pair of jeans. You know, got to make sure I get in all that really important information. So, since much of that I neglected to blog about, here's a short recap of September.

1 September: I moved out of my friend Jordanne's house, where I'd been living all summer with her and her family while I figured out what I was going to do with myself. I also got my very first grown-up job paycheck from IELI (albeit only a half of one, since I only worked half of August).

2 September: The high councilman over stake emergency preparedness asked me to accept a calling as the stake emergency preparedness committee co-chair.

3 September: I finally got all my boxes and the furniture in my new room unpacked and organized. And it was my first official paid holiday, too (yay for Labor Day!).

5 September: My mom flew into Utah and stopped by to see me for about three minutes on her way up to Bear Lake with her sisters and cousins for a reunion. She also dropped off a memory foam topper for my bed, which has radically altered my life for the better.

7 September: I left work early for the first time to go to Shannon's (my best friend's little sister) own endowment session. Afterwards, I met up with a friend to explore the Gallery Walk downtown, and we hung out at Coldstone afterwards, eating ice cream and listening to the screaming in the stadium during the Utah State vs. University of Utah game. (It was loud screaming, people. We could hear it a mile+ away. For the record, Utah State won. Go Aggies!)

10 September: My mom back from her reunion, she picked me, my brother, and my cousin up to drive over to Brigham City (about a half-hour away) for the Brigham City temple open house. We meet up with some of my dad's sisters and their kids (and one husband) to tour the temple before it's dedicated. It was absolutely gorgeous! My favorite part, though, was the ceilings in the sealing rooms. The picture below doesn't show it, but painted on the ceiling was a large circle of brilliant blue with flowering branches of peach blossoms. They were stunning.

Picture here from hjnews.com

After that, we drove to my aunt and uncle's house for a family dinner of delicious minestroni soup and fresh french bread (with donuts for dessert!). My uncle asked if I'd like to drive his manual 1963 Jeep, which in his words has "no power-anything" (no power steering, no power brakes, etc). I drove down to the river bottom and up and down a veeeery steep hill. That was a blast, even if my 15-year-old cousin drove on the way home. I only thought we were going to die about three times, so she did pretty well, I'd say. Riding standing up in the back was definitely a fun time.

11 September: I went to work, then went over to my grandma's house to spend time with her and my mom. We stopped by my friend Jordanne's house to say goodbye to her; she left for the Provo MTC and eventually a mission in Chile the next day.

12 September: I met up with a friend for Aggie Ice Cream after work to officially kick off my birthday celebration. Nothing in the world is as delicious as Aggie Blue Mint.

13 September: Happy 26th birthday to me! I woke up super early (630!) for some reason, but lay in bed until about 830 when my mom came over to make me a birthday breakfast of French breakfast muffins and orange juice. (Well, she bought the orange juice.) After that we spent a few hours shopping, and we made sure to stop by the Distribution Center so I could purchase my parents a present with my very first paycheck (a Korean tradition). She dropped me off at work, where this was waiting for me on my desk:

My boss had stopped by to pick up a brownie for me, and our director found a tea light, lit it, and sung happy birthday to me. The whole department signed a birthday card for me, too. My mom picked me up from work and took me over to my grandma's house were we made dinner and I put my candles on my brownies (I don't like cake so I have brownies instead). Most of my family that lives in the area stopped by for some birthday brownies and ice cream and some catching up. 26 candles makes for a lot of light!

14 September: I met with a couple looking for someone to watch their 8-week-old baby girl in the mornings. Since my office job is only 1-5, I was looking for a better way to spend my mornings than sleeping late. The couple seemed nice and I adored their baby girl at first glance, so I was hoping to get the job. After meeting with them, I met my mom and grandma at the temple and went to lunch downtown at Great Harvest, where we had fantastic sandwiches and a delicious cinnamon roll for dessert. We ate outside, and the weather was gorgeous!

That evening, I went for Korean food with a friend and saw The Amazing Spider-Man for the second time (the first time I went to go see it on the Fourth of July with my little brother). It was just as good the second time around.

15 September: I worked in the temple cafeteria for the lunch shift and had a great time with the two other girls who also volunteered. I also had my first emergency preparedness committee meeting, to prepare for the stake training meeting the next day.

18 September: I got a call from the couple I interviewed with the last Friday, and they offered me the job! I'm so excited to start in October. I think I'm really going to enjoy it, and I'll finally be working full-time, albeit at two different jobs.

21 September: The week was pretty slow and not very eventful. I met up with a friend for dinner and to explore our local (tiny) zoo. That's where I discovered this little gem I blogged about before. It was also the last day of summer, since the autumnal equinox was the next day.

23 September: Regular church was cancelled in order for us to be able to attend one of the dedicatory sessions of the Brigham City temple, which was broadcast to all the meetinghouses in the area. It was a special event, especially hearing President Boyd K. Packer talk about growing up in Brigham City and his memories of the city and how the temple came to be built.

26 September: I get a text from my mom in the afternoon that my little brother (the one who lives and goes to school here in the very same town that I live in) was being admitted to the hospital. They didn't know what it was yet, but it didn't seem too serious. That evening, I went to help my dad's mom put up some decorations for fall. While stepping off the top of a step ladder, I managed to rip my favorite pair of jeans. ~sad face~ But my grandma and I still had a good time, and the decorations look pretty good, if I do say so myself.

27 September: I went to visit the little brother in the hospital, and it appeared that he was anything but wasting away in sad loneliness, since he had an almost constant stream of vistors. We had a nice chat, and then I met up with a friend for gelata at Zeppe's (only the yummiest place ever).

28 September: Our director at work took the office staff (me and our secretary/adviser) out to lunch at a local (and delicious) Italian restaurant. After work, me and some girlfriends drove down to SLC to wander around the new City Creek Mall, have dinner at The Cheesecake Factory (so. much. food), and spend the night at the Marriott downtown. It was a fun getaway, and our stay was free, thanks to my friend's aunt's Marriott reward points.

The view from our room on the very top floor of the Marriott in downtown SLC

My ginormous dessert, the delicious warm apple crisp. It was good cold the next day, too.

29 September: And now to today! Whew! My girlfriends and I slept in, laid around chatting about life until checkout time, ate brunch at Denny's, and drove home. This evening was the General Relief Society Meeting, the very first one with Sister Burton (my mission president's wife) as General Relief Society president. She gave a great talk! I was only sad that I wasn't able to go with my friends to the meeting in the Conference Center in SLC. Sometimes not having a car is very inconvenient.

And there you go. Not exactly a short recap of my September, but hopefully it wasn't boring.

A Jaunt Down Memory Lane

I was going through my documents folder on my computer this afternoon when I realized it was a little messy. As I started to tidy it up, I opened a few folders I haven't looked through in years, the ones containing all my papers from high school and my first few years of college. I started opening them and reading them, and boy, what a hoot! I have a pathological need to take myself hyperseriously, and it shows. But anyway. I opened and read one particular essay I wrote for my favorite English professor of all time, the amazing Dr. Bradshaw, during my very first semester of college. I don't remember exactly the assignment; something about narrating a small, seemingly insignificant moment. I wrote mine about the moment it really, truly hit me that I was graduating from high school. Now, seven years later, having just barely graduated from college (but having yet to have that same moment of realization about graduating from college), I thought that it was a timely piece of writing to pull out and dust off.

* * * * *

Photo from the Fuller Partners' website, here.

It was a trip I'd taken a thousand times before.

The car windows were rolled all the way down, and my arm was draped over the side of the door, weaving in and out of the stream of air that rushed past. Sweaty hair, pulled back into a messy ponytail, whipped back and forth with every gust, leaving stinging trails across my cheeks. Outside, the sun shone fiercely in its slow, daily trek to the west. The azure sky burned a brilliant blue. A few wispy clouds hung determinedly to the horizon, but the vault of heaven remained clear of any friendly clouds that might wander across the path of the sun and cloak its blazing wrath. Denied their rightful place high above our heads, they had settled for sending their moisture to saturate the still air down below, smothering us in what felt like a hot, wet blanket.

The radio blared yet another song about a guy and a girl falling in love, or maybe falling out of love; it was hard to be sure. Beside me in the front seat, my sister sat looking out at the familiar trees and houses flashing past her open window. She pulled absently at the clammy tee-shirt that clung to her. “How do you think practice went?” she asked over the sound of the radio and the rushing air.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I replied, shrugging. “I think we made some improvements, definitely. T-man seemed happy with what we got done.” I, too, pulled at the tee-shirt clinging to my sticky, sweaty skin. A bead of moisture escaped my hairline and rolled down my cheek; another traced a leisurely line down my neck. “Considering that it’s about fifty million degrees outside, he should be happy we didn’t all collapse and die of heat exhaustion.”

She nodded. “I think things are finally coming together. There are still a lot of rough edges, but I think we’ll do well on Saturday.”

I glanced at her briefly before turning my eyes back to the road. “Yeah, me too.” 

* * *

We traveled down the same road, the two of us, this time going in the other direction. Not much had changed, if anything at all. The placement of the cars in the driveways, maybe.

This time, the windows remained up, so as not to muss meticulously arranged hair, or displace carefully chosen clothes. Instead, the air conditioner quietly blew chilled air across our faces and ruffled the filmy fabrics of our best black pants. I curled my feet in my high heeled shoes; the cool air was making my bare toes cold.

My sister flipped down the passenger-side visor, peered intently at the mirror attached to the back of it. She looked down quickly and rummaged through the contents of the bag perched precariously on the seat next to her. “Where is it, where is it…stupid mascara,” she muttered.

I glanced over, amused. A little foundation and eyeshadow was all that was involved in my toilette. “You were supposed to do all that before we left.”

She waved a hand at me absently, and continued digging. “Yeah, but I didn’t get to put my…ah hah! I found it!” She held it up triumphantly. “I didn’t have time to put any mascara on before we left, I had to eat.” Her mouth open and eyes wide in concentration, she carefully brushed the black goop onto her eyelashes. She finished and thrust the wand back into its tube. “I wish we could wear lipstick,” she complained. “Makeup just doesn’t look right when you can’t do your mouth.”

“Come on,” I said. “You know that’s not practical. You can’t wear lipstick because if you did, your horn would slide all over the place and you couldn’t play. And it’d get all in your horn and would be the devil to clean.”

“I know,” she sighed. “But still, it would be nice to wear it just once.”

* * *

The same trees and houses and cars I had seen countless times slid silently past the window of the car. In four years, nothing significant had changed.

I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat in the back of the car, tugging at my skirt, trying to pull it down over my knees. The scratchy wool resisted my efforts, stubbornly riding up again. Skirts, I thought darkly, are not my thing. I sighed and shook my head a little, blowing a few loose strands of hair out of my eyes. Despite the care I’d taken to pin it back, my hair was just as stubborn as my skirt in the matter of staying where I wanted it.

A hand involuntarily rose to scrub at my eyes, but stopped just short of actually touching them. Nuh uh, I thought sternly at myself. No touching. Don’t smear mascara and eyeshadow all over your face.

Mom and Dad chatted amiably in the front seat, occasionally directing a comment to the backseat and my sister or me. I was reaching for my chapstick when it hit me.

“I’m not wearing any lipstick,” I said blankly. “I’m not wearing lip gloss, either.”

Mom looked back at me, confused. “So?”

“So,” I said, “so…I can wear lipstick. I don’t have to play tonight. I’m not in the band anymore, so it doesn’t matter. I’m not wearing any lipstick,” I repeated dazedly.

My sister stared at me, then said slowly, “You’re right. You’re not in band anymore. You’re graduating…”

You’re not in band anymore.

The words echoed silently through my head. I’m not in high school anymore, I thought, sitting back numbly. I’m graduating.

A Letter to My Grandfather

Dear Grandpa,

I've thought about writing this letter a hundred times, but I never was ready to put it all on paper. (Well, metaphorically speaking.) It's hard for me to believe that this time a year ago I was saying goodbye to you for the very last time in this life.

A whole year. 365 days -- 366, actually, since this year was a leap year (Aunt Catherine had a birthday this year!); a whole lot of hours and minutes and seconds have passed since then. I'm not particularly prone to attaching a lot of sentiment to the anniversaries of things, but a year seems like a significant amount of time.

When you died, it was hard for me to believe that you were really gone, at first. No one close to me had ever died before; it was my first time really experiencing death. It was harder because I never really got to say goodbye, not really. The last time I really saw you was General Conference weekend, when Grandma invited Aunt Suzanne and her family and me and Stephen over for a post-conference dinner of store-bought muffins and apple juice. We sat around the table and laughed so hard our stomachs ached when Heather told us the story about that kid who was determined to catch the feral sheep. I know I must have said, "Goodbye!" and "I love you!" when I left, because I always do, but I don't remember. I probably even gave you a hug; you're a great hugger. I think you passed that on to Dad, he always squeezes me just the way you used to. So many times in the last year I've thought about how great it would be if I could just hop in my car and drive down the street and ask for a hug on days when I was feeling down, or discouraged, or just lonely. For the first few days and weeks I had to consciously remind myself that you weren't there at the house with Grandma anymore, and each time I did it brought a wave of sadness crashing right back over me.

I was so angry at you. I still am, a little. It's so stupid, and it seems so pointless. It was your own stubborn fault for not taking better care of yourself, for not going to the doctor right away when you started feeling a little "off". You left Grandma all alone barely four months before the family reunion to celebrate your 50th wedding anniversary that Grandma had been planning for over a year. You left before my dad got to see you again, and I know how much that hurts him. You left right as I was starting to wonder about what I was going to do when I graduated in a year, right when I really needed all your years of wisdom from working at the university and your priesthood blessings and your hugs and teasing jokes.

I don't doubt the Lord called you back to Him. I was angry at Him, too, even, which is much more befitting a child than a supposedly-mature adult. I just didn't understand why then, of all times. But then why does anything happen when it does? I suppose that's why I'm not in charge and He is.

If I've learned anything from this, it's that there truly must be an afterlife for the souls of men, and that they are not wholly ignorant of us here. I know you'll be there when I get my diploma, and when I get married, and when I see my children for the first time. And I know you'll be standing there with my dad when my children's father (whoever he is -- maybe you can give him a nudge in my direction for me) gives them a name and a blessing, and you'll laugh at me the first time I say something to my child I swore I'd never say because I hated hearing it from my parents (probably something about "privileges" or "consequences"). I know you'll be there when my dad holds his little grandkids on his lap to tell them a Bob and Steve story; he's a little rusty, you might have to prompt him. And I know that one day I'll get to see you again, and best of all, get a great big, squeezy grandpa hug.

I'm counting on that.

Love,
AnnMarie

Blast from the Past

Today I decided to go looking for the letters (well, emails) I wrote home to my family while I was a missionary in South Korea. This was prompted by reading my cousin's letter home to his family; he's currently serving a mission in Indonesia right now. Anyway, it's been just a little surreal, reading all the old emails. They brought up some events I'd kind of forgotten and reminded me just how young and sincere I was at the time. I don't think I'm less sincere now, but I'm definitely older and more jaded. And when I look back at my mission, I tend to dwell on how I perceived myself as failing at everything. My letters are a little more upbeat and full of faith, if only for appearance's sake, and they help me remember that I really did feel that way. Anyway, I'll just post one, a letter dated 5 March 2008. At the time, I was still in my first area, with my first companion, and just barely starting to get the hang of things. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say, I was just barely starting to get the hang of the hang of things.

Subject:With Love from Korea!

DearFamily and Friends,

Helloonce again from Korea! Sometimes it hits me all over again that I’mliving halfway around the world from where I was born, and then I getthese little chill bumps all over. Despite being here for almost 12weeks now, it feels just as unreal as the day I landed. Being amissionary, even, is still fairly unbelievable, and it’s been fivemonths since I went into the Missionary Training Center. Missionariesare those other people who wear suits and skirts and come eat dinnerat my house every month, not me. And that’s another thing – canyou believe that I’ve worn a skirt EVERY DAY for the last fivemonths and haven’t killed anyone yet? I would say that isdefinitely an example of the hand of the Lord in my life. ;)

Theend of another transfer (that’s a six-week period, at the end ofwhich some of the missionaries get moved around, which is why it’scalled a “transfer”) is fast approaching – the 15th is thenight we’ll find out if one of us is leaving Anyang. If one of usgoes, it will be me, since this upcoming transfer is Sister Pak’slast and no one gets transferred on their last transfer. I can’tbelieve I’ve been here this long! I feel just as stupid as the dayI stepped off the plane. It’s amazing to me that they send us outto the mission field with the most rudimentary of language basics anddump us right in the middle of things. And yet, despite that, thework of the Lord still goes forth in power. The Lord truly isaccomplishing His work through the small and simple things of theworld (see Alma 37:6-7); what could be less significant than a bunchof 19-21 year olds teaching the gospel in a language they barelyspeak? If it wasn’t His work it would be doomed to failure; thatThe Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints continues to grow andflourish despite the bumbling efforts of the missionaries is atestimony to me of its truthfulness. I’m so glad to have thisopportunity, as painful and humbling as it is, to be a very small andinsignificant part of His work. It truly is a blessing to me, and Ihope, to my family, both present and future.

Mycompanion, Sister Pak, is beginning to wonder if my hair is gettingdarker. She says I’m becoming more Korean by the day; the other dayI mused out loud that kimbop sounded really good. A month and a halfago, I wouldn’t even touch the stuff. The amount of spicy food Ieat regularly now would have sent me to the kitchen sink to gulp downgallons of water in an effort to soothe my mouth two months ago.Korean fashion is beginning to seem very normal – though I will saythat when I see men with green and red plaid shirts with pink andgreen striped ties, I still get a little shock. Sparkly pink ties,sparkly metallic tights, and blouses that look like they came fromVictorian England no longer phase me, however. This morning Icontemplated having rice for breakfast, though kimchi is still alittle much at 730 am. And I’m still American enough that BaskinRobbins is akin to Nirvana. That’s one thing I really, really missabout the States – cheese. Cheese and skim milk. You can’t findthem anywhere, at least not in small enough quantities for individualconsumption. They do have the fake processed plastic cheese, but Ihate that – it’s not real cheese! Real cheddar, real Colby jack,is impossible to find outside restaurants that serve it as part ofyour meal. Consequently, pizza has begun to take on new and moreglorious meaning to me. :) And I still don’t like squid. I thinkthat I will always hate it. [Note: I still do, four years later.]

Ifany of you have something you would like to know about particularly,please email me and let me know. It’s hard to think of things towrite about when I can’t exactly remember what’s common inAmerica and what’s distinctly Korean, and some things have becomeso much a part of my life that I don’t think they’re strangeanymore. So if you want to know something – email me! Even justyour question is fine, if you don’t have time for anything else. Itwould really help me out, and would probably be nicer for you than tohave to read all my random ramblings.

Ihope you’re all well and healthy! I love and miss you. :)

Love,AnnMarie and/or Sister Saunders