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. 

Stubbornness and Continents

I was a particularly stubborn child. I think my parents can attest to that. I've grown into a particularly stubborn adult. I think my parents can attest to that, too. I like to do things by myself. (Or get other people to do them for me. I'm okay with that, too.) I like to be in control and do things in a logical order - my order.

The funny thing about life is that it doesn't usually work that way.

Life is a collaborative effort. This has been reinforced to me over and over in the last year or so, in my experiences and in quiet moments of reflection. We can't do it alone, and we're not supposed to. Everybody needs somebody - multiple somebodies, actually. We need family. We need friends. We need members of the community. We even need complete strangers. None of us can reach our full potential without other people. It's ignorant, arrogant, and counterproductive to think that or act like we can. Try it. You'll fail.

I think John Donne's famous "No Man Is an Island" poem sums up the implications of this truth much better than I could.

No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thine own
Or of thine friend's were.
Each man's death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee. 

We don't have the luxury of ignoring what is happening to other people "far away", because their lives are tied up in ours. They need us, and we need them.

Life Is So Confusing

The predominant emotion of the last few weeks of my life has been homesickness. That's right. I, a 25-year-old college graduate who hasn't lived at home for 6+ years, am homesick. I haven't felt this homesick in ages, actually. Not for this long, anyway. I get flashes all the time, of course, because I love my family and I'm missing most of the significant events in the lives of my youngest four siblings. But I'm usually busy and/or productive (they're not necessarily synonymous) and thus distracted.

I think the homesickness is the product of two other intense emotions in my life: confusion and frustration. And all that boils down to the real fact that I have no idea what the heck is going on in my life. It's not a comfortable feeling. (This is hardly the first time I've brought this up, so it's not a surprise to any of you, I'm sure.) I feel useless, under-qualified, scared, clueless, and confused.

I've finally had it (very painfully) brought home to me in the last few months just how thoroughly I threw myself under the bus when I moved here. (Metaphorically speaking, of course.) I allowed my fears, insecurities, and circumstances to keep me from getting a job and getting involved the way I should have. As a result, here I am without a car, without many connections, without solid job prospects, and without any savings to speak of. That makes doing much of anything difficult. Especially most of the things I'd actually like to do, like go to Korea, move back to the East Coast, or even just get out of Logan. I should take a lesson from this and get my butt in gear on this whole "finding gainful employment" thing.

I'm hoping that sometime in the next little while I'll figure out why I felt that I need to be in the place that I am - here in Logan, I mean. I wanted to move to SLC after my job ended a few weeks ago and I had to be out of my old place. To be honest, there are probably a lot more opportunities in areas I'd like to work in (not to mention better public transportation, even if it is more expensive than Logan's (which is free)), in SLC. I like Logan, but I've been craving city life recently, and if I can't live in Seoul or NYC or the DC area like I'd like to, by golly I want to live in SLC.

Set Fire to the Rain

I was pretty late climbing on the Adele bandwagon, having only discovered her this last semester. (On a sidenote, I wonder how long it's going to take me to stop counting time in semesters. It took me a long time to stop referring to "transfers" after I got home from the mission.) This is my favorite song off her 21 album. I don't relate to the lyrics, and I'm not completely sure what she means by "set fire to the rain". I just know I love the evocative image the words create, and I'm totally in love with the music of the song.

Update

Hello, World. It's me, AnnMarie.

So, it may be that some of you are wondering, "What's going on with AnnMarie? I heard she graduated, but now what is she up to?" Well, I'll tell you.

It's true, I finally, finally, after seven years, graduated from college. I didn't march at the graduation ceremony, but my degree was formally posted to my transcript on 25 May, which means I'm a bona fide college graduate with a BA in Asian Studies. My job as an ESL aide for a local high school ended last Friday, the 25th, as well, which means I am now a jobless, unemployed college graduate with a BA in Asian Studies. Apparently Asian Studies isn't one of those majors that people are anxious to hire you on the spot for.

Since two of my roommates moved out in the middle of the month, and I wasn't sure if I was going to stay in Logan or not, my landlord decided to just rent her house to a family instead of trying to get three new tenants. I did end up deciding to stay in Logan, but at that point she'd already rented the house and we'd made other plans. So where am I now? A good friend of mine kindly invited me to come live with her and her family, and her family was kind enough to welcome me with open arms. I'm not sure how long I'll stay here, but probably not past the fall, since my friend is leaving on her mission the day before my birthday and her little sister is getting married in the fall, too.

Originally, my plan was to go to Korea this summer, and possibly even for longer (like a year) and teach English. That didn't quite work out, so I was hoping to move back to the D.C. area, my favorite of all the places I've lived in the States. I was too broke for that and not sure I could find a place to work after getting there, so I made less ambitious plans to move to SLC for a year or so and then move out to D.C. None of those proved to be what the Lord had in mind for me, since every time I prayed about it or took the question to the temple, I felt confident He wanted me right here for the time being. It's not that I don't like Logan, but it's not a place I want to stay in for an extended period of time, either. It's nice to have family and friends here, but the cold, hard truth is that there aren't very many job opportunities here, at least not in the kinds of jobs I want to pursue. I'm not totally sure why I'm still here, but I suppose I'll find out over the next weeks and months.

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.

I call this my Victory Series: Announcing that I'm official DONE with my undergrad!

This is me on my very last day of classes, 26 April, going into my last college class.

This is me today, right before my very last undergraduate final EVER.

And this is me afterwards. I mean, I guess I'm happy or something. Or something. Yeah.

And this is what I did to celebrate. I call it The Taste of Accomplishment.

Full-blown panic is starting to set in.




Three more days, three more tests, and one more paper to graduation.

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

Some words I needed to hear

I read this this morning at my breakfast table, and I was struck by how much it applies to me at this point in my life.


"One of my favorite scriptural accounts that illustrates this important principle is found in Matthew chapter 14. As the disciples watched the Savior walk on the Sea of Galilee toward their boat, they thought they were seeing a ghost. Jesus assured them that it was He and that they need not be afraid. Peter declared, “Lord, if it be thou, bid me come unto thee on the water” (verse 28). Jesus said, “Come.” Matthew then records, “And when Peter was come down out of the ship, he walked on the water, to go to Jesus” (see Matthew 14:24–29).

The rest of the story is what I find most significant. I can’t relate to walking on water, but I can relate to what Peter experienced next:

“But when he saw the wind boisterous, he was afraid; and beginning to sink, he cried, saying, Lord, save me.

“And immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand, and caught him, and said unto him, O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?

“And when they were come into the ship, the wind ceased.

“Then they that were in the ship came and worshipped him, saying, Of a truth thou art the Son of God” (Matthew 14:30–33).

All of us have had, are having, or will yet have a Peter-like “sinking” experience in some way and will at some time (probably many times) cry out, “Lord, save me.” Even Peter’s strong fisherman arms were not strong enough to save him. He needed the rescuing arms of Christ, and so do we. Can you imagine Peter—choking, his head bobbing beneath the surface of the water—saying as the Savior extends His arms: “No, thank you. I will swim to shore. I sank myself, so I must save myself”? Of course not. How ridiculous! Yet we sometimes do just that.

We may know in our heads that our mortal arms and hands are deficient—in fact, utterly incapable of rescuing or redeeming us—but we sometimes resist, even recoil from, the outstretched arms of the Savior. Sometimes we spiritually drown ourselves because we won’t allow His arms to cradle us. Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve eloquently stated:

“May I be bold enough to suggest that it is impossible for anyone who really knows God to doubt his willingness to receive us with open arms in a divine embrace if we will but ‘come unto Him.’ …

“I am convinced that none of us can appreciate how deeply it wounds the loving heart of the Savior of the world when he finds that his people do not feel confident in his care or secure in his hands.”"

From "The Loving Arms of Christ", April 2012 Engsin

Introducing my room

I've lived in my new place for almost three months now, and I realized the other day that I've yet to introduce it to you. So here's my bedroom. It's messy and lived in, but that's the way I like it.

If you look closely, you can see Kim Soo-hyun on my computer screen. It's one of his shots from the pictorial in Singles Magazine. Click here and you can see it.

This is the view into my room from the doorway.

Pooh is the best man in the whole world. He's snuggly, he never hogs the covers, and he sleeps right next to me ever night without complaint.

This is the pile of books next to my bed. The pictures a little old (the pile's grown), but this gives you a pretty good idea of what I spend my time reading.

Daily inspiration

"Behold, great and marvelous are the works of the Lord. How unsearchable are the depths of the mysteries of him; and it is impossible that man should find out all his ways. And no man knoweth of his ways save it be revealed unto him; wherefore, brethren, despise not the revelations of God. For behold, by the power of his word man came upon the face of the earth, which earth was created by the power of his word. Wherefore, if God being able to speak and the world was, and to speak and man was created, O then, why not able to command the earth, or the workmanship of his hands upon the face of it, according to his will and pleasure? Wherefore, brethren, seek not to counsel the Lord, but to take counsel from his hand. For behold, ye yourselves know that he counseleth in wisdom, and in justice, and in great mercy, over all his works."

Jacob 4:8-10 
emphasis added

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.

Change from the inside out

"The Lord works from the inside out. The world works from the outside in. The world would take people out of the slums. Christ takes the slums out of people, and then they take themselves out of the slums. The world would mold men by changing their environment. Christ changes men, who then change their environment. The world would shape human behavior, but Christ can change human nature."

President Ezra Taft Benson, "Born of God"

In a world that continues to protest "I was born that way, I can't help it" this message from a prophet of God is a clear witness that that is not true. There truly are things I was born with and that I can't change. I will never be taller, for instance. But I can become more patient. I can become kinder. I can become full of charity. I can become more refined and a better person. Anyone who says, "I was born that way, I can't help it" is merely abrogating their personal responsibility for something they don't want to deal with. I'm not saying that that means it will be easy; I've lived 25 years and I'm still not patient or forgiving. Some people have to struggle for a lifetime. But you can change, and that change will change the world. As we seek to implement all these programs and raise millions and billions of dollars to "fix" problems in "underprivileged" or "developing" nations, we should remember that. 

"The world would mold men by changing their environment. Christ changes men, who then change their environment."

A few words of wisdom

Just a few things I learned this morning from my personal scripture study:

"In whatever manner the Lord may choose to bless us during the course of a mission, blessings of missionary service are not designed to end when we are released by our stake president. Your mission is a training ground for life. The experiences, lessons, and testimony obtained through faithful service are meant to provide a gospel-centered foundation that will last throughout mortality and into the eternities."

Elder W. Christopher Waddell, "The Opportunity of a Lifetime"

"Two are usually better than one, as our Father confirmed when He declared that “it was not good that the man should be alone” and made a help meet for Adam—someone with distinct gifts who would give him balance, help him shoulder the burdens of mortality, and enable him to do things he couldn’t do alone. For “neither is the man without the woman, neither the woman without the man, in the Lord.”

Satan understands the power of men and women united in righteousness. He is still stinging from his banishment into eternal exile after Michael led the hosts of heaven, comprised of valiant men and women united in the cause of Christ, against him. In the chilling words of Peter, “The devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.” Lucifer is determined to devour marriages and families, because their demise threatens the salvation of all involved and the vitality of the Lord’s kingdom itself. Thus, Satan seeks to confuse us about our stewardships and distinctive natures as men and women. He bombards us with bizarre messages about gender, marriage, family, and all male-female relationships. He would have us believe men and women are so alike that our unique gifts are not necessary, or so different we can never hope to understand each other. Neither is true.

Our Father knew exactly what He was doing when He created us. He made us enough alike to love each other, but enough different that we would need to unite our strengths and stewardships to create a whole. Neither man nor woman is perfect or complete without the other. Thus, no marriage or family, no ward or stake is likely to reach its full potential until husbands and wives, mothers and fathers, men and women work together in unity of purpose, respecting and relying on each other's strengths."

Sister Sheri L. Dew, "It Is Not Good for Man or Woman to Be Alone"

Awwww, aren't my parents so cute? Still in love after 27 years of marriage.