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!

My baby's back!

My baby (aka my Macbook) is sporting a sassy new hard drive (the nice people at Expercom were able to retrieve almost all of my files!) and it's back in my loving and anxious arms. After almost three weeks of separation, I have to say I'm pretty over the moon about it. ^_^

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.

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."

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"

"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.