.
I had an epiphany yesterday. I've prayed most of my life for answers to my problems; solutions, things with which to fill my needs. But I don't think God wants to give us solutions; I think he wants us to take the next step. Or to help someone else take the next step.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
I belong
.
I learned something really cool from one of my best Christmas gifts this year. It's a movie called 17 Miracles, by T.C. Christensen. It chronicles several true stories from the crossing of some of the early Mormon pioneers in the Willie and Martin handcart companies. It used to be that I would avoid movies like this because I don't like cheezy churchy movies that try to fabricate a spiritual experience with poor acting, writing, and synthesized strings, but lately these movies have been increasing in quality--and I have changed a bit too.
It was a beautiful movie, but what touched me most is that three of the people depicted in the film are my direct ancestors: Tamar Loader Ricks and her parents. This was really cool to realize, but not because it makes me cool to be connected with people who get talked about in general conference every six months.
I sometimes get into lonely/depressed slumps when the mood is right and I start thinking to much about how nice it would be to have a husband and family of my own. Christmas, though very joyful and full of lovely times with my parents and siblings and nephews and nieces, is usually one of those times. This year had hit me especially hard and I crashed down from my Christmas high before my family had even departed for the day. I slept through most of Christmas because I just couldn't face people just then, knowing that I didn't really belong in a place full of kids and spouses when I had niether.
Later on that evening, I sat down to watch this movie with my Dad because he had given it to me and was interested in seeing it too. As I watched the struggles these people went through for something I believe in so much, I was touched, but when I realized that some of these people were part of my family, I was overwhelmed. I felt so greatful to them, for sacrificing literally everything in the hopes that they might live in Zion and raise their families there. One woman is quoted in the movie as saying: "It will all be worth it if my posterity stay true to the Gospel".
That's me. I'm somebody's hope.
I felt so loved, just then. I felt there were hundreds of people somewhere beyond the veil wishing me well. Most important, I felt like a part of them; their faith, their hope, their family. I belonged in a family of people who had given their lives for the Gospel. It was tremendous. I was full of gratitude. I also felt I had a lot to live up to to make their travails truly worth it. The stories of these people--my family--have been a great comfort to me this season. I hope I can live up to who they were.
I learned something really cool from one of my best Christmas gifts this year. It's a movie called 17 Miracles, by T.C. Christensen. It chronicles several true stories from the crossing of some of the early Mormon pioneers in the Willie and Martin handcart companies. It used to be that I would avoid movies like this because I don't like cheezy churchy movies that try to fabricate a spiritual experience with poor acting, writing, and synthesized strings, but lately these movies have been increasing in quality--and I have changed a bit too.
It was a beautiful movie, but what touched me most is that three of the people depicted in the film are my direct ancestors: Tamar Loader Ricks and her parents. This was really cool to realize, but not because it makes me cool to be connected with people who get talked about in general conference every six months.
I sometimes get into lonely/depressed slumps when the mood is right and I start thinking to much about how nice it would be to have a husband and family of my own. Christmas, though very joyful and full of lovely times with my parents and siblings and nephews and nieces, is usually one of those times. This year had hit me especially hard and I crashed down from my Christmas high before my family had even departed for the day. I slept through most of Christmas because I just couldn't face people just then, knowing that I didn't really belong in a place full of kids and spouses when I had niether.
Later on that evening, I sat down to watch this movie with my Dad because he had given it to me and was interested in seeing it too. As I watched the struggles these people went through for something I believe in so much, I was touched, but when I realized that some of these people were part of my family, I was overwhelmed. I felt so greatful to them, for sacrificing literally everything in the hopes that they might live in Zion and raise their families there. One woman is quoted in the movie as saying: "It will all be worth it if my posterity stay true to the Gospel".
That's me. I'm somebody's hope.
I felt so loved, just then. I felt there were hundreds of people somewhere beyond the veil wishing me well. Most important, I felt like a part of them; their faith, their hope, their family. I belonged in a family of people who had given their lives for the Gospel. It was tremendous. I was full of gratitude. I also felt I had a lot to live up to to make their travails truly worth it. The stories of these people--my family--have been a great comfort to me this season. I hope I can live up to who they were.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Friday, December 9, 2011
The Best Part of the Day
.
I am not very good at writing. But I have a little journal that I try to write in every day (or so) what the best part of that day was. In general it's turned out to be a pretty good outline of my life and what I value--which are the two things I'd like to express to the world, really. So here's a blog on that vein:
At work today the Snow pas de deux from the Nutcracker came up on my Christmas shuffle. There are few pieces of music that thrill me as much. I sat enthralled at my desk, unable to move, remembering all the times that music had filled me with adrenaline when I watched the ballerinas perform it from backstage; then later, when (miracle of miracles) I was so honored with being able to dance the Snow Pas myself. Now, I just listen from my desk at my regular old day job and yearn with my heart to be more a part of that music--remember the times when I was. But it's not realy a sad or regretful yearning; not an aching. It's more like a fine tuned appreciation of Tchaikovsky's musical genius. All my experiences have built associations with each note, and the emotions called out from me by the music are all the more vivid because of it. Joy and longing.
After work I went to my mom's house and watched Love Actually. Sitting in the basement with my folks with a dog curled up in my lap like old times made me think about the path I've taken from there to here. When I was a kid my life was my family. Time at home was saturated with the intertwining habits and emotional cycles of these same few people. Now I am just me and I have a lot of space and time by myself. I have the ability to choose where I will be at any time now that I have a car and no curfew. A bigger difference: everyone else has their own life now, too.
My realization was this: I came to love my family even through--and a lot because of--the time we spent around each other; but now I choose to be with them. I try to show them I love them because, I really need them to know that I do. And I really need them to love me back. (This is why I don't write. I never make sense when I just spew).
We all need to be loved, but love is never an involuntary thing. I don't have to love my family (I know plenty of people who don't), I want to love my family. I choose to love my family--even though they say things that hurt me, or do things that are frustrating, or embarass me, or ignore me (heaven knows I've given them the same grief twice over), because they are...just inexplicably important to me. They are amazing people. When they hurt, I hurt for them. When they triumph in their lives, my happiness is greater. When I have time to spend, I want to share it with them. I love my family. Though I'm coming to see that that statement is as much of a resolution as it is a declaration.
Now that we are all fully formed individuals our schedules--and our personalities--don't mesh as easily anymore. When I was a kid there was never any question whether or not I got along with my sister; it was required, and spats were resolved before bedtime, thank you very much. Now we are all fully capable of not liking each other; and being well within our rights to do so. It's an interesting freedom to grow into, and I find myself wishing for the days when it was...easier...when there wasn't really another option. But now that the connections we make with each other are more voluntary, they have different meaning. They are more valuable.
So, on a Friday night when I am dog tired and should really be home practicing for the flute piece I have to play on Sunday, and filling out my Student Evaluations that are due tomorrow, and preparing my binder for Rigoletto, and cleaning my bathroom, and going to the gym...
when I could be watching a movie with Tammi, or going to the Utah Ballet show that closes this weekend, or attending a west coast swing workshop...
I want to by in my parent's basement, chilling in front of a movie, eating pizza and drinking cream soda while making fun of the stinky farting dogs.
Yup. It's part of life for me.
I am not very good at writing. But I have a little journal that I try to write in every day (or so) what the best part of that day was. In general it's turned out to be a pretty good outline of my life and what I value--which are the two things I'd like to express to the world, really. So here's a blog on that vein:
At work today the Snow pas de deux from the Nutcracker came up on my Christmas shuffle. There are few pieces of music that thrill me as much. I sat enthralled at my desk, unable to move, remembering all the times that music had filled me with adrenaline when I watched the ballerinas perform it from backstage; then later, when (miracle of miracles) I was so honored with being able to dance the Snow Pas myself. Now, I just listen from my desk at my regular old day job and yearn with my heart to be more a part of that music--remember the times when I was. But it's not realy a sad or regretful yearning; not an aching. It's more like a fine tuned appreciation of Tchaikovsky's musical genius. All my experiences have built associations with each note, and the emotions called out from me by the music are all the more vivid because of it. Joy and longing.
After work I went to my mom's house and watched Love Actually. Sitting in the basement with my folks with a dog curled up in my lap like old times made me think about the path I've taken from there to here. When I was a kid my life was my family. Time at home was saturated with the intertwining habits and emotional cycles of these same few people. Now I am just me and I have a lot of space and time by myself. I have the ability to choose where I will be at any time now that I have a car and no curfew. A bigger difference: everyone else has their own life now, too.
My realization was this: I came to love my family even through--and a lot because of--the time we spent around each other; but now I choose to be with them. I try to show them I love them because, I really need them to know that I do. And I really need them to love me back. (This is why I don't write. I never make sense when I just spew).
We all need to be loved, but love is never an involuntary thing. I don't have to love my family (I know plenty of people who don't), I want to love my family. I choose to love my family--even though they say things that hurt me, or do things that are frustrating, or embarass me, or ignore me (heaven knows I've given them the same grief twice over), because they are...just inexplicably important to me. They are amazing people. When they hurt, I hurt for them. When they triumph in their lives, my happiness is greater. When I have time to spend, I want to share it with them. I love my family. Though I'm coming to see that that statement is as much of a resolution as it is a declaration.
Now that we are all fully formed individuals our schedules--and our personalities--don't mesh as easily anymore. When I was a kid there was never any question whether or not I got along with my sister; it was required, and spats were resolved before bedtime, thank you very much. Now we are all fully capable of not liking each other; and being well within our rights to do so. It's an interesting freedom to grow into, and I find myself wishing for the days when it was...easier...when there wasn't really another option. But now that the connections we make with each other are more voluntary, they have different meaning. They are more valuable.
So, on a Friday night when I am dog tired and should really be home practicing for the flute piece I have to play on Sunday, and filling out my Student Evaluations that are due tomorrow, and preparing my binder for Rigoletto, and cleaning my bathroom, and going to the gym...
when I could be watching a movie with Tammi, or going to the Utah Ballet show that closes this weekend, or attending a west coast swing workshop...
I want to by in my parent's basement, chilling in front of a movie, eating pizza and drinking cream soda while making fun of the stinky farting dogs.
Yup. It's part of life for me.
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