Saturday's Warriors is a Heap of False Doctrine

We played more laser tag last Monday as a going away event for an elder that leaves tomorrow. There were a lot of kids there and they were awful human beings. They are sneaky and mean and have exceptionally perfect aim. I never want kids now. Thanks birthday party full of 9 year olds for dashing my dreams, ruining my plans, and stripping me of my desire to fulfill my divine potential. Beasts anyway.

Speaking of beasts, Sister Rasheed and I received Nerf guns in the mail this week from Michael and I'm a little ashamed to say that they changed me from a respectable almost 24 year old into a savage straight out of Pocahontas. I left a welt on Sister Moreton's hand. It was kind of hilarious. Sister Casey and I also attacked our zone leader and his companion when they came by our apartment to leave medicine for Sister Rasheed (she was pretty sick this week). I walk around with my gun between my skirt and my shirt on my back like I'm a shady drug dealer because things have gotten heated and I'm always a little afraid someone will steal my weapon and attack me with it. And I slept with it under my pillow more than one night so I could attack Sister Moreton at 10:29 pm and at 6:15 am when we wake up. Sister Rasheed is crazy too. She will yell, "KILL!" or just shriek and then attack. We have had more than our fair share of battles this week.

Sister Rasheed and I practiced our best gun poses as to intimidate our enemies.

 

The welt I left on Sister Moreton's hand during a surprise attack.

Sister Moreton was feeling under the weather as well this week, so Sister Casey and I spent a lot of time together while our companions stayed at home. It was a great opportunity to get to know her better and to work with her more closely. I had scheduled time to help a sister who broke her pelvis pick and juice her citrus this week. When we arrived she didn't answer her door, so I just went around to the gate and went in back and started working on the trees. It was nice. It gave Sister Casey and me a few hours to talk. This is her first transfer so she had a lot of pent up frustration and confusion that we talked through and we just talked about our pre-mission lives to get to know each other better. After a few hours the lady called to apologize because she had been sleeping and she wanted to re-schedule and I told her I was in her backyard. She came out and thanked us for just going to work and was amazed at how strong we are (we hefted a garbage bin full of bad citrus and dumped it into her bin that the garbage man empties...we are pretty BA). Sister Casey accompanied me on our lessons that evening too. We taught the grandma and granddaughter and we did a special missionary prep lesson with the priests for mutual. I then went with her to her ward's correlation and we came home and spent our last free half an hour before bed juicing citrus together. 

When our companions were sick we ordered a pizza to eat before 

our citrus picking adventure...we had to spend $20 to use our coupon, 

so we bought the biggest pizza they had and then ate it all week.

Let me just clear up some false doctrine that has been getting on my nerves. We didn't pick our parents before this life and we didn't pick our children. Saturday's Warriors is a heap of false doctrine and too many people believe it. The sisters I live with asked for my help finding a scripture to prepare a lesson for their investigator about how we picked our children and I very quickly set them straight. Here is a quote about that from Joseph Fielding Smith, “We have no scriptural justification, however, for the belief that we had the privilege of choosing our parents and our life companions in the spirit world. This belief has been advocated by some, and it is possible that in some instances it is true, but it would require too great a stretch of the imagination to believe it to be so in all, or even in the majority of cases. Most likely we came where those in authority decided to send us. Our agency may not have been exercised to the extent of making choice of parents and posterity”. To add my own witness, if we picked our families, Tina Fey would be my sister.  Disproved. Please stop the spreading of this fairy tale doctrine. Thanks.

I was asked to write the missionary thought for the RS newsletter this month in Aspen and this is what I penned:  "One of the greatest pitfalls of the natural man is the tendency to look for an easy solution. Get rich fast. Lose ten pounds in one weekend with this berry derived active ingredient that has an unnecessarily long name. Hair extensions. As seen on TV products promise to give us the results we desire with a fraction of the work, but they rarely mention that you will get a result that is a fraction of the quality as well. Missionary work is not exempt from this mentality. Effective missionary work is much like successful weight loss (we've all been there, ladies), a lifestyle change will have far more reaching and lasting consequences than a crash diet or hair brained health scheme. There isn't an easy solution to missionary work, only a permanent paradigm shift will lead to continued success in your missionary efforts. Luckily, it is easier than dieting (you don't have to give up cheesecake or eat broccoli to be a good missionary)!  Can I get an Amen!

One tip that Clayton M. Christensen offers in The Power of Everyday Missionaries is to use Mormon lingo in every conversation. We can present the same information in many ways; some sentences are better set up to facilitate a relaxed missionary opportunity. Did you spend a year and a half in Mexico in your 20's, or did you serve a full time mission for the Mormon Church? Is your daughter at college, or is she studying full time at Brigham Young University? Are you tired because you had a garage sale this weekend, or because the young women in your ward had a fundraising yard sale for girl's camp on your lawn? Brother Christensen suggests that we speak with our terminology because one word can lead to more opportunities and questions. In this way we aren't begging people to learn about Jesus Christ, we're just inviting them to ask about our lives. This will open more doors and lead to many more miracles over the long run than any "quick" solution to bring people into the fold ever will. The promise to all who share the gospel (in whatever small or large way) listed in D&C 84:85 is true, "...it shall be given you in the very hour that portion that shall be meted unto every man." I've seen that to be true both as a full time missionary and as a member missionary and testify that the Lord will fill our mouths if we show our faith by opening them."

We have transfers this Wednesday. I am staying here and Sister Rasheed is being transferred. My new companion will be Sister Merrell. Fun fact, she came out with Sister Dawson and Sister Rasheed. I also day trained a sister that came out with them that had to go home for medical reasons. I will have been a companion with 4 of the 5 sisters that came out in that transfer in some way, shape, or form. I am excited to work in a different way and to be able to conquer this area! I prayed that I would get a companion that has been out awhile and that would need less direction. I have loved training in the past and loved being with Sister Rasheed, but I'm kind of ready to just work and not worry about shaping someone else for at least 6 weeks. 

Love,

Sister Poppe

If You Hear Howling Around 4:00 PM Arizona Time…..

Happy Post America Birthday Week!

I will start with my 4th of July festivities being as that was the focal point of the week.  We were told that we couldn't go anywhere without a specific appointment or invitation, so it was like a half day off.  We had breakfast at our ward mission leader's home in the Twin Knolls ward and then we had a lesson with Hermoine.  We did our normal weekly planning that we do on Fridays as well.  My companion and I hosted a district luncheon at our apartment complex that was a lot of fun.  We provided the meat being as we still had a bunch of steak to eat from the members in Thunder Mountain that gave us some (Tammy's sister and her husband, actually). As we were getting the grill ready to go I turned the gas up a bit too high and as I was hitting the ignite button I asked my companion to open the lid for some stupid reason; I clearly wasn't thinking.  As she opened the lid the build-up of propane ignited and launched a ball of fire in our general direction.  We both screamed and jumped back.  The only casualty was a patch of my right arm hair.  We had a good laugh about it after the fact though.  In the evening we went to another ward's bishop's house and hung out there.  He invited all of the missionaries in the stake over because he knew we weren't allowed to be out in the evening if we weren't invited somewhere.  We ended up singing songs around the piano for the last hour we were there and it was a really spiritual experience.  All in all it was a pretty good 4th. We didn't see any fireworks because we had to be home by 9, so that was a little disappointing, but at least we got to spend the 4^th of July in America!  A lot of missionaries don't even get to do that.

We had our weekly visit with the Hobbit Family and as we were leaving the wife stopped us to tell us that she had written a letter to God earlier in the year and told him that she wanted her house to be centered on him by the end of 2014 and He needed to help her with that.  She said that she believes we were sent to her to help her get her family focused on God and that we are the answer to her letter prayer.  How cool!

I had another cool experience happen just today at Wal-Mart.  We were in the parking lot and at the same time my companion and I were like, "Hey!  We know that girl!"  My companion was like, "I served in her ward a few transfers ago, how in the world do you know her?" I knew her from my BYU ward 2nd semester junior year.  We parked fast and approached her and her mother in the parking lot and the girl remembered me and we chatted for a few minutes before we went inside to get our groceries.  She only stayed at BYU the one semester I knew her and then she moved back to Mesa so I figured I would never see her again.  Anyway, as we got online today she messaged me on Facebook and told me that she has been struggling, but wants to serve a mission and that she wants to talk to me about serving.  I'm so glad we ran into her at Wal-Mart, because I know she wouldn't have messaged me if we wouldn't have reconnected after almost two and a half years.

Our new ward mission leader in Thunder Mountain called our dinner appointment on Saturday night and told them to tell us that he needed to talk to us so we had to swing by his house on our way home from dinner.  We had an appointment right after dinner, so we went by an hour later and showed up to his house during his son's mission farewell party.  We found him and asked what he wanted to talk to us about, and he said, "Nothing.  I just wanted you guys to come to James' party and have a break and relax for a little bit.  I'm the ward mission leader; I'm allowed to do that.  I knew that if I told you I needed to talk to you, you would actually come and enjoy yourselves a take a break for a bit.  You guys deserve a break; here have some sweets!" It was so funny of him to stage this entire fake important meeting so we would come to his son's party!  We just love that family though!  If you saw the picture that was tagged of us on Facebook where we are laughing in a circle of recent high school graduates, it was from that party.  We have an oddly good relationship with a lot of the boys who are about to leave on missions; I'm slightly embarrassed at how well we can connect with 18 year old boys.

Speaking of getting along with teenage boys, Neville told me he deleted his Facebook so we needed another place to connect so that I don't forget about him after my mission.  I told him about my Twitter and Instagram and he followed me on there and then told me I should be honored because he is still famous in the social media world and he only follows 17 people on Instagram and Twitter and he has over 7000 followers on both.  Seriously, who is this kid? I told him about my idea to write a book after my mission and asked if he would endorse it if he is still famous.  He said he definitely would, especially if he is mentioned in it.  He also said he will give me a Twitter shout out sometime this week; I know I won't see it for a year, but I'm excited that a teen social media celebrity is giving me a Twitter shout out.  #fangirling Also people started hash tags with his name in it.  #nevillesnumberonefan

I've been studying gifts of the Spirit lately and then we had a lesson on them in Sunday school this week so that was convenient!  I loved it.  Today when I was reading in the Book of Mormon I read some really cool verses that pertained to gifts of the Spirit!  So we talked about how one gift of the Spirit is to receive a witness of Christ and another is to believe the words of those who have received a witness of Christ.  In 1st Nephi chapter 2, verse 16 Nephi receives a witness of Christ and then in verse 17 he tells Sam about his experience and it says that Sam believed his words, so Sam received the gift to believe Nephi's words!  I was so excited to find that little gem.  I am really getting better at picking out information from the scriptures; I hope this isn't just a mission talent that will leave me when I'm home, because I am getting more out of scripture study than I ever have and I love it.

I finished the Book of Mormon earlier this week and as I was in Ether I was struck by how wonderful chapter 12 is.  I think everyone should re-read it at least once every six months because it is a wonderful reminder of the power of faith and the way it can bless our lives.  You should all read it!

My companion and I are on another healthy kick. We gave a member some money to go to Costco and buy us these protein shakes we are going to start having instead of lunch.  When you can't control the fatty things people feed you for dinner you have to resort to skipping lunch. If you hear howling around 4pm Arizona time every day, it is just my companion threatening to eat her hand if we don't get food soon.  She is moodier than me when she doesn't get to eat. Things may get dicey as we attempt to cut back on the calories. #prayforus #andthoseweinteractwith

I think that about covers my week!

Love,

Sister Poppe

patriotic companions

Why I'm Serving a Mission

I tend to be a person of extremes.  I love something or I hate it.  I am really good at something or I’m downright awful at it.  I work very hard or am very lazy.  There are very few middle of the road areas in my life.  My ability to talk about and share my emotions falls into this category as well.  If I’m over the moon about something frivolous, you’ll know about it through multiple mediums.  If I have a strong political opinion, you’ll probably hear it.  If I detest a product or celebrity there will be a very public blog post about it.  On the other hand if I’m upset about something close to my heart, you’ll likely never know.  If I’m upset at a close friend or family member I’ll cover it up.  In this same respect, I haven’t shared with many people the long list of events that lead to me deciding to serve a mission.  I believe now is as good a time as any to tell the whole story.

In September of 2011 I had just started my junior year of college and was 20 years old.  I was living with two of my closest friends and was loving everything about my life.  I made a goal to attend the temple twice a month and started in mid-September.  While I was there I felt the urge to pray without knowing what to say.  This isn’t normal for me; I usually know what I want to converse with Heavenly Father about before I start.  I began my prayer and skirted through my mind unsure of what topic to land on.  I never really settled on anything and decided to end my prayer and read from the Pearl of Great Price.  I was reading from the book of Abraham about The Creation when I had the strongest impression that I should serve a mission.  This struck me as odd for two reasons; first, nothing about the scriptural passage I was reading had anything directly to do with missionary work; second, I never ever ever wanted to serve a mission (as badly as T-Swift never ever ever wants to get back together with whoever the other half of her we is).

There was a long line for baptisms that day so I had plenty of time to ponder on my recent spiritual prompting.  Having a topic to discuss with Heavenly Father, I decided to pray again.  We went around and around, He and I.  I reminded him that I didn’t want to serve a mission and that you should never serve a mission if you don’t want to.  He countered by whispering that sometimes we don’t know what we want. I also pointed out that I would be a terrible missionary—I hate talking about feelings and don’t like approaching strangers.  He gently reminded me that we are qualified to do any task we’re asked to do.  I rounded out my logical offense by letting him know that I had student loan debt and therefore I couldn’t afford a mission or a break from school.  He quietly spoke peace to my financial worries. 

I left the temple and called my mom in tears and relayed my experience.  Naturally she was excited because she, “always knew I would serve a mission!”  I was discouraged, exhausted, and confused after this experience and unsure what to do.  After all, I was only 20.  I was still seven months too young to serve a mission as girls still had to be 21 at this point in time to go forth and serve.  I continued to read my scriptures, attend my church meetings, go to the temple regularly, and really ponder what I was supposed to do with my life.  I started to warm up to the idea of a mission as 2012 rolled around and started to tell people I was planning on going on one. 

Shortly after my 21^st birthday I met with the bishop in my home ward, as I was home from college for the summer, and began the missionary application process.  Throughout this entire endeavor I had severe anxiety, doubts, and depression at the idea of going on a mission.  I never would have chosen to do this on my own.  I tried very hard to convince myself that The Lord knew what was best and that I had to do this, if only because my parents were so proud of me for making the decision.  I completed everything for my application and was awaiting my call when my stake president phoned me to let me know he had some news about my mission call.  My assignment hadn’t been made, and wouldn’t be until I lost 15 pounds, bringing me to a healthier weight to serve a physically demanding mission at. Having battled with my weight since childhood I quickly became discouraged and started to doubt again why I was trying so hard to do something that I never wanted to do in the first place.

A few weeks after this phone call I broke down on my way home from camp for a weekend long break and called my friend/former roommate.  During the two hour car ride, she calmed me down and told me that I needed to do what was right for me and if I felt that going on a mission wasn’t right anymore then I shouldn’t do it.  I got home and didn’t get two sentences into a conversation with my mom about my week at camp before I started sobbing and told her I didn’t want to go on a mission.  My parents still loved me despite my disappointing news and I excitedly started to plan my return to BYU at the end of August for my senior year of college.  For the first time in almost a year I felt at peace, though it was short lived.

I constantly battled feelings of inadequacy and guilt throughout fall semester 2012.  I felt that I wasn’t worthy of any blessings because I should have gone on a mission.  I felt alone and unloved and like a disappointment to everyone who had been excited for me to go on a mission.  These feelings subsided slightly when in October the lower mission age was announced and I felt that I definitely wasn’t needed in the mission field because zealous young men and women were submitting mission paperwork left and right.  By the end of Christmas break in January of 2013 I was starting to believe that I was forgiven for not serving a mission.  I went on to have the most fun and fulfilling semester I had ever had in college and really began to believe that it was in The Lord’s plan for me to be at BYU at that point in time, and not on a mission.  I did well in my classes, interned at a law firm, got closer to a recently acquired best friend, and was getting really good at baking new things. Again I was at peace.

The semester ended and I got a new job and was working 50-60 hours a week to save money for the upcoming semester’s tuition and a June trip to Disneyland.  I was so busy I never had time to think, but I randomly decided to set a goal to study Preach My Gospel every day for half an hour.  In the back of my mind I knew I was preparing for a mission, but I really didn’t want to admit it to myself. 

The end of June rolled around and I set out on a vacation to California with some friends of mine from college and a few friends of theirs’ from high school.  For the first time in months I had time to think.  I still don’t know how it happened, but on one of the last rides we rode at Disneyland of the night I realized I wasn’t living my life according to Heavenly Father’s plan.  While floating through the fake Pirate’s of the Caribbean village I suppressed tears and frustration.  My friend miraculously sensed that my attitude had abruptly changed, though I didn’t vocalize anything, leaned over and quietly asked if I was doing okay.  In true Amanda fashion, I plastered on an authentic looking smile and said, “Of course!  I’m just tired—it’s been a long day.”  And it had been a long day, we arrived at Disneyland before the gates opened and the park was about to close at this point in time.  He let it go and I mustered enough energy to act happy long enough to get me to my hotel room. 

I ignored the prompting I received at Disneyland and went about my trip for a few more days.  As I got into bed after a day in the exhausting heat at Seven Flags I decided I needed to pray about a mission.  I waited until my friend fell asleep and then quietly wept as I told Heavenly Father in defeat that I was tossing in my towel.  He was in charge now and I wasn’t going to try to change His mind anymore.  Despite the fact that our Inglewood neighbors were blaring mariachi music outside of my hotel window, I felt the quiet, but clear voice speak to my heart; it was finally time for me to serve a mission.  As my weary legs throbbed from my whirlwind day of tourism, my heart throbbed with them to the Mexican music's beat because I realized how much faith it would require for me to actually go on a mission this time around.

I woke up the next morning and instead of watching television and resting like the others were doing, I snuck into the hallway to call my mom.  For half an hour I sobbed as I told my mom about my revelation to serve a mission.  How could Heavenly Father expect me to do something I didn’t want to do?  How could he expect me to do something I was going to be so bad at?  How could he ask me to give up the life I had grown to love—the friends, the new job at the rec center, the school?  I got more than one awkward stare as hotel patrons passed my hot mess of a self with my knees pressed to my chest on the telephone with my mother.  After comforting me for a few minutes she finally told me to buck up; Heavenly Father doesn’t ask us to do things we can’t do and he definitely doesn’t punish us for following His will (one of my main arguments against serving a mission was that by the time I got home I would be 24 and old by Mormon standards and clearly would never be married.  I truly felt like I was being punished for something, but I wasn’t sure what).  

Again I mustered enough strength to act like I was happy and embarked on a day trip to the beach with my co-vacationers.  This time I couldn’t control all the tears and had to artfully hide them behind sunglasses in the very back row of my friend’s mother’s car.  As everyone argued about which beach to go to, I tried to keep the tears rolling down my cheeks to a minimum.  We stopped at a mall and I trailed behind the group a bit and sat down on a bench by myself as one of our party stopped for a Jamba Juice.  The same friend who questioned me at Disneyland about my feelings asked again if I was doing okay.  I actually responded truthfully and said I wasn’t.  I briefly mentioned that I had decided to graduate in December of 2013 instead of April of 2014 and put in mission papers with an availability date of January 1, 2014.  I told him doing the right thing doesn’t always come easily and that for the first time in my life I was having a hard time accepting that The Lord’s idea of right differed greatly from my own.  At this our friends were ready to go and we headed back to the car and set off for the beach.  He smiled and said things would work out and that a mission was exciting and then we both acted like our exchange hadn’t just happened.  The second we got to Huntington Beach I separated from the group and called my younger brother and cried openly among the strangers strewn on beach towels and the horrid seagulls as I told him my news.

After this conversation I decided to quietly lie on the sand for a moment and gather myself so I could convincingly appear happy the rest of the day.  I went on to have a really great time at the beach and successfully distracted myself the last 24 hours of our trip.  Somewhere along the line my plan to graduate in December leaked and I was met with questions that I successfully avoided.  I wasn’t ready to talk openly about my new plan so I just always changed the subject.

I got back to Provo the first week of July and waited a few weeks before I met with my bishop to start my mission papers.  To help with the flurry of feelings I was experiencing, a good friend gave me a blessing and I was promised a lot of beautiful things if I heeded The Lord's prompting.  I had started coming around to the idea, though I still had an emotional few weeks as I accepted what I needed to do.  Around the end of August, amidst other trials, I finally felt good about serving a mission.  I was excited and finally turned the most important corner I’ve ever turned.  I realized that The Lord has given me everything in life; the least I could do was give him 18 months AND be happy about it at the same time.  I changed my perspective and shared the most sincere testimony I have ever shared during my bishop’s interview a few weeks later.  I honestly told him that I wanted to serve a mission because I had felt the power of Christ’s merciful saving grace in my life and wanted to share that with others.  His atonement had picked me up when I was at my absolute lowest and everyone deserved the knowledge that He would do the same for them.  I went on to tell him that the Gospel of Jesus Christ is perfect, even though it is administered by imperfect beings—myself being one of them—and that if someone was looking for it, it was my duty to share it with them.  Tears streamed down my face as I told my bishop that Christ has the power to soothe a broken heart, as he recently had started to do with mine, lend understanding, offer peace and love, and be the only person when no one else seems to be around.  I shared that I don't understand The Lord's plan, but I know there is one and I knew I had to submit mission papers in accordance with this plan.  I told him I believed in Jesus Christ, every living prophet we’ve had on this Earth past and present, and in the power of the eternal family.  And I believed every word I said and knew that that was why I had to serve a mission.

By the end of September I had once again completed all of my paperwork, medical and dental visits, and interviews and was awaiting my call.  Having had a stressful second semester of college that year I had actually lost about 20 pounds since the first time I submitted my mission papers the year before and my weight wasn’t a deterrent in me getting a call this time around.  My attitude had also changed by October 9^th, the day I received my call to the Arizona Mesa Mission—literally the last place on Earth I thought I would be called to.

At this point it had been over two years since I had first been prompted to serve a mission.  I grew exponentially during that time and finally reached a point of clarity.  I was never intended to serve a mission in 2012 when I first submitted my paperwork.  All along the plan was for me to serve the people of Mesa, Arizona from January 29^th, 2014 until approximately July of 2015.  Heavenly Father, being the wise creator that he is, knew it would take two years to soften my very hard heart and thus planted the seed long before the harvest was required.  In my lack of wisdom I automatically assumed I had to go right after I turned 21 instead of when The Lord needed me to enter the field.

Despite getting my assignment to Mesa, Arizona, of all places, I was excited when I opened my call envelope and it all felt right.  I went on to have a few doubts throughout the semester and at times I still worry that I won’t make it to the MTC on January 29^th, but I have the assurance of understanding The Lord’s plan better now.  I also still find myself worrying that every eligible bachelor will magically find himself wedded by the time I return home at the ever-ancient age of 24, but I remind myself that if I am to be single forever that is all a part of the plan, not a bi-product of my mission’s timing.

7 Years

Sometimes I forget that Joseph Smith knew about the plates hidden in the Hill Cumorah for 7 years before he was instructed to obtain and translate them.

Sometimes I forget that Joseph was sold into slavery at the age of 17 and didn't translate Pharaoh's dream until he was 30.

Sometimes I forget that the Israelites were held in bondage at the hands of the Egyptians for hundreds of years before the Lord liberated them through Moses.

Sometimes I forget that I am not in charge of my life's timetable, but that doesn't mean there isn't a timetable.

Let's rewind to my high school graduation: circa 2009.  I had just finished a school year in which I served as the co-editor of our high school year book, drum major for marching and pep band, choir president, National Honor Society president, one of six senior class student council representatives, and senior class president.  On top of my leadership roles I had performed in a musical, play, and on a one act competition team, was a member of our school's jazz choir and flute choir, was working a part time job at the pharmacy in town, worked hard to get top ratings on both my vocal and clarinet solos at our annual competition, was taking two AP classes, sat first chair at the all-conference honor band concert that year, and was on the first ever CFHS Minnesota state champion We the People team.  I was graduating a four year letter winner in academics, band, and choir among other letters that I had accomplished only two or three of my high school years, and had been voted most musical and best female singer by my classmates.  2008-2009 was a great school year for me and I believed my last year as a child was going to propel me into an adulthood of prosperous circumstances.  Now before you're overly impressed with me, I should mention that I was in a class of 106 graduates--it's not like I held all these titles and had beat out 1200 other students for them.  Nevertheless I was full of confidence and ready to enter Brigham Young University and make a name for myself.

Instead, I spent my first year of college struggling with self worth and believing I wasn't destined for anything above mediocrity; how can you excel when 35,000 other BYU students graduated from high school with all the accomplishments I listed above and then some?  I drowned my sorrows and fear in far more Nutella than any person should eat in 9 months and stupidly chopped off my hair.  It took a study abroad to London in 2010 for me to re-find myself and re-dedicate myself to finding my path in life.  With a more humble outlook on my future I finished my second year of college and began to tell myself again that there was a plan for me--it just may involve less grandiose accomplishments than I previously anticipated.  Two years later I've just finished my senior year of college and have another year left before BYU will give me a diploma.  I'm as lost as I was my freshman year of college and still wonder what magnificent things await for me.  When I try and imagine my future I just get lost and don't know what to do.  Unfortunately, the dewey-eyed 18 year old who strode across the graduation stage four years ago with confidence in her own plan was wrong about many of the expectations she set for herself.  I didn't end up majoring in music, I didn't finish college in four years, I didn't have a crazy awesome dating life, and I am no closer to knowing what I want to do for a career than I was the day I was born.

I lost confidence in my plan a few years ago, but eventually gained confidence in the Lord's plan.  I feel like I talk and write about my uncertainty in life a lot.  I think it's because it's something that I've finally learned to embrace in the last 6 months or so and I hope others don't take as long as I did to revel in life's uncertainty.  I didn't come into college with an open heart. I set goals, I made plans, and I didn't confer with the Lord at all.  SURPRISE!  I'm not really the one in charge, but it's better that way.  If I was in charge I would have missed out on so much.  I've been thinking about the Lord's plan for me a lot lately.  Almost incessantly.  Today while I was studying though I was reminded that:


Joseph Smith knew about the plates hidden in the Hill Cumorah for 7 years before he was instructed to obtain and translate them.

Joseph was sold into slavery at the age of 17 and didn't translate Pharaoh's dream until he was 30.

The Israelites were held in bondage at the hands of the Egyptians for hundreds of years before the Lord liberated them through Moses.

I am not in charge of my life's timetable, but that doesn't mean there isn't a timetable.

A Worthy Goal

I had a moment last week when I realized I am not the woman that my Heavenly Father believes I can be.  I have talents and blessings that I am not utilizing.  I have been progressing academically since I began college, as well as professionally.  I do not doubt that I have paved a path that will lead to a successful career and future if I wish it to.  By the standards of the world I am doing life the right way.  That being said, I have spent the last school year being spiritually stagnant.  I haven’t pushed myself to grow further in the light of Christ and I became content with my humble testimony.  It’s time that changes.  While reading my patriarchal blessing last week I realized I need to start actively working toward becoming the valiant woman of Christ I am ordained to be.  I have been blessed with the ability to be a light to those who wander in darkness—something I don’t do often enough.  Boats are crashing on the shore because my lighthouse bulb hasn’t been shinning very brightly lately.  I set a goal to spend half an hour a day studying Preach My Gospel because I want to be prepared to be a missionary, whether that be for 18 months out in the field, or just in every day settings where people may ask me questions about my faith.  I also think there are things I can learn from this text that will help me grow as a person.  As I study Preach My Gospel and my scriptures I will be posting insights on this blog for surfers of the World Wide Web (or, let's be real...just my mom) to read.  I’m doing this for multiple reasons.  First, I’m trying to get more comfortable with the idea of sharing my faith.  I group faith in the broader category of emotions, and I am awful at sharing my emotions—I would rather pull my arm hairs out individually with tweezers than tell someone I love them, cry in front of another human, or admit openly that I care about someone and miss them.  It’s not that I don’t have faith or that I don’t love people (trust me, I love a lot of people—some who don’t even know that I do), I have just always struggled with communicating deeper emotions (and not because I was abused as a child—I come from a loving family, it really just stems from my larger fear of rejection and my fear of depending upon other people...wow, talk about a therapeutic tangent).  Second, I’m trying to keep myself accountable to my goal.  If I say I’ll blog about something then I’m more likely to actually do it.  Third, I hope that people who are struggling with their faith (of any religion, whether they be Mormon or not) stumble upon this and recognize that no one is perfect and we all have to take a step back sometimes and evaluate where we are spiritually.  I really enjoy blogging, but have been struggling with finding a meaningful topic to write about lately.  I will continue to rant when I want to about every topic under the sun on my personal blog and updating individuals on my life, but this blog will be dedicated to my deeper thoughts and spiritual insights and progression.