Where are they now, those women who stared from the mirror?

Part of packing up my life/organizing my room as I get ready for Oxford means that I find a lot of old notebooks and journals. I have too many of them. But the thing is, I'm not one a person who just collects pretty notebooks. I use them. All of them. Every single page.

I'm a writer. It's what I do.

My journals are . . . how do I describe them? They are similar to my blog posts, but they are more personal. I know that the more skeptical among you are saying, "Really, Meg? Because this blog can get pretty darn up-close and personal sometimes." I know that it can. Frankly, that's how I prefer it. I like to be as genuine as I can be without being overbearing. I have a way that I portray myself online, and for right now, I'm good with that--even if it does mean that I am more personal than some people would be comfortable with.

But, even though my blog posts can verge on the diary-esque at times, I hope that my thoughts and experiences are useful to people. I write with an audience in mind--and that audience includes both friends and family members who tell me that they enjoy reading my blog and myself, honestly. I try to write things that I would enjoy reading if they were on someone else's blog.  

Anyway. My journals are much more personal than these blog posts. They include many more names, feelings, angst, dreams, hopes, etc. than I would ever feel comfortable sending into the vast universe of the Internet.

My journals are also full of more self-reflection than these blog posts.

Last night, I finished up a journal that I started about nine months ago. I always have this sense of melancholy accomplishment when I finish a journal. I also have this ritual I do--I like to look back and see how I have changed, what I have learned, and what I hope to improve about myself. It's part of the narrative I write about myself, I suppose. I want my narrative to be one full of growth and change, hope and redemption. (See this article in The Atlantic for a more-detailed analysis of this idea of how we shape our narratives--I think it's fascinating.)

When I write my journal posts, I am limited--I only have the understanding of what I experienced that day or that week . . . I can't see what the future holds. But when I look back on my old journal posts, I am an omniscient reader.

I know exactly what grade I will get on that essay, how that first date will go, or what graduate school program I will choose.

And I know how I have changed--for better or for worse--from those days before.

Often I laugh out loud when reading past journal entries. I laugh at how silly I am or how melodramatic. Sometimes I cry. I cry for the pain that my previous self experienced or inflicted on others. Sometimes I am impressed by the wisdom of a February 7th or April 16th Megan. Yet reading the entries from February 9th or April 28th help me realize how easily I forget. It's a cycle of epiphanies and amnesia, bitterness and healing, pride and humility, hard hearts and soft souls.

That's part of the story of the last nine months. That cycle. The give-and-take. Hope, despair, grief, healing, pain, joy, expectations, cynicism, anger, love . . . they are all a part of me. We can't choose what life or others throw at us. But we can choose what to do with our circumstances. Hard hearts can soften. Moments of struggle bring the greatest growth. And I can choose to be an agent and claim a space of choice.

Perhaps one of the biggest lessons I've learned this summer is that the cure to our maladies (particularly grief and heartbreak) rarely--if ever--come in some dramatic package. Rather, it is by doing the little things step-by-step and choosing to keep moving forward that we make it. Peace and healing take time. But they come. If we are searching, moving forward, and trying to reach out to others, healing comes. That I believe.

It is also impossible (and unhealthy) to try to make things the way they were before. We learn from the past, but we don't live there. As Elder Jeffrey R. Holland says, "We look back to claim the embers from glowing experiences but not the ashes. And when we have learned what we need to learn and have brought with us the best that we have experienced, then we look ahead, we remember that faith is always pointed toward the future."

Last September, I fell in love with a song from the musical Ragtime. It's called "Back to Before," and it is sung at a critical junction in a character's development. It is a moment of self-realization . . . and disillusionment. Listen to it--it will be worth your time, I promise.


[I'm also including a link here, just in case the video is taken away.]

Since I know that you most likely did not listen to it (although if you did, kudos to you--it's beautiful, isn't it?), here are the lyrics:

"There was a time our happiness seemed never-ending
I was so sure that where we were heading was right. 
Life was a road, so certain and straight and unbending
Our little road with never a crossroad in sight. 

Back in the days when we spoke in civilized voices 
Women in white and sturdy young men at the oar. 
Back in the days when I let you make all my choices . . .
We can never go back to before. 

There was a time my feet were so solidly planted
You'd sail away while I turned my back to the sea. 
I was content, a princess asleep and enchanted 
If I had dreams then I let you dream them for me. 

Back in the days when everything seemed so much clearer
Women in white who knew what their lives held in store
Where are they now, those women who stared from the mirror? 
We can never go back to before. 

There are people out there unafraid of revealing 
That they might have a feeling or they might have been wrong. 
There are people out there unafraid to feel sorrow, unafraid of tomorrow, 
unafraid to be weak . . . unafraid to be strong! 

There was a time when you were the person in motion 
I was your wife, it never occurred to want more. 
You were my sky, my moon, and my stars and my ocean . . .
We can never go back to before. We can never go back to before! 

I think that we all have multiple times in our lives when we have those startling paradigm shifts: we realize that life can never go back to the way it was before. Our "little roads with never a crossroad in sight" suddenly become tortuous. We realize that there are many winding roads with multiple crossroads . . . and we are forced to make difficult decisions. Decisions where we both lose and gain.

We wake up from our enchanted sleep and find that we have been been living someone else's dreams instead of living our own lives with purpose and fulfillment. Those "women in white who knew what their lives had in store" and who seemed to have all the answers fade from the foreground; their images become blurry and clouded from doubt and disillusionment. Life as before can never be the same.

But in those moments, instead of wallowing in self-pity--or even allowing ourselves to be paralyzed by shock--we need to choose action over cynicism or fear. We choose to move forward in faith, even while we grieve (or rejoice, depending on the context) for what was lost. We can choose to be "unafraid to be weak, unafraid to be strong." To live deliberately. To realize that doubt and disillusionment are parts of life--of growing up--but that doesn't mean we have to stay in those valleys.

We can claim our agency. And re-claim it time and again when life tries to swallow us whole.

Fight for our happiness.

As I was re-reading a few of my past journal entries, I came across one that I had written after a "we can never go back to before" moment. A paradigm shift, so to speak. And a deeper understanding as I wrestled through questions and struggles of my own. I hope you will indulge me as I share it hoping that these thoughts will be helpful for someone, somewhere:

"Where is the mercy? I think we all ask that--or we all will ask that--either cynically or out of despair at some point in our lives. Where is the mercy? Where is the mercy in the history of a world that is full of plague, war, rape, slavery, and oppression? Where is the mercy in our own lives? Our own lives which are also full of sorrow, disappointment, despair, and loss? Where is the justice? Where is the compassion? And where is the mercy? [. . .]

"Sometimes we wonder where God is, or why God "did" or "didn't" do something. But often, God doesn't do anything. Not in the sense that He's not there or that He doesn't care. But in the sense that He doesn't take away our agency. He allows us to make stupid decisions. So that we can learn. So that His justice can come to pass.

"I mean, God could send an angel with a flaming sword to stop every bad thing from happening--every genocide, every stock market crash, every war. He doesn't stop every break-up, every broken arm, every sickness.

"He could. And don't get me wrong--sometimes He does. Sometimes He does. But most of the time, He lets us choose. And our mistakes hurt others. And others' choices hurt us. He is the God who weeps. Who weeps because we hurt each other. Who weeps because we choose ourselves over Him. Who weeps because He loves us. But who loves us enough that He doesn't and will not take our agency away.

"So there has to be something powerful about agency--so powerful--that God will not take it away from us . . . that He will not force us. But that He will guide, direct, persuade, and ultimately weep--mindful of us and mindful that this use of our agency is the only way we can learn. It is the only way we can progress. Desiring and choosing the Lord's way helps us become like Him. But we have to really want it. He wants to know if we really want it. What are the desires of our hearts? Shto ty hochesh? What do you want?"

We can never go back to before. But we can move forward. We can choose to claim our agency and be the leading ladies and heroes of our own stories.

Agents to act instead of being acted upon.

"I have a new man in my life. His name is George. And he has a town."

In October 2013, I suffered an existential crisis of sorts. Not only had I just returned from my mission and was trying to find my place back at BYU and make the transition from Cectpa Armknecht to Megan Beth, but I realized that my career goals that I had made before my mission were not appealing to me anymore. 

Before the mission, I wanted to be an editor and freelance writer--now, don't get me wrong, I still love writing and I still harbor a desire to write a book--many books, actually. But I realized that I did not love editing like I thought I would. The editing class I was taking bored me and I did not care about details that much in order to be an effective editor. Soooo, that left me without a day job. 

I also realized that I loved my history classes a lot more than my English classes, but it was too late to change my major . . . plus, I didn't want to be at school for another two years to finish my bachelor's. Soooo, that left me feeling unhappy in many of my major classes. And again, don't get me wrong. I really am grateful for my education--and I still don't know if I would go back and change my major to history if I could do it all over again--being an English major has opened so many doors for me, helped me make some lifelong friends, and has taught me a lot about the purpose and ambiguities of life. Still, it made me wistful for all of those history classes I could have taken and for missed opportunities and connections. 

I was trying to find my place in the world again--really, I was trying to forge my own place in the world. I wanted some control over my future, but what was I going to do if I couldn't figure it out? What if nothing was appealing to me? What if I graduated from BYU with no job, no prospects, and no future? It was fatalistic thinking, but I spent many nights just trying to figure out what I truly wanted in my life--what would make me happy? What would make me a productive member of not only society, but for my family and for the Church? What was my path? I felt that I had something to give--something great to give--but I didn't know how to focus my efforts.

It wasn't until a professor approached me after class one day and asked me if I had ever considered getting a PhD and becoming a professor. (Now I realize that this isn't very common--most professors, especially history professors, seem to have some kind of secret pact to dissuade as many students as possible from getting PhDs . . . not because they don't think they'd be able to get PhDs in History, but simply because it's really hard to get tenured teaching positions.) 

But my professor asked me if I had ever considered becoming a professor. "I think you'd be really good at it," he said. 

His suggestion hit me. It was like the room filled with light and everything came into focus. 

Yes. Yes, that's exactly what I want to do. 

As I made that decision to work towards a PhD, the universe began to conspire in my favor. Doors started opening in ways I never thought possible--internships at archives, research assistantships, publications and presentations, incredible mentors--all of these people and opportunities preparing me for grad school. 

Working for the dream of grad school sometimes feels like I'm chasing shadows--false promises and a deluded hope. Believe me. There have been more than a few times where I've considered throwing it all away and becoming a hand model instead. Studying for the GRE was one of those times. Doing grad school application after grad school application was another one of those times. The history department's "Grad School Prep Night" was another one of those times when I wondered why I don't just blow all my savings, move to Lichtenstein, work in a postage stamp shop, and write about my experiences. 

But I'm incredibly stubborn. And, there have been people in my life who have kept encouraging me. Who believe in me. And I'm so grateful to them. 

This week, I've started to hear back from grad schools. 

I've only heard back from 2 so far. But I've been accepted into both of them! 

Utah State and Georgetown. 

I'm in. Whatever else happens, I'm IN!!!!! I have a place to go in the fall. And, I have options. 

(I'm still waiting to hear back from the 5 other schools I applied to--we'll see what happens.) 

I've gone back and forth between feelings of joy, humility, terror, and exhilaration. 

For how do you begin to write about a dream that is finally getting wings? 

Because that's how it feels. This wonderful dream is on its way. I don't have to wait anymore. I know that somewhere wants me, has accepted me, and that next fall I will start a new adventure somewhere.  

I may be small, but I've got giant plans to shine as brightly as the sun. 

                                                                                 --"astonishing," little women 

I'll let you know where I decide to go. But for right now, I'm just holding onto this feeling of success and joy. 

#megisgoingtogradschool

Year in Review via Ingrid and Sara

. . . so, a disclaimer first. I'm really bad at doing year-in-reviews. Like, really bad. I think part of it is because I divide my life up into seasons/semesters, not years . . . so this might end up being more of a semester-in-review instead of a year-in-review. Happens. And I don't even want to really do an entire month-by-month year-in-review. That's way too much work for me and no one really cares. (Okay, okay, maybe three people care. If you're really interested, just give me a call. And if you want to see a good year-in-review, you should read Dave Barry's. Because his are always hilarious.)

But, I decided that I need to do a shout-out to two of my favorite singers who I've listened to incessantly this year: Sara Bareilles and Ingrid Michaelson. I love Sara Bareilles and Ingrid Michaelson, and it's kind of uncanny how well their songs match my life at exactly the right moments (especially in relation to the ups-and-downs of dating).

My love for all things Sara and Ingrid was only confirmed by Ingrid Michaelson's great new album in April, and I listened to it all summer. Soooo, the Summer of 2014 essentially became the Summer of Ingrid. Wahooooo.

Anyway. So, since I divide my life up into seasons/semesters and not years, here are the songs which I've both loved and related to this year.

Winter 2014:
Girls Chase Boys, Ingrid *
Everybody, Ingrid
Manhattan, Sara *
Between the Lines, Sara *

Spring/Summer 2014:
Over You, Ingrid
Be OK, Ingrid
Let the Rain, Sara *
Mountain and the Sea, Ingrid *
Breathe Again, Sara *
Hold My Heart, Sara *

Fall 2014:
Do It Now, Ingrid *
Afterlife, Ingrid
Are We There Yet, Ingrid *
Brave, Sara
Chasing the Sun, Sara *
Bright Lights and Cityscapes, Sara *
The Light, Sara *
Giving Up, Ingrid *


There you go. I realize that there are a lot of songs. I also realize that the majority of them are from Fall 2014--like I said, I'm better at remembering semester-by-semester, not the entire year. If you don't listen to all of them, the ones with asterisks are the most relevant. BUT all of these songs relate in some way or another. They document a growth-filled year where I learned so much about hope, expectation, disappointment, resilience, courage, and trust. I'm sure that 2015 will be similar, but in different ways.

If anything, I'm glad that these two brilliant ladies provide the perfect soundtrack for my life.

"The Holiness of the Heart's Affections"

*DISCLAIMER* This blog post is full of thoughts and feelings which have been searching for a way to get out for awhile now; a culmination, or rather, continuation, of other thoughts I have had about vulnerability. Feel free to disagree with my musings; I doubt that everyone will agree with everything I have to say. Still, it is important to point out that these thoughts are in no way directed at or alluding to any one or any situation. It is simply raw, vulnerable emotion--a blog post I am sharing with the world in the hopes that it is helpful to someone, somewhere. 

I do not pretend to be experienced in matters of love and relationships. I am still learning about myself . . . I always will be, I guess. But maybe being my age and at my stage of life makes me more vocal and interested in love and relationships and the concept of falling in love, especially as so many of my peers (myself included) fall in and out of love on a semi-regular basis.

We're all at different stages of life, even though we're technically all around the same age, we are at different places at life, love, and relationships. One of us might have just gone through a major break-up; another is going through the anguish of unrequited love; yet another considers him or herself ready for a relationship . . . and how are we to know how a person is feeling or where they are on the "relationship-readiness-scale" when we meet them in class or are set up by well-meaning friends? Most people don't shout their deep, dark secrets from the rooftops; it's impractical to wear your heart on your sleeve.

The differences of where we all stand on the planes of love does not even begin to cover the different backgrounds we all come from--politics, religion, culture, intelligence, family--they all play a part in making us who we are. And with all of these differences, it's a miracle people get married, really. It's a miracle they have decided to have faith enough to make a whole-hearted effort to make a marriage last and form a home.

Now wonder we put marriage announcements on the highest place of honor: the kitchen fridge. Because it truly is a miracle when it works out. A miracle.

It's the getting there that's the headache.

And I know it's not one-sided. It's frustrating for guys and girls alike. And we all add to the headaches and heartaches of others. Such is life.

And I think--I think that although most of us love the idea of being in love, we are more cautious when it comes down to the basics of it--when it becomes real and not abstract. I think that love scares us sometimes. That choice to surrender. To give all. It is terrifying . . . but it is also beautiful.

Above all, it is holy. Sacred, even.

I think I am cautious about falling in love for this reason: the regions of the heart are sacred, and I hesitate before letting someone step into the beautiful chambers of my heart. And I hesitate before letting myself try to open the door of someone else's heart. You cannot force your way in; you can only knock with excitement and trepidation and pray that you are let in.

For they must let you in themselves. And then, if they are ready, they will give you the key.

That key could symbolize many things. But I believe it symbolizes trust. A mutual trust to each other, promising to handle the other's heart with tenderness and respect.

Because entering those chambers is a sacred privilege.

Think of it--letting someone tread on your hopes and dreams; your joys and fears. You are becoming a part of their life, and that, for me, is huge. It's not something to be flippant about. It is too precious.

I've always loved this poem by W.B. Yeats:

"Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams." 

You tread on my dreams. I believe that is what we do when we love someone or when someone loves us. We spread our hopes and dreams at their feet--a magnificent tapestry of possibilities. We open ourselves up and let another person see our good parts and bad parts, our hopes and dreams and fears all rolled into one . . . and then we pray that they will still love us for who we are and who we can become. 

It is frightening--but it is beautiful. And really, I don't think there could be any other way. 

Love is about faith. It is also about hope. Without hope, we would never allow another in.  

John Keats once said, "I am certain of nothing but the Holiness of the Heart's affections and the Truth of the Imagination." 

Spoken like a true Romantic. But I do believe that the heart's affections are holy. And that is what makes love so wonderful, terrifying, and life-changing. 

"What if it doesn't work out?" 

"Ah, but what if it does?"  

How Little Women Relates to My Life, Part the Second

I know that I just wrote a huge-monster-sized post about how I'm über-excited about how I actually have dreams to work towards. 

Bear with me, this will be another long post. 

But it's aching to get out of my heart, so I need to write. 

Remember how I decided that I am Jo? 

Well, there's another reason why. 

Jo has three sisters. She loves her sisters very much and would do anything for them. Her dreams are based upon their happiness. In fact, it's hard for Jo when they all start going their separate ways. Her sisters are her world. 

Aren't they so cute?

I have three sisters, too. And I would do anything for them.

Unfortunately, I don't have a picture of all four of us together. I have lots with Sarah and Katy (the ones on missions right now), but none with all four of us together. Problem. We will have to fix that. Someday. [Erika, I promise that I love you, too. I just can't find a picture with all four of us together.]

For right now, I'll just post this. It's from this summer when I got home from my mission. We're all here and we all look genuinely happy.

Yay! Happy family. Love them. 

But. The point is that like Jo, I love my family. I love my siblings. I love my sisters. They are my life. And I want them to be happy. 

It's bittersweet watching us all grow up and go our separate ways, even though they are all good, wonderful ways to go. I mean, two of my sisters are on missions right now. They are incredible and brave. It's not easy giving them up, but I am glad they have chosen to serve the Lord. 

You know that feeling you get when you realize that nothing is going to be the same? Yeah. Nothing will be the same. We're growing up. We're forging our own lives. We're becoming the women we need to be. 

Even though these are wonderful things, it's still not easy. I miss them. I miss them an awful lot. 

So recently, another song from Little Women which has resonated with me is "Fire Within Me." Jo sings it after Beth's death, and it describes her anguish at how things haven't turned out the way she had hoped, and then how she realizes that her sisters are and always will be a part of her. 

Because there are no good Youtube videos/recordings of this song (they are all high school students singing for their school plays. No offense to high school thespians, but they are not Sutton Foster), I'm just going to put down the lyrics. They are absolutely beautiful, and describe my feelings pretty accurately: 

"How do I go on?
Just an empty room
All I have are memories
I need a task to do
Someone give me a task to do
I need a....

I thought that somehow we would always have forever
I thought the promises we made would have a different end
I thought the love we shared would keep us as we were
It was the fire within me

We dreamed and plotted with abandon in this attic
When we were gathered here the room became our citadel
We were amazing then my sisters and I
They were the fire within me

In this room I knew we were alive
Nothing was too painful to survive
We faced the world together
The four of us forever side by side
Everything I promised was for them
I was theirs no matter where or when
How can that be lost forever
How when I gave everything with all my heart?

[Jo starts writing about her sisters and then has an epiphany:]

Everything I promised them is here
All of us we used to be
We will always have each other
They will always be the fire in my heart
Here I go, and there's no turning back
My great adventure has begun
I may be small
But I've got giant plans
To shine as brightly as the sun
Here in all the smallest details of the past
Here in this attic suddenly life is something vast
The four of us forever here at last
As unexpected as can be
Astonishing." 

Yes, things are different. But we will always have each other (no matter how cliche that sounds). If we want it, we will always be there for each other and be each other's best friends.

I know this is extremely sappy.  

But it's the truth. There is power in sisterhood. And I'm so grateful that I have the best sisters anyone could ask for. 

Love and Trust

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the difference between love and trust.

I just finished reading The Power of Everyday Missionaries by Clay Christensen (which I highly recommend, by the way), and in his book he has example after example of regular people sharing the gospel.

In one chapter, Brother Christensen shares the stories of three wards in three different areas of the world. Each of these wards had experienced phenomenal growth in a relatively short amount of time while the wards around them only had mediocre success in missionary work. Why? Brother Christensen suggests that it is not because there was a higher percentage of “prepared” people in the flourishing wards and a lack of “elect” in the surrounding areas. Rather, Brother Christensen says that it was because God could trust the members of these wards. He trusted them because they were actually going what He has asked all of us to do: they were being member missionaries. They were opening their mouths. They were fellowshipping less-active members of the Church and non-members. They were full of love, which “casteth out all fear” (1 John 4:18). God knew these members. He knew their character and their hearts, and He knew He could trust them with His children. Brother Christensen writes, “God has promised that He will answer the prayers of His children. If He can’t trust us, then he must use other means to answer the prayers of others.”

Gaining the trust of God is a very real thing . . . and it is a deeper aspect of His love. 

I first had this discussion with a missionary companion during companionship study in a dusty little room in Ukraine. My companion was talking about one of the elders we served with, and she mentioned that God didn’t just love this elder—He trusted him.

The comment struck me.

I thought, “That’s what I want. I want to be someone God can trust. I already know I have His love, but I want to meet His trust.”

Behold, the handmaid of the Lord.

We don’t earn the love of God. God loves us because He loves us. He is our loving Heavenly Father and we are His children. God chooses to love us. The love of God is what saves the world: “For God so loved the world that He gave His only Begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him, should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John 3:16). Everything God does is calculated only to bless, because he “first loved us” (1 John 4:19). We are literally the sons and daughters of God, created in His image, and He loves us with an all-encompassing, filling, healing love. I have felt His love, and it is available to everyone. There is nothing that can separate us from His love (see Romans 8:35-39) . . . only if we willingly choose to reject him. “For this eternal truth is given, that God will force no man to heaven.”

God loves all of us. We are His children. But trust is a different matter.

People trust us when they know we love them. The Savior said, “If ye love me, keep my commandments” (John 14:15).

If we truly love God, then we will want to keep His commandments.

I love my little brother, but I don’t trust him to drive me to Salt Lake. He hasn’t earned his driver’s license, and no amount of my love will keep us safe on the road. Only knowledge of and obedience to the rules of the road.

I love my 12-year-old cousin. But I don’t trust him with my journal. He hasn’t earned that level of trust.

God loves me. But if I don’t keep His commandments, how can He trust me?

If I don’t study my scriptures and pray every day, why would He trust me with continuous personal revelation?

If I don’t open my mouth to share the gospel, why would He trust me with His children who are praying to find the truth?

If I don’t repent daily, why would He trust me with His Spirit?

Meeting the trust of God is nothing new. The scriptures are full of examples.

·         Abraham earned the trust of God so much that He was even called the “friend of God” (Isaiah 41:8). God knew Abraham’s character, and trusted him enough to make covenants with him. He could trust Abraham to bring up a righteous posterity:

“And the Lord said, Shall I hide from Abraham that thing which I do;

Seeing that Abraham shall surely become a great and mighty nation, and all the nations of the earth shall be blessed in him?

For I know him, that he will command his children and his household after him, and they shall keep the way of the Lord, to do justice and judgment; that the Lord may bring upon Abraham that which he hath spoken of him.” (Genesis 17:17-19)

·         A Book of Mormon prophet, Nephi, aligned his will so perfectly with God’s that God granted him incredible power. God granted him this power because he knew he would never ask for anything contrary to the will of God:

“Blessed art thou, Nephi, for those things which thou hast done; for I have beheld how thou hast with unwearyingness declared the word, which I have given unto thee, unto this people. And thou hast not feared them, and hast not sought thine own life, but has sought my will, and to keep my commandments.

And now, because thou hast done this with such unwearyingness, behold, I will bless thee forever; and I will make thee mighty and word and in deed, in faith and in works; yea, even that all things shall be done unto thee according to thy word, for thou shall not ask that which is contrary to my will.” (Helaman 10:3-5)

If that’s not trust, I don’t know what is.

·         From Church history, I love the example of Joseph Smith. One reason I love his example so much is because we can see his progression as he grows in the knowledge and trust of God and as he becomes someone who God can always count on. Joseph Smith wasn’t perfect (none of us are). He made mistakes (as all of us do). It took him four years (1823-1827) to be ready to receive the gold plates because God was teaching him and training him . . . and, ultimately making sure he could trust Joseph. Even then, Joseph sometimes made mistakes—sometimes big mistakes (116 lost pages, anyone?). Some things we learn from the episode of the 116 lost pages (and there are many) are that:  

                1. It's the purposes of man, not the purposes of God that are foiled. (D&C 3:3)

                2. When God tells us not to do something, just don't do it. 

                3. We can earn the trust of God again. Look at what the Lord tells Joseph: 

                           "Behold, thou art Joseph, and thou wast chosen to do the work of the Lord, 

                            but because of transgression, if thou art not aware thou wilt fall. 

                            But remember, God is merciful; therefore, repent of that which thou hast done
                           which is contrary to the commandment which I gave you, and thou art still chosen, and art again called to the work." (D&C 3:9-10). 

    Joseph repented. He regained God's trust completely, finished translating the Book of Mormon by the power of God, and was the means by which God restored His gospel and Church to the earth in our day. He was a prophet of God in every sense of that sacred calling. 

     Joseph Smith said in 1843, "I have made this my rule: When the Lord commands, do it."

     

     That is someone God can trust.

That is someone who loves God.

And the first sign of love is always loyalty.

I know I've only scratched the surface of this topic. But these are my musings for tonight.

Behold, the handmaid of the Lord. 

[if you have any more thoughts about love vs. trust, please comment below!] 

September the First

It's the start of a new semester and I am not going back to school.

Guys, it's so weird.

I was on-campus just yesterday helping my sister get textbooks from the Bookstore. We walked through the aisles, checking up and down to discover Elementary Linear Algebra's hiding place (I didn't want to find it, but my sister did), and searching in vain to find the Teachings of the Living Prophets manual.

But I didn't get any books. No Shakespeare, no Woolf, no American History textbooks.

And although my pocketbook was happy, it didn't feel quite right to me.

I mean, school is what I do. It's what I've done since Kindergarten, and I like it. And am quite good at it. It's so weird to not be going back when all of my friends are.

The only thing I can compare this with (and this is extremely nerdy, but I don't care. I've accepted and embraced the fact that I am a nerd.) is the seventh Harry Potter book. The part where the trio is hiding out in Number 12 Grimmauld Place, and Death Eaters are stalking the neighborhood, trying to find their hiding place. On September 1st--the day they would start their seventh year at Hogwarts under normal circumstances--Harry tells Ron and Hermione that:

“There are still a load of Death Eaters watching this house,” he told Ron as he ate, “more than usual. It’s like they’re hoping we’ll march out carrying our school trunks and head off for the Hogwarts Express.”


Ron glanced at his watch.


“I’ve been thinking about that all day. It left nearly six hours ago. Weird, not being on it, isn’t it?”

And it is weird not "being on it." I'm not back in Provo. I'm not going to class tomorrow. I'm not going to have my name called out in class. I'm not going to see my friends on campus.

It feels so surreal. To be completely honest and silly, I feel a tad rebellious, like I'm skipping class or something, because it doesn't feel real yet. 

But I'm also feeling a tad nostalgic, like Harry:

"In his mind’s eye Harry seemed to see the scarlet steam engine as he and Ron had once followed it by air, shimmering between fields and hills, a rippling scarlet caterpillar. He was sure Ginny, Neville, and Luna were sitting together at this moment, perhaps wondering where he, Ron, and Hermione were [. . .]"


I realized yesterday when I was on campus how much I love BYU. I'm going to miss it for 18 months. And although my situation is nothing like Harry's (or is it? . . . perhaps the fate of the wizarding and Muggle worlds does rest on my shoulders), I still feel that pang of homesickness, and that longing for familiarity.

and I still hope, just hope, that someone wonders where I am, too.

Faith and Vulnerability

-These could be some deep thoughts coming up. I feel like I'm really putting myself out there. But I just need to get these thoughts down, and I wouldn't mind feedback . . . or at least, I don't mind letting others know what I've been feeling the past few days. Hopefully this message is helpful to someone. So, for love of him/her, sweet blogger friends, judge tenderly of me!- (brownie points if you can get the reference)

But, as I'm sure many of you know, I got my mission call this Wednesday!

I'm going to the Ukraine Donetsk Mission, Russian speaking, going into the Missionary Training Center March 14th, 2012.

*For those of you who aren't LDS, both men and women serve missions for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Men go at 19 and serve for 24 months, women go at 21 and serve for 18 months. Men are supposed to go on missions; it is a duty for every worthy LDS man. Women are not required to go, but our service is heartily welcomed.
We don't choose where we go. Rather, we believe that God assigns us where to go, and that He reveals where we're supposed to go to His called and ordained prophets and apostles, who are worthy and authorized to receive that revelation. Each call is personalized and individual. Missionaries are not just assigned at random, but where the Lord needs them to go, and where the missionary him/herself needs to go.*

But even though I don't have to go, I chose to go. And it was probably the hardest decision I've made in my life so far. I didn't know it would be so hard. But I fasted and prayed and thought deeply about serving a mission. And God has answered/is answering my prayers, line upon line, precept on precept. I step out into the dark, with faith that He'll hold my hand.

Ukraine! Wow. And speaking RUSSIAN?!

I'm excited. And scared. And mostly overwhelmed right now, to be completely honest. I've been bouncing back and forth between feeling excited and ready-to-leave-right-now to fearful and unsure about my abilities. I've looked up to missionaries--especially sister missionaries--my entire life, and I now I almost am one. Now I'm supposed to be that kind of hero, and I don't feel brave enough.

Maybe I don't have to be right now. I sure hope I don't have to be brave right now, because I'm not. I honestly have no idea how I'm going to do it. It scares me: Ukraine is so far away, Russian will be formidably hard to learn, and eighteen months is a long, long time. That time scares me the most.

But I'll put my confidence in God. He's never let me down before, and He fulfills His promises to me even when I worry they will never be. I don't know exactly how my life will turn out, but isn't that what faith is? Faith isn't a perfect knowledge of things. But it is trusting in God. It is believing that He knows what is best for you--even those moments when you suffer, even those moments when life doesn't turn out the way you thought. Faith is putting your trust in His timing and learning to accept and even love His timing. Faith isn't easy. But faith is a choice.

"The Lord will reward you for the goodness of your life." That was the line in my mission call that made me start sobbing. And I believe that the Lord will bless me for the good I do, but the only reason I'm able to be good is because of Him. And I believe that He will use me to bless others' lives. One of the greatest desires of my heart is to bring others to Christ, and show them that He is the way to happiness; He is the healer of the nations. And going on a mission will change hearts and lives. I'm looking forward to that. So, so much.

But faith still isn't easy. Worthwhile things never are.

I'm sorry that this post is so incredibly angsty. It's a big change for me; one of the biggest, if not THE biggest in my life. And I'm still trying to make sense of it all.

But for now, I'll move forward with faith. There is no reason to let fear paralyze me.

(Oh! And here are pictures. Because they are fun to look at and tell the story that I know you wanted to hear. But instead you got Megan's "deep-dark-fears-of-my-heart" spiel.)

 The call! 

 It is SO exciting to hold a mission call in your hands. Electricity surges through the envelope. 

 Sarah is weighing the options, trying to figure out where I'm going to go. Her guesses were wrong. 

But I really feel like this picture defines many aspects of our relationship. And our personalities. 

 Oh what can you do with a mission call? 

 About to open it . . .

 "Dear Sister Armknecht . . ." 

 Ukraine Donestk Mission! 

plus, the press conference surrounding me. 

also, it was not long after this that I started sobbing. Uncontrollably. For many reasons, but mostly because I really did feel God's love for me as I read my mission call.  

also, my hair is long. 

 This is Sharisa. She's my best friend. She's also going to Ukraine. But to the Ukraine Dnepropetrovsk Mission. But we're both leaving March 14th and we're both speaking Russian! We could be MTC companions! So, so crazy.

"Ukraaaaaaaaaaainnnnnnnnnnnneeeeeeeeeeeee." 

Is very far away.

If you got this far, thanks for reading. I hope you have a lovely day. :) 

On Singleness

First things first:

When this blog became more about my life than about my travels, I made it a point to not talk about specific boys/dates. Those stories are reserved for my journal and for those who know me best, not for the public blogosphere. (Especially because I never know who is reading my blog.) I also really don't go into great detail about what I'm feeling or my fears and insecurities. Because I don't think people want to read about my angst.

That being said, I'm breaking one of my rules. And it's not the first one. This post is not about any boys in particular. I am going to reveal one of my deepest insecurities, but only because I hope that what I've learned can help someone else somehow.

Yesterday when I was studying my scriptures, I felt like I needed help with something, but I couldn't put my finger on it. You know those days when there are a thousand problems buzzing in your head--nothing too serious, but they cloud your mind and make peace impossible? That's how I felt. I wanted Heavenly Father's help and advice, but I wanted to be specific--you get specific answers when you pray for specific things.

So, I pinpointed a stressor: boys and relationships. It's a common worry for girls my age, and I am no exception. In fact, I'd say relationships are a constant worry for almost all BYU students . . . especially the singletons. The pressure to date and get married is a bit overwhelming . . . and not because I don't want to date and get married, but precisely because I do. I want to be a wife and mother more than anything in the world. But it can be frustrating feeling like you're doing all you can do, and still nothing. I'm not saying that I want to get married right away. I'm not saying that at all. All things in good time and all good things to those who wait . . . marriage is not something I want to rush. I also know that marriage is not a "fix-it-all." Ohhhhhh, goodness no.

Still, it would be nice to feel noticed, or at least have your love returned a few times. It can be difficult waiting for the promised blessings of relationships and marriage. I think most single BYU students would agree with me.

Anyway. I decide to focus on relationships and asked Heavenly Father to give me advice/help/comfort on the subject. I felt impressed to turn to the Index in my Triple Combination (the Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants, and the Pearl of Great Price). I opened up to the "Think" entry, I believe. And I was going to turn to Moroni 7:45, which talks about charity, but then I felt like I should turn the pages over just one more time. I looked at the page I was on, and chuckled when I saw the bolded words:

"SINGLE, SINGLENESS"

Oh yes, I thought. God has a sense of humor. 


But then I looked at the words right next to the entry:

"See also Diligence"

I stopped. I had never thought of it like that before. I looked at the tidbits of scripture listed under "SINGLE, SINGLENESS":

3 Nephi 13:22 (cf. Matt. 6:22)--if thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light;
D&C 4:5--eye single to glory of God qualifies man for the work;
D&C 82:19--do all things with eye single to glory of God;
D&C 88:68--sanctify yourselves that your minds become single to God.

My mind started whirling with realization.

Isn't it interesting that the word "single" has no negative implications in the Index or the Topical Guide? Unlike the word "worry," which generally points to scriptural stories of those who lack faith (yes, I've looked up the word "worry," too . . . but it was a different scripture study session), the word "single" brings up scriptures that imply mountains of faith. It's hard aligning your will to God's.

It's hard to be single. It takes patience. It takes faith. It can be so hard to keep faith in blessings yet to be when another lonely Friday night rolls around--whether you're on the girl's end, just hoping for the phone to ring; or whether you're a guy, feeling miserable because you've been rejected again. It takes patience to go to family reunion after family reunion and have people ask you over and over again, "Where's your boy/girlfriend?" "Why aren't you married yet?" It's hard to have hope when you're crying over another unrequited love or devastating break-up. It takes faith to move on and keep on moving.

But it's vital to keep on moving.

It's vital to be diligently single.

While I'm single, I need to be diligent in keeping God's commandments. I need to be diligent in dedicating my life to Him; in serving Him and others--truly having an eye single to His glory. 

The single years are not a time to wallow in misery and self-pity. They are a time for joy, really--to solidify your relationship with God and touch lives in ways you couldn't otherwise. There's so much for me to do while I'm single. It's not a time to mope or wish away my problems--or dwell on dreams of the future and forget to live. God has a specific plan for me. And right now, I'm supposed to be single. I can have faith in His plan, even if it isn't comfortable for me or exactly what I want. Because guess what? I would like a boyfriend. Not gonna lie about that. 

But instead of worrying about not having a boyfriend, I can be diligently single. I can diligently seek out the good in the world, others, and myself. I can be diligently single by touching one life at a time. I can be diligently single by seeking to align my will with God's. I can be diligently single by developing my talents. I can be diligently single by learning how to commune with God.  

I don't know when I'll get engaged, married . . . I don't even know when my next date will be. In the wide spectrum of things, I could have a "Marius and Cosette" type of meeting with my beloved tomorrow and he'll be singing love songs at my window and we'll be married within a fortnight. Or, maybe I'll be single forever. I just don't know what the future holds. I'm not supposed to.

But my scripture study last night certainly changed my perspective on singleness.

There are lives to touch. There are people to change.

There is more to life than a changed relationship status on Facebook.  

Yay! Pretty picture to reward you for getting this far!

. . . anyway, I hope that was helpful somehow to someone. I felt like I should post this, so I did. And I hope I was coherent. If you got this far, thanks for reading. :)