Moments that the words don't reach

My heart hurts today.

This weekend, my dear, dear friend Camille Moffatt was in a car wreck and she is in critical condition.

Hearing the news felt like a punch to the gut. I've known Camille for over six years now. We met on a study abroad to Cambridge and I've considered her a dear friend ever since. Hearing about an accident like that is something you don't ever want to hear. Our bodies are so fragile, and pain is very real. I was reminded of that this weekend in a way I didn't want to be reminded. I can't even imagine the pain her family is going through right now.

I know that Camille is strong. She is brave and she is a fighter, and she is in a place to get the best care that she needs, and I pray for her full recovery.

In these moments, I am also reminded of how little I can do. I don't have the expertise, knowledge, or experience to give her medical attention. But what I can do (pray, fast, write her notes of encouragement and deliver decorations to her room), I will do. My hands are small, but they are willing, especially to somehow bless someone who has been so good to me.

And so, just like she has written beautiful blog posts about people she loves (including me), today I thought it would be fitting to share the reasons that I love Camille. Because there are so many reasons.

Camille is one of those bright souls in the world. A person you never forget, and a friend who never forgets you. She is vivacious and stylish and beautiful and funny and brilliant and good. She is good to the core. She is incredibly artistic and brings beauty to the world wherever she goes.

[I feel like this picture is very representative of Camille--just standing out in bold.]

Camille is kind. I still remember the first time that I ever really talked to her--the moment I realized that she was my friend. It was on our study abroad to Cambridge, and I think it was my second day there. I was nineteen years old and terribly, terribly homesick. Our director noticed, and he pulled Camille aside and asked her to talk to me for a bit. She took my hand, smiled, and then had us sit down in the stairwell of the Cambridge Union Building, where I promptly started to cry and cry, blubbering out all of my fears and how I missed my family and how I didn't know if I could even be successful at this program. She just let me talk. She held me and let me talk and told me times in her own life when she was scared and homesick.

In her kindness and vulnerabilty, she gave of her confidence to me. She became my friend. And for that friendship I am so very, very grateful.

Camille is hilarious. She always makes people laugh and she is so good at bringing out a silly side of me that not many people get to see.

[I'm pretty sure we are admiring our legs here. But probably we are all just really admiring Jeff's leg.]

Camille is thoughtful. The letters she wrote me on my mission were always full of light, love, and humor. I often get emails from her or texts from her out-of-the-blue and it is just so nice to know that she takes the time to think of me.

Camille is classy. Just--so classy. I love her sense of fashion, her taste in art, and her taste in food.

[CAMILLE IS A BABE.]

Camille drops everything to help friends in need. When I went out to DC a couple of years ago to do some research, I immediately knew that I was going to ask her if I could stay with her. And even though life was crazy-busy for her at that time, she was so happy to let me stay at her place. Camille is just like that. She makes time for others.

Camille makes others feel like they are the coolest person in the world. Knowing her is the closest thing I have to knowing a rockstar.

[But I'm actually serious about the whole rockstar thing. We are all just happy to be her groupies.]

I am so grateful to have Camille Moffatt as a friend. She inspires confidence in me and in everyone she meets. I know that is true because of the way that friends have reached out to her and collaborated to support her. She is so loved. Our Cambridge Crew has banded together to help her, and I am amazed and awed at how those connections we formed six years ago are still so deep--they still last.

Friendship is deep, and friendship is eternal, I believe. And in these moments that the words don't reach, when there is suffering too terrible to name, we hold onto each other. Sometimes that is all we can do.

If you close your eyes, does it feel like you've been here before?

Some days, some weeks, Ukraine feels closer.

This week, it has felt very close.

Part of it is the cold.
There is something about walking
down cold winter streets
in the morning that instantly
sends me back to
those grey streets of Kharkov.
The way the cold air hits my lungs
the way snow-damp city streets smell
the way the cold bites into my fingerbones.

Part of it is speaking Russian
with new friends
with a darling refugee boy from Donetsk
who knows the math
but can't understand the story problems
and who puts up with me
trying to explain elementary physics to him
in Russian
but who loves me enough
to give me one of his Pokemon cards.
(If that's not true love,
I don't know what is.)

Part of it is seeing dear loved ones
loved sisters
from my mission
and just basking in their presence
in their goodness
in their strength
in their love.
People who loved me
before I became who I was today.
People who loved me
as I struggled and wept
and as I learned about
what it meant to love.

For all of these reasons
and more
Ukraine
sits close
to my heart
tonight.

Identical Cousins

When I was moving to Salt Lake, I was looking for an apartment. My cousin Leslie helped me find a place. It's been great being in her ward and seeing her more often.

Something else that's great is people's reaction when they find out we're cousins.

And it's great that we inadvertantly match every once in awhile. Usually at ward functions.

[Like at Thanksgiving dinner. Where we found out that Leslie is grateful for beards. And I am grateful for Hamilton. Oh wait. That's not actually a surprise.]

[We also ended up kind of matching at the Stake Christmas fireside. Maxi dresses for the win!]

[It's like we're related or something.]

[And in black and white. Just being models. Nbd.]

Leslie said that I only needed 2 pictures of us to make a blog post. But I even got four. So you KNOW it's an official blog post now.

Dominus illuminatio mea

Last month, I had the opportunity to go back to my beloved Oxford for my degree ceremony. My dad came along with me, and it was so wonderful to show him around the city that is so dear to me. I literally dragged him around everywhere--from the iconic Radcliffe Camera to obscure backroad passageways.

Going back for the week was a gift. I teared up stepping onto the platform at Oxford Station and I teared up many times while I was there. It was wonderful and surreal to be back. It felt, in many ways, like I was coming home. I just allowed the air and the light and the beauty of Oxford to fill my soul.

[With Dad by the Rad Cam.]

[Walking on Turl Street.]

[This place. Oh, how I love this place.]

[One of my favorite places to run at one of my favorite times of day.]

I fit right back in. It was just so good to see beloved faces, to walk familiar streets, to run in Christ Church and Port Meadows, and to just be there again. It was amazing to me how even the scent of laundry detergent brought me back to last year. It brought me back to late nights writing papers while doing laundry, or reminded me of warm embraces from dear friends. 

I missed it. It surprised me how much I missed it. Oxford will always have a part of my heart, and I am grateful for the opportunity to go back and remind myself of who I became there and to be surrounded by people whom I love and who love me. Who knew that a year could change you so much? That year was certainly golden. And going back for my degree ceremony was icing on top of a most-beautiful cake. 

[Speaking of cakes, look what my friend Mary got for me! I seriously have the best friends. And not just because they give me cake.]

The degree ceremony was a treat in and of itself. My dear friend Hannah (who is studying at Queen Mary's this year--she's just amazing), came up from London to celebrate my graduation and to be the designated photographer. It was so great to have her there (so thank you, Hannah! Love you bunches). 

[Hurray for Hannah!]

The degree ceremony is steeped in tradition. All of it (except for the vice-chancellor's speech) was in Latin. We were presented to the vice-chancellor and the proctors twice. The first time, they called us up based on our degree and our college. We grabbed the right hand of our college dean, and then we bowed to the vice-chancellor and the proctors. 

They read us an oath, where we all swore to be loyal, obedient, and faithful to the University and its interests. (And again, this was all done in Latin, so I didn't actually know what I was agreeing to. But I agreed to it anyway. Kinda like those new terms of use forms that I always click, "I agree" to even though we all know that very few of us read the entire thing.)

[Graduands in the Sheldonian. If you can spot the girl who looks lost, that's me.]

[Lining up for the first presentation.]

[Bowing. So much bowing.]

[Walking out to the Divinity School.]

After the initial presentation, we went back to the Divinity School to get our new robes. Nick, the Head Porter of Corpus Christi, was the one assigned to help all Corpus graduands get their new robes, so he helped me put on my new robes and green hood. (Also, fun fact--there is this "inner sanctum" in the Divinity School where only a select group of people get to go--like, it's used to officially elect new vice-chancellors and such--but that's where the Corpus Christi robes were, so I got to go into the room of the Divinity School where not many laypeople get to go! That was really cool. I was geeking out.) 

Anyway. Back outside, we waited to go back to the Sheldonian Theatre. Once it was our turn, we were presented again. This time ,everyone just cheered for us. It makes you feel like the coolest person ever.

[We're baaaaack.]

[We're so delightfully awkward. None of us really know what we're supposed to do.]

[More bowing.]

[More delightful awkwardness with all of this pomp and circumstance.]

After you've been presented the second time, you can finally wear your cap. You line up outside the Sheldonian and the chancellor and the proctors come by in a procession, and you doff your hat to them. (Again, why does that happen? I don't really know. Tradition, that's why.) 

And then, you take pictures and celebrate! 

[Master Meg!]

[Master Meg in her cap!]

[Except I soon learned that wearing the cap was a bit overrated. But the point is that I NOW HAVE A CHOICE.]

[Rocking the Oxford regalia.]

[With Hannah again!]

[And with my former housemate, Mimi! She was so kind to come by and say hello.]

[With Dad. :)]

[Outside of the Radcliffe Camera.]

[It was really cold and windy that day. But it wasn't raining. And that is the important thing.]

[At Corpus Christi.]

[So fun fact. This tree at Corpus is my favorite tree in the world. At least, at this moment it is. I love this tree. I love it so much.]

[Glorying in the beauty and majesty of this tree.]

[In the library. I actually am Hermione Granger.]

There were so many celebrations that day (and that weekend). I ended up graduating on Guy Fawkes' Day (aka Bonfire Night), so there were fireworks and bonfires all night long. So much fun. Again, I'm so glad I got the chance to return. 

[Remember, remember . . .]

As a final word (well, a final few hundred words). I think that it is fitting that Oxford's motto is "Dominus illuminatio mea," or, in regular English, "The Lord is my light." It is fitting for me, anyway. It is a necessary reminder of how I got to Oxford and what I am supposed to do with the opportunities given me. None of us are self-made. And I wouldn't have been able to go to Oxford without the sacrifices and help of many people. 

I would be ungrateful if I did not acknowledge the help I received--from friends, advisors, family members, and from a loving Heavenly Father. 

The Lord is my light, and He has given me so much. I am grateful to believe in a God who values truth, knowledge, and growth. Light, knowledge, and truth are intertwined in some beautiful ways. The glory of God is intelligence, or in other words, light and truth. 

There are many ways to gain that light and truth. Through different disciplines, different people, and different experiences. I know that I gained much light, knowledge, and truth during my time at Oxford. 

And that light and truth has changed my life forever.