Too cold outside for angels to fly

It's the first real snowstorm of the season.

By that, I mean that the snow is sticking to the roads and to the grass and everything looks magical. It also means that I curled up with some good music and cocoa today.

An anonymous someone scraped the windows of my car early this morning. I don't know who, but--thank you to the void. It made my morning.

Today at work my supervisor said, "Megan, you should leave early so you can get home before the weather gets too bad." I'm grateful for his thoughtfulness.

I'm also grateful that most people were driving carefully today.

I accidentally grabbed Vanilla yogurt instead of plain yogurt at the store the other day. I only found out at breakfast this morning. I am okay with this.

The Toll House Cookie Dough package has a sign in bold letters that says, "DO NOT CONSUME RAW COOKIE DOUGH." Umm, just going to conveniently avoid that warning . . .

We're putting up Christmas decorations (and by that, I mean Becky is putting together the Christmas tree) while watching Miracle on 34th Street. The old one, of course.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

Five.

Five years ago exactly, on a Wednesday in late November--the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, in fact--my life changed forever.

I received a mission call to serve an LDS mission in Donetsk, Ukraine. I made the decision to serve after careful thought, consideration, and prayer. It was one of the hardest decisions I have ever made in my life. And serving that mission is still probably the hardest thing I've done in my life so far.

But it's also one of the most important. It set the trajectory for my future. That mission is holy to me, for it is one of those sacred spots of earth and time where I came to know Jesus.

I have written a lot about my mission on this blog and elsewhere. I guess it's true what they say. You can take the girl out of the mission, but you can't take the mission out of the girl.

But today, five years after receiving that call, I simply want to say that I am deeply humbled and deeply grateful.

Thanks be to God for knowing the faithscape of a nation and the landscape of the heart.

For knowing that I needed Ukraine. And that Ukraine--in some small way--needed me.

For allowing me to clumsily try to deliver His message of love to His children there.

For giving me more than I ever deserved.

For allowing me to love so much it hurt.

For showing me the beauty of the Russian language, the resiliance of the Ukrainian spirit, and the strength of Ukrainian women.

For giving me a bit of that resiliance and strength to carry home.

And thanks be to God that He is the healer of nations and of souls.

I haven't forgotten.

And I never will.

the days that follow so fast

I've been MIA for the past couple of weeks. Sorry, loyal readership. Sometimes life gets crazy.

But that doesn't mean that life doesn't happen. And that it's good, and sweet, and bitter, and confusing, and funny all at the same time.

I still have an Oxford graduation post coming up. But as a teaser, here's a picture:

[You may now call me Master Meg.]

What I've been doing about/thinking about the most: PhD applications. Because they are due v soon. Hopefully they'll be in by the end of this week. At least most of them. Sooo clooooose.

What I've realized: As I've been trying to clean up my Facebook account (as in, I have so many event invites and page invites that I never respond to), I realize that sometimes I am absolutely terrible at following up. For a girl who people so often praise as being "put-together" and "well-organized," I still have a lot to learn. I too often embody that absent-minded professor stereotype.

What I've been listening to: My playlist recently has been a mixture of Christmas music (and more Christmas music, and even more Christmas music), with Vienna Teng, "Wait for It," and "O mio Babbino Caro" played on repeat, depending on my mood. I'm in a weird music phase this month. One might even say v weird. I'm going to blame PhD applications.

What I've been reading: Hard to Be a God by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky. It's this Russian science fiction novel that was written in 1964. It has this "Star Trek-esque" feel to it, and this Soviet scientist is sent to a world where this despot is killing all the literate people. It's super interesting and I'm looking forward to finding out what happens.

I've also been studying Ether 2-3 in depth. There's just something about the story of the Brother of Jared that speaks to me. There is something more to that story that I'm trying to uncover. Something about prayer, something about desire, something about faith, something about divine love. There's just so much. If anyone wants to talk to me about it, I'm very open to your insights.

A Random Fun Fact: My roommates are hilarious. I have laughed so much with these two good women.

In short, life is good and at the moment, life is simple. And I'm good with this.

This is Halloween

Since I'll be on a transatlantic flight tomorrow evening (hurray!), I figured I should at least post the pictures from the Halloween party I went to Friday night. Because if you don't post your Halloween pictures, did you even dress up? 

Probably not. 

[Yes, my friends. I went as Rosie the Riveter. Is anyone really surprised?]

[I almost went as Moaning Myrtle. But then I realized I had left my Oxford robes at home. Oh well. Maybe next year. Who are we kidding? When you've got a chance to dress up as rockin' feminists, you dress up as rockin' feminists. Maybe I'll go as Joan of Arc again, like when I was 8.] 

[Met another Rosie at the party. Go us.] 

Also, I am a dork. Because I realized that my Rosie costume doubled as another propaganda piece. 

But a Russian one. 

Hehehehe. 

["Ne boltai!" Which means, "Don't chatter," but looks more like, Keep your mouth shut!]

[Loose lips sink ships. Or something like that.] 

Anyway. Happy Halloween, folks. 

What it feels like when I try to write a youth article at work

Yup. 

There's a reason that I am not working for the youth magazine. 

Thoughts on an autumnal Thursday night

I like Thursdays. To me, they are "Friday-eves." They are a sigh of relief at the end of a long week.

Sometimes I like running. Sometimes I don't. But it's nice to be in the habit again. I'm trying to enjoy as many autumn running days as possible until it becomes frigidly cold. I won't have England's temperate winters to help me this time around. 

Sometimes I carve pumpkins at ward activities. And sometimes the pumpkins I bring are knotted and ugly and have so much character that it takes three people to even get the knife through its thick skin. But when two of those people are determined girls who served missions in Eastern Ukraine, anything is possible. 

[I like him. His name is Mortimer. Mortimer the Ghoul.] 

Sometimes things get a little silly at work. Like when all the interns learn that I am secretly hilarious. And that I have a now-not-so-secret crush on Tom Hiddleston. So these notes arrive on my desk in paper-airplane form. And I am given the best couple's name ever. "Meganston Tomknecht." I see this going places. 

Sometimes the autumn light reflects perfectly on the Salt Lake Temple. And you try to take a picture that captures it, but an iPhone 5s is not quite able to capture glory. 

Sometimes you decide to buy flowers for yourself and for your roommates. Because nothing brightens a room like a lovely bouquet of flowers. 

Sometimes you work on PhD applications jamming out to "Wait for It" from Hamilton (and listen to it on repeat, oh, I don't know, like 7 times), and the Killers. 

And sometimes your best friend is kind enough to take vanity shots of you. Cuz there is something to feeling pretty. Especially on days when you feel like a bagel. 

Happy Thursday. 

a stream of words. [three]

/one./
//two.//

there have been so many thoughts and words and memories running through my heart and mind lately that sometimes the best thing to is just to get them out somewhere. onto a screen. into the void. these will probably make sense only to myself. but i think that the act of writing itself is an act of creation. and perhaps out of unorganized material, thoughts, and grey matter, something can be created. or at least discovered.

october has always been my month. i have a connection with it. of course it has something to do with my birthday. but there is something more than that, i think. i think that would love october even if i were born in july or march. there is just something autumnal in my core. and i know that it sounds like "things white girls say/things white girls love." well. i am a white girl. and i do love fall. so. there's me falling into that stereotype. but there is something in the way that october comes alive with color, in the way that she gracefully transitions from summer to winter, in the way that she is full of passion and yet gentleness that just resonates with me. i truly am glad that we live in a world where there are octobers. and i'm glad that i get to have october in utah again.

purpose and direction are interesting things. they can be so elusive. they have a way of hiding just when you want them most. and so. you search. and that can make you feel even more lost than when you started. other times purpose and direction are buried in to-do lists. but those to-do lists are important, too. "you are concerned about many things. she hath chosen the better part." but what if it's all the Lord's work? how do we prioritize? i am learning gratitude for small glimpses of light. of course i would like everything to be unfolded in front of me right away. but we'd miss the growth, wouldn't we? and i might not like the way that things are going to turn out. or maybe i wouldn't believe them. and for that reason, i work through the messy middle. i crawl through the raspberry bramble, get cut up a bit, bruised, and dirty. but i am prone to believe that the growth and messiness help prepare me to meet the future, no matter what it holds. courage and tenacity are gifts from God. we don't have power on our own.

for some reason i've been thinking a lot about moses lately. about that red sea in front of him. how did he know what to do? i don't think he necessarily did. and did that prompting to split the sea--was it subtle? a shout? we read in doctrine and covenants that it was told to him through his heart and mind. that is both beautiful and unsettling to me. like, how do you know for sure that a prompting is from God? i know that they tell you to just "be a good boy and be a good girl" and things will work out, and i know that you work to align your will with God's so that "his thoughts and ways" do become your ways. but i guess i just don't trust myself enough. i remember a bible as literature course i took at uni, years and years ago. we talked about abraham and isaac. [which is just a really hard story, btw. it makes me so sad everytime. for so many reasons. one of which is that it just makes me wonder what abraham and isaac's relationship was like afterwards. also, was sarah aware that this was going on?] but we talked about how abraham might have received that impression to sacrifice isaac. was it a vision? an audible voice? or just a subtle impression that wouldn't leave him alone? i hope, for abraham's sake, that it was something big. but it might have been something a lot more quiet. and that scares me.

i've been thinking about quotes recently. quotes that stick with me. do you know the kind? the ones where you either hear it from someone or read it in a book and they stick to your bones. i remember things that people told me. those words that mean something. tonight i remember simply this phrase. "you don't have to prove yourself to anyone." i've also been thinking of this c.s. lewis quote. "meanwhile, little people like you and me, if our prayers are sometimes granted beyond all hope and probability, had better not draw hasty conclusions to our own advantage. if we were stronger, we might be less tenderly treated. if we were braver, we might be sent, with far less help, to defend far more desperate posts in the great battle." i know that you know that i didn't quote that from memory, so perhaps it's not stream of consciousness? but it's been on my brain. and i've thought about that quote recently.

i found out the other day at work that apparently i was one of the other intern's nemesis because she had written an essay for the brimhall memorial essay contest and didn't win . . . and then on the email list for writing fellows in all caps it was announced that i had won instead. she didn't even know me. but she decided to hate me forever. apparently when she heard my name at the church office building, she was like, "it's HERRRRRRRR!" but i guess i'm endearing enough that she can't hate me tooooo badly. but hearing that story made me laugh for three days straight.

going home from salt lake to utah county. my home town's silence surprises me at times. i went running on its streets yesterday morning. it was so quiet. it was so familiar. the smell of sagebrush and horses reminded me of teenagehood. of insecurities and of feeling whole. i know those streets in a way that i don't quite yet know salt lake's. and i probably never will know salt lake's in the same way. i haven't found my groove yet. haven't found my running paths. i get lost on those suburban streets. perhaps there is something to read in that. but this i do know. there truly is something so sublimely serene and wonderful about getting into my car, leaving home, ready to literally drive off into the sunset to get back to my new place, and having a three-year-old decidedly and excitedly announce that she is going to sit on the grass and watch you drive off. all of us have such a vital need to love and to be loved. and children's love is healing. just like driving through the canyon on a perfectly crisp fall day is good for the soul. i need those moments which heal and fill the soul. all of us do. God be thanked that there are people like that in my life. who heal and bless and comfort. may i be that person in more people's lives. that is my sabbath prayer.