The Best Thing Ever

We talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ, we prophesy of Christ

Happy Easter! I decided to spend Easter with my Grandmother this year. I took two buses and a train to get here. I went to church with her this morning and wore a floral skirt (naturally). I found it quite amusing that the two speakers today were both men in their thirties who were completely bald. They looked kind of like Easter eggs themselves :-)

When I was little, I felt slightly unsettled on Easter because I thought that we were celebrating Christ's death. Which, I mean, we sort of are--He had to die to be Resurrected. We would just always watch gruesome videos like the The Lamb of God and it would just make me sad. My mom always cried when she watched that video--again, I thought she was so sad, and that the "true meaning" of Easter was essentially tragic.

Obviously I have gotten more spiritually mature in my old age, and I have realized how beautifully glorious and essential the death of Christ was--and how it was made so because of what happened before (Gethsemane) and after (Resurrection). Basically, we remember the entire Atonement, which is, clearly, a wonderful thing. It is actually the best thing ever.

When I was young I only had a vague understanding of the Atonement--let's be honest, it is still fairly vague--but at least now I have more of an inkling of its importance. But when I was a young teenager, I was completely clueless. I was so enamored of the whole idea of standing up for my values and the "chosen generation" thing that I had almost no understanding of the role of the Savior. Maybe there was a gap in my spiritual education--I knew I wasn't supposed to smoke, drink, have sex, or wear tank tops, but I had no idea why we even needed a Savior, or what that even meant.

Maybe it was my own teenage self-centered arrogance--as if, in a way, I believed that I was the center of the gospel plan and the purpose for everything. I remember looking at a picture of the Savior when I was 12 or 13 and thinking "Jesus is really important, but not that important. Kind of a side note." Ah, bless my poor, young, blasphemous soul.

Luckily I eventually realized how silly I was. I think I finally figured out that Jesus is the center of everything, the whole point of the gospel, when I actually started paying attention in church. One day I heard Joseph Smith's quote about how everything in the gospel is an appendage to the Atonement, and it totally changed my world--Christ and His Atonement is what gives our standing up for anything any meaning and what gives our obedience and faith any power to change and sanctify us.

Sometimes I wonder why Christmas is a bigger celebration than Easter. I suppose its cultural--I mean, Santa brings presents, while the Easter Bunny only brings candy (which, don't get me wrong, is quite acceptable). But because the Atonement is what we celebrate at Easter, I would think that, especially in LDS land, it would be a bigger deal than Christmas.

But essentially, Easter and Christmas celebrate the same thing--Christ came to earth as a fulfillment of prophecy so that He could atone for our sins, die, and live again. This is central to our doctrine, to our basic gospel principles like faith, repentance, and baptism. We [should] talk about the Atonement all the time. We remember it each week when we take the sacrament--so, basically, we celebrate the "true meaning" of Easter and Christmas every single week. Very cool.

Now, if we could just get Santa and the Easter Bunny to come on a regular basis, that would be great.

You have just enjoyed my Easter musings. Here are Elder Holland's:

The Worst Thing Ever

Good-bye may seem like forever; farewell! But in my heart's a memory, and there, you'll always be. (Fox and the Hound)

OK I promise not to wax cheesey, but let's be honest, at times I can be the queen of cheese. All I can guarantee is that it will be high-quality Colby jack cheese, not half-plastic American cheese.

When I applied for scholarships each year (because I wasn't smart enough as a high school senior to get a full-ride scholarship like my dearest friends--but who ended up with the highest GPA? BAHAHAHAHA) I had to include a "autobiographical sketch."

Each year my essay was the same. I started with the line "The only thing constant in my life is change," and I then proceeded to relate my whole sad history of moving many times and leaving friends behind. Here is a summary:

• I have never lived in the same house for more than four years (in the past four years I've lived in 8 places; 10 if you count my parents' houses)
• I had never gone to the same school for more than three years (I broke that one when I graduated from BYU, although because I went on my mission in the middle of all that you can argue that it doesn't count because I never went for four consecutive years)
• I have lived in Salt Lake City, Utah; Murray, Utah; North Carolina (two cities there but I can't remember what they are); Kayesville, UT; San Diego, CA; Provo, UT; Washington (mission); Oregon (mission); and Mission Viejo, CA (current home address; haven't spent more than a few weeks there at a time).

 Every one of those places is full of friends--people that I love. There is at least one person (usually more) in each place that I still miss, that I still wish were in my life on a regular outside-of-facebook basis. Of course, I am not the best at keeping in touch. But a face-to-face relationship is so much more, well, happy and meaningful and fulfilling and can never, never, never be replaced by electronic alternatives.

The worst thing ever about change and moving and growing up and moving forward is not what lies ahead, but what is that I am giving up. No matter how bright the future is, there is always something that is lost. I think that is why I have such a hard time making decisions--I can't stop thinking about what I am saying "no" to as I say "yes" to something else.

The move from Connecticut to San Diego was terrible. California was a great place to live.  As a western person, you'd think I would have been happy to leave the strange East for a land closer to my homeland, Utah. But all I could think about was my friends and how much I missed them. Leaving my friends and others I loved killed something inside of me that took forever to grow back. It was so hard to let go and move on--I don't think I really got over moving until my freshman year of college (when I realized that the second great apostasy happened in Connecticut--that is another story).

The only exception to this is when I went on my mission. I had absolutely no regrets about leaving a single thing behind. I didn't cry once when I said or thought about saying good-bye to my family in the MTC. I only vaguely missed my BYU friends. I didn't miss Provo or anything about my old life. I was completely focused on moving forward and I knew I was doing the right thing.

Of course, it was quite the opposite when I came home . . . that kind of sucked, again because the worst thing about it was leaving people and a place and a life I loved so much.

So the reason why I am thinking of all of this is that while changes abound in my life right now, for once I am not the one leaving. Instead, my dearest friends are leaving, probably for good, and it is so sad. Liisa is going to Virginia, Melissa to DC, and Natalie to Africa (she is ever the adventurous oddball). And its like they are taking pieces of my soul with them. I feel like I am stuck here alone without them and, this time, without any hope that they will return (although I believe that two will eventually come back--not for me or for educational opportunities, but for boys). 

I hate endings, I hate good-byes, I hate leaving, and I hate being left behind. No fun.
I suppose such is life. My life has already been full of it, and will continue to be. That is one reason why I want to get married--it will nice to finally, finally, have a friend I won't have to say good-bye to.

Anyway, sorry for all the pensiveness. I wish I had a nice little fluffy ending for you about how change is good and makes us better and how there are always Christmas cards to look forward to. But I can't be optimistically fluffy. Right now, it just sucks.

Please, please, please look at me. LOOK AT ME!

I had the privilege of being born first in my family. I was the oldest grandchild on both sides of the family (read: I was super spoiled). When my sister Laura was born, my world changed. For the better? I sure didn't think so. Apparently when she was a little innocent infant resting peacefully in a baby swing, I ran up to her, grabbed her head, and bit her on the forehead till she bled.

Rude! I know. But how else could I be expected to act, given that suddenly, for no good reason, the world stopped revolving around me. I no longer had the undivided attention of every adult I ever met.

Sometimes I wonder if I ever recovered.

I still love and need and crave attention. But let's be honest. Who doesn't? We all want to be noticed and validated. But maybe an internal overemphasis on validation is slightly unhealthy. There really is no need to base worth and value on other people's opinions of you. Sometimes it is better not to care.


. . . but boy, pure, unadulterated attention can be bliss. :-)

This public service announcement is brought to you by Ashley, the youngest Smith family attention-sucker:
 

Things that Rock

As promised.

I made this list last week. It is taken word for word from my journal. Some of them are not particularly valid any longer...you can guess which. Also, please forgive the unparallelness of the list. These represent unedited thoughts that came directly from my brain.

• working in the temple--becoming familiar with the ordinances
• seeing people I know in the temple [ok I just added that one but its true]
• seeing behind the scenes of the institutional church [I changed the spelling...thanks firefox]
• my internship is challenging but doable
• facebook chat is fun
• cupcakes
• eating pizza with Melissa
• independence of public transportation which lets me get around Utah without relying on other people
• my mom gave me her old phone when I lost mine. and she sent me contacts.
• watching volleyball with Melissa
• great house
• best home teacher in the entire world
• I have a mac
• beautiful skies, even though it is so cold I want to die
• I may actually be enjoying the war chapters in Alma for the first time in my entire life.
• getting rides to the temple

OK.

So last night I went to the mall with Natalie. She asked me how my life is, and I ended up spewing forth everything bad (and things that really aren't bad but that cause me grief). I felt bad for her because to take all my crap.

Anyway [look Mel, I am paragraphing in a way that will be pleasing to you], at the end of our trip, over french fries and Frosties, she asked me about the tender mercies I have seen in my life. Those were her words, not mine (obviously I would say things that rock but clearly came directly from God). I thought about it, and I realized that it is so much easier to think about and talk about and whine about the things that don't rock. I had to think a lot to answer her question--well, not a lot, but enough that I found it pathetic and embarrassing.

So let's look on the bright side. My life actually does rock. Yesterday I forgot to take my key with me to the temple, and I came home to a locked and empty house. And my roommates were watching Jimmer, so no way would I have any luck with being rescued. So I sat around feeling somewhat sorry for myself--not too sorry because I just came from the temple. Just as I decided to go buy a candy bar and walk around, Jack, my amazing landlord and manager, drove up on his way home from a birthday party and let me in. That was a tender mercy as defined by Natalie and Elder Bednar, I think. Because I usually don't get home from the temple so late, and the Mels ended up staying longer after the game (or so it felt) which wouldn't have ended for like 20 minutes or so. So I would have been wandering around in the cold forever. Or it would have felt like forever. But beautiful, wonderful Jack happened by and rescued me.

Moral of the story: Don't forget your keys. Also, God loves you.

Who Do You Think You Are?

Dear Men:


Why will ye die?

Why do you harden your hearts against me?


Love,
Sara

Jacob 6:6

Journaling

Today in my institute class, my teacher referenced his journal several times. In telling stories of his past, he said "you should have seen what I wrote in my journal." He talked about how journals can be sources of revelation, etc, etc. I've heard that a million times, and I sort of believe it. I may have actually experienced it--that is how I convinced myself that serving a mission would be a good thing. (Yes, Mel, I actually went on a mission. Hard to believe, I know, but there you go.)

Anyway, he kept using his own journal as an example of things that he had learned, and it really impressed me. I wrote down in my own journal that I need to start using it as a source of revelation.

And no, these musings are not going to lead me to promise that I will use my blog as a journal, or even that I will post more often in my blog. Because let's be honest, I won't be able to keep any such promises.

I just wanted to say that on the bus ride home to grandma's, I wrote in my journal. The whole time. I didn't want the ride to stop--and I usually don't particularly enjoy the ride to grandma's. I didn't receive any revelations, but it was a very cathartic experience--almost like talking to an enraptured (right word? no idea) best friend who has her attention fully focused on me. It was beautiful.

I made a list of all the things that suck in my life, and then I started a list of all the things that rock. Making the first list was painful, but I was able to break down my challenges into individual, almost quantifiable list items. As I isolated them and faced them one by one, they seemed a little bit more manageable. (No, I won't list them here. That would be awkward.)

Now I need to go finish making the list of the things that rock in my life. I may actually post that one.

This is the end of my blog post.

Also for Melissa

OK lets be honest. Melissa is my only reader. So this post is for her.

So I say...

Hey, love!

I am so glad we know each other. Thank you for the contributions you have made to my life. Seriously, my life would be different without you. You are hilarious and attractive and patient, and you say nice things to me. Also, you smell nice. When you shower. 

Melissa is so interesting. And fabulous.