Successful Activities

I was a Family Home Evening group leader this semester for church, which meant I was responsible for organizing some sort of spiritual enlightenment and activity once a week for a group of people I go to church with.

There were a couple of things we did that went well, so I'm going to share them.

Creating

I think one of the biggest worries of people my age is what to do with your life. So, one week, we started by reading a few quotes from this amazing talk about finding your life's calling.

Then we watched a video that my sister Emmy posted on her blog awhile back. A "Mormon Message" about creating. Because that's what we're doing. Even homework is creating, and creating is divine.

Then, for the activity, we sculpted ice cream. (Do you see a theme?) For the treat, we ate ice cream, but not the same ice cream that was sculpted.

We bought ice cream in cartons, so you can just peel away the carton, and then bring out the figure within it (with spoons, knives, and other kitchen implements). The theme was Disney characters.

This is Lumière (Beauty and the Beast)

This was supposed to be Simba, but the way it turned out, we decided it could be a character from Brother Bear.
Mater, from Cars. (Sideways--sorry about that.)

Bridge

I learned a few things during this past General Conference. One of them was that we just need to keep being consistent and doing the little things. Another was a story told in Neil L. Andersen's talk. He talked about how we need to not get offended about little things. He told a story about how Parley P. Pratt had been offended when he was doing what was right but was "judged unfairly." When it happened, Joseph Smith told him, "Parley...walk such things under your feet...[and] God Almighty shall be with you."

That phrase stuck with me: Walk such things under your feet.

So, for a family home evening lesson, I passed out a little piece of scrap paper to each person, and a sticky note to each person. I found the whole Parley P. Pratt story in his autobiography posted online, and read bits of it.

Then, I asked each person to write a challenge to faith. I told them it could be a personal challenge, an offense, a commandment, whatever had challenged their faith. And that no one was going to read these.

I then asked them to take the sticky note and write on it one thing they learned in General Conference that we should do. This might be following the prophet, praying, reading the scriptures, etc. (And that we would be reading these)

I had set two chairs facing each other, and told them that this was our "bridge of faith." I asked them to crumple their scrap paper and throw it under the "bridge," and then stick their sticky note on the bridge. We talked about how doing things to develop faith--the things they had learned to do at General Conference--can help you overcome the things that challenge your faith. To "walk them under your feet."

And then I asked if anyone wanted to cross the bridge. A few of the guys did it.

"Um, excuse me..."

So I biked to school this morning. I always bike to school, on the eBike that I got from my cousin (thanks to my parents). I had just got onto lower campus and was going up a hill to get to my class.

I was also running late, and was trying to go quickly. Another bike came up beside me, and the girl riding said something to me. I was listening to my iPod, so I couldn't quite here her. (I assumed it was a comment about my bike, since a surprising number of strangers ask me about it. In fact, that's the only thing people talk to me about while I'm riding a bike.)

I took out an earphone, and what she was saying was, "Did you know there's a bra hanging off your backpack?" The answer to this question was obviously no (in fact, I just about ran into her at this point). I stopped, took off my backpack, and--sure enough--there it was, hanging from a bottle of water I had in one of the water bottle holders.

Yep.

I tried to replay in my mind the people I had gone past. I couldn't remember passing anyone I recognized--besides the nice Jehovah's Witness man who stands at the entrance to campus and passes out copies of The Watchtower most mornings. I tried to think of where it all broke down. What was the fatal decisive moment? Was it buying a bottle of water the other day (I had felt guilty for that, plastic bottles ruining the earth and all). Was it not putting all of my laundry away last night? Was it getting up to late to not be in a hurry this morning? The implications of what would have happened--possibilities of riding through campus with a bra hanging off my backpack, of walking into class with it--also went through my mind.

And so I want to emphasize my gratitude to that girl on the bike, who saved a bit of my dignity. She instilled in me a resolve to tell people the things they don't realize, whether they have food in their teeth or toilet paper stuck to their shoe. I, in turn, urge you to do the same.

The awkward people of the world will thank you.

Most Recent Life: Fort, Spark

I've had a few recent blog realizations. One, I'm a little more interested in my blog again. Two, I don't have particularly interesting things to blog about. Three, I really enjoy reading other people's blogs, even if they are just about every-day stuff.

So, I'm blogging about some kind of mundane stuff.

The Fort.
So my roommates and I got a group date together. There was much deliberation about what we would do for this date (which gave me a new respect for guys who plan dates). After much discussion, we decided to build a fort. In our living room.

The fort wasn't looking to be very exciting until one of the guys suggested we turn the couch on end. We did that, and put a chair on the table, strung sheets off the ceiling and from the door and the refrigerator, put all the couch cushions on the ground and had a picnic in the fort. The picture hopefully gives you some idea of how it all went down. Spark.
My friend Jessica gave me a Groupon to Spark Restaurant Lounge for my birthday. I went there Friday night with some friends (the group would have included Jessica, except she lives in Salt Lake, not Provo, the location of Spark Restaurant Lounge and of me). It's quite the place. I was going to lift a picture of someone's Flickr photostream, but I'll just let you click the link. They set our places at the end of a long, black table. Kind of like medieval dining. We all felt chic. My friend Natalie got a Shirley Temple. It was described in the menu as having a "cotton candy cap." We all wondered what on earth this meant, until she got it. Basically, it's what it sounds like. There was fluffy cotton candy on a stick stuck in the drink like a flag. Quite the garnish.

The Trip, Part II

Some more pictures from the trip--this one of the Hill Cumorah. It really is the tallest thing around--a spectacular view from on top. Several people elected to roll down it. I declined. A set of keys to one of the rental cars was lost in the process (and quickly found).
We drove from Palmyra, New York, to Kirtland, Ohio. Everyone learned the Erie Canal song ("I've got an old mule and her name is Sal...") on the way. It was sung several times during the trip. We stopped at one of the locks on the actual canal. It's still used for shipping and recreation.
A reconstruction of the John Johnson farm in Hiram, Ohio, where the Church was officially founded on April 6, 1830 (a Tuesday). The other building on this site is half a visitors' center and half a meeting house for the area.
And we went to Kirtland, Ohio. The Kirtland Temple was a highlight of the trip for me. It's currently owned and maintained by the Community of Christ, a break-off from the LDS Church. They also run several of the sites in Nauvoo, and they had some big-wig guides for our group. One was one of their major scholars, and the other the director of all their sites in Nauvoo. I appreciated their work to maintain these common aspects of our heritage and their explanations of their beliefs, but that wasn't why I so loved visiting the Kirtland Temple.

A lot of amazing things happened in the Kirtland Temple while the saints were there. There are reports of miraculous things happening at the two packed dedication services. Later, Christ, Moses, Elijah, and others appeared here. And though not all the ordinances we have in the temple were performed until the saints were in Nauvoo (so after the days of the Kirtland Temple), it was the first temple of the new dispensation--it opened this age of temple work. I felt such a special peace being inside it, and I felt close to and grateful to those who worked so hard for it.

It's a big building, and I got the impression that it's very delicate. There are three levels: two huge meeting rooms (with pew boxes and benches that could be shifted to face either way) on the first two floors, and offices upstairs. The main level meeting room was for everyone, the second level was for priesthood meetings and training. The upstairs offices were used by the First Presidency, but also used as a school on weekdays open to anyone.
On the way to dinner that night, we stopped to see Symons Ryder's grave. He was an early member of the Church; the reason he gave for leaving it was that Joseph Smith spelled his name wrong ("Rider") on his mission call. He was a wealthy man, and after he left the Church gave a lot of money to a college in the area, and was a leader in the Campbellite Church. "Disciple" in "disciple of Christ" is misspelled on his gravestone.

Isn't this a wonderful cemetery? We stopped really briefly, but there was a quick game of "Enemy and Defender," which involves lots of running and giggling, before we left...car keys were lost then found here, too.
The next day we flew to Saint Louis, then drove to Nauvoo. A brief stop in Hannibal, Mark Twain's home town.
By now we had a tour bus rather than cars. Everyone was excited as we drove into Nauvoo--excited to see the temple. There it is, on the hill. We drove in to Nauvoo from Missouri, talking about the saints being driven out--following their footsteps, so to speak. It was so hopeful--triumphal, even--to see the temple in Nauvoo. And when we left a few days later, we were again in their footsteps, this time to Salt Lake City. Salt Lake, where it all finally worked--enough for them to build their houses, city, temple. Enough for them to stay. It strikes me that I am living what they hoped and worked and sacrificed for.
At one of the Community of Christ gift shops in Nauvoo, our professor, Richard Bennett, noticed two or three books he had authored or co-authored. He asked one of the students for a pen, picked one up, and started signing. He let the visitor's center people know as he was through about half the stack.

The Trip, Part I

It's not like I haven't gone on any trips lately--I kind of feel bad for not giving others this kind of attention. But this really was a special one. I signed up for a Church history class this semester because I needed two more religion credits, two more Honors credits, and something that fit with a crazy schedule. This class was the only one that fit the bill. I was surprised, though, to get an email this summer informing me that the class included a trip to Church history sites in the eastern US. My parents, bless them, agreed to pay the subsidized fee--and it was an amazing week.

We flew into Rochester on the 22nd. For the first half of the trip, we were in rental cars and mini vans. We landed and started driving, and all of us were just excited to be there. Couldn't quite believe it--midterms one day, New York the next.

The next morning we went first thing to the Joseph Smith farm. This is where the 14-year-old Joseph Smith prayed about which church to join, and got a direct answer from God and Jesus Christ.

I was just blown away with how beautiful upstate New York is. When we were flying in I had already pretty much decided to move there. The farm itself is also beautiful. And, this is silly, but part of what was so cool about being there was that that's where the Restoration DVD was filmed--the DVD I sometimes saw three times a day on my mission with people learning about the Church. It's a good one. Click the link, go watch it.

The Sacred Grove was a highlight of the trip. It was so peaceful. A few people talked about hoping for a life-changing experience going into the Grove where Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ came to answer a prayer, but that that didn't happen. That instead, there was a feeling of calm and of peace. The feeling here--that feeling--was like being in the temple.

Next was the Grandin Print Shop, where the first edition of the Book of Mormon was printed. As we were about to leave, a senior missionary stood up and said they were one of a handful of missions that was piloting a program with missionaries blogging. MISSIONARIES BLOGGING! Using technology, how wonderful is that? And it's not just the senior couples, but young missionaries, too. Here's his blog, and a link to all the official missionary blogs that have been started. I'll put a link in my blogroll, too.


This is Alvin Smith's grave (Joseph Smith's older brother), though his remains got washed away in a storm a long time ago. So his grave marker.

Home Again, Redbox, Halloween

I got home last night from a Church history trip to Palmyra, New York, Kirtland, Ohio, and Nauvoo, Illinois. It was a wonderful trip. I wanted to blog while I was gone but then I forgot my camera cable...so I'll post about it--with pictures!--real soon. I feel so cheerful since getting back. It was so good to have in the middle of a hard semester.

I used Redbox for the first time in my life tonight. It just blew me away. I think it's pretty much space-age. Technology in general is just amazing me particularly lately. Maybe the Church history tour helped with this--hearing lots of stories and reading about a time when communication was hard, transportation was hard. Now there are cell phones, computer models of buildings, instant publications, airplanes...and Redbox. The video comes out in a little case. It really is like something out of a movie. Seriously.

Today was Halloween on campus--the day closest to it that people could dress up for. This just delights me. I saw a black cat and a couple of wizards. There was the Queen of Hearts with a full Elizabethan collar. I saw a Miss Frizzle with red curly hair piled up, and a dress made out of planet fabric. I had two favorites, though. One was a girl dressed up as an old person. This itself is not that creative. What made me smile was that she was on her own, but still walking with her cane using little shuffles. She was on her cell phone, telling the person on the other end in a grandma voice, "no, today my name is Granny Granger, and that's what I made my second-graders call me." She carried on the voice and the shuffle for as long as I could see or hear her. The second favorite was when I went up to the video section of the library on campus. They keep the videos behind a big desk, and employees have to go get them for you. I was asking about one when all of a sudden Charlie Chaplin walked out from the shelves of videos. I was severely disappointed when he started talking to someone.

Out of the Closet

I realized today how much I don't like talking about politics.

In the half hour break before my French teaching class, I sat down to eat my lunch. Another student from the class (before anyone in my family gets excited about this: he's married) came and sat down next to me and pulled out his.

We were talking about the homework assignment and teaching and whatever, and somehow we got on politics. Or he got on politics. It started out alright. Things I could smile and nod about. Then he started talking about how terrible it was that the Democrats wanted to get rid of democracy, and that really what would be ideal is to return to a flat tax--I mean, people don't want to move up to the next tax bracket, and it makes them lazy. And some people end up living off Medicaid.

I realized about then that this was like those moments on my mission where I started talking to someone on the street who turned out to be very Christian and whose son had been a missionary in China and Australia and just blessed me for what I was doing--when I knew, a moment later, I would talk to them about the Book of Mormon I was carrying, and they'd do a 180.

And so it started getting a little awkward as I didn't really give any "yeah, I know what you mean!"'s to what he was saying. I started making broad generalizations as I was thinking things like, "this is why I don't talk politics. I hate disagreeing, and I hate arguing my points." And that's mostly what I advocated in our conversation (and what I really do believe): we have to start agreeing with each other, or nothing is going to happen for anyone.

The awkwardness increased, though, as it became evident that, even though I'm a Mormon in red Utah county and BYU once more, I wasn't agreeing.

It continues.

This was the second time this semester I've talked about politics. The first one was maybe a week or two ago when I was doing homework in the Wilkinson Center, and a girl came and sat next to me. She was a journalism student, writing a story for the Daily Universe, and could she interview me? I said sure. She asked me about the elections. I told her I had voted for Obama. I was gone for the first year of his presidency, but what I've experienced since I got home I've been happy with--our big problem, though, is that there's no compromising. It's just becoming more and more polarized--therefore, more and more of a stalemate.

Okay, so back to today. Me and French Class Kid were walking into our classroom. I waved at a professor I know who was walking down the hall towards us. Carrie, said the professor as he stopped, you were quoted in the Daily Universe...today or yesterday. Talking about politics. Giving your opinion. French Class Kid turns to the part of the class that was there--hey! he says. She was in the newspaper!

At this point, I just about died. I know that professor's pretty conservative. I knew French Class Kid was, and that he knew I wasn't. And I knew this shouldn't be a big deal. Still, I realized I don't like wearing my politics on my sleeve at BYU. No, I don't really like it period. I kind of felt like I was outed today. ...Still, stand up for what you believe in, right?

html

A professor in the French department just emailed me and offered me a job--making some Word documents html compatible.

So I'm trying to figure this out.




That should be four spaces and
a new line.

Yes! It worked.

and this should make italics

So far so good.

Do'es this make an apostrophe? What abo't that?

Can I put it in the center?
How about italics in the center?

And this way?

I sat down and started writing an essay. Writing a good, though-out essay--thought maybe I could post that here. My blog needs a niche, or reviving, or something. And wouldn't it be interesting to be able to sit down and read intelligent and thoughtful essays that were good and thought-out?

But I gave up quickly. I didn't even take the photo for this post. It's one my uncle Niel, who's building the fence, took and that my mom sent out. Didn't take it, didn't load it up.

It's a picture of the Corner. Bertelson Corner is a piece of land on Big Turtle Lake in northern Minnesota with three tar-paper cabins from maybe the '40s, a wash house, a boat house, a tool shed, and a pump house. It has a regulation-size badminton court and a shuffle court that no one's used for years (but that I've always been dying to try. Once I brought this up and somebody said the stuff to play was probably in the former-boat-house-now-tool-shed and I was sent to look but couldn't find anything and was terribly disappointed), two aluminum canoes, a speed boat and a pontoon boat, and an great big Windstream trailer that must be from the '60s. The Corner is a time capsule--the chairs and tables, the pictures and the old magazines lying around. There's a fan in "the House"--the biggest of the little cabins--that has a green tag hanging off of it. "If you take this," it says, "make sure it's back at the Corner by July 1958. --Dad."

I was surprised about how happy I was to be back here. I came when I was little-little, and didn't come again until my second sister was in junior high and I was 11 or 12, and the three of us (with my mom) came up. For a long time I felt like I had missed out on the Corner because of that little gap. But when I was getting an update on my second cousins--the ones that were younger than me, young enough to not consider ourselves the same age, are starting (and finishing up!) college, the baby who wasn't born yet that first trip back is in sixth grade--I realized I have been coming for awhile.

It's usually walking across from the cabins towards the lake--under the trees, across the short grass--that I start to wax reflexive. I think about the last time I'd been there. I think about how old I was then, what I was doing. The Corner was bought by my maternal great-grandparents, and my grandma and her sisters spend time in the summer up here together. Since I got here on Friday, I've been listening to them talk about the cabin they would rent before the Corner was purchased. Listening to them talk about the people they know or knew up here. Listening to them tell stories and laugh and laugh, and realizing they all have a sense of humor and love of life, like when they were younger (I think I realized this when my grandma told about how her mom sent her and her sister outside with some cleaned fresh fish to put them in that side of the icebox that opened from the kitchen and from outside--it was dark, and when they opened the little door, there were these two hands sticking out to scare them--their mother's hands). I think about myself and how I've changed from Corner visit to Corner visit--how much more they must do that than I. Thinking about year to year, not just back ten or fifteen years. The other day, we went on a drive, my mom and grandma and great aunts and I. We went in to see the place of a man they had known who had passed away. The now-owner drove in while we were there, getting out of her car, wary. My grandma explained we had known the former owner and introduced the group. "We're from Bertelson Corner," she said, "been coming here since 1925..."

The Famous French House

So, the other week, someone knocked at our door. There were two guys when I opened it, one with a camera, the other one asking if they could film us speaking in French. They were doing a spot for BYU, they explained (it was about the Spanish House, I think) and just wanted to get some footage of the different languages of the Foreign Language Student Residence. We sat on the couch and talked, and they filmed us.

And then the other day, I got home after classes, and my roommate Clémence told me there'd be someone coming by to film around dinner time that evening. Kind of the same thing--later that evening, a guy with a camera, a girl, and some other guy who didn't seem to be entirely connected came in to our apartment--following another of my roommates, Sydney. They walked in and I kind of rolled my eyes and muttered "great" in French.

Then they turned off the camera...it turned out that, unlike the first group, this group actually spoke French. In fact, they had come from France (except the third guy, who seemed to be a guide/host from Church headquarters). They began introducing their network--M6, a national network in France. It was about this point that I realized this was a little bigger than the BYU TV guys.

It turns out they're working on a huge...special? on Mormons. They followed missionaries around in France and talked with members there, they came to Utah and went to Temple Square, Welfare Square...and BYU! Asking Sydney about it later, they followed her around for most of the day. She got pulled out of class that morning--someone at BYU helped them narrow down students. Sydney said they were looking for someone who lived in the French House and was taking a French class.

They came to dinner--watched us eat--and asked everyone questions. Questions about why BYU, about the Honor Code, about what we do on the weekends, about dating. I hope we represented well. The next day in the shower, I started to wonder--will we be the only representation of young American Mormons? I wonder...

Last of all, I finally have pictures working again...here are some from the FLSR. Just for the sake of finally adding pictures again.

This is my Russian friend Alla making me kimchi.

Sidewalk chalk messages for roommates.

And me. In someone's apartment. Mine?

French Camp and Photos

I feel bad that my last post--that's been on here for so long--is ranting about things. A pretty mild rant about things that have little impact on the world, but still...

Today I started helping out at a French Camp that BYU is putting on this year for high school students. A graduate student and I are doing a cooking class for an hour each day, alternating groups every other day (today we had the "advanced" group, and they were pretty darn good). The grad student is paid. I am not. I emailed a professor and asked to be involved with the project.

As this was coming up today--as we were approaching 3:15--I started thinking, why am I doing this? I am busy with classes, and it's kind of a funny dynamic, actually, with the grad student, especially since she asked me if I had talked to the secretary about how I was getting paid...

But it was fun today. We made quiche Lorraine, which, it turns out, you can get into the oven in 15 minutes flat if you have pre-measured ingredients. I had convinced the grad student we needed to do a questionnaire about food allergies, which she said we could do after the quiche was in the oven...turns out one girl was vegetarian, and the quiche was the only recipe we're doing with meat in it. Oh well. Another girl is allergic to cantaloup and honeydew, and we were also planning a melon salad...I had had to talk the grad student into letting me do the questionnaire, and when we got the results I was thinking inside "ha, see it does matter."

Tonight we had Family Home Evening, and our group took photos wearing the tye-dye shirts we made for FHE two weeks ago. I would post them, except I'm having photo problems. I lost the cord to connect my camera to my computer, and my fancy memory-card-that-turns-into-a-USB has a virus, it turns out. I didn't know memory cards could get viruses, and I certainly don't know how it caught it. Anyway, I think blog posts without photos are kind of lame. But it looks like they'll be kind of lame for a little while still.

Classes, money, and realizations

First, a class update. I am no longer in the technology class, so no more EduBlogging. I am, however, in a multicultural education class, whose assignments keep telling me to post something as my status update on Facebook or on Twitter or to text my friends. Creative...but my classes don't usually invade my Facebook life.

Well, but I have added professors as friends. Weird.

Anyway. The week has included several monumental moments for me.

First: the US Mint makes fake money.

Have you seen the newer one dollar coins? I don't know if it was just a PR failure, but I had no idea about this program when it started--the Presidential $1 Coin Program. Though I sure did hear a lot about the state quarter thing when it was starting, and when the dollar coin was introduced, and even about the revamping of dollar bills, I never heard anything about this. The first time I got a hold of one of the presidential $1 coins (I think as change for pizza at high school, if I remember correctly) I thought some dumb kid had given the lunch lady fake money that she had bought into, and now was giving me fake money back as change.

The design--especially the Statue of Liberty back--it looks fake and cheap. I bought a snack out of a vending machine this week and got gold $1 coins as change, and initially had the same reaction. Wait, this isn't real money!

And other coins, too--after completing the state quarter thing (last year, right?), the Mint is now starting an "America The Beautiful" quarter series--again, going through all the states and territories (kudos to them for including American Samoa, Guam, Northern Mariana Islands, Puerto Rico, and US Virgin Islands--places I didn't even know about until 10th grade, but that's a whole other issue), depicting nature scenes. There's currently in circulation a penny with a shield on the reverse and also four different pennies with scenes from four stages of Lincon's life: birth and early childhood in Kentucky, formative years in Indiana, professional life in Illinois, and presidency in Washington, DC. "Westward Journey" nickle series with five different nickles with a buffalo, the Pacific coast, Louisiana Purchase/Peace Medal, a keelboat, and the traditional Monticello. Oh, and there are currently three designs for the reverse of the Sacagawea gold dollar.

I have to admit, I was a fan of the original 50 state series--I have all of them in a book at home (except about five) that I've been collecting for the last ten years. But I think part of my attraction to the program was how it was so new. It felt like a once-in-a-lifetime thing. I didn't realize it was just the start of the future of American money. When did our currency come out of novelty shops, anyway? There are so many variations that you can't even tell what's real.

Second: Not everyone likes Minerva Tiechert's paintings

I love Minerva Tiechert's paintings. I'm signed up for a class about appreciating art and museums this term. We meet at the BYU Museum of Art. For our first assignment, we had to go write a response to a work in the museum. I chose The Rug Dealers by Minerva Tiechert, a huge--maybe five feet by ten feet--painting showing two Native Americans holding up woven rugs to sell. There are some cowboys--two Latino, one Anglo--standing on sides of the scene looking. Behind the sellers, a woman is standing and weaving a rug, a child at her side. It's Minerva Tiechert's style--more impressionistic, softer colors, movement--and looks so American, with the Native American designs in the rugs, lots of different cultures and people, an American scene in the American West.

I wrote the paper about it, and the next day at class, we all walked around the museum together, lead by our teacher. She asked us to present the work of art we had written about. We were close to mine, so I said I'd go. I stood up and described the things I just described, and then the teacher started asking the class questions, leading a discussion. She brought up Arnold Friberg, who painted the picture of George Washington kneeling and praying by his horse--and the series of pictures that appear in front of copies of the Book of Mormon. LDS audiences usually like more realistic depictions, she said, and when Friberg's and Tiechert's Book of Mormon paintings were both submitted, Frieberg's were chosen.

This lead into some discussion--several people saying, yes, I like the more realistic Friberg pictures. I don't like the chalky colors and painting style Tiechert uses. Her pictures are vague.... I guess this all just surprised me. I really like Tiechert's paintings. I guess it had honestly never even occurred to me that people might not like them.

Which leads me to realization number three.

Third: Some people think The Umbrellas of Cherbourg is cheesy

Another thing I love: the 1060's movie The Umbrellas of Cherbourg. It's French, entirely sung, and sad. I watched it for the first time with my dad, and liked it so much that I bought the soundtrack and, when I was in France, went to Cherbourg and tried to buy an umbrella.

I've moved back into the French House at BYU, where I speak French with my roommates and five days a week all the French House people have dinner together. The other night we were talking about French movies. We had talked about Les Diaboliques and Amélie and I said, do you know The Umbrellas of Cherbourg? Clémence, who's from France, laughed. Christina rolled her eyes. "It's so cheesy," said Clémence.

I still love it. And listen to the music.

Blogging in class...

I'm sitting in my technology for education class, and it's the ten minute break. At the beginning of the class, they wheeled in two carts full of MacBooks (how great is that?), and we're all sitting at our desks...learning how to set up blogs. I had to set up one using a different provider since I already had one. It's on Edublogs, which is just glorified Wordpress...trying to sell you things. www.blogformyclass.edublogs.org. It's not going to be exciting. It's going to turn into my "personal learning environment," or "PLE"...eg, where I post assignments.

I'm having a great time. Hooray for school!

Okay, back to work. I need to go update the other blog.

Photos! (Random)

I've been thinking about how I need to update things...everyone has a blog now, though. It's not quite as cool of a hobby as when I started it. I think that has been part of my delay.

I wanted to get some mission photos up. I wrote a lot about my time as a missionary in my emails that got posted, but there weren't any photos to go along with them! I finally uploaded (most of) my photos, and I pulled out a few to post here. It's a pretty random selection...
In my last area, Suwon, there was a restaurant that had the best kim bap in the world. And by that time, I had eaten a lot of kim bap for lunch or dinner when we were out and about (didn't eat it every day...but pretty close).
A member invited us to his steamed bread shop. These are made with rice flour, I think, and filled with red bean paste. A little tiny shop.
This is in my second area--Anyang stake. Gumcheon District of Seoul. I took the picture at the top floor of an apartment (that was on a hill). We had gone up to the top to start knocking on doors. Take an elevator to the top, then walk down, a floor at a time, knocking on all the doors... (I knocked on so many doors)
A threesome! Last area, I'm on the right, then Sister Choi (pronounced "chay") and Sister West. It was a holiday, and the missionaries had a sports get-together thing.
While I was in my second area, a bunch of missionaries got together on a Preparation Day and biked along the Han River. It was such a beautiful day.

Notes on Home

I'm back.

My parents and I explored Seoul for a week, then flew back home. It was a nice transition week. We visited some investigators and members who I wanted to see again. My parents were great--it was neat to see them sitting on the floor, eating with chopsticks....

When I came back, I started dusting off my Facebook account (Facebook is different!), getting a new cell phone, resurrecting internet banking.... I finally decided all of it will just take a little time. The blog, too.

I was told that when I got home, things would be the same. But things are different! The term "reverse culture shock" comes to mind--culture shock being going to a new place and not knowing how to function, how to do everything. And now I'm back and...I don't know how to do everything! Mostly with technology (wait...how do I log out of Facebook? And where did my wall go?) Also, social networking, opinions about products--the web feels more...instutionalized. It's like this social evolution is taking place, and on the internet, it is accellerated. First Facebook was for cool kids, and they started growing up and having families and weren't really kids anymore, and now everyone is on it....

And the news. Pretty much the only recurring dream I had on my mission was of turning on the radio to NPR. I missed it. Now listening to it, Mexico is going crazy, lots on healthcare, and you can comment to Talk of the Nation with Twitter. What?

I'm seeing the economy really is rough, too. Before I left, a mall in our neighborhood got leveled, and a major construction project to turn it into an outdoor mall and housing units started. I was so excited to come back and see it. But it's still a huge plot of dirt--the same as when I left. The project was halted. Not enough money.

And, well, I maybe got more done as a missionary. Even if I tell myself I'm going to sit down and read the scriptures at 8:00, I don't motivate myself to do it the same way having a companion and strict rules did. So that's another thing I'm learning--how to use time well, and get things done. Maybe we're all learning that.

Anyway, I'm speaking in church about my mission this Sunday at 1:00, and anyone is welcome over to our house from 4:30 on. Contact me and I'll give you more info.

Last Letter!

Hello! Last mission email, can you believe it?

A lot of things happening. Our area will be closing next week--the sister's will no longer be in that area. We will be packing the apartment up this week and turing investigators over to the elders, and the zone will actually become part of the Daejon Mission from March 4. We all got the announcement a few weeks ago--this will be a part of some adjustments in missions around the world. The rest of the Seoul West Mission will be combined with the Seoul Mission as of July.

It has been sad that what we're doing won't be continued with other sisters, but the same work will go on--and will go on well. And wonderful things are still happening--the most wonderful, and the most wonderful feeling when things are directed by the Spirit.

One of my two companions, Sister Choi, had to go home this week--she left on Tuesday night. The new school year is starting, so she had to leave a little early. She had been serving in Suwon for seven months, and touched a lot of people. There was an outpouring of love towards her with her leaving. A lot of people inviting us over, a lot of people wanting to see her.

One was the councilor in one of the bishopbricks of the wards we're in. They are a stalwart family--four kids, one a returned missionary, one on a mission now; his wife teaches lessons a lot with us. He asked us to stop by and say hello at his chin bang shop--sweet buns filled with black beans and steamed. We got off the bus and wandered through a market street to find his shop--it was tiny. He fed us buns as we talked and shared favorite scriptures.

I don't know if he was saying anything in particular, but for some reason my thoughts were on Christ, filled with thoughts of Christ, and changed my mind on what I had planned on sharing, trying to find a verse that reflected what I was feeling. The best I could find in the moment was 2 Nephi 4: 20, from "Nephi's Psalm," from Nephi, who crossed an ocean, who's brothers hated him, who trusted God and did what he said: "My God hath been my support; he hath led me through mine afflictions in the wilderness; and he hath preserved me upon the waters of the great deep."

I had this warm feeling. I felt close to my Savior. I felt that He was with me, and I felt like He had been with me the whole time. That He had been with me through all of it. I feel guilty so often--I know I am insufficient, I know I don't make good choices sometimes, I know I don't do as much as I could or should. And I felt like He knew, and forgave me, and that it was okay.

Walking out on the street, down through that market, I felt, Christ is here, among these people. I felt connected to everyone, but not person-to-person, but because I was connected to Christ, and He knew every one of the people I was seeing on the street, on the sidewalk, on the bus. I felt love. I felt like I knew. I felt like Christ was with me.

I am grateful for my mission.

I love you all, and I'm so excited to SEE YOU SOON!

--Carrie

Letter from 17 February 2010

Hello!

This past week was the Lunar New Year, so things were a bit slower. It's one of the biggest holidays of the year. It fell on Sunday this year--the same day as Valentine's Day--which meant everyone got a short weeked for the celebration, but it actually worked better for us. That way more days to be out doing things.

A member who knows Sister Choi somehow invited us out to lunch that day. Most wards moved Sacrament meeting to three, so we went out before church. We would be attending a different ward than her ward, and the lunch went long, so we all piled in the car after we were done--the missionaries, her husband, two kids. We continued chatting as we went. She dropped of her family at their building, and then continued to drive us to where we would be attending.

I was surprized at how I felt when everyone left--"now we can really talk to her," was kind of the feeling. Coming to Korea, I was a little concerned with...well, with how women would be treated here. It's a very Confusician (sp??) society, and he wasn't too fond of women. There is a little more separation between men and women--and that has meant I have spent most of my time with women. I realized on Sunday how much I enjoy these fine women I have met with, talked with, laughed and cried with. My mission has taught me so many things.

Love You!

Carrie

Letter from 11 February 2010

Hello!

Today was temple day. I always think about family in the temple. The next time I go I will be there with my parents--I'm so excited! The last week or so I've felt a longing for my family like I've never felt on my mission--even at the beginning. It makes me think about our heavenly home, also. How after this life, we return to our Heavely Father. This last weekend, Elder Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve visited Seoul. We went with some less active members to a fireside where he spoke. His wife spoke before him. And Sister Oaks said something I really liked. She said sometimes we feel longings for closeness, for goodness; feelings of sadness or similar feelings. She said those things help us remember that we don't belong here. They help us remember that we are celestial beings, living in a fallen world. This isn't our home.

There were more church members than I have ever seen in one place gathered at the fireside. It was a neat experience. And there were members from every area I've served in. One especially neat experience: I saw Jae hyun. She's a young woman from my first area. My...maybe third or forth month in Korea, my companion, Sister Bang, and I would meet with her. She was preparing to take the big high school graduation exam, and to take the TOFEL English test to be able to go study abroad. She's the only church member in her family. Sister Bang offered that we could do the 30-30 program with her--help her with English, and then share a gospel message.

I remember that Sister Bang and I often walked away from those appointments a little disappointed. Jae hyun had been spending her time studying comic books instead of for the exams she wanted to pass so badly. And then she got a part time job that meant she would have to work on Sunday--making going to church difficult. She talked about how she wanted her testimony of the gospel to grow. I talked about how God doesn't move--but we can get closer or farther away from Him, holding up my fingers to show the variable distance--and asked her, for one week, to pray and read the scriptures every day. The next week we met, and she hadn't done it.

That was a year ago. Then, on Sunday night, in the crowd of people, there was a familiar face. "Sister Gold! Guess what! I'm going to college!" She was so excited she could hardly stand it. She got in to a school just outside of Seoul. She'll live in the dorms. Maybe go to church twice a month there, and twice a month at her home ward in Seoul. She talked to me, gave me her address, and then held her fingers just like I had when I told her about how we can be nearer or farther from God. I had forgotten that I had done that. All of a sudden I remembered how urgently I had wanted her to understand that, how I had so little Korean to communicate it, how I wanted her to know and to make choices that would make her happy.

I had forgotten, but she remembered. It was so amazing to see her.

And always more amazing experiences ahead.

With lots of love,

Carrie

Letter from 3 February 2010

Ah, sorry--no time. I spent most of email time today registering for BYU classes. I now have two companions waiting....

All is well in Happy Suwon (that's the city motto, and it's everywhere. Happy Suwon). A wonderful transfer. I feel like I'm dying, though. A meeting with a Ward Mission Leader and the elders this week, talking about all these new ideas and things to try...and I won't be around for them....

Things are wonderful. I'm grateful for my mission.

--Carrie

Letter from 28 January 2010

Hello! Not much email time today.

It has been a blissful week in Suwon. I am wonderfully happy here--this is probably the happiest time of my mission. What a perfect way to end! I am enjoying being with two compaions. It takes some of the pressure off of being with just one person always. Sister Choi is 100% teacher. It is wonderful to see her and learn from her. And it's so good to be with Sister West--she helps me feel like I have things to contribute.

We have two investigators, especially, who are wonderful. Goo Ja yeong first, and then we met the first time with her best friend's little sister, Won Ji yeon (who looks a lot like Emmy). They...well, I'll have to write about them next week--out of time!

Lots and lots of love,

Carrie

Letter from 20 January 2010

Well, today starts the last 6-week "transfer" period of my mission. Transfer calls come Tuesday--or don't, if we're staying in the same place with the same companion--and you pack up and leave Thursday by 7:00am. President Burton usually calls the sisters in the morning...but sometimes does in the evening. The whole thing puts you a little on edge about what's going to happen.

Sister Ee and I were almost finished with study time Tuesday morning, and I had pretty much decided a phone call wouldn't come. We were sure I would stay in Seoul Nam, since I got there just six weeks before. Not as sure about where Sister Ee would go. Anyway, the phone rang, we both jumped, and I answered.

And now here I am writing from "Happy" Suwon! Really surprised. I didn't think I would move. I got moved out from the middle of Seoul to the countryside. Sister Ee stayed in Seoul Nam, and my former compaion Sister Lee (Well, in Korean, both are Sister Ee) joined her there.

I have two new companions--a threesome. Sister West is from Idaho; this is her second month in the country. She's 21, has three siblings, and attended BYU for two years where she studied geography and took some Chinese classes. Sister Choi (pronounced "chay") is 29. She joined the church in middle school and is the only member in her family. She has two sibblings. She's a high school English teacher, and could only get a year of leave (not 18 months) for her mission. It's also her last transfer, though she'll leave a week early to go back for teacher training meetings before the new school year starts (in Feburary here).

Suwon is beautiful. Our house is right by Hwason Fortress (worth googling), a formitable, very traditionally Asian-looking stone fortress that was built in the 18th century. Huge walls...anyway, really neat to live right by it.

We were walking by it today on the way to email, and had such a bizarre experience. There was a woman carrying a couple grocery bags and an enormous white teddy bear, maybe about three and a half feet tall and almost as wide, who also was walking by the fortress. She had a pink scarf looped under one of the bear's arms and over her shoulder, and carried him--it--messenger bag style. Sister Choi saw her and said, can we help you? People always refuse when we offer, but the teddy bear woman said, "yes." I grabbed the bear under its arm and Sister Choi held it by it's ear. We walked with it between us, but had to move over when a red and gold tourist train that had come up behind us started honking for us to move over. We walked with the woman for a ways, as we went talked about the Plan of Happiness, or Plan of Salvation, that Heavenly Father has prepared for us, and then parted ways. Sister Choi had said she liked teddy bears, so at one point the woman tried to give it to us. But Sister Choi said no.

Before I left Seoul Nam, we were able to visit some members at their houses this week. We do that a lot as missionaries...with time shorter, and especially leaving the area, I had a greater appreciation for it. I was grateful to hear and share how the joys we have in the gospel. Learning from other people is one of the greatest joys I've had on my mission. I'm learning so much going into people's homes, seeing them with their children, hearing how they talk about the gospel, seeing how they serve. I'm excited for the lessons yet to be learned.

Have a wonderful week!

--Carrie

Letter from 13 January 2010

Hello! Another cold and snowy week. No one really has snow shovels here. Lots of people went out on the street and attacked the snow with brooms (it gave me a new appreciation for the sport of curling). And I saw a citizen's brigade dragging a tarp piled with snow; they had removed a manhole cover and dumped it in. It's like people don't really know what to *do* with all this snow.

Other events of the week: I got to ride in a car elevator. We had interviews with President Burton this week, like we do every six weeks. His wife, Sister Burton, needed to run out and get some lunch while my companion was being interviewed. So Sister Burton took me along. We drove to Costco (it felt like going on errands with mom). And the parking attendant (there are parking attendants everywhere) waved her into...an elevator. We drove in, they shut the door. Per directions, Sister Burton turned off the engine, and pushed the "third floor" button and we went up to the roof of the building. Strange sensation.

One of my favorite parts of the week this week was meeting Sister Hong at the church. She joined the church awhile ago--we're not sure when--and hasn't attended in a long time. She saw us walking around one day. She had run into the missionaries before, so had our phone number. She's a high school English teacher, and needed help seeing if her students had plagerized an assignment. So she sent us a text message and asked to meet. We met her last week and again this last Tuesday.

My companion, Sister Ee, said when she had met her before, her heart was hard. That she questioned the church and doctrine but didn't really want answers. Meeting the past two weeks though have been really amazing. She has questions, we open the scriptures and read together. We talk a lot, and enjoy each other. And she wants to talk about spiritual things. She told us that she's been seeing the missionaries--elders and sisters--everywhere lately. We always start and end visits with a prayer. Last Tuesday, she offered to say the concluding prayer. Praying, she said she's been seeing the missionaries a lot, and that she's been baptized, and that maybe she needs to come to church, and asked to have Heavenly Father's help. It was really neat. I'm so grateful I get to know her.

Have a wonderful week! Stay warm and healthy.

Much love,

Carrie

Letter from 6 January 2010

What an amazing week! Lots to write about.

Well, we did not in fact freeze on New Year's. I wasn't too excited about the hiking activity. But I ended up absolutely loving it.

New Year's Eve, we were doing regular missionary things like we always do, and on the way home, around 9, it occured to me that there was nothing special that seemed to be happening or gearing up to happen. I started asking my companion, Sister Ee, about what people usually do on New Year's in Korea. She said some people stay up and have parties, but maybe a little more common to celebrate New Year's DAY--the first day of the year. Hiking, and seeing the first sunrise of the year. That night going to bed at 10:30 felt so strange--"you mean we're just going to end it like this?" That's what it felt like (though it wasn't the first time I haven't stayed up...I don't think I've stayed up for the last four years).

The next day--2010!--we woke up earlyand took the bus to the trailhead of Gwanak Mountain. The group of about 12 of us from the ward gathered at 8am and got going up the mountain to greet the new year. The air was cold and fresh. There was no wind. The snowy mountain was beautiful. There were so many people hiking--most coming down--they must have been on the mountain to see the first sunrise of 2010. We hiked together, and when we reached the top, the sun shining down on us, we formed a circle, and the bishop offered a prayer. He prayed for the new year. For the ward and stake, for the leaders. For missionary work. For the country. After, wandering off a little on our own, we offered our own prayers.

We climbed down and headed to the bishop's house and ate dok mandu soup (dok is that sticky, chewy rice cake; the soup is traditional for New Year's), and then the bishop had us go around in a circle and talk about our goals for the new year. It was such a wonderful New Year's Day! A wonderful new start, wonderful to look forward, and to do things together.

We had another "hiking" experience this week. Sunday night, I think, tons of snow fell. Maybe a foot and a half? Two feet? They say Seoul hasn't seen snow like this in 100 years. That day we planned to go heart attack Lee Eujin's door. Her mom got baptized recently, and we met Eujin a few weeks ago. Her grandfather has been really sick lately, though, so they haven't been able to come out to church. I felt like we needed to do something to try to keep in contact with them...we didn't have appointments Monday afternoon, so we decided to go out to their house to heart attack their door--stick paper hearts all over it--and leave a note.

Monday morning we woke up to all the snow, and it kept snowing. So when we were on the bus on our way to Lee Eujin's...the bus got to the bottom of a gradual hill, stopped, and the driver told everyone to get out. The bus wasn't equipped to go up the hill in the snow. So we got out...and walked.

It ended up being forty minutes? An hour? to walk. In the snow, going up the gradual hill, the scenery turning more into country-side. Rolling hills and trees, all covered in beautiful snow.

I loved the pioneers when I was younger--I still do, I guess. And as we were walking, started thinking, why aren't I thinking about the pioneers? Thinking about how this is what it would have been like for the ones caught in early snow storms...and then I thought, because this is Korea. Korea didn't have European immigrants pulling handcarts across the wilderness.

Grammy found a magazine article that Mom sent along soon after I got here last year. The article included an old black and white picture, maybe from teh 40's or 50's, a picture of a line of women, poor women, on a path, walking somewhere. They were wearing traditional Korean dresses, han bok, and carrying bundles of things. They looked tired and hungry.

I started thinking about that picture again on Monday as we were walking through the snow. I was thinking about it as we rounded a bend and a valley opened up--a valley filled with a beautiful, modern apartment complex. I saw that and thought of the women in the picture. "This is what you were walking to," I thought. "Did you know that? Walking to a where their country would live in peace. In security, in comfort." I don't know if they hoped for that. I don't know if they hoped. But they were walking towards something. They couldn't see it, but it would be there.

I want to remember the feeling I felt. I we don't know if we know what we are walking to. I think God knows. And I think when we ask Him to, he will point us in the best direction to get there. We can't know everything. We just do our best to follow Him. And keep walking.


I love you all. Happy New Year. The best is yet to be.

--Carrie