I could call this post "College Ruins Everything," but in sixth grade I performed a rap song about thinking positive so now I have to live up to my street rep.
Once upon a time aka a year ago, I was a creative writing student of Nameless Utah College. When you go to college for creative writing at Nameless Utah College, they force you to take a bunch of classes about different kinds of creative writing. The first of these classes was a class about poetry.
I have long been a poetry enthusiast. I enjoyed writing poems as early as age eight. Throughout junior high and high school, I would often write poems when I was supposed to be listening in class. Though I didn't aspire to be a poet, I found the art delightful.
The other students in my poetry class had a different view. Poetry was serious, serious work. It was an art form of an epic nature. It therefore had to be within the box of being outside the box, if you know what I mean.
The other students and the professor criticized my poems for being about happy subjects. They told me to write about something sad.
They didn't like that my poems weren't mysterious. They told me to be less transparent.
And, finally, they told me to stop writing poems that rhyme. Because rhyming poems, my professor said, were only for Hallmark cards.
These people were lovely people.I liked all of them a lot, and we had some really fun times together. But I never got past the feeling that they believed only certain kind of poems should be written or read, and that it wasn't okay for me to want to write something else.
This affected me more than it should have. In the several years since that class, I wrote only one poem that I can remember. Until now.
April is National Poetry Month. It's like National Novel Writing Month, but without the cool acronym. Anyways, it seemed a shame to let this month pass without writing a poem. Therefore, I decided to, in the words of Taylor Swift "shake it off," and overcame my poetry anxiety to write a poem for Little Sister. I didn't worry too much about technique, or metric feet, or anything a good poet is supposed to think about. I just wrote it:
Ballerinas have feet.
Poems have feet, too.
Poems like this have a beat.
Ballet beats you black and blue.
Writing poems involves hard words
Like "trochee" and "cinquain."
Being a ballerina is even worse.
Your body's wracked with pain.
There's a moral to this story, if you want to know it:
Never ever ever be a ballerina or a poet.
Thursday, April 30, 2015
Wednesday, April 29, 2015
Needs vs. Wants
I do fear that I have kept you in suspense pertaining to what I ended up spending my $50 Amazon gift card on.
After getting your help with my super-difficult Valentine's Day dilemma (thanks for all the hints!), I remained indecisive about what I should purchase with my Amazon gift card.
I continued to pound the pavement. I spent some time looking online for Gryffindor accessories (because if I attended Hogwarts, I would be a Gryffindor) and earthbender paraphernalia (because if I were a bender, I would be an earthbender).
Then I remembered what my mother and Maslowe's Hierarchy of Needs had taught me, which is that some things are needs and some things are wants.
So instead of spending my gift card on something I merely wanted, I acquiesced to my adulthood and used it to buy things I needed more than wanted: a new spring shirt, a frying pan, and a Nancy Drew computer game.
I regret nothing.
After getting your help with my super-difficult Valentine's Day dilemma (thanks for all the hints!), I remained indecisive about what I should purchase with my Amazon gift card.
I continued to pound the pavement. I spent some time looking online for Gryffindor accessories (because if I attended Hogwarts, I would be a Gryffindor) and earthbender paraphernalia (because if I were a bender, I would be an earthbender).
Then I remembered what my mother and Maslowe's Hierarchy of Needs had taught me, which is that some things are needs and some things are wants.
So instead of spending my gift card on something I merely wanted, I acquiesced to my adulthood and used it to buy things I needed more than wanted: a new spring shirt, a frying pan, and a Nancy Drew computer game.
I regret nothing.
Saturday, April 25, 2015
Tabitha
Meet Tabitha.
My mother gave Tabitha to me earlier this week.
Upon receiving Tabitha I did what any human would do upon receiving a pansy plant, which is give it a name and then devote every waking moment to the care and keeping of it.
Now, I've taken care of a lot of things: praying mantises. Younger siblings. I even became quite friendly with Baby Sister's pet rat. However, I have never had much experience with plants, so this is uncharted territory for me.
The first evening I got Tabitha, I bonded with her by sitting outside and playing her some good music. I selected "Follow Me" from Fraggle Rock as well as "Amazing Grace." She seemed to enjoy the music; at least, she didn't complain.
The next day, I forgot to water Tabitha before I went to work. When I arrived home, I examined her closely to be sure she had not suffered too much from my forgetfulness.
To my great surprise, the earth in her pot was damp. I presumed that this was from being watered the night before. Did that mean that Tabitha wasn't thirsty? Or that she wasn't getting enough sunshine in her home at the bottom of the stairwell outside my apartment?
I was very unsure of what to do. In the end, I settled on moving Tabitha to a sunnier spot. Then, not having a watering can, I gave her a small amount of water from the cup I'd drank milk from that morning and which had touched with my very own lips.
The next day, I watered Tabitha before going to work. I noticed that, while I'd always thought that flowers turn towards the sun, Tabitha's flowers were facing every which way. What if Tabitha was a developmentally delayed pansy plant that doesn't know where the sun is?! Or if she still wasn't getting enough sun?!
I also noticed that some of the flowers seemed to be wilting.
Maybe I hadn't watered Tabitha enough the day before. What if she died of thirst?!
I gave her a nice big glass of water.
A few hours later, it started to rain. And rain. AND RAIN. That was yesterday, and it's scarcely stopped raining since.
Tabitha's flowers are no longer wilting. But now they seem to be drooping from the relentless cascade of water. And I worry about the amount of water that has overloaded her small pot. What if she dies of drowning?!
I feel like I'm turning out to be a terrible plant parent.
My mother gave Tabitha to me earlier this week.
Upon receiving Tabitha I did what any human would do upon receiving a pansy plant, which is give it a name and then devote every waking moment to the care and keeping of it.
Now, I've taken care of a lot of things: praying mantises. Younger siblings. I even became quite friendly with Baby Sister's pet rat. However, I have never had much experience with plants, so this is uncharted territory for me.
The first evening I got Tabitha, I bonded with her by sitting outside and playing her some good music. I selected "Follow Me" from Fraggle Rock as well as "Amazing Grace." She seemed to enjoy the music; at least, she didn't complain.
The next day, I forgot to water Tabitha before I went to work. When I arrived home, I examined her closely to be sure she had not suffered too much from my forgetfulness.
To my great surprise, the earth in her pot was damp. I presumed that this was from being watered the night before. Did that mean that Tabitha wasn't thirsty? Or that she wasn't getting enough sunshine in her home at the bottom of the stairwell outside my apartment?
I was very unsure of what to do. In the end, I settled on moving Tabitha to a sunnier spot. Then, not having a watering can, I gave her a small amount of water from the cup I'd drank milk from that morning and which had touched with my very own lips.
The next day, I watered Tabitha before going to work. I noticed that, while I'd always thought that flowers turn towards the sun, Tabitha's flowers were facing every which way. What if Tabitha was a developmentally delayed pansy plant that doesn't know where the sun is?! Or if she still wasn't getting enough sun?!
I also noticed that some of the flowers seemed to be wilting.
Maybe I hadn't watered Tabitha enough the day before. What if she died of thirst?!
I gave her a nice big glass of water.
A few hours later, it started to rain. And rain. AND RAIN. That was yesterday, and it's scarcely stopped raining since.
Tabitha's flowers are no longer wilting. But now they seem to be drooping from the relentless cascade of water. And I worry about the amount of water that has overloaded her small pot. What if she dies of drowning?!
I feel like I'm turning out to be a terrible plant parent.
Thursday, April 23, 2015
How to Be a Reporter
The summer before my last year of college, I received an email of particular interest.
It was an email from a fellow member of the Nameless Utah College Honors program. It just so happened that she held a position of some importance in the Nameless Utah College newspaper, and she wanted me to write weekly articles for the paper's website.
In the email, she said that she had thought of me because I had "real writing experience."
And I was like, "Real writing experience? Well, I have had an article published in the Neopia Times. Sure, I'll take the gig."
And thus began my stint as a student reporter. Here's what my duties entailed (apart from, you know, writing stuff):
Tracking people down and forcing them to talk to me.
What I would usually do was dig up people's email addresses. I would send them a note asking if we could get together.
Commonly, there would be no response. I only had a week or two to prepare each article, and I had to get three sources for each one, so this inability to contact a source would make me very nervous indeed.
With my deadline drawing near, I would find out where the person I was looking for resided/worked/had their office. Then I would stalk them before, after, and in-between classes as my schedule allowed.
It's funny, because some people would ignore my emails. But once I showed up where they were, they never refused to talk to me.
Whether this was because they were struck with a sudden desire to have their viewpoint conveyed to the student body by an ace reporter or because they viewed me as a sort of Rita Skeeter who would paint them in an unflattering light if they didn't acquiesce, I'll never know.
Boldly going where no student had gone before.
Due to my article assignments, I quickly found myself becoming the Harry Potter of Nameless Utah College. That is, my school experience ceased to consist of only the classrooms, the cafeteria, and the library. To find the information I sought, I found myself venturing into such places as the kitchens, the counseling offices, and the office of campus security.
One week, I received an assignment to write an article about a student dorm that had adopted a Go Green movement. I emailed the RAs with questions, received their responses, and wrote the article. There was one last thing that had to be done: take pictures.
Inside the dorm, no less.
Being a commuter, I had little experience with dorms. The editors of the school paper assured me that I would have no trouble getting into the dorm to take pictures; I wasn't so sure.
I went to the dormitory in question several times over the course of the school week, but the person in charge of deciding whether or not to let in outsiders like me was never at their post in the lobby.
On the last day, I was getting quite desperate. When some resident of the dorm asked me if I'd forgotten my key, I said no, I was actually from the school paper, and would he mind letting me in for a minute to take some pictures?
The dorm resident gestured to the ever-empty desk in the lobby and explained that the person who was supposed to be sitting there usually signed visitors in.
Truthfully, when it comes to rules I'm more like Hermione than Harry, and I really would rather have waited for the desk person. But I'm also more like Hermione when it comes to deadlines. My article was soon due and I had to get pictures, so when the student (only slightly hesitantly) offered to let me into the dorm anyways, I accepted.
And thus I got my pictures, though obtaining them was quite the nerve-wracking experience. I was convinced that someone would see me and know I was an impostor. Or that something would get stolen while I was there and then I would be blamed. Or any number of other things that all would end with me getting in trouble.
To add insult to my fear of injury, the lighting in the dorm was terrible for photography because there were no lights on in the hallways. That's what happens when people Go Green. Although it's beyond me how they get their chlorophyll without light.
Later, the editors asked me to conduct a somewhat bizarre social experiment at another dorm building. But that's a tale for another post.
Taking pictures of everything.
As you no doubt concluded from the earlier points, I had to take the photos accompanying my articles myself. This meant taking pictures of students, professors, buildings, the cafeteria food, Zen gardens, you name it.
I felt rather a fool, walking around snapping pictures. One time, I was taking pictures of the decor in the school cafeteria when one of the food service workers walked up to me with a grin.
FOOD SERVICE WORKER: I saw you taking pictures and I thought to myself, "She must be a blogger!"
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: You have no idea...
It was an email from a fellow member of the Nameless Utah College Honors program. It just so happened that she held a position of some importance in the Nameless Utah College newspaper, and she wanted me to write weekly articles for the paper's website.
In the email, she said that she had thought of me because I had "real writing experience."
And I was like, "Real writing experience? Well, I have had an article published in the Neopia Times. Sure, I'll take the gig."
And thus began my stint as a student reporter. Here's what my duties entailed (apart from, you know, writing stuff):
Tracking people down and forcing them to talk to me.
What I would usually do was dig up people's email addresses. I would send them a note asking if we could get together.
Commonly, there would be no response. I only had a week or two to prepare each article, and I had to get three sources for each one, so this inability to contact a source would make me very nervous indeed.
With my deadline drawing near, I would find out where the person I was looking for resided/worked/had their office. Then I would stalk them before, after, and in-between classes as my schedule allowed.
It's funny, because some people would ignore my emails. But once I showed up where they were, they never refused to talk to me.
Whether this was because they were struck with a sudden desire to have their viewpoint conveyed to the student body by an ace reporter or because they viewed me as a sort of Rita Skeeter who would paint them in an unflattering light if they didn't acquiesce, I'll never know.
Boldly going where no student had gone before.
Due to my article assignments, I quickly found myself becoming the Harry Potter of Nameless Utah College. That is, my school experience ceased to consist of only the classrooms, the cafeteria, and the library. To find the information I sought, I found myself venturing into such places as the kitchens, the counseling offices, and the office of campus security.
One week, I received an assignment to write an article about a student dorm that had adopted a Go Green movement. I emailed the RAs with questions, received their responses, and wrote the article. There was one last thing that had to be done: take pictures.
Inside the dorm, no less.
Being a commuter, I had little experience with dorms. The editors of the school paper assured me that I would have no trouble getting into the dorm to take pictures; I wasn't so sure.
I went to the dormitory in question several times over the course of the school week, but the person in charge of deciding whether or not to let in outsiders like me was never at their post in the lobby.
On the last day, I was getting quite desperate. When some resident of the dorm asked me if I'd forgotten my key, I said no, I was actually from the school paper, and would he mind letting me in for a minute to take some pictures?
The dorm resident gestured to the ever-empty desk in the lobby and explained that the person who was supposed to be sitting there usually signed visitors in.
Truthfully, when it comes to rules I'm more like Hermione than Harry, and I really would rather have waited for the desk person. But I'm also more like Hermione when it comes to deadlines. My article was soon due and I had to get pictures, so when the student (only slightly hesitantly) offered to let me into the dorm anyways, I accepted.
And thus I got my pictures, though obtaining them was quite the nerve-wracking experience. I was convinced that someone would see me and know I was an impostor. Or that something would get stolen while I was there and then I would be blamed. Or any number of other things that all would end with me getting in trouble.
To add insult to my fear of injury, the lighting in the dorm was terrible for photography because there were no lights on in the hallways. That's what happens when people Go Green. Although it's beyond me how they get their chlorophyll without light.
Later, the editors asked me to conduct a somewhat bizarre social experiment at another dorm building. But that's a tale for another post.
Taking pictures of everything.
As you no doubt concluded from the earlier points, I had to take the photos accompanying my articles myself. This meant taking pictures of students, professors, buildings, the cafeteria food, Zen gardens, you name it.
I felt rather a fool, walking around snapping pictures. One time, I was taking pictures of the decor in the school cafeteria when one of the food service workers walked up to me with a grin.
FOOD SERVICE WORKER: I saw you taking pictures and I thought to myself, "She must be a blogger!"
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: You have no idea...
Monday, April 20, 2015
The Shoes of Ronald McDonald
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: What should I write a blog post about?
LITTLE BROTHER: You should write about the time Baby Brother squished Ronald McDonald's shoe.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: ...what?
BABY BROTHER: Ronald McDonald came to an assembly at my school. He literally walked out into the audience. I was sitting on the aisle, so when he walked past me, I pressed down on his shoes.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (aghast, yet curious) What did it feel like?
BABY BROTHER: It was hollow.
LITTLE BROTHER: You should write about the time Baby Brother squished Ronald McDonald's shoe.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: ...what?
BABY BROTHER: Ronald McDonald came to an assembly at my school. He literally walked out into the audience. I was sitting on the aisle, so when he walked past me, I pressed down on his shoes.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: (aghast, yet curious) What did it feel like?
BABY BROTHER: It was hollow.
Friday, April 17, 2015
Things That Are Mine
I should first begin by telling you that there are twelve apostles on the earth today, as there were in Jesus' time. They are special witnesses of His mission and His divinity.
One of those apostles is Elder D. Todd Christofferson. And Best Friend Boy loves him. He refers to him as "D-Todd" and is constantly extolling his praises.
Last year, Best Friend Boy took me with him to a fireside (which is a sort of religious or inspirational seminar) to hear "D-Todd" speak.
It was a great fireside. We listened and wrote down quotes and quivered with anticipation (well, I did not quiver, but I maintain that Best Friend Boy did). One of the things which I wrote down is the following: "Accept those things which are yours, and the pain will be taken from you and peace will come."
I am thinking about such things tonight. They're not nice things like ice cream cake and platypuses, but things that weigh me down, trip me up, and cause me to cry in my room for hours then rewrite all the lyrics to REO Speedwagon's "I Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore" to describe my exact emotions.
You know what I speak of. I speak of the things that make you sick to your stomach and add weariness to your heart. To even think about them is a bruise unto your soul. If you're anything like me, you've spent many hours on your knees praying for these things to disappear. Or for them to resolve themselves. Or for an idea of how to resolve them. Or, if nothing else, for you to change into the sort of person that can no longer be hurt by the things.
Accept those things that are yours, Elder Christofferson says, and the pain will be taken from you. Like when you have to get poked by a needle for one medical or another, bracing yourself only makes the experience more painful. It goes easier for you when you relax--when you accept what is happening instead of trying to resist.
Don't confuse this recommendation with an edict to be passive or complacent. I know many people who have been asked of God to wait for one blessing or another to come into their lives. So they wait--literally. They sit around, waiting for something to happen. And in the meantime, they do nothing at all.
But that isn't how Heavenly Father wants us to wait. After all, He says that we should bring to pass many good things of our own free will and choice. He prizes our abilities to choose and to act so much that He allows us to make our own decisions and bear the consequences. When we must wait, we must wait as actively as possible. We must learn, grow, and progress in the waiting. And when we must accept, we must accept actively. This means, perhaps, not only bearing but embracing the difficulties of the things that are ours. This means making the most of what we undergo and, when possible, using it to help instead of hurt us.
Am I talking rubbish? Are you utterly confused? Do you look at this post and think, "That's all well and good for you to say, Awkward Mormon Girl, but have you ever actually accepted such things as are yours?"
Well, yes. I have. A (very) few times, when faced with a situation that I wished would be taken from me, I accepted it, headed straight into it, and never looked back. At the time, I thought these experiences were painful, but when I stepped out of the shadow of these things and into the sunshine on the other side, I thought to myself, "Well, that wasn't so bad."
One of those apostles is Elder D. Todd Christofferson. And Best Friend Boy loves him. He refers to him as "D-Todd" and is constantly extolling his praises.
Last year, Best Friend Boy took me with him to a fireside (which is a sort of religious or inspirational seminar) to hear "D-Todd" speak.
It was a great fireside. We listened and wrote down quotes and quivered with anticipation (well, I did not quiver, but I maintain that Best Friend Boy did). One of the things which I wrote down is the following: "Accept those things which are yours, and the pain will be taken from you and peace will come."
I am thinking about such things tonight. They're not nice things like ice cream cake and platypuses, but things that weigh me down, trip me up, and cause me to cry in my room for hours then rewrite all the lyrics to REO Speedwagon's "I Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore" to describe my exact emotions.
You know what I speak of. I speak of the things that make you sick to your stomach and add weariness to your heart. To even think about them is a bruise unto your soul. If you're anything like me, you've spent many hours on your knees praying for these things to disappear. Or for them to resolve themselves. Or for an idea of how to resolve them. Or, if nothing else, for you to change into the sort of person that can no longer be hurt by the things.
Accept those things that are yours, Elder Christofferson says, and the pain will be taken from you. Like when you have to get poked by a needle for one medical or another, bracing yourself only makes the experience more painful. It goes easier for you when you relax--when you accept what is happening instead of trying to resist.
Don't confuse this recommendation with an edict to be passive or complacent. I know many people who have been asked of God to wait for one blessing or another to come into their lives. So they wait--literally. They sit around, waiting for something to happen. And in the meantime, they do nothing at all.
But that isn't how Heavenly Father wants us to wait. After all, He says that we should bring to pass many good things of our own free will and choice. He prizes our abilities to choose and to act so much that He allows us to make our own decisions and bear the consequences. When we must wait, we must wait as actively as possible. We must learn, grow, and progress in the waiting. And when we must accept, we must accept actively. This means, perhaps, not only bearing but embracing the difficulties of the things that are ours. This means making the most of what we undergo and, when possible, using it to help instead of hurt us.
Am I talking rubbish? Are you utterly confused? Do you look at this post and think, "That's all well and good for you to say, Awkward Mormon Girl, but have you ever actually accepted such things as are yours?"
Well, yes. I have. A (very) few times, when faced with a situation that I wished would be taken from me, I accepted it, headed straight into it, and never looked back. At the time, I thought these experiences were painful, but when I stepped out of the shadow of these things and into the sunshine on the other side, I thought to myself, "Well, that wasn't so bad."
Saturday, April 11, 2015
How Pinteresting
I spend a fair amount of my time cooking.
I enjoy cooking. It's very therapeutic, except for when I come across a recipe that says something subjective like, "stir vigorously." Recipes like that stress me out.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Am I stirring with enough vigor? Or is this too much vigor? How do I know if I'm doing it right?
As I'm sure you all know, Pinterest is a lovely website that supplies all the recipes of the internet to food lovers like me. You can find anything on Pinterest, including fudge that looks like raw meat. I have never tried the fudge-that-looks-like-raw-meat recipe, but I have found other delights, some of which have quickly become my favorite recipes.
Now, usually the recipes on Pinterest are represented by a single picture of the end product and a piece of text with the title of the recipe. Like so:
The issue with this is sometimes I pin a recipe that looks simple in the picture and title, only to later open the link and discover that it requires half a baby seal, saffron, and the salt of the Dead Sea. Obviously I don't have the ingredients or the time to make such a thing, and I wish that I hadn't pinned this recipe I will obviously never make.
In what seems to be an effort to remedy this, people have started creating pins that have the entire recipe in picture form on them. This allows me to vet the recipe without ever opening the link, but sometimes causes confusion.
For example, not long ago I found such a recipe on Pinterest. I immediately began to interpret the pictures.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: You take some chicken...
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: And cover it with pepper jack cheese...
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: And some peanut butter...
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: And some granola.
That was when I realized that there was an additional picture at the top of the recipe:
Also, the text accompanying the recipe said something like "Swiss Cheese Chicken! This is one of the best and easiest recipes! I love it!" etc.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Well, I may have been wrong about most of these things...but that cheese is definitely not Swiss.
I enjoy cooking. It's very therapeutic, except for when I come across a recipe that says something subjective like, "stir vigorously." Recipes like that stress me out.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Am I stirring with enough vigor? Or is this too much vigor? How do I know if I'm doing it right?
As I'm sure you all know, Pinterest is a lovely website that supplies all the recipes of the internet to food lovers like me. You can find anything on Pinterest, including fudge that looks like raw meat. I have never tried the fudge-that-looks-like-raw-meat recipe, but I have found other delights, some of which have quickly become my favorite recipes.
Now, usually the recipes on Pinterest are represented by a single picture of the end product and a piece of text with the title of the recipe. Like so:
The issue with this is sometimes I pin a recipe that looks simple in the picture and title, only to later open the link and discover that it requires half a baby seal, saffron, and the salt of the Dead Sea. Obviously I don't have the ingredients or the time to make such a thing, and I wish that I hadn't pinned this recipe I will obviously never make.
In what seems to be an effort to remedy this, people have started creating pins that have the entire recipe in picture form on them. This allows me to vet the recipe without ever opening the link, but sometimes causes confusion.
For example, not long ago I found such a recipe on Pinterest. I immediately began to interpret the pictures.
That was when I realized that there was an additional picture at the top of the recipe:
Also, the text accompanying the recipe said something like "Swiss Cheese Chicken! This is one of the best and easiest recipes! I love it!" etc.
AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Well, I may have been wrong about most of these things...but that cheese is definitely not Swiss.
Saturday, April 4, 2015
Together Forever
This weekend is General Conference, which is the semiannual meeting for all LDS church members to receive counsel and instruction directly from the prophet and apostles. General Conference is translated into any languages and broadcast around the world, including into the homes of Hometown families.
There were three of the six two-hour sessions today--two sessions for all members, and one for men. I watched the first session at my parents' house with my family.
My mother made us her specialty breakfast food, surprise breakfast rolls, which we ate as we watched the session. We took notes on the talks given by our leaders. We sang together when there were breaks for hymns, and we would make side comments to one other about thoughts that we had.
It's not only General Conference weekend; it's Easter weekend as well, which means we specifically celebrate the Atonement and Resurrection of Jesus Christ. The Atonement and Resurrection brought many gifts to the human race. One of those is the potential for humans to overcome sin and death to eventually live an eternal life. You may not be familiar with that phrase, "eternal life," if you're not LDS. Eternal life isn't mere immortality. I would say it's the ability to live forever in a glorified, perfect physical state in the presence of God and of your family.
I was thinking today as we watched General Conference that I am incredibly glad that I have the family that I have. I feel blessed that I have the knowledge the we will be together as a family in the eternities.
There were three of the six two-hour sessions today--two sessions for all members, and one for men. I watched the first session at my parents' house with my family.
My mother made us her specialty breakfast food, surprise breakfast rolls, which we ate as we watched the session. We took notes on the talks given by our leaders. We sang together when there were breaks for hymns, and we would make side comments to one other about thoughts that we had.
It's not only General Conference weekend; it's Easter weekend as well, which means we specifically celebrate the Atonement and Resurrection of Jesus Christ. The Atonement and Resurrection brought many gifts to the human race. One of those is the potential for humans to overcome sin and death to eventually live an eternal life. You may not be familiar with that phrase, "eternal life," if you're not LDS. Eternal life isn't mere immortality. I would say it's the ability to live forever in a glorified, perfect physical state in the presence of God and of your family.
I was thinking today as we watched General Conference that I am incredibly glad that I have the family that I have. I feel blessed that I have the knowledge the we will be together as a family in the eternities.
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