The End

I put this off by watching Bones with Pepper for like three hours. However, I told myself I would end the blog tonight, and that's what I'm going to do.

When the blog began, I was a college student with no idea how her life would go. I had no idea that over the next five and a half years, I would not only graduate from college, I would also find a professional writing job, serve in two Relief Society presidencies, move out of my parents' home, receive my Latter-day Saint temple endowment, serve as a temple worker, travel to Disneyland (twice), take a road trip to Illinois, go to New York City (three times), go to Arizona (twice), visit San Diego, buy a new car, and have my appendix removed.

Throughout all this, there were times when my life was scary and uncertain, and my belief was the only thing to fall back on. My religion has not been incidental but crucial to everything I've done. I've done my best to convey what it's like to live the ordinary life of a person of my background, and I hope you've enjoyed the experience.

Now it's goodbye. Once I figure out what I'm doing next, I promise to come back and add it to this post.

Finite.

Things I've Learned

Baby Brother is very brave. He took all his birthday money and ordered a unicycle, which he is now teaching himself to ride. Dad and I are trying to help him, but neither of us know how to ride a unicycle ourselves, so we're mostly there for support. (Literally—learning to ride a unicycle seems to involve falling down a lot. Don't worry; Baby Brother also got a helmet and knee, elbow, and wrist pads.)

I won't be teaching myself to ride a unicycle anytime soon. Even if I was more interested in doing so, it's hard to make yourself learn new skills once you reach a certain age. There's no time, and for some reason the older you are, the more you get judged for starting something new.

I've been learning a lot just through life, though, especially this past year. Next week marks a year of serving as a Relief Society president, and that in itself has been a course in leadership, in teaching, and in so much more.

For example. I've always avoided making friends with girls who seemed really into hair, makeup, or clothes. Mostly because I assumed they wouldn't want to be friends with me. Which is odd, because I have friends and associates from all kinds of backgrounds, all of whom I respect and admire for various traits.

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: We have different political views? We can still be friends!

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: We have different religious views? Even up to the point of you actually hating my religion? We can still be friends!

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: You wear eyelash extensions and I don't? We can never be friends! We're too different.

Sounds silly, but sadly not an exaggeration. Much.

Enter Vix, my second counselor. I've always thought she was pretty and stylish and cool, but she's a cosmetologist and always looks like she's about to star in a photo shoot or something. Out of my friendship league for sure. Being around her made me kind of nervous.

But you know what? It turns out that we have more in common than you would think. I consider her a friend now, and we've formed a great bond that means a lot to me.

I've come back to this post several times now, and I feel a need to add something thoughtful and wise to it. But what? "Don't do drugs, kids"? "Stay in school"? "Never eat a porcupine"? No, that's not it. Well, whatever wants to be said, hopefully it will come out tomorrow.

Running Away From Your Problems Redux

So one time, I was thinking about going on a mission.

I knew a couple of people who were very dear to me but were really struggling. There wasn't much I could do to help, but both Older Sister and Best Friend Boy were on missions, and I could see how through their missions, they were able to help others with similar struggles. I'd never wanted to serve a mission, but I was suddenly overcome with a desire to go so that I could help people.

I wanted to finish school before looking into going on a mission (because I was pretty sure that if I quit school, I would never find it in me to go back). So I had a few years to think about whether to go. I did mention it in passing in a letter to Best Friend Boy, who responded some weeks later by saying that I should pray about it to see if that's what Heavenly Father wanted for me.

I was really annoyed by this. I was planning to pray about it, just not yet. It was a few years away!

However, being so annoyed, I decided I would pray right then and there, just so that I could write back to Best Friend Boy and let him know that I had. I was the only one home, so I knelt right down in the living room, and—

It was one of the most unmistakable prayers I've prayed in my life. I asked if I should go on a mission after graduation. I felt sickish and headache-ish. Well, what about right now? Still sickish and headache-ish.

Lovely. I asked a couple other questions, and I immediately felt pushed in a direction that didn't entirely make sense to me but that felt right. So be it.

A couple of years passed, and I found myself deeply entrenched in the path that had felt right. Only everything was going terribly. I was so frustrated and wondered if I'd interpreted what I'd felt correctly. Maybe I just wanted to walk down this path so badly that I'd manufactured feelings of confirmation. Madam President seemed to think so. Shortly before we were called to the Relief Society presidency, her serious boyfriend broke up with her. She hadn't been able to get over how badly she wanted to get back together with him until getting a blessing from a General Authority that she knew. The blessing laid out a different path for her life than she'd hoped. Then, ta-da, she got a job and got married and everything worked for her, and she was happy! She gave me the General Authority's number and recommended that I get a blessing from him, too. I knew she was hoping that my blessing, too, would tell me that I'd been wrong about the direction that my life was going to go and that I should do something else. I sat on the number for a year and then I decided to find out for myself.

The blessing was lovely, but it was also frustrating. It basically said that I could do what I want. It cast no aspersions on the path I'd been walking, which meant I was free to keep walking it if I so chose. Before the blessing, the General Authority also told me that I wouldn't get an answer before making a decision but that I should choose and then start moving forward with the choice. Then I'd get my answer.

Once again, lovely, but how to choose? I went straight from his home to a semi-solo trip where I pondered my options. I wrote a list of pros and cons and I studied and I thought.

In the end, I decided that whatever had (or hadn't) happened since then, there was a reason why I stayed, and it would be better not to throw that away. Once again, I choose to stay, and I'm glad I did. The following year was incredible. So many of the things that frustrated me righted themselves. Things were really looking up. In fact, the reason I felt I should stay seemed to be finally coming to fruition.

In December of that incredible year, I was stepping into the shower when I suddenly had a thought: "If you wanted to go on a mission, this thing will wait for you."

A third time: lovely. But I was honest: I didn't want to go on a mission now. Things were finally going well for me. Once again, I chose to stay.

I never felt like it was a mistake to stay. The thought was fleeting, anyway—not persistent the way important thoughts tend to be. However, over the next six months, my life got wild. So many things went wrong, and my reason for staying eluded me yet again. My eyes turned toward a mission once more, but it didn't feel right. I told my bishop as much shortly before he extended the calling of Relief Society president to me.

Everything was hunky-dory for a few months. Then came an Interpersonal Crisis that was literally one of my worst nightmares.

The great thing about the Interpersonal Crisis was that it eliminated one of the things I would have felt I was missing out on by going on a mission. Ah-ha! Almost immediately I began to wonder if now, at last, this was the time to go. Almost everything else in my life was going wrong, too, so it seemed like it was all screaming that I had nothing to lose by leaving. I thought about it, then talked to my bishop, then set a date to make a decision.

The date rolled around, and...found me recovering from appendicitis. Whoops. Obviously not a good time to make life-changing decisions, so I forewent it, but even after I recovered, I didn't know what I was feeling. At work, at home, in the temple, in San Diego—no real answer seemed forthcoming.

My stake conference came around, and with it forced interaction with the person with whom I was having an Interpersonal Crisis. Some time had passed, so—well, I don't know what I was thinking except that I knew this person was a good person and didn't believe they would double down on the way they'd treated me. But they did double down on it. I felt like I'd been slapped, and I left the building in a daze. All of a sudden, it became clear that if more of this treatment was in store each time I saw this person, I couldn't stay here. I remembered about what the General Authority said about making a decision and getting confirmation after moving forward. So be it. Every time I'd chosen not to go on a mission, things hadn't really worked out. What is it they say: that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results? Time to do something different. I rushed to speak with my bishop the next day.

My bishop, a wise man whom I very much look up to, thought I would make a great missionary. We agreed to officially start the mission papers. However, he also said: "Don't go on a mission to run away from your problems."

Easier said than done. No matter the other reasons, the sole thing that allowed me to feel free to pursue a mission was how terribly my life was going. Those problems would be a catalyst regardless of anything else. I worked to resolve them as much as I could to make the decision-making process clearer, but they refused to resolve.

Meanwhile, as I filled out my mission papers, I felt terrible. I felt a sick feeling similar to the one I felt the first time I prayed about it. I didn't like talking or thinking about the mission even as I prepared in earnest. I knew in my heart that this wasn't right, but I was so tired of choosing to stay yet being so unsuccessful.

Things came to a head, and blessedly I was able to take a step back and say, "What am I doing? This doesn't make sense." I was just a few steps away from completing my mission papers, but I decided not to do so. The sick feeling went away. I knew I'd made the right decision. I wish I could say that things got better, but they're still pretty up in the air. I'm hoping for a couple of miracles, but in the meantime, I at least feel stronger and more able to deal with some things.

And that's how I almost ran away from all my problems.

In Which I Break Up

A few times over the last few years, I've joked that even though I don't have a boyfriend, I'm in a long-term relationship with this blog.

Well.

Well...

The blog and I are breaking up.

When I started the blog, it had a clear purpose. As my life has gotten more complicated, that purpose has been muddied somewhat. Don't get me wrong; I've enjoyed the journey. It's just that after five and a half years, I'm losing track of all I truly wanted to say.

I was planning to start phasing the blog out this year, but then I felt like I shouldn't. Since then, I've been wondering what it is that I should do.

The answer came in an unexpected form: President Nelson has received revelation that it's time for us to stop using the term "Mormon" to refer to ourselves. I've never loved the term, since it's originally a slur and also an inaccurate way to define what I believe, but since that's what most call us, the Church has tried to reclaim the term and proudly own it.

Well, no more. From now on, we refer to ourselves as "Mormons" no longer. We're going to start being sticklers for the proper terms: "member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints" or "Latter-day Saints."

I think this is great. However, "Awkward Member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints Girl" isn't exactly catchy. So I'm taking it as a sign that it's a good time to lay aside this blog. The last post will be September 22nd. (If there's anything anyone would really like me to write about between now and then, I'm taking ideas.)

I don't think I'm going to quit blogging; I think I will probably eventually start a new blog that will be a sequel of sorts. But I'm still thinking about it, especially because I don't want it to be just the same as this one. I want it to have all the good parts of this blog but be even better. (I'm taking ideas for that, too.)

Something Wonderful

I've been something of a sad sap lately. Despite my best intentions, this blog has recently been like 50% faith-affirming statements. Which isn't a bad thing. It's just, you know, not what people come here for. At least, that's what I presume when I review the numbers for the most-read posts, which ain't the faith-affirming ones.

I'm not sure what happened today, but somehow, the fear and dread that has kept me company for months on end seems to be dispelled. I feel that the end of my present gamut of trials is near, perhaps already over. Not that I'll never have problems again—though that would be nice. Also there are still several things about which I am concerned and that are still outstanding (including the Interpersonal Crisis), but I feel that a resolution is coming. I haven't given up, and perhaps my tenacity and faith are about to be rewarded. We shall see!

Grace

A few months ago, La Petite turned to me and said something like, "It seems like for you, the last couple of years have been nothing but bad things. I wouldn't blame you if you just felt like giving up."

And Best Friend Boy said, "Something good has to happen to you soon."

But God said, "Haha no." Repeatedly.

I just went to a campout for my stake. At that campout, it seemed like almost every speaker's sermon was for me. One of those speakers was a well-known LDS teacher named Brad Wilcox spoke. He mentioned that my generation may be the most anguished generation to date. Then he talked at length about grace.

He said that grace is a divine power, and it's how God engages with us. He said it's not what we call tender mercies, and it's not when we receive an answer to a prayer (unless, I suppose, we're praying for grace). It is, however, a product of Christ's Atonement.

Then he said a few things that struck me. He said, "Strength too easily won is not strength."

He said, "Change without challenge is not change."

He said, "Time is the medium for the power of the Atonement."

Somehow, right then, I got a tiny flash of what God is up to. Have I not asked for the power of Christ's Atonement in my life? Have I not asked for the circumstances to change? Perhaps the only way is fraught with difficulty and takes time.

My Week with Blue Apron

A Muppet fansite I used to frequent often did "My Week" series. For example, they'd do "My Week with Fraggle Rock," where they'd watch an episode of Fraggle Rock every day for a week and then give a snarky review at the end.

I regret to inform you that because of the way Blue Apron works, I'm unable to cook a recipe from them every day for a whole week, so I don't have seven snarky reviews for you. I do, however, have two reviews to share!

The two recipes that I chose from Blue Apron for this week are Shanghai Kung Pao Chicken with Stir-Fried Peas, Sweet Peppers, & Bird's Eye Chile and Seared Steak with Roasted Potatoes & Caper Aioli.

First Impressions: I think it's a requirement that you feel a rush of excitement when you open a box from a subscription service. I certainly did when I opened my Blue Apron box. All of the food was cold and packaged nicely, and I was able to recycle a lot of the packaging.

The best part, though, was the recipes. They're presented so prettily on nice paper! Also, I was pleased to find a bonus recipe in the box. Do they put a bonus recipe in every week? Dunno, but it was a nice touch. This bonus recipe was for Wild Alaska Pollock Au Pouvre. Obviously, they didn't put ingredients in the box to make the bonus recipe, but I look forward to trying it sometime. 

I sorted the ingredients by recipe, put them in the fridge, and waited for Monday night to try my hand at cooking with Blue Apron.

My understanding of Blue Apron is that the business model is geared towards: 1) people who don't know how to cook but want to learn, 2) people who know how to cook but have more money than time, and 3) people who know how to cook but struggle to find new recipes.

I fall mostly under categories 2) and 3). I fall slightly under category 1) in that I don't know how to cook certain things and would like to learn. Three of the four recipes I chose featured entrees I'd never cooked before.

I started by trying the Shanghai Kung Pao Chicken with Stir-Fried Peas, Sweet Peppers, & Bird's Eye Chile! This was a special Air BnB-partnered recipe. I make rice dishes with veggies and chicken all the time, so it wasn't a big stretch for me. I chose it because it looked tasty and because I'm always looking for a good rice dish.

The ingredients!

First off, Blue Apron markets their meals as taking less than an hour to make. However, this recipe required the chopping of no less than five items, along with some other prep. I am a meticulous chopper; also my mind tends to wander while I chop, so I knew I would not be able to make the dinner that quickly. The chicken was pre-chopped though, which I liked.

The recipe mostly involved sauteing assorted veggies. The recommended heat settings proved to be much too vigorous for my stove/pan/altitude/something. The garlic burned slightly, as did, well, pretty much everything.

Once the veggies and chicken were sauteed and the rice was sitting on the stove, it was time to add the kung pao sauce. I was annoyed to discover that the mixture included mirin (alcohol). Cooking with alcohol doesn't necessarily violate my religious health code, but I prefer not to use it. I wish I'd had a heads-up!

After everything had cooked together, I performed the last step of fishing out the bird's eye chile (which actually burned my hands while I was chopping it because it was so spicy; it was clearly not edible unless you are a maniac). Then I dished up a bowl, noting with pleasure that there was enough food for three servings rather than the two Blue Apron advertises.

The Verdict: I liked the mix of veggies! I'd never cooked with snap peas before, and they were very good. The food was pretty spicy...almost too spicy...on account of the chile. My main complaint, however...well, I don't think I've ever had kung pao chicken, so maybe this was my fault, but I was not expecting it to taste so strongly of soy sauce. When I picked the recipe, I thought the sauce would be sweeter.

What I'd Do Differently: I'm planning to make this again sometime, but I've already found a honey-based sauce to use instead. Also, since I don't think my grocery store sells bird's eye chiles, I might have to leave it out or use a more mild chile for the flavoring instead.

Next up was the Seared Steak with Roasted Potatoes & Caper Aioli. I make steak for myself a couple times a year, but always in the oven, and it's never as good as I want it to be. I've also never made kale, roasted potatoes, or aioli. I was excited to try!

This recipe actually did take under an hour! The preparations were minimal. I had to chop the kale, the potatoes, and the capers.

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Who chops capers?!

I repeated this several times while I was, yes, chopping the capers. It was difficult, and I'm still not convinced it was entirely necessary.

I also had to chop and mash the garlic "into a paste". I usually just use pre-chopped garlic, but I didn't have it on hand this time. Also I wanted to see what this paste thing was all about. However, I was unable to make a paste. I just ended up with flat bits of garlic.

First I mixed the aioli (which had sherry vinegar...again with the alcohol). This aioli consisted of mayonnaise, the vinegar, some of the garlic not-paste, and the capers. I was curious how that was going to taste. I coated the potatoes in oil, salt, pepper, and a Blue Apron-provided seasoning blend that smelled like spicy nutmeg and Old Bay Seasoning. Then, while the potatoes were roasting, I seared the steak.

The first thing I thought when I unwrapped the steak was "Hey, that's a pretty nice piece of steak!"

You may be thinking, "Awkward Mormon Girl, that's not that nice of a steak! I eat steak like that at home all the time." Well...I don't. I always do the flatter steaks that are about as cheap as they can possibly be while still being steaks. I never cooked a New York strip steak so fat and juicy.

The last step was cooking the kale. I was skeptical of the kale. I'm not a big kale fan, and there was a lot of it. However, I was happy to give Blue Apron a chance to prove me wrong.

So. Much. Kale.

Once again, I was able to get three servings out of the meal (though I had to be miserly with the steak). Everything looked very beautiful plated.

The Verdict: The steak was amazing! So good! I've been converted to pan-seared steak for sure. The potatoes were a bit underdone (maybe should have been chopped smaller or cooked longer or both), and the secret spice blend Blue Apron provided to season them didn't impress me. The kale was way better than expected, but it was still kale. Blue Apron didn't specify what the aioli was for—the steak? the potatoes? the kale?—so I just put it on everything. It was delicious! I especially loved it on the steak.

What I'd Do Differently: Find a different potato spice blend. Maybe even skip the potatoes in favor of a different type of potato? Swap the kale for spinach, which I still don't love but which I think is more palatable than kale. Try a different vinegar in the aioli if I can find a viable substitute.

I sure had fun trying this out! I'm looking forward to one more week of Blue Apron.

Easter Weekend

Context: This post is about a trip to San Diego.

This year, General Conference and Easter fell on the same weekend. I was reluctant to go to San Diego partly because of this. My parents said we would listen to the radio during part of the drive but that we might not listen during all of it for various reasons. I did not like this. My life was not going very well, and I was desperate for words that might assist me.

I agonized over the decision. Then I agonized over my decision-making agony, because I am usually very decisive, and it troubles me when my decision powers abandon me. Finally, I agreed to go. But. I made a plan, which was that I bought two portable phone chargers. My phone tends to eat up a lot of battery, especially when I'm streaming. Each charger was supposed to last a few hours, so even if my phone was particularly voracious, I hoped to get four hours' of power to listen to General Conference. I also bought a backup pair of ordinary headphones for my chargeable, wireless Bluetooth headphones. Just in case.

Saturday involved a lot of driving. We were in a hurry as we drove through Utah, Nevada, and into California. We only stopped a few times, which was tedious, but to my delight, my parents did end up playing most of General Conference over the radio.

It was an excellent conference. We had the opportunity to sustain the new prophet, President Nelson, through a solemn assembly. There were also a lot of really, really good talks.

It was hard for me to tear myself away for even a moment. During bathroom breaks at the gas stations, I kept my headphones in and the audio streaming while I waited in line.

Did I get what I needed? Yes. I'd say that at least sixty percent of the talks throughout the four general sessions related somehow to my Interpersonal Crisis. There were so many talks about kindness, forgiveness, and love; about treating people the way the Savior wants you to treat them; and about giving others the benefit of the doubt even when they have wronged you. I felt chastised, but I also felt peace and understanding. I felt that renewal of Easter.

During the Sunday morning session (which we watched in our hotel room while eating breakfast), my mom remarked that a lot of the talks seemed to be about her situation with her brother! We were listening to the exact same thing and getting rather different takes on it. I think part of that is just due to human nature, but I also think that it's partly due to the way that the word of God works. Different scriptures, even when interpreted in a doctrinally correct manner, may resonate differently with one person than with another. Same thing with talks. They individualize themselves to us. The first time I heard Sister Wendy Watson Nelson (who is a superior human being, IMO) speak, she said that years ago, when she was struggling to know if she should marry her fiancé, every talk in a session of General Conference was about marriage, and what she heard led her to break off the engagement. Later, when she went back to reread the talks, none of them really seemed to be related to marriage at all! But her ex-fiancé ended up leaving the woman he did marry for another man, so it worked out well for Sister Nelson.

Besides listening to General Conference, our Easter weekend celebration was a little unconventional. On Saturday night, we arrived at our hotel around dinnertime. My parents went to visit my uncle while my brothers and I rested and refreshed. A few hours later, my parents returned with delicious Shake Shack food. Then bedtime.

Sunday morning, as I mentioned, we watched General Conference on my dad's laptop. My mom had brought little Easter packages for us—cellophane bags with jellybeans and chocolate. She even sort of hid them around the hotel room for us to find.

After the morning session and our sort-off Easter egg hunt, we piled into the rental and headed for Old San Diego. It was a visual riot! Many of the shops and restaurants were built in a Mexican style and selling Frida Kahlo merchandise and southwestern cusine. Everything looked so bright and happy and appealing.

We found an LDS visitors' center (for the Mormon Battalion), but it was closed. It looked kind of like an old Catholic mission. Across the street from the visitors' center was a synagogue! Even though my brothers and I are one-eighth Jewish, none of us had ever been in a synagogue. We ventured inside to respectfully look around. (I thought this was an especially apt activity for Easter weekend/Passover.)

Apparently, this is the first synagogue in San Diego.

We also found some other cool historical buildings.

Speaking of which, you might notice the leafy green foliage in some of the pictures. It turns out that San Diego is kind of like a jungle. Our hotel was nestled in a bunch of palm trees and other foliage. It reminded me a decent amount of Animal Kingdom at Disney World. 

Lunch was at at our hotel bistro. I had a delicious chicken pot pie and half of Baby Brother's grilled cheese sandwich. Dad hugged us all goodbye and went to the airport, and then Mom hustled us kids to go visit her brother.

Even though seeing our uncle was the main reason for the trip, I don't have a lot to say about it. I don't feel like I can say much. It's hard to explain how he's living from day to day and how depressing his place of residence is without violating his privacy. I'll just say that being there was physically and emotionally taxing for all of us (including him, I reckon).

After that, we were on our own. Mom asked us what we wanted to do with the rest of our day.

Our reply was unanimous: "Go back to Old Town San Diego!" So we went back to Old Town San Diego, where we passed a pleasant evening learning about the Mormon Battalion (the visitors' center was open since General Conference had ended). We enjoyed the interactive exhibits, including a small courtyard where Baby Brother and I panned for gold. Afterward, we went to a collection of shops that Little Brother wanted to browse. The shops were closed, but the Mexican restaurant nearby smelled so good that Little Brother persuaded those of us who dislike southwestern food (Baby Brother and I) to try it.

At home, we never eat out on Sundays, but when we travel and have no place to prepare food, we do. So we wound up having Easter dinner in a pleasant courtyard at Casa Guadalajara with chips and salsa in front of us and mariachi music around us.

Baby Brother: (texting our siblings) Literally everybody and their mariachi band is at this restaurant.

I liked the food way more than I thought I would. I enjoyed seafood chimichangas with grilled vegetables, and Mom even let us get some dessert to take back to the hotel.

Happy and content (and full of churros and ice cream), we got into bed and slipped away. I was technically still in recovery from my appendectomy, and the soft hotel beds were a huge blessing. I got much better sleep in San Diego than I was getting at home.

In Which We Run Away to San Diego Rather Abruptly

My mom has five brothers. One of those brothers made a series of poor decisions that made him unpleasant and even unsafe to be around. When I was small, she cut off all contact with him.

A justified decision, to be sure. But maybe not a merciful one. Later, she regretted it. So the last time we went to Disneyland as a family, we swung by San Diego to pay him a visit. Since then, he and my mom have been in regular contact.

Now he has a degenerative disease (I'm the worst with diseases; I don't remember which one). In March, we thought he was going to die. Mom resolved that she would go visit him. It was decided that she and Dad would take the trip over Easter weekend, and I would stay with my brothers.

But wait! If they were going to spend the money to go, then Mom wanted to go for several days, but my dad had a project on a deadline. His schedule didn't allow that. Unfortunately uncle's facility is in a pretty sketch part of town, and neither of my parents wanted my mom to go alone. Plus she would be gone during my brothers' spring vacation, so my brothers would be sitting home bored while everyone else was at work.

Every possible combination of days and travelers was proposed, but nothing seemed to work. Finally, it was decided that my mom and dad would drive out to San Diego the Friday before Easter (Passover). They would take my brothers with them, and they would take me, too.

Yes, me. It was an extremely last-minute vacation (and it arguably wasn't a vacation). But I had to go. My dad was going to fly home on Easter Sunday so that he could get back to work, and driving is not my mom's forte. I was coming so that we could switch off driving the rental car on the way back to Utah.

Which is how I found myself bundled in the back of a rental car (again), hurtling towards Las Vegas and, beyond it, San Diego.

The Unavoidable

If you haven't seen Avengers: Infinity War yet, you should probably skip this post. 'Cause that's what it's all about.

Okay, so, do you remember the scene where Doctor Strange is meditating on Titan? And Tony is like "What the heck, you wizard you?"

And Doctor Strange is all, "Oh, I totally saw every possible outcome of our woefully unprepared mishmash of superheroes attacking Thanos when he gets back. There were more than 14 million possible outcomes."

And Tony's all, "Right on. In how many of them did we defeat him?"

And Doctor Strange is all, "Just in one."

Having seen the future, Doctor Strange knows what to do to achieve the best outcome. Surely the Avengers use that knowledge to devise their attack plan. They figure out a way to play to everyone's strengths, to hit Thanos where it hurts and bring him down.

And what happens? Do they win?

Nope. They don't. They come close to winning, but they snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. Thanos gets all six infinity stones. Then he proceeds to wipe out half the population with a snap of his fingers, including half of the awesome superheroes we just spent movies and movies getting invested in!

What the actual heck, Marvel?!

In the last few minutes of the movie, Doctor Strange disintegrates. (I'm using no poetic license here, but you probably know that, because if you haven't seen the movie, you shouldn't be reading this post.)

Tony, watching him disintegrate, is kind of all, "HOW DID THIS GO SO BADLY WRONG?" I mean, he doesn't say that, but obviously he's thinking it.

Yet as he turns into dust, Doctor Strange makes a comment that kind of makes it sound like this was the desired outcome. Out of the fourteen-million-plus outcomes, this is the only one that will lead to Thanos's defeat. It's a long con, a necessary sacrifice to achieve victory in the end.

There have been a few times in my life where literally the worst thing I could possibly imagine happened to me. 'Twas an absolute nightmare. A horror. Inconceivably painful.

During one of those times, I wrote this in my journal:

Well, in any case, [nightmarish, horrible, inconceivably painful thing] is obviously a step towards the future. Apparently it cannot be skipped, avoided, or prevented.

Because heaven knows I tried to skip, avoid, or prevent it.

This wasn't vain optimism; I ended up being right. Looking back, I can say it was a step towards a future with better, happier things that could only be achieved by first going through the horrors. As it has been every other time I've had to endure something like that.

So I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm not afraid of the future. I don't have Doctor Strange's wizardly powers, but I do know from previous experience that when I pray and inquire of the Lord and come away feeling like things will change and be okay, they do change and are okay.

I know that everything will be okay. I'm not afraid of the outcome of the long con. I'm a little afraid of the things that happen along the way, because like I said, they tend to be nightmarish (i.e. half of the Avengers disintegrating). But if experiencing those things is the only way to nail your one in 14 million chance of defeating Thanos, they're arguably worth it.

Minister of Change

When I was called to be the Relief Society president in September, the responsibilities of the role were well-defined. The Relief Society president, her counselors, and her secretary(s) arrange the spiritual lessons and music for each Sunday, plan quarterly Relief Society activities, and teach a lesson of their own choosing once a month. They assign each sister in the ward at least one "visiting teacher" who checks in with her and learns about her needs. Each month, they put together a report for the bishop that shows who has been visited that month. In other parts of the nation or world, the presidency might be responsible for teaching things like literacy or good hygiene, and in a family ward they would prepare a lot of food and offer a lot of support for births, weddings, and funerals. We don't do a ton of that in my ward, though, due to the nature of a ward made up entirely of single individuals.

Not long after I accepted the calling, changes to the way we run things began to be handed down by the First Presidency. My counselors and I no longer teach lessons on first Sundays; we guide council meetings with the members of the Relief Society where we discuss things we want to improve, do better at, or act on. As of about a month ago, we're no longer doing visiting teaching. Instead, we're doing "ministering," where the number of visits are no longer tracked. The girls in the ward are responsible for knowing what's going on in the lives of one another, but they can connect with those they're asked to help in just about any way. My secretary doesn't create a report for the bishop; now I just tell him each quarter about the needs of the sisters and how they're being addressed. These administration changes have filled some gaps we were seeing in the lives of the sisters. Pretty neat.

It's not normal to have this many changes in such a short period of time, though. In the ten months I served with Madam President, we never had one, much less two, large organizational changes to implement. In short, this is an unusual time to serve in a Relief Society presidency. I feel honored and privileged to be in a calling where I get to help these things unfold. It's a huge blessing.

Humility, Diligence, and Faith

I mentioned last summer that I was rereading The Work and the Glory. On Sunday, I begged, pleaded, coaxed, cajoled, and finally convinced Baby Brother to watch the first movie with me. I think he liked it more than he thought he would. Interestingly, I don't care much for the movie version portrayal of the Prophet Joseph, but I feel like Nathan Steed is the most well-cast book-to-movie character ever. He's pretty much perfect.

To give a little background, the series follows a fictional family by the name of Steed. In the first book, the oldest brother, Joshua, becomes estranged from his family, while Nathan, their mother, and their siblings all join the newly organized church. Their father follows in book two. In book three, Joshua becomes un-estranged from his family, but he's still not a big fan of Mormons. In book six, the Prophet Joseph dies, and in book seven, everyone heads West under the direction of Brigham Young. Joshua decides to go with to help his family, but he leaves his own wife and children back in Illinois.

I wanted to quote a few pages from book eight, where Nathan goes to consult President Young about some interpersonal problems with Joshua. When I was rereading the series, this section really jumped out at me.

"...but it wasn't really agency I was thinking about. I was thinking more along the lines of faith."

Nathan caught himself. "Faith?"

"Yes, faith. Did you happen to be in the meeting last December where I read to the people a letter from Elder Orson Pratt? It was his farewell letter to the Saints in the East, including those that would be taking sail on the Brooklyn."

"I guess not."

"Well, Brother Orson was exhorting them to come west and join us—or take the ship around the horn of South America. And he said something like this: 'Do not be fainthearted or slothful, but be diligent and courageous. Be prayerful and faithful and you can accomplish almost anything that you undertake. What great and good work can we not do if we have faith and ambition?'"

Brigham's eyes were pensive now as he tried to recall the exact words. "'We can do almost anything, for our Father is heaven will strengthen us if we are strong. He will work according to our faith. If we say we cannot go west, God will not help us. But if we say, in the name of the Lord, that we will go, and set ourselves to do it, then we will go and he will help us.'"

Nathan was nodding vigorously. "Exactly. If Joshua had even a touch of faith, there wouldn't be any problem. And that is really troubling to me. He's seen so much....So why can't Joshua believe? He's a good man, President. You know that, but he's just so darn stubborn."

There was an enigmatic smile on the senior Apostle's face. "Actually, Nathan, when I referred to faith, I wasn't thinking about Joshua's faith—or lack of it."

Nathan blinked in surprise. "Oh?" And then he saw Brigham's expression. Nathan's eyes suddenly widened. "You're talking about my faith?"

"Or lack of it," Brigham answered gently.

"But..." He sat back, completely astonished.

"Nathan, you said you came to me for counsel."

"Yes, I did. I—"

"Do you remember what Joseph always used to say? When he was asked how he governed his people, he said 'I teach them correct principles, and they govern themselves.'"

"Yes, I remember that."

The wry smile that made Brigham seem suddenly more like a young boy broke out again. "Actually, I've thought that what Joseph might have said was, 'We teach them correct principles, and we teach them correct principles, and we teach them correct principles, and then they govern themselves.'"

Nathan laughed aloud at that. How true that was!

"Be that as it may. Rather than counseling you, Nathan, let me teach you a principle or two, and then you can decide for yourself what is best....There was a revelation given back in eighteen thirty-four, I believe. You remember back then, Nathan? We were still building the temple in Kirtland. We had hundreds of people coming with nothing but what they carried. They expected the Church to help them. We had no money. No resources. And there we were, building this massive building to our God....Well, near the end of this revelation the Lord said a remarkable thing. Joseph and the Church were deeply in debt at that time, so the Lord started out by saying, 'It is my will that you should pay your debts. When you think about it, that alone is a little strange. This is God, remember, and it was his house that we were building. He could have simply said, 'Don't worry about paying back those worldly men who have given you money. All things are mine anyway, so forget about paying it back.' But he did not. He said that it was his will that Joseph pay off his debts. Then what follows is very profound. I've thought about it over and over....The Lord says, 'It is my will that you humble yourselves, and obtain this blessing'—and by that I assume he means the blessing of getting out of debt—'and obtain this blessing by...'" Brigham stopped and looked directly at Nathan for a moment. "Think about that for a minute. Joseph and the Church are in debt and the Lord says that he can obtain the blessing of being freed from that debt by something. What would expect to come next?"

Nathan's brow wrinkled. "I'm not sure."

"Well, if you came to me and told me you were in debt, how would you expect that I would counsel you?"

"Well, the usual ways, I suppose. Work harder. Be more frugal."

"That's exactly right. There are only two ways out of debt, or so you would think. One is to increase your income. The other is to reduce your outgo."

"Yes, that's about it."

"But that's the point, Nathan. Those are not the only solutions. Listen. This is what the Lord says. He doesn't tell Joseph to work harder or to be more careful with money. He says, 'It is my will that you humble yourselves, and obtain this blessing by'"—Brigham held up his hand and began to tick the items off on his fingers—"'by your humility and diligence and the prayer of faith.' Note that. Three things. Humility. Diligence. Prayer of faith."

"I understand."

"No, you don't understand, Nathan. And neither did I. The great lesson is in what comes next. 'And inasmuch as you are diligent and humble, and exercise the prayer of faith, I will soften the hearts of those to whom you are in debt, until I shall send means unto you for your deliverance.'"

He stopped, watching Nathan closely to see how the words were registering.

Nathan did not notice his gaze. The words hit him in a way they had never done when he had read those words before. "So there is another way."

"Yes!" Brigham was exuberant now. "And we have to be very careful that we don't assume that our ways are the only ways to solve a problem. What the Lord is suggesting is a whole different dimension, Nathan. In many ways you're like me, Nathan. Independent. Ambitious. Determined not to be a burden on others. So when you face a problem, what do you do?"

"I look for a solution."

"Right. You try everything you know how to do to work it through. And that is good. I believe the Lord expects that of us. I think that's what he means by diligence."

"But—"

"But that's not all. He listed three things, remember. Diligence. Humility. The prayer of faith. So in addition to our diligence, if we turn to the Lord in humility and ask for his help in faith, then we have brought him into the process. We are getting his help in solving the challenge....this is how he concludes the passage. 'And if ye are humble and faithful and call upon my name, I will give you the victory.'"

Nathan was nodding ever so slowly.... "And you think that's my problem?"

"Yes." It was said with great love and tenderness. "You have been diligent, Nathan. But you've forgotten to bring the Lord into this." He held up his hand quickly. "Oh, I know you've been praying, but you've only been praying to know if your solution is acceptable to the Lord. Don't seek to counsel God, Nathan. He knows what to do. He knows how to work his work."

"But—" And then he bit it off. There were no buts. That was exactly what he had been doing. He had worked out a solution and now wanted the Lord to ratify it. Or to have Brigham ratify it for the Lord. He felt deep shame wash over him. "I think I understand."

...."It's a lesson I'm learning anew every day, Nathan. It's so easy to get caught up in the work—His work, mind you!—and yet forget that it is He who best knows how to work that work." He was peering deep into Nathan's eyes now. "And that's true of Joshua too, Nathan. God is pleased that you are so deeply concerned about helping him. But it is the Lord who knows best how to help him. So what you need to do is have more faith in the Lord."

His face softened as he saw the pain on the younger man's face. "You need to know, Nathan, lest you be too hard on yourself, there are not many men I know who are faithful enough to be told that what they lack is faith." He laughed without humor. "Sounds like a contradiction, doesn't it? But you think about it. If you weren't a man filled with faith, I would never have dared tell you that what you need is more faith."

I love that. It was something I needed to hear (see?) when I read it over the summer, and it's something I needed to hear (see!) when it came to my mind on Sunday night. If it's something you need, then I hope it will help you, too.

Tales of My Appendix

I ended this post by saying I was going to bed.

But I didn't. I laid awake for two more hours, feeling crummy and discouraged. Eventually, I forced myself to get up and get ready for bed...because my stomach hurt and I had to use the restroom.

Like most people, my stomach hurts from time to time. Sometimes I wake up with a stomach issue and have to medicate. It's usually not a big deal. This time, though, I decided not to medicate. I just went to bed like I'd promised my blog audience I would...albeit belatedly.

Two hours later, I woke up. Because nausea. I went to the restroom, thinking that if I used the toilet or threw up, I'd feel a lot better and everything would be okay. But it turned out that I couldn't use the toilet or throw up...not for lack of trying. I was on my knees on the cold tile, forcing myself to dry heave over the toilet bowl, when I realized that I wasn't nauseated anymore. My stomach just really...hurt.

I thought back over the last few hours. Come to think of it, eating dinner had been a chore because I wasn't hungry. I'd assumed that was because I'd eaten the same thing for every meal for a week straight (one of the joys of cooking for one and having leftovers), but maybe I'd actually been sick? Food poisoning? After eating the same thing for every meal, it seemed unlikely that food poisoning would be striking now. And food poisoning usually meant vomiting, not intense pain...

I grabbed my phone and entered "intense stomach pain below belly button." A few results came up, but only one caught my eye: "appendicitis."

And for some reason, I was like, "Yup. That's it. That's the one. I'm going to have to get my appendix out."

Cool as a cucumber with intense stomach pain (which is not that cool, tbh), I called my mom. It was three a.m., but she still answered.

I explained my symptoms and said something like, "What if I have appendicitis?"

She told me to go back to bed and that if I still felt the pain in the morning, she'd take me to her clinic for some tests.

"What do you mean by morning?" It was, after all, three a.m.

"Whatever time you normally get up." She told me not to eat or drink anything. Not that I was going to do that, anyway. Once again, medicating did not seem like the right course of action, and the only reason I'd eat or drink was to medicate. I was distinctly not hungry.

I hung up and, calmly, lay back down. I was in too much pain to sleep. After about forty-five minutes, I texted my mom to let her know that the pain had moved exclusively to the right side of my stomach. After an hour and fifteen minutes, I realized that I wasn't tired at all and that the temple would be open in the next forty-five minutes or so. I'd desperately wanted to go to the temple all week (re: feeling crummy and discouraged), but I wasn't sure I'd be able to. This could be the perfect time! I excitedly got to my feet to get ready and then realized that standing was a mistake. I got back into bed and realized that was a mistake, too. Any time I moved positions, I hurt. The only thing I could do was lie on my back quietly and hold very still. Nix to the temple.

Eventually, I drifted off for an hour or so. Then it was time to get up.

I'm blessed with a rather hyperactive imagination. I wouldn't say I'm a dramatic person, but I do sometimes entertain extremes, probably because extremes are far more interesting than moderation. Because I know this about myself, I have a habit of counterbalancing my extremes. As I got ready to leave the house, I reminded myself that I didn't know if I had appendicitis, that this could just be a bad stomachache, that I could be jumping to conclusions, and so on and so forth. When I emailed work to let them know I wasn't coming, I said nothing about my appendix. When I dropped my car at the mechanic's (as I'd been planning to do that day for a week), I explained that I would probably be unavailable as I was going to the doctor and possibly the emergency room. It was only after the mechanic pressed me for details that I said I might have appendicitis. When I got to my parents' house, I listened to my mother's medical spiel.

"Hmmm," said my mom. "You don't have any release pain, which is unusual for appendicitis." She mentioned a couple other symptoms I was lacking or that I had but which didn't jive with appendicitis.

I listened to her, because she was the medical professional. But I was surprised by her commentary. I still had a feeling that I couldn't shake that told me I was suffering from appendicitis.

I went to my mom's clinic as soon as it opened. As the nurse on duty, she ran some tests. She also made me put on a hospital gown, which was a new thing that has never happened to me.

The doctor then showed up to poke a little and prod a little and tell me what my tests said. The tests did not say, "You have appendicitis and should go to the ER." They said, "Normal. Normal. You're completely normal. Your white blood cell count is at 11, which is at the high end of normal. The only slightly abnormal thing is that 85% of the white blood cells in your body are cells for fighting infection."

Again, I was taken aback. Because my gut feeling still told me (in more ways than one) that appendicitis was the answer. But maybe I was crazy? Or just not a doctor. Maybe I was just being a big ol' wimp about a big ol' stomachache.

The doctor said, "You have two options. You can go to the ER now and just have them double check things. Or you can go home and see if your pain gets any worse and then go to the ER if it does. Are you okay with that plan?"

And I was all, "Sorry, but which one of those things did you want me to do?"

The doctor hesitated. I've met some of the doctors my mom works with. Let me tell you, they are not humble people. This doctor seemed different, because he opened his mouth and said something not at all based on medical science: "If it were my daughter, I'd want her to go to the ER just to be safe."

So off I went to the ER, frantically texting along the way. Letting all interested parties that I had to go to the emergency room. Still not saying anything for sure but dropping phrases like "suspected appendicitis" just to prepare everybody in case my feelings were right.

I got to the ER and checked in. They give me a nifty little ER bracelet. My dad, who'd left work to come with me, didn't get a bracelet. But he didn't have to put on a hospital gown, either. Or get hooked up to 10,000 different machines. Or have to answer a lot of invasive and repetitive questions about health issues. Happily, I was able to say that apart from an abnormal year of migraines, ankle deformities, and UTIs, I am spectacularly healthy.

The questions unearthed a few things. Namely that it still looked like I didn't have appendicitis. There were the underwhelming blood test results...the lack of release pain...the fact that I endured the pain quite well without meds...the fact that the pain was ebbing and flowing somewhat...no fever...huh.

But I was in the ER, where they pinpoint a diagnosis at all costs, so they tucked me under a warm blanket, gave me some morphine, and told me to wait because I was going to have a CT scan in the near future.

Some people like narcotics because they make them happy. I knew from experience (wisdom teeth removal) that narcotics do not make me happy. All the morphine did was give me some kind of throat-swelling panic attack (?) and then make me slightly groggy. It didn't even seem to help much with the pain. It also made the CT scan feel a little surreal. I remember being wheeled in my hospital bed to the CT scan room (it was like a roller coaster! but in a bed!), but the CT scan itself is something I can't recount with confidence.

I do remember that not long after, the doctor came and said, "I hope you're not too attached to your appendix!"

The CT scan confirmed: it was inflamed and had to come out!

I don't know how to explain how I knew I had to get my appendix out long before medical science showed it. It was unlike any other spiritual impression I've ever had. It didn't come because I'd inquired of the Lord, and it didn't come with warm fuzzies. It was just...there. It didn't even really feel very spiritual. My mom said she had a similar experience. While my dad was sitting with me in the ER, my mom was making arrangements to leave work and come take his place. She wanted to be with me when I went in to surgery.

In any case, if I'd waited until my pain was more symptomatic of appendicitis to seek treatment, my appendix probably would have ruptured. I would then have had to be rushed to the ER and may not have made it through. I was definitely being watched out for.

So there I was, miraculously already in the ER to be treated preemptively. I had also miraculously not eaten anything since the night before, so I was ready for surgery whenever they could squeeze me in. The downside was that since I'd come in before the danger was imminent, my emergency surgery was not-so-emergency. I ended up waiting a good fourish hours, and they were loooooong. I passed the time by texting (almost) everyone I knew and by getting up to speed on the surgery, which was laparoscopic. Which sounds kind of like a Christian denomination and not a surgery. But it really just means that instead of giving me one long incision, they were going to cut me open in three places and insert a camera for visibility. I was informed that it should be clean and quick since my appendix was unruptured. Also that the surgeon was going to adjust the anesthesia since the drug usually used had a marginal relationship to a drug I'm allergic to.

They were very nice to me while I waited. They moved me to a private room and assigned me some nice staff members. Mom and I were both bored out of our minds, but presently I was wheeled down to surgery. I was introduced to my surgeon and the anesthesiologist, whom I liked and trusted immediately. I didn't have too much anxiety about the surgery itself...until we went to go do it. Then I was seriously reconsidering whether I could just live with an inflamed appendix. (Medical science says I probably couldn't have. Medical science doesn't know how I am when I set my mind to something.) Anyway, the anesthesiologist said it was his job to watch me the whole time and keep me safe, and I felt okay about commending my life into his hands.

They wheeled me to the operating room and helped me move onto the operating "bed" (a squishy table covered with paper and two pillows, one under my head and one under my knees). They started hooking me up to things.

The anesthesiologist put an oxygen mask over my face. I remember thinking that I did not feel tired at all and wondering when the anesthesia would kick in. That's the last thing I remember before the surgery took place.

The Winter of My Discontent

This happened last year, too.

Mid-February, things warmed up. The sun came out, the coats came off. Spring seemed just minutes away.

Then, suddenly, it started snowing. A lot. Almost every day for a week or two. Straight into early March. Every time I drove somewhere, I was anxious about getting stuck in the snow.

I suspect I know why this is happening. It's because towards the end of February, people get worried that we didn't get enough snow for the winter. So they pray...really hard...for moisture. And then the heavens open, and snow, snow everywhere!

Far be it from me to tell people to stop praying. Especially because we do need the water. However, personally, part of me is convinced that I'd rather die of thirst than drive in the snow. Just saying.

Terrific Tribulations

Usually when I'm having a problem, I don't talk about it until it's resolved. Especially since so many of life's problems involve other people, and I want to avoid casting aspersions on others.

However, we're due for a blog post, and I can think of literally nothing but some problems I am having.

Please note that "terrific" can be either good or bad depending on how you interpret it, thus the blog post title. Because bad things can be good or bad. I mean, they're always bad...that's why they're bad things...and I personally hate hollow phrases like "Maybe this is for the best." I don't think that phrase has ever made anyone feel better ever, unless they're saying it to themselves in a desperate attempt to heal their shattered soul.

I do believe, however, that sometimes things go down right before they come up again.

This still stands.

So does this.

I did get some pretty unusual advice for this variation of interpersonal problems. It is as follows (worded as best as I can remember): "If in the past this kind of thing has happened before and you were the one to reach out to solve it, well this time, don't be that girl."

It's all in the Lord's hands now.

Return to Arizona

Last year at my grandpa's funeral, someone mentioned that they had written Grandpa while serving their LDS mission and asked him if he'd really thought about the gospel. Grandpa wrote back and said something like, "I've been waiting for this. Every single grandchild who goes on a mission writes me a letter like this at some point!"

I guess that makes Baby Sister the first missionary not to write a letter like that. For one, our grandpa passed away before she left on her mission. Nay, before she was even thinking about it. For another thing, back in October, we went back to Arizona and had Grandpa's temple work done!

Some people find posthumous temple work polarizing. I feel like it's pretty straightforward. There are a lot of restrictions on who you can do work for, and we believe that if someone doesn't want to be a Mormon, they're free to reject the ordinances in the next life. We just happen to believe that the living cannot be saved unless all of the dead also have the opportunity to be saved. It's, like, equal-opportunity salvation.

Being in the temple and seeing that ordinance performed was really special. I for one feel strongly that my Grandpa did accept it and that he now wants to be Mormon. All those missionary grandkids finally wore him down, I guess. But I won't know for sure until I see my grandpa again...which hopefully won't be for a while.

(This trip was also a road trip. It was also very short, although we did leave a day earlier than we did last year (Thursday instead of Friday). This time, we had no Baby Sister but we did have Mr. Little Sister, making this the first time we ever took a family trip with more males than females. Oddities of the trip included Baby Sister and Mr. Little Sister obsessing over cacti, Baby Brother spilling syrup on his pants during the hotel breakfast and being called "syrup pants" by Little Sister and Mr. Little Sister, and all three of the brothers arguing over whether "hash browns" is pronounced "hash browns" or "hash browns." (The dispute over this literally went for like a half hour.) We also swam, night and day—that's how I met the Canadian I mentioned in an earlier post. Plus, we were able to spend some time with Grandma, which was great because it's unlikely she'll make it back to Utah anytime soon.)

Upon the Passing of a Prophet

A few weeks ago, President Thomas S. Monson passed away. He was the president of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for ten years and led my people through some defining moments.

His predecessor, Gordon B. Hinckley, was the first prophet I remember with any clarity. President Hinckley was such a cute old man. He reminded me of my great-grandfather, and, young and impatient thought I was, I didn't begrudge having to listen to him speak during the long hours of general conference. It wasn't hard for me to accept that he was the Lord's mouthpiece because he was just so likable. President Hinckley's counselor, President Monson, was a different matter. I thought that he looked kind of funny and that his lisping voice was uncomfortable-making. I didn't like listening to him speak at all.

When President Hinckley passed away, my mom and sister were really excited about President Monson becoming the next president of the church. I didn't feel that way, though.

However. Three months later, when President Monson stood to speak at the next general conference session, I was shocked. He had aged so much since the last conference! He looked haggard and worn...not good at all. At that moment, I came to appreciate the passing of the mantle of a prophet and saw with my own eyes that it carries an almost physical weight. I also understood that even though I didn't care much for President Thomas S. Monson personally, he really was the new mouthpiece of the Lord. I could sustain him without reservation.

Over the years, I did come to appreciate President Monson as a person, but if I hadn't, it wouldn't have mattered or changed the authority that he held. And over the last few years, as President Russell M. Nelson drew closer to being the next president of the church, I observed him closely and listened to what he had to say. I've had an usually large number of opportunities to hear President Nelson and/or his wife speak outside of general conference the last few years, both through broadcasts and in person. President Nelson's words are good, and they are true, and I know they are the Lord's.

Light the World (Again)

I guess last year's Light the World went really well, because my church is doing it again this year.

Let's review: For Light the World, you do 25 acts of service over 25 days. Last year I shared my acts of service every day on Twitter. This year, I decided to do the service but not post about it daily. Also, last year I just did any kind of service and didn't follow the suggested themes (particularly because I was in Disneyland for four days and had to just grab service opportunities as they appeared). I'm following the themes each day this year, though. In some ways it makes it easier...in some ways it makes it harder.

In any case, 'tis a wonderful way to spend Christ's season!

We've Got to Stop Meeting Like This

We're starting to get into the swing of things with the Relief Society Presidency.

Everything started off kind of crazy. The day I accepted the calling, Flower Child was supposed to leave on a plane to the Orlando area. She was going to spend a good ten days there and then go to St. George and Las Vegas for another week or so.

I felt strongly right away that she should be my first counselor, but she was going to be out of town on the day the bishop wanted my presidency sustained and set apart. However, I soon found out that she'd canceled the first part of her trip because Hurricane Irma might hit while she was there. So things worked out, timing-wise, and she accepted the call and was sustained and set apart just days before leaving for St. George and Las Vegas.

(The following Monday, I woke up and saw online that there had been a shooting in Las Vegas! I instantly panicked because I knew Flower Child was there! Then I immediately calmed a little when I found out the shooting had taken place the night before at a concert. Many LDS people feel that going to concerts and other activities is not appropriate on the Sabbath, and I knew Flower Child would not have gone to the concert. Sure enough, she hadn't attended, and she was safe. But—moral of the story—don't go on vacation with Flower Child because apparently disaster strikes wherever she goes.)

Also, within days of our being called, we had General Conference, we were supposed to put on an activity for all the sisters in our ward, and several monthly and quarterly reports were due. I was texting my secretary, Valiant, every day. Most of those days we also had ward activities, so as soon as we saw each other we would just pick up where our texts left off:

VALIANT: Oh, I got your text, and my answer is—

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Great! Why don't you go ahead and—

Then we'd break, text periodically over the next 24 hours, and when we met up again the next evening we'd continue our ongoing business conversation.

Things have calmed down since then...somewhat. No more presidency members have been at risk from hurricanes or shootings. We've only had a few reports to worry about, and Valiant and I sometimes talk about other things when we cross paths.

Dude, We're Getting the Band Back Together! I Mean Presidency.

You might have noticed that I've been feeling down lately.

This past summer was a real slugger, and there wasn't much of a chance for me to hit back. So it was kind of like I got punched in the face over...and over...and over again. After everything, I just felt restless, overwhelmed, and discouraged. There was a lot of "Woe is me!" going on inside my head.

In the midst of this grand pity party, I felt I needed to serve others more. I tried to look for opportunities to do so, and that seemed to help. Then the bishop of my ward asked if he could meet with me. He inquired if I would take on a new calling, and even though my entire life felt like a giant mess, I agreed.

It just so happens that four years ago exactly, I wrote about being a counselor in my ward's Relief Society presidency. Well, today, I'd like to share that as of about a month ago, I am the ward's Relief Society president.

For those of you who don't know, the Relief Society is the largest women's organization in the world. Among other things, the organization tends to the sick and the poor, first inside its local congregations and then without. A Relief Society president and her counselors and secretaries are kind of like women's ministers. They help the women in the congregation both spiritually and physically and take care of all the administrative stuff, such as assigning someone to visit each sister in the ward so that no one is left out or overlooked.

The ten months I served in the presidency with Madam President and La Petite were some of best but most challenging months of my life. So while I was excited for the opportunity to serve again, I was nervous about a lot of things—for example, time management, or the fact that the Relief Society president who preceded me is just about a literal angel. She's sweet, compassionate, and thoughtful. I feel that I tend to be abrasive. Maybe even obnoxious and disliked à la John Adams. I could go on, but you get the idea. However, in our church we believe callings are from God. I could only conclude that a) I'd have divine help to manage my time and b) my God either was okay with my abrasiveness or giving me an excellent chance to learn how to refine my personality.

The angel Relief Society president gave me some counsel. She said that she felt like her flaws were visible every day in her calling and that she had to learn to be patient with herself. Both of those things have been true for me x10. Every day, I realize that I fall short one way or another. Happily, I've been blessed with great counselors and secretaries: Flower Child, Vix, Valiant, and Rebecca. They have a lot of qualities that are sorely needed but that I don't have.

All in all, I'm doing very well. I don't say "Woe is me!" anywhere near as often because I don't have as much time to think about myself. I've been able to let go of a lot of things and entrust them to Heavenly Father. I feel really blessed, and I want to help others feel the same way.