My boy friend...

Many believe that soon-to-be-missionaries shouldn't have a boy/girl friend. I used to feel the same way.

However, having a boy friend (in my opinion) has been the best thing for me. Our relationship is complicated. I won't lie to you. I don't think a lot of people get it. Some disaprove of the relationship; I know because they've shown me their disaproval with glares and words or otherwise.

But...

He makes me happy. He makes me smile. He makes me want to be a better person. How can that be a bad thing? "I feel beautiful," I told a friend of mine. I was trying to explain my relationship with my boy friend to her. "I can look in the mirror, and I like what I see---and it's because of him....That HAS to be a good thing."

I want to take this time to assure everyone that just because I have a boy friend does not mean I am not going to Australia. Quite oppositly: he makes me want to be the best missionary I can be; and the closer it gets to leaving, the more excited I am getting. I love the idea of Australia! I love the idea of bearing my testimony and helping others to come unto Christ....

It is going to be hard to say goodbye to my boy friend. No doubt about it. He isn't going to "wait" for me. I don't want him to, really. I don't even know if we will date when I get back. Even if we don't, I don't think I'll regret being with him right now. I love him. It's good to be in love. That's never happened to me before. It's a good experience. I've learned a lot.

So--- I have a boyfriend. And I'm not hiding it. We've been going out for a while now. We broke up for a few weeks, but we're definatly back together and loving each other's company. We won't be boy friend and girl friend for too much longer (because I'm, obviously, leaving). But I'm going to enjoy it while I can.

A friend of mine who is on a mission right now used to have a girl friend. It was hard for him to leave, but he says that it was great to be love before he went on a mission. And he says to let my boy friend encourage me and help me to become a great missionary. So, that's what I'm doing. I'm enjoying his company. I'm asking him questions, talking and laughing. I'm feeling really good about going to Australia. And I feel really good about being his girl friend....

Everything Australian

I drive down the road, and I think about what it would be like to drive the on left side of the road. I see an Outback restaurant, and I think of the Australian Outback. I watch the TV or listen to the radio and the voices seem to say the words "Australia" and "kangaroos."

Everything reminds me of Australia.

Any word that starts with "A-U" makes me, for half a second, think it is going to say "Australia." I go for a walk, and I wonder what the weather is like. Any accent makes me think about Australia slang. My mom went to Sea World, and instead of asking how Shamu was, I wanted to know if she saw any animals from Australia: sharks, jellies, crocs, etc.

The watch I'm wearing: What time is it in Australia? A whole day ahead?

The little money I have in my pocket or purse: What is Australian money like? What's the exchange?

The plug on my hair dryer: I will need an adapter, eh?

The food that I eat: What food will I be eating in Perth?

The buildings in Ogden and on campus: Perth's city lights are going to be beautiful...!

Everything! Everything! EVERYTHING--- reminds me of Australia! :)

I leave, exactly, one month from today, by the way. I'm really excited, if you couldn't tell!

Why do I have to have a farewell??

Let's me vent, please:
It's strange. We're not suppose to have farewells. I know a lot of people who don't like that rule, but I do. It is meant to take the pressure off, you know? It puts the focus of the sacrament meeting on the sacrament and the atonement (where it should be) instead of on the missionary. It's nice in theory, but people just don't seem to follow the no-farewells-rule.

I'll admit it. Perhaps one of the reasons I'm not thrilled about having a farewell is because I don't really like speaking in front of people. It's the truth. I stutter, I get nervous, and I've had really bad experiences speaking in public. But I've become a better public speaker. I'm not really nervous, except people from all over want to come hear me talk. The more people who ask when my farewell is and I have to tell them... the more nervous I get to speak. Why can't it just be my ward?

And what is the whole gathering-thing after the sacrament meeting all about? Are people expecting us, my family and I, to feed them? Why? Can't they feed themselves?

Dad says, "Have a farewell because people will give you money." Money sounds good--- I can't lie... But it seems cheap and tacky, if that is the only reason for having a farewell.

Okay. I'm done venting. Thanks.

A Sister Missionary

At church yesterday I was listening to a sacrament talk. He was an RM, and this was his "homecoming talk." Okay, I was late, so I missed a lot of it. But I came, I think, at the perfect time. The RM was talking about Sister missionaries. Mac was sitting next to me and nudged me. "That's you!" he whispered.

"Sister missionaries," the RM was saying, "are special. They can reach investigators that the Elders just don't seem to reach.... Our mission was really glad to have sister missionaries.... They were a great resource and help..."

It reminded me of a story someone once told me. I don't remember exactly how he said it, but here's an ad lib of the story:

"My companion and I," he said, "had been teaching a family for a while. The family was ready to be baptized, except for a teenage/ pre-adult girl. She had a testimony and wanted to a member of the church, but the whole chastity-thing was bothering her. It was the only thing holding her back from becoming a member of the church. She understood the concept of chastity, but couldn't understand why it would be important to keep it.... Finally, my companion called the Sister missionaries and had them talk to the girl. I watched the her listen to the the Sisters on the phone. At first, the girl seemed objective, ready to argue that there was no real reason for her to keep the law of chastity. But after listening for a few minutes, her attitude seemed to change. After hanging up the phone, the girl announced that she would be baptized and that she would live the law of chastity... I have no idea what the Sister missionaries had said to her, but my companion and I were very grateful that they had talked to her..."

After hearing that story, I remember being very frustrated and confused. I wanted to know, exactly, what the Sister missionaries had said, but the friend who told me the story, of course, did not know. As I am preparing and thinking about being a missionary, I wonder what makes Sister missionaries so special. I mean, girls don't have the priesthood, and they do not have the opportunity to be zone leaders. (I was disappointed when I found that out.)

But it seems to me---from what I've heard from others---that Sister missionaries are uniquely wonderful. They seem to be more in-tune with the spirit and the needs of the investigators than the Elders are. (Am I wrong here? Someone let me know...)

I guess I found another reason to be excited to go on a mission!... I am a wonderful person. I am going to be an awesome missionary. And--- sorry boys--- I'm gonna be better than the Elders, or at least, have a special influence or whatnot with the people I teach. It is gonna be pretty cool to be a Sister missionary. It feels good to know that I will be able to be good at what I will be doing.

I don't wanna miss a thing

I could stay awake just to hear you breathing
Watch you smile while you are sleeping
Far away and dreaming
I could spend my life in this sweet surrender
I could stay lost in this moment forever
Well, every moment spent with you
Is a moment I treasure

I don't wanna close my eyes
I don't wanna fall asleep
'Cause I'd miss you, babe
And I don't wanna miss a thing
'Cause even when I dream of you
The sweetest dream will never do
I'd still miss you, babe
And I don't wanna miss a thing

Lying close to you
Feeling your heart beating
And I'm wondering what you're dreaming
Wondering if it's me you're seeing
Then I kiss your eyes and thank God we're together
And I just wanna stay with you
In this moment forever, forever and ever

I don't wanna close my eyes
I don't wanna fall asleep
'Cause I'd miss you, babe
And I don't wanna miss a thing
'Cause even when I dream of you
The sweetest dream will never do
I'd still miss you, babe
And I don't wanna miss a thing

I don't wanna miss one smile
I don't wanna miss one kiss
Well, I just wanna be with you
Right here with you, just like this
I just wanna hold you close
Feel your heart so close to mine
And stay here in this moment
For all the rest of time

Don't wanna close my eyes
Don't wanna fall asleep
'Cause I'd miss you, babe
And I don't wanna miss a thing
'Cause even when I dream of you
The sweetest dream will never do
'Cause I'd still miss you, babe
And I don't wanna miss a thing

I don't wanna close my eyes
I don't wanna fall asleep
'Cause I'd miss you, babe
And I don't wanna miss a thing
'Cause even when I dream of you
The sweetest dream will never do
I'd still miss you, babe
And I don't wanna miss a thing

Don't wanna close my eyes
Don't wanna fall asleep, yeah
I don't wanna miss a thing

What if...?

Okay. So--- My dad is in the hospital. He had a blood clot while he was on a cruise with my mom. He's going to be fine, but it gave our whole family quite a scare--- especially me. It made me remember how unhealthy my dad is. And I've been afraid since I heard the news. We could have lost him today. I can't stop thinking about... what if my dad died while I was on my mission? I don't know if I could handle it.... Please: no one die while I'm gone.

A new passion...

Well, I guess it isn't really a new passion, per say. I've always wanted to be a drummer. Growing up, my favorite Muppets was Animal and I used to have a toy drum that I would bang on just enough to drive my sisters and parents crazy....

Story time:

In 7th grade, first year of junior high, my parents asked me if I wanted to be in band. I said, yes, but only if I could play the drums. Now, to be in percussion in 7th grade, you had to try out. Not everyone could be in percussion; only about four or five 7th graders. I took a rhythm test as well as sight reading test. I had taken piano for quite a number of years, so it wasn't anything new to me.

My parents told me that if I didn't get into percussion that they would let me choose any of the other instruments to play--- the saxophone, the flute, even the tuba if I wanted. "Oh," Dad and Mom said, practically together, "the clarinet!" (They probably seemed most enthused about the clarinet because it was the cheapest.) I only wanted to be in percussion. But, in case I didn't get in, I chose the clarinet as an alternative.

I don't play the clarinet. I made one of the percussion spots. And I practically loved everything about it! Near the end of the year, however, I got stuck with playing the triangle and marimba, and I never got to play the snare drum, which was my favorite. I was the most passive of the percussion team and I got stuck with the pieces that I didn't really want. Thus, (and for other reasons) I decided to take choir. I didn't take band again--- I now regret that, even though I made lots of good friends in choir and a few good memories. I wish I would have kept playing percussion....

I don't know what really brought it out--- but,lately, I have been thinking about playing the drums. I want to! I can't stop thinking about it. My brother-in-law has a set that he doesn't play and I found really cool free online lessons!!....

Now--- here is the question. Do I start to try playing this very second? Or do I wait until I get home from my mission?

Here is a new-ish dream: Me, home from a mission, living in a cute little apartment, (probably a cheaper one than the last one I had), near school, with a drum set to play on...! My sister and brother-in-law are selling their drum set for $800 (hoping to get that price) at Christmas time. It won't be around when I get home. But, I can find another set when I get home. I'm not worried about that.

Anyway, I just wanted you all to know about my new passion, my new dream. It's good to have a goal, something to work for, something to look forward to accomplishing--- even if I can't really get started until after my mission. Maybe it will make me want it even more.... What do you guys think??

Package from Perth?!

I got a message on the phone last night from my parents that I got a package from Perth. I wonder what it could be! I'm really excited to find out. It is at my home right now. I called Dad. So once I get home I will be able to open it and see what it is!

I got a letter last week from the MTC. It basically said to remember to get my flu shot and to stay healthy so I don't make the other missionaries sick. Isn't that nice that they are concerned for my health? I thought it was neat--- although, the reminder wasn't really needed. I was planning on getting my flu shot. I don't want to be sick, either....

But a package from Perth!--- Was it a package? Or was it just a letter? I don't remember. Either way, I'm excited to see what it is. Maybe it is a baby joey, and I am suppose to to take care of it until I get to Australia and return it to the wild!--- Or maybe it is a letter to welcome me....! The different possiblilites my imagination can create for what it could be are endles. I just can't wait to go home and find out.

Jump-back-Jack! Flashes to a past piano perfomance

I took piano lessons when I was eight years old. I wasn't the best at playing the piano, but I continued to play through junior high and a little through high school, just enough to get me through band and choir. For some reason I quit playing. I couldn't remember why--- I told people that it was because I got busy. I didn't lie. I did get busy! Life happens, you know. It's hard to make it to the piano every day.

But I remembered the other day why I initially quit playing the piano....

A little background: I have been playing the piano again. I have been playing for a few weeks now. My sister, who I am living with, is a fantastic piano player. She got a degree in Piano Pedagogy at WSU and she teaches; she has her own piano studio and everything. Anyway, she has been giving me free lessons---(they're really good! And I'm learning lots!)--- so I can play a few hymns while on my mission. Many (Mac, the RMs who went to Perth, Institute teachers, etc.) have said it is a good idea to learn some hymns to play for a mission; in fact, one of the RMs who went to Perth said if he could do it over, the one thing he would change would be to learn to play the piano. So... that's what I'm trying to do: learn a few hymns for my mission. I don't expect to be able to play all of the hymns or be the best piano player in the world--- I just want to have a few hymns under my belt so if it comes down to it (as a last resort) I will be able to play, for example, "There is a green hill far away," which I just finished memorizing and passed off to my teacher/ sister tonight.

Well, yesterday, I was practicing and my sister came in to check on me. I told her that I was doing pretty well. And then I thought it would be fun to have her sing along while I was playing... "Give me an intro," she told me. Excited to show her what I had learned, for I was getting really good, I sat up straight. But when I looked at my hands I couldn't think about the notes. And I couldn't play it for her...

Now, jump back, Jack!--- to the past. It's a Wednesday. I'm about 15 or 16. It's Mutual time, opening exercises. I had played for opening exercises before, but it was just for Young Womens. This time, it was combined, meaning there were more people. There were--- oh, do I dare think of it?!--- BOYS. (lol)

I had "We Thank thee oh, God for a prophet" memorized. I had played it more than a million times at home before I went to the stake center because I knew I was scheduled to play the opening hymn; yet, there I was, looking at my hands, everyone waiting for me to start, and I couldn't move. I felt like crying. Someone in the back coughed and then I could hear whispers. "Is she going to start? Is she waiting for something?"

I knew I had to start. The keyboard got blurry; nevertheless, I knew I had to start playing... SoMeThInG! I let my fingers go down on whatever notes they could reach first. Unfortunately, they were the wrong notes. I guessed again. Wrong. Again! Wrong. By now, I was very embarrassed. Mindy, I remember, had walked in late. I knew she could play this song, so I called her over to the bench. "I can't do it," I whispered to her. "I--- tried. I--- can't. I'm too scared." Mindy smiled and jumped onto the bench. She played and I pretended like I was going to turn the page for her, which she really didn't need, my face red the entire time....

I think THAT is why I quit piano. I have performance anxiety.

*To Be Continued....

Waiting for Something: clips from my journal

I was feeling pensive one night while writing in my actual journal. I had some interesting ideas and I thought I'd share some of them with you.

October 4, 2007

I have been thinking a lot about... my wait to go on a mission. I got my mission call (you may recall) on July 17, 2007. I thought once I got my mission call it would only be a few weeks, a month at the most, before I left. Instead, I do not leave until... the END of November. When I found out [I was going to Australia] the first day, I didn't think much about [the wait]. I was mostly thinking about Australia!--- It seemed so incredible! (It still does.) Now that I have been getting used to the idea of Australia, I realized (or, rather, am feeling) this long time before I go. It's a long time to wait, almost five months. (I mean, it's long, but its going fast at the same time... lately it feels like forever away.)

And I've been wondering--- what am I waiting for?...

I have been speculating and wondering if there is a reason for why I have to wait to be a missionary. Perhaps there are people who I need to meet so I can touch their lives, and I am waiting for them to be ready for me to make a difference in their lives. (Or visa versa) [Maybe I will be touched by certain people, and I am waiting for the timing. Maybe I am waiting for the perfect companion...]

Or maybe (and too) I am suppose to learn a valuable lesson before I go. Love? Heartache? Courage? Assertion? Strength?... Patience?... Maybe I'm waiting for the snow?...

I feel like I'm waiting for something, that's for sure. But what? I just get sick of waiting. I want to be a missionary now. Why am I not in Australia?...

There are 50 days, by the way until I go. It sounds like a lot; in fact, that is what Mac said when I told him how much longer I have. But it really isn't. I'm glad I don't have to wait too much longer. I am excited to be a missionary. At times I'm scared, nervous and I don't know if I can be a good missionary; but most the time, when I think about it, I feel excited, and I can't wait for MY turn.

easily amused

I watched the second half of General Conference with my family yesterday. (It was good! Naturally the talks and quotes that impacted me the most had to do with missionary work...)

Did you ever notice, by the way, how the prayers are so long? They're like a talk, in and of themselves. It's sometimes awkward ( I think)to wait for the prayers to end. Normally I don't have a hard time listening and waiting, but the closing prayer to the last session was particularly long.... I was listening, like normal when--- all of a sudden and from no where--- my dad's stomach gurgled really loudly.

Dad smiled, but he kept his eyes closed and his arms folded. I had to hold my breath so I would stay quiet for the rest of the prayer. I wanted to laugh out loud. I regained my seriousness for a moment and then my sister's snickered. I actually heard her suppress a laugh. Either she found Dad's loud gurgling stomach as funny as I did or her husband had done something funny. (Maybe both.) It was hard to stay serious, watching my sister (through squinted eyes because the prayer was still going on) hold her mouth so she wouldn't laugh out loud. And then, just as I thought I could listen to the prayer and stop holding my breath so I wouldn't laugh out loud, the rocking chair my mom was sitting in squeeeeeaked. A "HA!" actually escaped from my mouth. And then I was appalled. I had just said "HA!" during a prayer. How disrespectful of me; yet, the more I thought about the gurgling stomach, my sister suppressed laugh, my mom's rocking chair, it all seemed funnier to me. I held my breath for the rest of the prayer, my eyes watering.

At the close of the prayer, my family was looking at me. I looked back at them through watery eyes. "What was so funny?!" my mom asked me. I tried to explain, but I was having a hard time breathing and it felt so good to finally laugh out loud....

My brother-in-law told me that there were two things that he had a hard time with on his mission. One of them was staying entertained. In this age of technology, I can see missionaries having a hard time staying entertained: no TVs, i-pods, cell phones or lap tops; no video games or movies. But after yesterday's experience I don't think I'll have a problem with staying entertained. I'm going to be a fun missionary, in fact. I'm not only going to entertain myself, but my companions and those I teach will have fun with me. And, hopefully, they will relate the happiness and enjoyment they feel with me to the spirit. And they will want to feel the spirit and enjoy life like I do.

My only concern now is how do I explain to people that I'm not crying, I'm laughing?

Faith Hill's "Like we never loved at all"

You never looked so good
as you did last night,
underneath the city lights,
there walking with your friend,
laughing at the moon.
I swear you looked right through me.
But I’m still living with your goodbye,
and you’re just going on with your life.

Chorus:
How can you just walk on by
without one tear in your eye?
Don’t you have the slightest feelings left for me?
Maybe that’s just your way
of dealing with the pain,
forgetting everything
between our rise and fall
like we never loved at all.

You, I hear you’re doing fine.
Seems like you’re doing well
as far as I can tell.
Time is leaving us behind,
(time – leaving us behind)
another week has passed
and still I haven’t laughed yet.
So tell me, what your secret is
(I wanna know, I wanna know, I wanna know)
to letting go, letting go like you did,
like you did.

[Chorus]

Did you forget the magic?
Did you forget the passion?
Oh, and did you ever miss me,
and long to kiss me?

Maybe that’s just your way
of dealing with the pain,
forgetting everything
between our rise and fall
like we never loved at all.

Uluru

Australia is amazing. It has so many wonders and the rest of the world seems to neglect its existence. Perhaps it is because it is so far away; or maybe it is because the island/ continent itself is so isolated. Bill Bryson says,

The fact is, of course, we pay shamefully scant attention to our dear cousins Down Under---not entirely without reason...Australia is...mostly empty and a long way away...;as an economic entity, it ranks about level with Illinois. Its sports are of little interest to us and the last television series it made that we watched with avidity was Skippy. From time to time it sends us useful things....Above all, Australia doesn't misbehave. It is stable and peaceful and good.... But even allowing this, our neglect of Australian affairs is curious. (3-4)

Even though we pay very little attention to Australia, or (to better put it) do not appreciate the country to its potential because we're so far away--- I believe each of us has always, secretly, wanted to go there. Not one of the many people who I told I am going to Australia on a mission has made a face of disgust; oppositely, in fact, everyone has been very excited for me. I can tell that some of them are jealous. Why shouldn't they be? Though overlooked at times, Australia is an amazing place. It is pretty neat, to say the least, that I get to go--- for a year and a half!

Why does the world pay so little attention to Australia? It is truly a beautiful place, and a wonder. Take, for example, Uluru, aka: Ayers Rock. "The thing about Ayers Rock," Bill Bryson says, "is that by the time you finally get there you are already sick of it. Even when you are a thousand miles from it, you can't go a day in Australia without seeing it four or five or six times---postcards, on travel agents' posters, on the cover of souvenir picture book---and as you get nearer the rock the frequency of exposure increases...." (255). Bill Bryson continues to say that even though he had seen pictures of it and even though it is, in reality, just a rock, he was---nevertheless!--- enraptured by it. He couldn't take his eyes off it.
In his own words:

And then you see it, and you are instantly transfixed....I have discussed this since with many other people, nearly all of whom were left agog in a way they could not adequately explain....It is exactly what you expected it to be.... It does feel weird. Quite apart from that initial shock of indefinable recognition, there is also the fact that Uluru is, no how you approach it, totally arresting. You cannot stop looking at it; you don't want to stop looking at it. As you draw closer, it becomes even more interesting. It is more pitted than you had imagined, less regular in shape....You realize that you could spend quite a lot of time---possibly a worryingly large amount of time; possibly a-sell-your-house-and-move-here-to-live-in-a-tent amount of time---just looking at the rock, gazing at it from many angles, never tiring of it. (256-7)

I have become accustomed to thinking about the idea of going to Australia. I sometimes feel like Bill Bryson on his way to Uluru who was sick of the rock before he even got there. I feel exhausted from talking and thinking about being a missionary and saying that I am going to Australia has become so mundane.

But when I really sit down and think about--- I mean really think about it!---I'm in awe. I'm like Bill Bryson staring at Uluru, unable to move his gaze. I cannot stop thinking about Australia: kangaroos, crocodiles, and all of its many interesting creatures; Perth's beautiful sky scrapers; its beaches, bluest of blue waters, and breathtaking sunsets....

I'm distressed that I'll be distressed

I've had several people come up to me and say, "wow, yeah!--- You're gonna experience a big culture shock when you get to Australia!"

The way they say this to me makes me feel concerned, like they don't think I will be able to adapt or understand whatever cultures I run into. I want to learn to love the people in Perth. I don't want to feel so bewildered and distressed that I cannot love the people and do the work at the best of my ability. I want to feel confident and good about living in Australia.

But I don't think culture shock is avoidable, especially for one of my blondness. Since I cannot avoid it, I have some questions that I was hoping you can help me answer:

1- How can I prepare myself for culture shock?
2- What should I do, once I am experiencing it? How do I overcome it? Will it go away with time?
3- What do you think I will see that will give me a shock? I want to know so I won't be so surprised when I see it.

Now, just as a disclaimer, I don't want any of you to think that I know nothing about Australia. I do. After all, I have my good friend Bill Bryson, I've met RMs who went to Perth on their missions, and I've watched documentaries (along with Crocodile Hunter), and I've talked to people who have been to Australia.

Quite honestly, I wouldn't be concerned about experiencing culture shock except so many of my close friends and family seem to be concerned. I can't help but feel concerned, right along with them.