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.

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....

In the spot light

I'm not used to being the center of attention. I've been in it before. I was in a play once, and I've sung solos for choir, church and whatnot. I do fine in the spot light... sometimes. (I've made a fool of myself a few times.) I prefer, however, not to be watched. I do better on the side lines than center stage where all eyes are on me, waiting for me to either mess up or succeed. I get nervous easily; I get embarrassed quickly. I'd much rather watch others step up to the spot light and succeed and then be there for them to congratulate them. But I have been in the spot light before, yes. And I do just fine, normally.

I've never, however, been in the spot light like I feel like I am now. It's intimidating. It's scary. It's BRIGHT. I'm afraid I'll do something stupid. I want to make everyone proud. But it is intimidating having everyone watch me... gossip about me. I don't care that people are talking about me, really. It's just--- when I find out what they are talking about, I feel like I have to correct them. "Yes, Mac and I are really close. He's kinda my boy friend--- not really any more, to tell you the truth. But what does that have to do with you thinking I'm not going on a mission?" is what I want to ask people. "There's not really a connection between them...." I am, by the way, going on a mission. Why do people think I'm not, or worry that I won't?? Do my actions give that impression??... (shrug)

Perhaps it is good that people are watching me. It's good practice for my mission. The whole world will be watching me then. I will have to be standing in the spot light the entire year and a half, letting people see what I do: what I eat, what I say, how I bear my testimony, how I treat my companion, how I'm kind to those I meet... etc. The world will be watching me. It's kind of exciting and intimadating at the same time.

LIGHTS. CAMERA. ACTION.... uhhhhh---- hi!

Reflections in a mirror: a really long blog

A New Reflection:
I can't think.
I can't breath.
Tears stream
down my cheek.

Who is that
in the mirror
looking at me?

It isn't the angel,
the child I once knew.
It isn't the girl,
so predictable and shy.

She is a rebel:
careless and hopeless;
tearful and less careful.

I want the old me.
I want to change
A Lot of things.

How can I turn back time?
Why can't I change this one thing?

This reflection is new.
Who is that in the mirror?

Right now
It frightens me...
embarrasses me...
to look and not see
that the girl is just me.
(April 26, 2007)

I see myself differently than others. I get that. This week I realized how much people are watching me. And they, most likely, are drawing conclusions and judgments about who I am. Normally I wouldn't care. I'm not one to worry about my social standings or whatnot. I don't gossip; I try not to judge. I sometimes forget that people actually do those things.

Most of the time I like being me. Of course, and unfortunately, there are moments---for example, on April 26, 2007, when I wrote the poem above--- that I don't necessarily like what I see when I look at my reflection in the mirror.

Apparently, I am the talk of the singles ward. Why? Because I am going on a mission. Not just any old mission, you see: Australia!--- very exciting. I guess I can't blame people for wanting to talk about it. It is very cool... or as Mac (my boyfriend/ best friend, remember?) would say, "tight."

Speaking of Mac, we're pretty close now, really good friends... who are... well, in love. People like to make judgments about that, too. Family members worry. Friends get sick of me talking about him and even, perhaps, feel jealous that I choose to be with him more than with them.

They can't see what I see when I look in the mirror--- or try to see when I look in the mirror: a girl who has a love for the gospel and a firm testimony that God has asked her to be a missionary, to teach and preach to the people in the Australia Perth Mission (APM... is what the RMs called it.)

For some reason, they see someone who is in love, which I am--- but they also see (or worry that they will see) a silly, naive girl who is on the verge of throwing away this awesome opportunity to go to Australia for a boy.

I wish I could assure them that I know what I'm doing. But I uhhh--- (confession here!) sometimes don't. This is my first real relationship with a guy. I've never had a boyfriend before, and Mac has never had a girlfriend before. And to complicate it all, I AM GOING ON A MISSION. Satan is real and he is tempting me. He wants me to look in the mirror and see a girl who isn't strong; to see a girl who cannot say no, who is afraid to try her luck in missionary work in a very foreign, dangerous land down under.

I wish that I could, instead, see the reflection that God sees. What does God see when He looks at me? Probably someone who is confident; beautiful, a daughter of God; a girl who is worthy to serve a mission and is, in fact, vital and important in His plan; someone who is loved and supported by those who are around her; also, she has the strength to overcome the trials she is given.

You see, I believe that God sees us as we can become. He sees our potential and He sees me differently than I do when I look in the mirror. I'm starting to see that reflection... sorta. I wish it wasn't so fuzzy. Why can't it be clearer? Does anyone have some Windex? Who's got the paper towels?