I've been thinking a lot lately about my piano teacher, Mrs. Avonell Jackson. I owe so much to her. If it weren't for her loving, thorough instruction and training, I never would have been able to keep up in the music major at BYU. I certainly would not have the skills necessary to be an effective choir teacher. I owe her my career.
Right now at the high school where I work, I teach two beginning piano classes. I have had many flashbacks of my own days as a piano student. This week, we've been learning about musical articulation. One of the vocabulary words I've been teaching my students is "slur." I can vividly see in my mind Mrs. Jackson's slender fingers demonstrating a slur on the piano, by smoothly connecting the notes under the legato line and lifting her hand gently at the end. I knew her hands so well. After 9 years and countless lessons watching and learning from the movement of her fingers across the keyboard, I don't think I will ever forget what they look like.
Mrs. Jackson always had the coolest pens. They wrote better than any other pens in the whole world. I loved watching the ink flow effortlessly from them as she wrote fingerings for my scales and the week's assignments in my warm-up book. She had rad pens in all different colors. I tried buying pens like the ones she had a few times, but without Mrs. Jackson's perfectly neat cursive flowing from them, the pens didn't have the same effect.
As I teach my students, I see the genius in everything Mrs. Jackson taught me. Now, over ten years after I stopped taking lessons, certain things she taught me are starting to click. I'm beginning to understand why she approached music the way she did, and I'm finding myself approaching it the same way with my own students.
So what did Mrs. Jackson teach me about love? She told me I had a gift as a musician and constantly encouraged me to cultivate it. She was never content with mediocrity. If I didn't practice, I knew that Mrs. Jackson would not be happy, and that bothered me. She enrolled me in festivals and had me take theory exams on a yearly basis in order to challenge myself and improve. As much as I sometimes hated preparing for Guild and Certificate of Merit, these kinds of performances forced me to work hard, practice, and study. Although she had high expectations and expected excellence, Mrs. Jackson was never stingy with praise. She would point out my strengths and make a big deal out of them. She praised me to my mother at the end of a lesson while I was sitting right there, which always makes a kid feel extra important.
Mrs. Jackson trusted me. Having her trust meant the world to me. She knew I could achieve greatness if I tried and gave me countless opportunities to prove it to myself.
I have a great love for Avonell Jackson and I know she loved me, too. I love her for pushing me to be a better musician and by doing so, helping me achieve my dreams. Because she loved me, she wanted me to work hard and become what she knew I could be. She saw the good in me and did all within her power to help me cultivate it. That's what love is. Helping the ones you love become the best possible versions of themselves.
Tomorrow night, my students and I are part of a district festival with two neighboring high schools. The schools each sing 3 pieces separately, then sing two songs together under the direction of our guest conductor, Dr. Reed Criddle. I have to accompany one of the combined numbers because I (stupidly) offered "if no one else will." Of course no one else volunteered. I am extremely nervous about it. Until this month, I hadn't disciplined myself to practice in a very long time. But the piece I'm playing has challenged me significantly and forced me to play particular passages over and over again. I keep thinking about how much I wish Mrs. Jackson could be there to hear me play tomorrow. I wonder to myself, would she be proud of me? What have I done with her legacy? Am I honoring the gifts she bestowed upon me?
Monday, February 6, 2012
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Day 5: The Love of Brad and Celeste
I've been fortunate enough to live with someone who has taught me much about love through the blossoming relationship with her sweetheart over the past 6 months. While they had known each other for several months before I moved in, Brad and Celeste had been on only one date before I arrived. From there, their relationship blossomed and it was exciting to watch it progress.
The older I get, the more suspicious I am of dating based on many discouraging experiences. But, all things considered, it really didn't take Brad too long to get my stamp of approval. There are a couple of experiences in particular that convinced me that Celeste had a keeper.
It was summer when I first moved in. We have a really tiny fenced in yard area behind our townhouse. Every time Celeste would come home, she'd apologize for the "jungle" growing back there. It became a running joke. We were both really busy and weeding seemed to be at the bottom of our priority lists, as I was starting a new job and Celeste was heavily immersed in her work. One day, not long after Brad started courting my roommate, I came home from work before Celeste and immediately noticed our little yard had received a serious overhaul. All of the weeds were gone (and I'm not kidding about it being a jungle before) and the yard was pristine. There was a note stuck in the door that said, "Life is a garden, so dig it!" Brad decided to surprise Celeste while we were at work. We were both in awe. This was the first sign to me that Brad might be a winner.
That was not the only time he weeded for us. He did it again after the plants got out of control once more. After the seasons changed and the weeds all died, the path to our back door where we enter the house became a sheet of ice. Needless to say, leaving the house each morning was a bit dangerous. While we were gone at work one day, Brad chipped all the ice away and salted the path.
Brad expressed his love for Celeste through thoughtful gestures all the time during their courtship. He would come over and make her breakfast when she was running late or drop dinner off on our porch. He'd rub her feet after a long day. He not only told her he loved her, he showed her on a continuous basis. He has created a new standard for single men everywhere!
Something that meant a lot to me in particular was when the heat stopped working in my car. I mentioned to Brad and Celeste that I needed to get it fixed because it was getting cold and miserable. From that moment on, Brad was on the job. He asked for my keys to check out the problem. He diagnosed the situation and, a few days later, came over and got my car, took it to his house, bought the part I needed, replaced it, and brought it back to me. He refused to tell me how much the part cost or receive any kind of payment for his efforts. I was shocked. There are few people who would go to those kind of lengths for their own family members, let alone their girlfriend's roommate. I never felt like he was doing it to impress Celeste; rather, I felt he truly wanted to help out a friend a need.
Brad has always demonstrated to me that a friend of Celeste's is a friend of his and should be treated with love and respect. The two of them always check in with me to see what has been going on in my dating life, how I am feeling, etc. I truly feel like they are rooting for me and sincerely want me to be happy. Their concern humbles me and I love receiving their counsel and advice. Brad and Celeste are the kind of people I'd want to call if I was in any sort of trouble because I know they'd support me in whatever way they could.
Because of these gestures of love, big and small, I have known for a long time that Brad was someone who deserved Celeste. She deserves him, too. They are so fortunate and blessed to have one another. And I am so grateful for what they have taught me about how to love. These lessons will stay with me always.
The best part is that all of Brad's expressions of love paid off. When he asked Celeste to marry him last night, she said yes!
The older I get, the more suspicious I am of dating based on many discouraging experiences. But, all things considered, it really didn't take Brad too long to get my stamp of approval. There are a couple of experiences in particular that convinced me that Celeste had a keeper.
It was summer when I first moved in. We have a really tiny fenced in yard area behind our townhouse. Every time Celeste would come home, she'd apologize for the "jungle" growing back there. It became a running joke. We were both really busy and weeding seemed to be at the bottom of our priority lists, as I was starting a new job and Celeste was heavily immersed in her work. One day, not long after Brad started courting my roommate, I came home from work before Celeste and immediately noticed our little yard had received a serious overhaul. All of the weeds were gone (and I'm not kidding about it being a jungle before) and the yard was pristine. There was a note stuck in the door that said, "Life is a garden, so dig it!" Brad decided to surprise Celeste while we were at work. We were both in awe. This was the first sign to me that Brad might be a winner.
That was not the only time he weeded for us. He did it again after the plants got out of control once more. After the seasons changed and the weeds all died, the path to our back door where we enter the house became a sheet of ice. Needless to say, leaving the house each morning was a bit dangerous. While we were gone at work one day, Brad chipped all the ice away and salted the path.
Brad expressed his love for Celeste through thoughtful gestures all the time during their courtship. He would come over and make her breakfast when she was running late or drop dinner off on our porch. He'd rub her feet after a long day. He not only told her he loved her, he showed her on a continuous basis. He has created a new standard for single men everywhere!
Something that meant a lot to me in particular was when the heat stopped working in my car. I mentioned to Brad and Celeste that I needed to get it fixed because it was getting cold and miserable. From that moment on, Brad was on the job. He asked for my keys to check out the problem. He diagnosed the situation and, a few days later, came over and got my car, took it to his house, bought the part I needed, replaced it, and brought it back to me. He refused to tell me how much the part cost or receive any kind of payment for his efforts. I was shocked. There are few people who would go to those kind of lengths for their own family members, let alone their girlfriend's roommate. I never felt like he was doing it to impress Celeste; rather, I felt he truly wanted to help out a friend a need.
Brad has always demonstrated to me that a friend of Celeste's is a friend of his and should be treated with love and respect. The two of them always check in with me to see what has been going on in my dating life, how I am feeling, etc. I truly feel like they are rooting for me and sincerely want me to be happy. Their concern humbles me and I love receiving their counsel and advice. Brad and Celeste are the kind of people I'd want to call if I was in any sort of trouble because I know they'd support me in whatever way they could.
Because of these gestures of love, big and small, I have known for a long time that Brad was someone who deserved Celeste. She deserves him, too. They are so fortunate and blessed to have one another. And I am so grateful for what they have taught me about how to love. These lessons will stay with me always.
The best part is that all of Brad's expressions of love paid off. When he asked Celeste to marry him last night, she said yes!
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Day 4: The Love for a Fiance
Some of you are like, "Whaaa...?"
Yes, I'm writing about HIM. I would be remiss if I left him out of my 14 days of love anecdotes because, truth be told, some of the biggest lessons in love I learned from him. There was a time in my life when all things BJ were painful to talk about. But what a joy it is not to feel that way anymore. In fact, while I was looking through old emails to help me write this post, I was a bit disappointed that I couldn't find anything about the night BJ proposed. After we called off our wedding, I asked my friends to erase anything about him from my email so I wouldn't be tempted to dwell on the past. I wish I had preserved some of those memories a little better.
The only documented thing I've been able to find during the time I was engaged were three journal entries in an old journal that I never kept regularly. I am going to share a few excerpts where I learned what love meant to me.
June 7th, 2008
Last night we were up to Tabiona to spend the night at Celeste's family's home. [. . .] As we were heading to bed, I said goodnight to BJ and went upstairs to my room with Kate. We weren't sure where BJ was going to sleep. After I got ready for bed and brushed my teeth, I went to the landing and leaned over the stair rail to see if BJ was taken care of. I was relieved to see him settled on the couch, reading his scriptures. That was a moment where I realized I was learning to truly love. I cared about him and whether or not his needs were met. It was a simple thing, but it was pivotal to me [. . .].
June 8th, 2008
Last night was a wonderful evening. BJ and I drove to Murray to go to the Cheesecake Factory [. . .]. On the way there, we started talking about the five love languages. I asked him what were some specific things I've done that made him feel loved. He mentioned the little notes/presents I left him on his last day of school. [. . .] He also said it meant a lot when I helped him fold his laundry :-).
(This next one is my favorite!)
June 9th, 2008
I didn't know it was possible to be this much in love...everything about him! [. . .] Tonight we danced together, practicing for our wedding. And it wasn't awkward! It just felt so right. At times like those you wonder, 'How is it possible that anyone else has ever felt how we feel now? Has anyone else ever achieved a love so deep?'"
As I read passages like the one above that I wrote with my own hand, I'm not sad. I don't hurt or feel sorry for myself. I rejoice that I felt something so beautiful once and that I have a chance to someday feel that again for someone better suited for me.
BJ taught me that I was capable of loving. That was a tremendous gift. I always worried that I wouldn't be good at being a girlfriend or a fiance or a wife. I thought I was too crazy or too much of a worrier or too much of a flirt. I didn't think I knew how to love someone enough. But I learned that I was really good at loving someone. I loved him very much and I didn't want to love anyone else. I'm not angry that BJ and I didn't get married. In fact, I know it was right for us to part ways. Instead, I'm grateful for the chance I had to learn to love someone on a deeper level than I knew existed before I met him.
I'm also grateful that someday I get to love someone even more than I loved BJ, which didn't seem possible to me at the time I was engaged. I know romantic love is fun, but I can only imagine how a deep and abiding love after years of marriage must feel. I look forward to someday discovering that facet of love.
Yes, I'm writing about HIM. I would be remiss if I left him out of my 14 days of love anecdotes because, truth be told, some of the biggest lessons in love I learned from him. There was a time in my life when all things BJ were painful to talk about. But what a joy it is not to feel that way anymore. In fact, while I was looking through old emails to help me write this post, I was a bit disappointed that I couldn't find anything about the night BJ proposed. After we called off our wedding, I asked my friends to erase anything about him from my email so I wouldn't be tempted to dwell on the past. I wish I had preserved some of those memories a little better.
The only documented thing I've been able to find during the time I was engaged were three journal entries in an old journal that I never kept regularly. I am going to share a few excerpts where I learned what love meant to me.
June 7th, 2008
Last night we were up to Tabiona to spend the night at Celeste's family's home. [. . .] As we were heading to bed, I said goodnight to BJ and went upstairs to my room with Kate. We weren't sure where BJ was going to sleep. After I got ready for bed and brushed my teeth, I went to the landing and leaned over the stair rail to see if BJ was taken care of. I was relieved to see him settled on the couch, reading his scriptures. That was a moment where I realized I was learning to truly love. I cared about him and whether or not his needs were met. It was a simple thing, but it was pivotal to me [. . .].
June 8th, 2008
Last night was a wonderful evening. BJ and I drove to Murray to go to the Cheesecake Factory [. . .]. On the way there, we started talking about the five love languages. I asked him what were some specific things I've done that made him feel loved. He mentioned the little notes/presents I left him on his last day of school. [. . .] He also said it meant a lot when I helped him fold his laundry :-).
(This next one is my favorite!)
June 9th, 2008
I didn't know it was possible to be this much in love...everything about him! [. . .] Tonight we danced together, practicing for our wedding. And it wasn't awkward! It just felt so right. At times like those you wonder, 'How is it possible that anyone else has ever felt how we feel now? Has anyone else ever achieved a love so deep?'"
As I read passages like the one above that I wrote with my own hand, I'm not sad. I don't hurt or feel sorry for myself. I rejoice that I felt something so beautiful once and that I have a chance to someday feel that again for someone better suited for me.
BJ taught me that I was capable of loving. That was a tremendous gift. I always worried that I wouldn't be good at being a girlfriend or a fiance or a wife. I thought I was too crazy or too much of a worrier or too much of a flirt. I didn't think I knew how to love someone enough. But I learned that I was really good at loving someone. I loved him very much and I didn't want to love anyone else. I'm not angry that BJ and I didn't get married. In fact, I know it was right for us to part ways. Instead, I'm grateful for the chance I had to learn to love someone on a deeper level than I knew existed before I met him.
I'm also grateful that someday I get to love someone even more than I loved BJ, which didn't seem possible to me at the time I was engaged. I know romantic love is fun, but I can only imagine how a deep and abiding love after years of marriage must feel. I look forward to someday discovering that facet of love.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Day 3: The Love of a Friend Who's a Boy
The year before I left on my mission, I had some major discouragements at school. I could never make it in to the Concert Choir or University Singers at BYU no matter how many times I tried. I got horribly nervous every time I had to sing for Dr. Staheli or Sister Hall and always blew my auditions. I was a music major, so it felt really embarrassing to be in the lowest auditioned choir when many of my peers were in the touring group. The year before my mission was my very last chance to be in one of the higher level choirs and I didn't even make call backs. I also auditioned for a girls acapella group, Noteworthy, and made call-backs but ultimately was not picked for the group. It was frustrating. It felt like I was being met with rejection at every turn.
During this difficult time of my life, I would often find pennies lying heads up on the ground just at a moment when I needed it most. I'd always been told that heads up pennies were good luck. Even if it seemed coincidental to someone else, I truly felt like Heavenly Father was sending me a message that He was aware of me and everything was going to be okay.
One evening, I shared the story about the pennies with Dan, a good friend of mine. We were in the same ward when I lived in Hampton Court and he lived with his roommates in a house down the road. Dan and I and our roommates all loved spending time in each others' homes. I had a mad crush on Dan's roommate who was just about the most attractive man I had ever seen in my entire twenty-one and a half years of living (or have seen since...the other day I ran across a picture of this particular roommate and let out an audible gasp at the reminder of what a stud muffin he was.) Dan dated one of my roommates eventually. While Dan and I weren't romantically interested in one another, we had a great friendship and could talk about serious things like my challenges at school and our faith in God.
Some time after we had this conversation, I came home from an incredibly long day at school. As I recall, I left for campus around 7:00 a.m. that morning and had a performance with Women's Chorus that night. I think I'd stayed on campus until the performance to study for and take a big test. I didn't end up getting home until 11:00 p.m. I was absolutely exhausted. Around 11:20 p.m. or so, there was a knock at the door. One of my roommates had a whole slew of boys chasing after her and I was extremely annoyed as I went to answer it. I was positive another one of her would-be suitors would be on the other side and I wasn't in the mood to deal with it. When I opened the door, however, there was a note on the wall facing our apartment from Dan. He knew I'd had a long day and he said he hoped my test had gone well. There was also a sign on the wall by the note that read, "Look Down" with a big arrow pointing toward the ground. On the ground under the sign were about fifty shiny new pennies that had all been placed heads up.
I remember feeling like I had just been handed the moon.
Dan listened to something I had mentioned earlier in a conversation and then remembered it, using it to remind me that I am loved, even when life isn't easy. It was as though Dan was now partnering with God to help me remember that He was aware of me. Just as God is in the details of our lives, my friend Dan remembered something I said that would just be a detail to anyone else. But his actions changed my entire perspective of love and friendship. To love someone is to listen to them. To love someone is to express that love in ways they understand the very best. An array of heads up pennies on the doorstep of my next door neighbor would have been meaningless to her. To me, it was an utterly unforgettable moment.
During this difficult time of my life, I would often find pennies lying heads up on the ground just at a moment when I needed it most. I'd always been told that heads up pennies were good luck. Even if it seemed coincidental to someone else, I truly felt like Heavenly Father was sending me a message that He was aware of me and everything was going to be okay.
One evening, I shared the story about the pennies with Dan, a good friend of mine. We were in the same ward when I lived in Hampton Court and he lived with his roommates in a house down the road. Dan and I and our roommates all loved spending time in each others' homes. I had a mad crush on Dan's roommate who was just about the most attractive man I had ever seen in my entire twenty-one and a half years of living (or have seen since...the other day I ran across a picture of this particular roommate and let out an audible gasp at the reminder of what a stud muffin he was.) Dan dated one of my roommates eventually. While Dan and I weren't romantically interested in one another, we had a great friendship and could talk about serious things like my challenges at school and our faith in God.
Some time after we had this conversation, I came home from an incredibly long day at school. As I recall, I left for campus around 7:00 a.m. that morning and had a performance with Women's Chorus that night. I think I'd stayed on campus until the performance to study for and take a big test. I didn't end up getting home until 11:00 p.m. I was absolutely exhausted. Around 11:20 p.m. or so, there was a knock at the door. One of my roommates had a whole slew of boys chasing after her and I was extremely annoyed as I went to answer it. I was positive another one of her would-be suitors would be on the other side and I wasn't in the mood to deal with it. When I opened the door, however, there was a note on the wall facing our apartment from Dan. He knew I'd had a long day and he said he hoped my test had gone well. There was also a sign on the wall by the note that read, "Look Down" with a big arrow pointing toward the ground. On the ground under the sign were about fifty shiny new pennies that had all been placed heads up.
I remember feeling like I had just been handed the moon.
Dan listened to something I had mentioned earlier in a conversation and then remembered it, using it to remind me that I am loved, even when life isn't easy. It was as though Dan was now partnering with God to help me remember that He was aware of me. Just as God is in the details of our lives, my friend Dan remembered something I said that would just be a detail to anyone else. But his actions changed my entire perspective of love and friendship. To love someone is to listen to them. To love someone is to express that love in ways they understand the very best. An array of heads up pennies on the doorstep of my next door neighbor would have been meaningless to her. To me, it was an utterly unforgettable moment.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Day 2: The Love of a First Love
I had my first boyfriend when I was 19 years old and a sophomore at BYU. I lived with Dana, Erica, and Jen in Casa Dea, an older, run down little apartment complex just barely south of campus with forest green doors. I remember that place with great fondness.
Kirt was our home teacher and my next door neighbor had a big crush on him. Being the loyal friends that we were, my roommates and I made it our mission to get them together. We invited him to all kinds of activities and arranged for the two of them to sit by one another. Our plans backfired slightly and he ended up asking me on a date instead. I'm sure he assumed I was interested in him based on all the attention I was suddenly giving him. I've never been accused of being subtle. I also can't deny the fact that I thought he was handsome and maybe, deep down, all the "help" I was offering was a little self-serving. Doesn't that sound horrific? Luckily, my neighbor was a good friend. I accepted the date but spent hours in agony trying to muster up the courage to tell her. She was very kind and never made me feel guilty for a second. Did I deserve that? Maybe not. But she was a true champ and she's happily married now to someone else, so it all worked out in the end.
Kirt was a wonderful guy. He had recently returned from a mission to Paris and I thought it was dreamy when he spoke French. He sang in the stake choir. He had dimples and beautiful teeth. He was kind and gentle. He hadn't missed a day of personal scripture study since he was 16 years old, except for one time when he went camping and left his scriptures at home. He recited scriptures in his head to make up for it. His only major "flaw" to me at the time was that he was very quiet. At the time, being with someone outgoing seemed like a priority. But I was also 19 and far from ready to settle down. I felt like I had a lot of growing to do spiritually and I wasn't ready to give up having fun with friends. Heck, I had just barely started dating! While I was no where near ready to be a wife, he was definitely ready to move on to the next phase of life and start a family. That ultimately led to the end of our relationship, but it was very amicable. To this day I feel nothing but respect and happiness for him. He got married to a return missionary who was a year or two older than he was and last I knew had three children and was getting his PhD at BYU. I am so glad for him.
But I digress. This story isn't about regrets for relationships past. It's about a moment in time when he taught me something about love that I will never forget. Whether or not we knew each other well enough to be really "in love," we definitely felt love and respect for one another. I remember one evening sitting outside of the Chatsworth townhouse where I lived the spring after I moved out of Casa Dea. It was a beautiful night with perfect porch sitting weather. Our relationship was far from perfect, as I was always so fickle about what I wanted and he always seemed so sure. We broke up and got back together several times before ultimately parting ways. I'm sure we were having yet another conversation about "us." At one point, he looked at me directly in the eyes and said with emphasis on each word, "You are so beautiful." Of course, every girl loves to hear those words, and if a guy is smart, he'll sneak that phrase in often. It was what he said afterward that has stayed with me and given me a mantra to live by. He continued, "I mean, I've always thought you were pretty. But you've become so much more beautiful to me now that I know you."
To this day, I don't think I've received a compliment that has touched me more. I determined from that moment on that I would much rather become beautiful to someone later on than be physically stunning upfront. I wanted to live so that people saw beauty in me through my actions. I realized it was okay not to be show-stoppingly beautiful because there is more to beauty than physical features.
I know the compliment wasn't unique to me. Everyone who grows to love someone sees them as more beautiful as time goes on. But this was the first time that concept had ever occurred to me. And as insignificant as it sounds, it changed my life. Woman can be so ultra critical of themselves. Physical beauty has always been a concept I've struggled with. I've often wished for more than what I've been given. I've compared myself more times than I can count with other women and wondered why I had to be born tall or why I can't seem to grow my hair long. But remembering what Kirt said ten years ago reminds me that I don't have to have the perfect hair or body in order to be loveable. Beauty can be found in the way I live my life if I choose to live beautifully.
He thought I was beautiful at that time based on the person I was. Do I live so that someone would say that about me now? That's something to consider.
Kirt was our home teacher and my next door neighbor had a big crush on him. Being the loyal friends that we were, my roommates and I made it our mission to get them together. We invited him to all kinds of activities and arranged for the two of them to sit by one another. Our plans backfired slightly and he ended up asking me on a date instead. I'm sure he assumed I was interested in him based on all the attention I was suddenly giving him. I've never been accused of being subtle. I also can't deny the fact that I thought he was handsome and maybe, deep down, all the "help" I was offering was a little self-serving. Doesn't that sound horrific? Luckily, my neighbor was a good friend. I accepted the date but spent hours in agony trying to muster up the courage to tell her. She was very kind and never made me feel guilty for a second. Did I deserve that? Maybe not. But she was a true champ and she's happily married now to someone else, so it all worked out in the end.
Kirt was a wonderful guy. He had recently returned from a mission to Paris and I thought it was dreamy when he spoke French. He sang in the stake choir. He had dimples and beautiful teeth. He was kind and gentle. He hadn't missed a day of personal scripture study since he was 16 years old, except for one time when he went camping and left his scriptures at home. He recited scriptures in his head to make up for it. His only major "flaw" to me at the time was that he was very quiet. At the time, being with someone outgoing seemed like a priority. But I was also 19 and far from ready to settle down. I felt like I had a lot of growing to do spiritually and I wasn't ready to give up having fun with friends. Heck, I had just barely started dating! While I was no where near ready to be a wife, he was definitely ready to move on to the next phase of life and start a family. That ultimately led to the end of our relationship, but it was very amicable. To this day I feel nothing but respect and happiness for him. He got married to a return missionary who was a year or two older than he was and last I knew had three children and was getting his PhD at BYU. I am so glad for him.
But I digress. This story isn't about regrets for relationships past. It's about a moment in time when he taught me something about love that I will never forget. Whether or not we knew each other well enough to be really "in love," we definitely felt love and respect for one another. I remember one evening sitting outside of the Chatsworth townhouse where I lived the spring after I moved out of Casa Dea. It was a beautiful night with perfect porch sitting weather. Our relationship was far from perfect, as I was always so fickle about what I wanted and he always seemed so sure. We broke up and got back together several times before ultimately parting ways. I'm sure we were having yet another conversation about "us." At one point, he looked at me directly in the eyes and said with emphasis on each word, "You are so beautiful." Of course, every girl loves to hear those words, and if a guy is smart, he'll sneak that phrase in often. It was what he said afterward that has stayed with me and given me a mantra to live by. He continued, "I mean, I've always thought you were pretty. But you've become so much more beautiful to me now that I know you."
To this day, I don't think I've received a compliment that has touched me more. I determined from that moment on that I would much rather become beautiful to someone later on than be physically stunning upfront. I wanted to live so that people saw beauty in me through my actions. I realized it was okay not to be show-stoppingly beautiful because there is more to beauty than physical features.
I know the compliment wasn't unique to me. Everyone who grows to love someone sees them as more beautiful as time goes on. But this was the first time that concept had ever occurred to me. And as insignificant as it sounds, it changed my life. Woman can be so ultra critical of themselves. Physical beauty has always been a concept I've struggled with. I've often wished for more than what I've been given. I've compared myself more times than I can count with other women and wondered why I had to be born tall or why I can't seem to grow my hair long. But remembering what Kirt said ten years ago reminds me that I don't have to have the perfect hair or body in order to be loveable. Beauty can be found in the way I live my life if I choose to live beautifully.
He thought I was beautiful at that time based on the person I was. Do I live so that someone would say that about me now? That's something to consider.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Day 1: The Love of a Mission Companion
It's February 1st today.
I can't help but notice that Valentine's Day is a mere 2 weeks away. In the past, my attitude has varied a bit on this occasion. The overarching sentiment I usually have is, "This is my favorite day of the year." Not because I receive loads of chocolates and valentines but because I LOVE love. I love romance. I love to see people express their love. There have been years, however, when I've outwardly defied it and celebrated it as Single Awareness Day (S.A.D.) with a bunch of my friends. Of course, on the inside, nothing really changed. Don't we all secretly just want to be loved on Valentine's Day? I can't imagine there are many who would consider themselves an exception to this rule.
One of the most cliche phrases in existence is, "Life doesn't always turn out the way you planned it." Have you noticed, however, that cliche phrases become that way because they are true and we have reason to use them often? I will be 29 this year. That's nearly 30 Valentine's Days. Although I've dated some awesome men over the years, it rarely seems to be during the month of February (smart boys, smart). Every year when this day approaches, I always have a similar thought: "Crap, I was hoping to not to be single for this one." Today, I even found myself contemplating whether or not it seemed unrealistic to meet and secure a boyfriend in the next 14 days. Of course, my ultimate conclusion was YES, you idiot, that's a terrible idea. But I won't deny that I considered it.
I've been thinking about how I can celebrate Valentine's Day this year to make it one to remember and look forward to. I thought about petitioning everyone within the sound of my voice to send me a valentine via snail mail. But posting my address on the world wide web seemed risky; besides, petitioning valentines is a little tacky. I considered posting a funny dating story every day until Valentine's Day, but doing so might be a little too incriminating, even for me. I tossed around the idea of posting my favorite love songs, but I could post one every day for a year and still not finish that task.
I finally settled on sharing with my blogging friends over the next 14 days love anecdotes from my life. I want to share the moments I have felt the most loved. Through reminiscing about these experiences, I am going to research the methods people used to show they loved me so I can learn from them. Because these experiences are printed so indelibly on my heart now, their techniques of showing love must have been quite effective! Without further ado, here is my first story.
During the first half of my mission, I suffered significantly from anxiety. I was extremely overwhelmed by the task of being a set-apart servant of the Lord. I was afraid of failing. I felt miserable with imperfections. I truly hated myself for not having the courage to talk to every person I saw about the gospel. It was torturous. Satan worked on me every second, trying to convince me I was totally and completely inadequate. Facing each new day became a huge challenge. I was sad all the time. Being my companion can't have been very enjoyable. During one of the darkest periods of my life, the Lord sent me a Brazilian companion named Sister Machado who made it her sole purpose in life to show me I was loved. She would leave me notes and treats on a daily basis telling me how much Heavenly Father loved me, reminding me to smile, and expressing her love for me. She didn't give up on me. I have no doubt that our companionship was very one sided for most of that transfer, as I was struggling just to keep my head above water. But she never expected anything in return. I can't express how much that meant to me. Her little reminders kept me going when I felt like giving up.
One of her notes to me said the following (and all the parenthesis are hers as well):
10 Reasons to Smile
1) You are so beautiful!
2) You are a daughter of God!
3) You are a missionary!
4) You have a funny companion (I'm trying to decide if this counts or not)
5) You are funny!
6) You are beautiful (did I already say that?)
7) You have a companion that loves you!
8) You have chocolate!
9) Life is good!
10) I love you!
The Lord knows us so well that He plants people in our lives who can help us when we need it the very most. I thank heaven for that.
I can't help but notice that Valentine's Day is a mere 2 weeks away. In the past, my attitude has varied a bit on this occasion. The overarching sentiment I usually have is, "This is my favorite day of the year." Not because I receive loads of chocolates and valentines but because I LOVE love. I love romance. I love to see people express their love. There have been years, however, when I've outwardly defied it and celebrated it as Single Awareness Day (S.A.D.) with a bunch of my friends. Of course, on the inside, nothing really changed. Don't we all secretly just want to be loved on Valentine's Day? I can't imagine there are many who would consider themselves an exception to this rule.
One of the most cliche phrases in existence is, "Life doesn't always turn out the way you planned it." Have you noticed, however, that cliche phrases become that way because they are true and we have reason to use them often? I will be 29 this year. That's nearly 30 Valentine's Days. Although I've dated some awesome men over the years, it rarely seems to be during the month of February (smart boys, smart). Every year when this day approaches, I always have a similar thought: "Crap, I was hoping to not to be single for this one." Today, I even found myself contemplating whether or not it seemed unrealistic to meet and secure a boyfriend in the next 14 days. Of course, my ultimate conclusion was YES, you idiot, that's a terrible idea. But I won't deny that I considered it.
I've been thinking about how I can celebrate Valentine's Day this year to make it one to remember and look forward to. I thought about petitioning everyone within the sound of my voice to send me a valentine via snail mail. But posting my address on the world wide web seemed risky; besides, petitioning valentines is a little tacky. I considered posting a funny dating story every day until Valentine's Day, but doing so might be a little too incriminating, even for me. I tossed around the idea of posting my favorite love songs, but I could post one every day for a year and still not finish that task.
I finally settled on sharing with my blogging friends over the next 14 days love anecdotes from my life. I want to share the moments I have felt the most loved. Through reminiscing about these experiences, I am going to research the methods people used to show they loved me so I can learn from them. Because these experiences are printed so indelibly on my heart now, their techniques of showing love must have been quite effective! Without further ado, here is my first story.
The Love of a Mission Companion
During the first half of my mission, I suffered significantly from anxiety. I was extremely overwhelmed by the task of being a set-apart servant of the Lord. I was afraid of failing. I felt miserable with imperfections. I truly hated myself for not having the courage to talk to every person I saw about the gospel. It was torturous. Satan worked on me every second, trying to convince me I was totally and completely inadequate. Facing each new day became a huge challenge. I was sad all the time. Being my companion can't have been very enjoyable. During one of the darkest periods of my life, the Lord sent me a Brazilian companion named Sister Machado who made it her sole purpose in life to show me I was loved. She would leave me notes and treats on a daily basis telling me how much Heavenly Father loved me, reminding me to smile, and expressing her love for me. She didn't give up on me. I have no doubt that our companionship was very one sided for most of that transfer, as I was struggling just to keep my head above water. But she never expected anything in return. I can't express how much that meant to me. Her little reminders kept me going when I felt like giving up.
One of her notes to me said the following (and all the parenthesis are hers as well):
10 Reasons to Smile
1) You are so beautiful!
2) You are a daughter of God!
3) You are a missionary!
4) You have a funny companion (I'm trying to decide if this counts or not)
5) You are funny!
6) You are beautiful (did I already say that?)
7) You have a companion that loves you!
8) You have chocolate!
9) Life is good!
10) I love you!
The Lord knows us so well that He plants people in our lives who can help us when we need it the very most. I thank heaven for that.
Update
Two of my tenors from madrigals were present when the popcorn fiasco happened on Monday. They were in my room during their lunch practicing one of their songs for solo and ensemble when the whole thing went down. I made them promise they would not tell anyone it was me.
Well, they took me up on my offer and did one better. They decided to blame it on themselves instead.
Today in my level II choir, a student accused me of being the one to set off the fire alarm. Another student jumped in and said, "No, it was _______ and ________ who did it [insert the names of my two tenors in the blanks]." Then a conversation ensued that went something like this:
Male student: "What? How do you mess up popcorn? You just open the microwave, put it in, and press start."
Ms. Houston: [Silence]
Female student:"They are senior boys. What can you expect?"
Ms. Houston: [Silence]
I ran into them in the hallway after class and thanked them for so generously taking the blame for me. They were quite pleased with themselves. They said they get "street credit" for it (and, mind you, one of these boys has probably never done a bad thing in his entire life).
I thought about telling my level 2 choir the truth. But then I thought again.
I wouldn't want to steal my students' thunder.
Well, they took me up on my offer and did one better. They decided to blame it on themselves instead.
Today in my level II choir, a student accused me of being the one to set off the fire alarm. Another student jumped in and said, "No, it was _______ and ________ who did it [insert the names of my two tenors in the blanks]." Then a conversation ensued that went something like this:
Male student: "What? How do you mess up popcorn? You just open the microwave, put it in, and press start."
Ms. Houston: [Silence]
Female student:"They are senior boys. What can you expect?"
Ms. Houston: [Silence]
I ran into them in the hallway after class and thanked them for so generously taking the blame for me. They were quite pleased with themselves. They said they get "street credit" for it (and, mind you, one of these boys has probably never done a bad thing in his entire life).
I thought about telling my level 2 choir the truth. But then I thought again.
I wouldn't want to steal my students' thunder.
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