Temple Surprises and Sugar Cookie Bars

Today, someone might say, was an ordinary Sunday. A shower was taken, hair was blown dry, skirts were put on, and breakfast was eaten.

But for me, it started a new beginning of Sundays. Sundays without Young Women's, Sunday School, or Relief Society.Yes, my friends. I am a teacher.

A Primary Teacher.

. . . and not a very good one at that. But all the same, today it was reaffirmed that Primary is where I'm meant to be.

I told my class (which was extremely tired of listening after having already been through two full hours of doing just that) that if they could be quiet, I had a surprise for them after class. All of a sudden, Marissa sat up in her chair; Caleb grinned from ear to ear, and Joslyn wanted to know if she could eat it.

No, I replied. It's not edible. But it is so big I couldn't bring it to class with me!

Oh, they all said. Everyone folded their arms in wait for the surprise.

As soon as I finished the lesson, I told them to stand up, hold hands, and close their eyes. Together with Sister Hoopes and Sister Halls, we led the six children outside towards the Temple.

I'll never forget the way they all smiled when I told them to open their eyes and look up. There, in front of their eyes, was the prettiest building in all American Fork. (Arguably the most beautiful one in all of Utah.) We sat on the grass and they listened as I explained why I brought them here. Marissa then raised her hand and wanted to know if each of them could share what they love about the Temple.

Yes, I replied. Please, teach me about the Temple!

You see, I told myself. Life takes on a deeper meaning when you can look through the eyes of a child. Oh how much you can learn.

Their answers ranged from "I love the pictures of the moon" to "I love the angel." And my all time favorite from our little six year old visitor, "I love that you can get married there." Her response was particularly touching because she told me earlier of how "I don't have a daddy." Silently I prayed that she would come to know, as I do, that someday she will see him again. Families, you see, can be together forever.

After they all taught me about how much they loved the Temple, I met one of my Laurel advisers in the Library. She jokingly said, "Are you glad you're out of Laurels?" and waved a platter of sugar cookie bars in front of me.

After it dawned on me what she was saying, I quickly replied that, No, I've never missed it more in my life!

Sweet memories of starbursts and t-shirt Tye dying flew back to my memory. I remembered campfire moments where marshmallows were scorched and friendships were forged; Sundays when only five of us were Laurels; nights when homework was meant to be done, but put aside because someone needed help with hers; activities where we raced to make the best cake or clean the most houses.

I've never missed it more. I figured they'd forgotten about me, considering I hadn't received a text about activities in over a month or been to class in over one and a half.

So thanks for the Sugar Cookie Bar. I really did need it :)

Someday I'll be used to going to Relief Society. Someday I'll have to be released from my calling in Primary. That won't happen for awhile though. Until then, Temple walks and sugar cookie bars?

yes, please.

Radiant Tales: Chapter Twenty.

Where do you stand? I was once asked.
She didn't mean literally. She just wanted to know where my place in the graduation line was.

But I still thought about it.
Hmmm. Where do I stand?

Well, let me tell you.

I once stood for the first time, probably holding onto my mother's fingers.
Once, I stood on my father's feet, grasping his knees and telling him not to go to work today.
I stood, crying and afraid, at the doors of my kindergarten class, not quite sure what would happen.

I once stood at the doors of an airplane, not knowing what my new life would hold.
I stood on the shore of the Isle of Lewis, the banks of Loch Ness, the grounds of the Preston Temple.
I stood at my sister's dorm, hugging and telling her, though she couldn't hear, I didn't want her to go.

And I once stood at the doors of American Fork High School.
I stood at Mrs. Westover's door, worried at the prospect of taking Honors English.
I stood in Orchestra, watching Mrs. Smith wave her baton over my head.
I stood in Miss Shelley's room, her quote drawing me to her class.
I stood at Madame's desk, listening to her encouraging words of defying the world.

And soon, I will stand, in front of my family, my friends, and people I don't even know.
And I will walk.
And leave behind all those places I once stood. Ready for adventure and new places to go.

With shakey knees and watery eyes.
With sweaty palms and stubby fingers.
With every inch that I have grown.

Where will I go?

Well, forward of course.
No matter how shakey, sweaty, or short I am

:)

No matter what people tell me - that I can't study Nursing and French at the same time . . . I will.
That I can't find a job on campus . . . I will.
That I can't earn money to travel the world . . . I will.
That I can't live in Paris or go on a mission . . . I will.

Because that's what standing does. It means I have goals. Plans. Desires. Determination. Faith. Hope.

A purpose.

So.

Here I stand.

Terrified yet excited.
Sad yet happy.
Inadequate yet Ready.
Shaking. Yet Standing.

And This is Why I Speak Francais

1. Madame McFarland is awesome.
2. My family can't understand me.
3. I can have whole conversations with Silas Olsen while he speaks spanish
4. It means I'm going to Paris someday.
5. Because Chloe Mehr checked out Les Miserables for me and it. was. Heaven.
almost.

But mostly, I speak French because somehow, that's how it worked out.

I keep thinking back to that one defining moment in my life where I would be a different person if I hadn't made that choice or walked that direction, or been called to do this or that.

I seem to have pinpointed it to a couple of events.

One of them is French Class.

If my family hadn't moved to Scotland,

If French hadn't been the only language option at Wallace High School,

If my counselor at AFJH hadn't had faith in me that I could take French 2,

If I had stuck with Spanish,

My life would be significantly different.

Et un jour, j'habiterai en France.

Anne Shirley. Anne with an "e."

There are lots of lessons I learn in life. Lots. In fact, that's probably what life is all about:

Sunday lessons on Missionary work; primary lessons on letting my Light shine; math lessons on integrals; EMS lessons on saving lives; english lessons on Crime and Punishment; and I even learn French lessons on Rhinoceroses.

:)

From time to time, and, for the most part, I enjoy them. It may be painful to read eighty pages a night in Crime and Punishment, and I may have hated that book up until page 506, but the lessons I learned about love and sacrifice and God and choices are irreplaceable. Like it or not, I learned something from a book about an ax murderer and a woman who sacrificed her moral beliefs for her family.

But time and time again, I learn that, despite the lessons I learn about academic and spiritual aspects of life, one of the most beatuful lessons to learn is that of love.

While this topic has many interpretations, I would like to tell you about one of my interpretations. Yes, I know that God loves me, and I know that my Saviour died because he loves me, for "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends," and I know that my parent's love me beyond anything I can understand now. But the love I am about to share with you happens to be a snippet of my philosophy on love, taken from none other than my childhood hero.

And so, my friends, today my name is Anne Shirley.

Anne with an "E," that is.

. . . Or, maybe you should call me Cordelia. :)

Many wonderful lessons I learn from Anne. Things like, "Tomorrow is always fresh with no mistakes in it." and that, when speaking of being rich, "I think I would probably come to the conclusion that I'd like it for a while... but in the end, I'd still prefer the sound of the wind in the firs across the brook more than the tinkling of crystal."

But one of the best things she taught me was a lesson or two about love. It might be in the way that she sticks up her nose whenever Gil winks at her, and it might be in the way he rescued her whilst she was "fishing for laketrout," but whenever it was, she has taught me that it's fun to have love in life, and that I should never be stubborn or hold grudges. For as Aunt Josephine says, "Make a little room in your plans for romance again, Anne, girl. All the degrees and scholarships in the world can't make up for the lack of it."

:)

Alright, my experience with true love is really quite limited. I, however, feel that, at this point in my life, love is just the little occurences that make my heart sprout wings. In Anne's life, love is in Gil's mischievous and enchanting smile, and his quirky yet sincere attitude; it's in the loyalty he shows to Anne, even when she gets upset or says something silly.

Someday, I will have a Gil. And we will be best friends. Chums to be exact :)

Maybe he's out there on Prince Edward Island, waiting to walk to the pond with me, or maybe he's hoping I'll come by his house tonight and show him the story I wrote. Or maybe he'll come to mine :)

Yes, if there's anything I've learned about love it's that, even if he calls me Carrots, or says I'm too short so he didn't ask me to dance, or maybe if he just doesn't notice me anymore,

love

is meant to be a part of the lessons of life.

Anne: Don't you ever imagine things differently from what they are?
Marilla: No.
Anne: Oh Marilla, how much you miss.

NOT funny.

The second worst thing about being a senior girl in the last FIVE :) weeks of school is that your seminary teachers want to take dibs on how soon you'll be married after you graduate.

Ha.

And perhaps the worst thing about being a senior girl in the last five weeks of school is that the seminary boys in a certain group of seminary students also take dibs on how soon you'll be married after you graduate.

I've been afraid to go to BYU ever since I decided to stop being afraid to go to BYU. At first I was afraid that if I didn't go to BYU, I'd never get married. Then I decided that was a silly idea, so I got over it (this conclusion of mine had nothing to do with my decision to go there, by the way).  Then I realised that, let's be honest, you could write a novel on BYU PDA. It's just weird and it will never be me. EVER.

. . . This is kind of a strange post . . .

But to all those boys whom I dearly love,

here is what I have to say:

"You just wait till you get off your mission. Then you'll understand why all of us girls are afraid of RM's. You. Just. Wait."

And in the mean time, it's not funny.

:)

But I still love you.