mission memories revisted…

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The joys of packages in the MTC (Alicia kept them coming regularly for the entire two months I was there)…Can you guess which holiday this was for?

It’s seems that my life just doesn’t slow down. Thankfully, there are moments, in the chaos of it all, that slow me down a little now and then. This weekend, spending time with my sister and her husband, was one of them. The last two days, spent with my friend Patricia before dropping her off at the Missionary Training Center today was another.

Patricia flew into Salt Lake Monday evening. She looked a little shell-shocked at the airport. She left her family and friends in Phoenix (that’s how we know each other) to head on a mission in upstate New York. We spent Monday evening, and Tuesday evening, and most of today, actually, discussing the ins, outs, ups, and downs of the mission.

It brought back so many memories. I can’t believe how long ago it was and I can’t believe how fast it went by. Patricia’s excited to be a return missionary (i.e. be able to say that she went on a mission), but she’s not so sure about the 18 months between here and there. (Time out – Oh, how I wish I were Cameron Diaz with Jude Law taking my face in his hands to kiss me…I’m simultaneously watching The Holiday…two days with a missionary who can’t watch t.v. or movies makes you really value entertainment).

Back to Patricia…it was so fun to have those moments to think about my mission and share (I’m sure Patricia was so glad to get away since my mouth was running constantly) all of the little tidbits of wisdom I picked up along the way; like, to not waste her preparation days writing letters all day long, (Jude Law is so pretty and what is it with a British accent that just makes me swoon?) or to remember that she, Patricia, was the one called on a mission and not some version of what she thinks the ideal missionary should be.

I remember thinking so many times on my mission, “I wish that I could work as hard as Sister so and so” or “I wish I was as focused as Sister so and so” or “I wish I knew the scriptures like Elder so and so”, etc, etc, etc…and I could go on and on and on. It was such a great day, when I was sitting across from a wonderful woman at her kitchen table and realized, after sharing a perfectly empathetic moment, that only I could be me. I know…very profound. “Thanks for stating the obvious,” you say. We waste so much of our lives trying to be what we think we ought to be, instead of just being ourselves, the best that we know how.

I won’t weary you with all of the other wonderfully tedious reflections, but it really was a fabulous experience (the mission…and the reflecting). I have been slightly self-indulgent with the pictures to follow. I think there are about 20. They are the classic MTC and airport pics (along with some not so classic ones) from my mission. All of the reflecting and pulling out of the photo albums inspired me to share.

The classic “dork dot” picture…(New missionaries get this little orange dot on their tags so that everyone can spot them a mile away…it hasn’t changed in since my sister left on her mission 11 years ago.)

And the map picture….

Followed by the companion picture…And the picture by the sign…My district in class…Gotta love the bunk beds at age 21. I guess they went well with Soeur (“sister” in French) Padilla’s Winnie the Pooh that you can see in the background…and I wonder why we didn’t get along. Hmm…
Doing our “service” hours, cleaning the dorms…Flexing for the camera (Hermana Lafferty, a friend from before the mission who was headed to South America somewhere, and I ran 3 miles every morning…the only thing that kept me from gaining the MTC weight)…
That, and the All-Bran that kept me regular…(Yes, I realize that might be too much information for some of you. Yes, I was 21 and obviously super mature, as evidenced by posing “see-food” style for this picture. And yes, I still eat it like that, milk and All-Bran combining only in the mouth.)
The “we’re hugging without touching” pose…
And my most favorite companion ever, Soeur Olsen…aka Vicky Sattler.

I don’t know that this is classic, but we had blossoms in February. This was after we went from a threesome to two companionships. Oh, the drama…The Andersen’s at the airport(minus the oldest and his wife and, at the time, two children), acting all serious and stuff (obviously this was pre-9/11, as they are at the gate with me)… And that’s where the serious ended…

The Andersen’s plus the grandmas…

The three musketeers…can you guess who’s the oldest???Apparently, Dorothy didn’t think Justin on my back was such a good idea. Something about my back???

And the classic (so classic, it could be a scene right out of the next low-budget, Mormon movie–I’m not talking about the ones the Church produces) “hug goodbye at the gate” pose…

And off I go to Switzerland…Except for my layover at JFK, where I was able to spend a little (a very little) QT with Sydne (the next best thing to my mom), Ashley, and Daphne.

And then I was a real missionary…and I finally got rid of the bubble bangs, only to be replaced by a headband, extra weight and some serious frumpiness, ha ha ha.

One last thought about the MTC and missions. I love the whole drop-off experience. It’s emotionally draining and heart wrenching, but I love it. It’s so amazing to look at all of these young men and women who are willing to take two years or 18 months out of their lives, without a vacation, or even a day off during the whole thing, to go out into the world and teach people about God and pay for the whole thing, too. I mean, you can’t help but get emotional. I love it. And then to see all of the moms and dads and brothers and sister so sad to see their son or daughter or sister or brother leaving…there is so much love in that one room, it is completely overwhelming. The best kind of overwhelming there is.

So, it was a long last thought. That’s how my mind works. And with that, I’m off.

praying for mediocrity and stagnation…

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I belong to a church where we are asked to serve in different positions. There is not a paid clergy, so every one in a congregation is expected to serve in some capacity. For a long time, my calling (that’s the term for it) was to teach a class once a month to the women in the ward (our term for parish or congregation). I think I’ve done it four different times in four different wards since I turned 18 and became part of the women’s organization known as the Relief Society. It has been my calling in this ward since I joined it, so almost eight months. I love it because I feel like I do a good job and I get a lot out of it, as well. It’s a balance between what I am able to give and what I receive.

Well, on Sunday, I got a phone call from our ward executive secretary (the bishop’s assistant) asking me if I could be at church about 20 minutes early to meet with a member or the bishopric. Never a fun call to get because it almost always means a new responsibility. My mind started going through the possibilities as I hurried to expedite my prepping process (cutting a girl off 20 minutes early when she has already planned and accounted for said 20 minutes is just cruel). I knew that I would be called as the Relief Society president because, generally, those callings are extended by a bishop directly and that was a relief. I thought maybe a Sunday School teacher, which would have been fine. But that’s where the contemplating ended.

As I met with one of the members of the bishopric, he told me that I would be getting a new calling (shocking), and then he said, “Well, it will kind of be in addition to what you are already doing.” There was hope. Hope that I would just receive an additional calling…but, no. The reason that Brother Brockbank told me that I would be doing something in addition to my current calling is because, when you are a member of the Relief Society presidency, you are able to teach once every three months. Whoopee. He asked if I would be willing to be a member of that presidency as the second counselor over Home, Family and Personal Enrichment. First of all, I don’t even attend Enricment activities half the time. Second, if I accepted, I would have to plan, prepare, delegate and make phone calls. I have to get to know all of the women and make sure they are all doing okay. I have to attend presidency meetings every Sunday and another meeting every other Sunday. As a teacher, I only had to prepare, no meetings, no phone calls, no delegating. It was perfect.

I have learned throughout my life and the many callings I’ve had that accepting a calling is always the best idea, even if you aren’t super excited about it at first. The hardest thing, this time, was the realization that I was praying for this change. Maybe not directly, but nonetheless, I was praying for it. I have recently realized that I am not the same kind, loving, compassionate person I once was and that I am not very good at delegating (without micromanaging) and I have been praying to improve in those areas. I should know better than to pray for something like that, because God answers prayers.

when bad things happen to good people (or at least those attempting to be good)…

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I was at work yesterday, getting ready to leave. I pulled my phone out so that I could get a number and make a phone call from the land line before I left (I don’t get any reception in the basement where my office is). I flipped open my Razr (not a fan of flip phones, p.s. and by the way) only to have the screen suddenly go black. My phone was dead. Completely dead.

I left my phone at home one day last year and thought the world would end. How was I supposed to make the ten minute drive from work to home without making a phone call? (I didn’t notice in the morning because I apply my mascara and lip gloss on the drive…every morning.) It was ridiculous.

Well, seeing that I was that frustrated when I left my phone at home, you can imagine my chagrin when I realized that my phone was dead. Dead, dead, dead. And then, and I know you can all relate to this, imagine my horror at the realization that I had saved all of my numbers to my phone and not my SIM card. Although, there was still hope that Cingular would be able to somehow get my numbers for me.

Off to the Cingular store I went. I don’t know if any of you have had a cell phone die before while it was still under warranty. Let me just say this, I’m not sure what your definition of “warranty” is, but Cingular and I did not exactly see eye to eye on this point. To them, “warranty” means that I have a dead phone, they send me a new one (ground, unless I want to pay extra) and then I send my old one back to them. The new phone comes with no battery and no back, and is not actually new at all, but refurbished. Warranty, my arse! My favorite, though, is when the guy at the store tells me that lots of people have had problems with the Razr…but unless I want to pay for a new phone, that’s my only option.

I try really hard not to get upset at the people trying to help me. I know (when I am calm enough to be logical) that it is not their fault. But seriously, five days without a phone? How is anyone expected to survive that? (That is a rhetorical question, for those of you who don’t have cell phones). But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was when the Cingular agent on the phone (how many people does it take to tell you that you’re not getting a new phone?) told me that, since the screen was dead, there was no way to recover my numbers. What?! No way?! How is that possible?! Those numbers are my life. I don’t even know how to get a hold of my dad without my phone. Who memorizes phone numbers anymore? Or writes them down? (Once again, rhetorical).

Thankfully, the Cingular guy that helped me in the store found a returned phone that he said he could conveniently “lose” and left it on the counter for me to take while he looked the other way. It’s not in the best condition, but it’s better than nothing. Five days before I get my new “used” phone. Ridiculous!

I’d like to say that I now feel the need to not rely on technology so much, or to write down numbers, or whatever, but it’s probably not true (even if it is a nice thought). I am sad that I lost all of my numbers (that’s right, I no longer have your number, so if you haven’t heard from me in days, it’s not personal…please call me and leave me your number!), but I think I’ll manage.

So, the new voicemail greeting, “Hi, this is Chloe. My phone died and I lost all of my numbers, so if you want me to call you back, please leave a message with your number. Thanks!”

Another day, another dilemma.

Grey’s dilemma…(really George’s, but I wanted a name you’d recognize).

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I watched Grey’s Anatomy tonight for maybe the third time in my life. It’s a great show, I just have not, in the recent past, been one to get into shows (other than VM, and that is entirely my sister’s doing). I think there’s part of me that feels like I’m a better person when my world doesn’t revolve around t.v. shows. Stupid, I know, but true. I realize most of you have TiVo or DVR, so your worlds don’t revolve around t.v., but you get my point. I digress.

Tonight’s episode was a little emotional for me. Not emotional, like I cried…although it wouldn’t be the first time I cried when it was inappropriate, but I didn’t…more it brought up some serious feelings. First of all, my mom died, and so any dead mom moments in any show/movie get to me. Second was the scene where George and his wife are talking about Izzie (I had to look up the names) and George laughs because, well, why would Izzie ever want him? The writers of this show did a phenomenal job with that scene. And after my weekend from Hell (I’m using that in the biblical sence) and finding out that “what’s his name?” got married (a.k.a. the ex-fiance…yes, it still hurts even when you are the one who ended things)…it just hit too close to home.

I don’t know if any of you have ever been with someone who makes you feel like you aren’t good enough…or feels the need to rate you on a scale of one to ten as compared to his ex-wife…let me just say, it is not an enjoyable experience. That’s what I felt tonight. All of the pain of that moment relived. George totally felt like he was settling and made it known.

The truth is you do need to be with someone who is compatible (i.e. you feel like equals) if you want the relationship to work. At least that’s what I’ve read. So, here’s my question: What if you view yourself differently than others see you? You like creme brule, but you’re jello? What then? How do you know that you are finding someone compatible and not settling? How do you know that the other person doesn’t feel like they’re settling? How awful would that be? We can’t all play doctors on t.v. and look like Katherine Heigl?

Just some thoughts. Great show, great writing, fabulous music.

P.S. I just downloaded the new Aqualung album. Love it!