1:68. 1:42. 1:189.

april, did you know, is world autism awareness month?
april 2nd is world autism awareness day.

the cdc recently released new and startling statistics, perhaps you heard?
1 in 68 children has an autism spectrum disorder.
1 in 42 boys. 1 in 189 girls.
and. the numbers in utah are even higher.
yes, diagnosis abilities have improved. that can't be denied.
but. that cannot be the only explanation for such a rise in prevalence.

a few years ago, i began to fall in love with autism.
all because of a little boy named ghița.
(pronounced like pizza with a g at the beginning--gizza.)
one of those one in forty-two boys.
but to me, he was just ghița.
my ghi ghi.

i might be volunteering at a school for children with autism soon.
i walked in to drop off paperwork today.
and.
there's something in the air there.
something that makes me feel like i could and should spend my whole life in that kind of environment.
i don't mind working in an office.
but.
in the end.
i want to work with people. in a direct way.
and something in the air revived that today.
a reminder of the future, if that makes sense.
a tender mercy message moment from god.
a reminder of who i will be. and what i will do.
of who i'm becoming in order to give my life to helping others become.
doing something that truly changes a life.
that.
that is why i will be a speech-language pathologist.
that will be my specialty: the art of becoming.
to elicit that greatness which is already there.
for expression, for speech, for communication, for relationships.
autism speaks.

significant.

"You will have significant experiences. I hope you will write them down and keep a record of them, that you will read them from time to time and refresh your memory of those meaningful and significant things. Some may be funny. Some may be significant only to you. Some of them may be sacred and quietly beautiful. Some may build one upon another until they represent a lifetime of special experiences."

-Gordon B. Hinckley

i haven't kept a journal since my mission. not the way i did then, anyway.

sometimes i wish i had that for my real life,

the way i wrote notes all over my planners from day to day.

the little things that ended up recorded.

something in my journal carried over or written for every single day.

i adore the way i can relive days.

a few words or sentences in and i usually know exactly which day it was,

without needing to finish reading whatever else i've written.

but what does that look like in real life?

i don't know where or how to put real-life experiences.

which ones have place in recorded memory - that i'd want to look back at?

as opposed to

those which should be left unwritten - better to leave behind.

and what about those experiences that probably are significant,

but you don't dare put them into words?

so i'm not sure where to put all these pieces of life.

the frivolous as well as the significant, but unexplainable.

for now, i'm without much of anything that can be told out loud.

nothing can be as consolidated as it was on the mission.

into one planner or one journal.

instead, i just have random collections of words written all over everything.

words and kites.

"glide away on soapy heels.

and promise not to promise anymore."

"i listen to the wind."

don'tlethimloseyou.

inexhaustible manifestations.

"The goals of art are incommensurate (as mathematicians say) with social goals.

The goal of the artist is not to solve a question irrefutably,

but to force people to love life in all its innumberable, inexhaustible manifestations.

If I were told that I could write a novel in which I should set forth

the apparently correct attitudes toward all social questions,

I would not devote even two hours of work to such a novel,

but if I were told that what I shall write will be read in twenty years by the children of today

and that they will weep and smile over it and will fall in love with life,

I would devote all my life and all my strengths to it." 

Count Lev Tolstoy

my worried shoes.

this photo was taken one year ago today. my day of deliverance. 15 апреля 2013.
   if you could see my eyes in this moment, you'd know. if you could zoom into just them, you'd see. they were dead. no life, light, hope, or strength was left - only the smallest, faintest not-even glimmer. eyes cannot lie, for they always tell the truth. this road behind me--that's natasha's street.
   this was the last time i ever saw her. delivering photos with handwritten notes i wrote to every one of her daughters as i fell down from kharkov. because dangitall if nothing else, i have to be able to believe in them--in the hope of them. a year ago today, i was delivered. my kharkov days were done, at least for a time. that's all i knew at that point. the day i knew for sure and was allowed to be relieved in knowing, i was being sent down to collapse. the day i was struck with how green everything had become on the bus route to and from natasha's. somewhere there's a single streak of green inside it. there was life deep down. when a thing is wick, it will grow. but no sooner. only when it is ready. only then can life become new. and on that day god assured me, maybe i wasn't dead - maybe i just needed some water and some light like that silly tomato plant. to bring life back. that's why he sent me down. a summer to heal in the seasons of light and life.
   this was the day i kneeled at natasha's feet for the last time. talking and sitting in saturated silence--filled with the understanding that she and i shared, an understanding that didn't need to be said out loud. then i asked god: bless this house, bless those girls, bless that woman. never have i meant it so earnestly as i did in that moment. our final prayer. sometimes it's a shame when you have to use the only words you know for something that feels like it needs new and different words to adequately express. and yet the words you have are all you have. 'the spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings that cannot be uttered.' (romans 8:26) and then i walked away and my eyes were dead. they had nothing left to give.
three days shy of the day that claimed i was half-way through my mission.

i've been ninety-three million miles around the sun since then, figuratively speaking. and thankfully, only parts of the girl looking at you in that picture still remain. or rather, the emptiness of the girl in that picture is being slowly filled. wick portions growing. ninety-three million miles from the sun.

   there are a lot of things that could be said about ukraine right now. but that's not really what i'm trying to say. the hearts of so many that i love are hurting. breaking. aching. sinking. all those who have any remote tie to ukraine or russia. they are those who have hearts being currently tugged to varying levels of intensity. and to those with stronger ties? the intensity is all the greater.
   last week i found out that my mission would be closing, and a few days later the church released an official mini statement. the ukraine donetsk mission. at least for a time for the safety of the missionaries. this weekend, things became increasingly violent and increasingly widespread in the east. in all the cities where we resided. i can't really put in words how it feels--on a widespread, general level or on a personal one. missionaries being pulled from an area is never a good sign, but. what about our members? what about all those missionaries? what about the investigators? what about that person they talked to just the day before, oblivious to any change so radical on the horizon? and for so many reasons that don't have a description, i was paralyzed. filled with that ican'tbreatheican'tbreatheican'tbreathe feeling that i haven't felt since being in ukraine. a feeling that sounds ridiculous and can't be fully comprehended until you feel it. it's a real thing.
   but. why? i still haven't fully figured it out. what it is about it all that affected so many of us so deeply.
   maybe because ukraine is our everything. maybe because so much of how we define ourselves ties directly or indirectly back to our missions - to those people. a people you love so much you sometimes hate. a people that has been through suffering, oppression, and everything in between. and yet they live. but. here they are again. in the thick of uprisings. uproar. she (ukraine) is everything. she taught us who we are. she was the means god used to take from us what we thought we were and leave us with what we are. so this morning as i read accounts of leaving kharkov or donetsk for what could be forever, or sister andrade's account of their send off, i had to shed tears.

"As we were starting to carry all the luggage over to the train, we had the most amazing surprise: members from all over Kharkov came to say goodbye. It was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. They carried the luggage over with us, they helped us on, they arranged our mountain of things into our cars. There were hugs and pictures and tears. But there were also smiles. These members are amazing. They are all alone now and yet we could feel their readiness and willingness to take on the missionary work here in our beautiful mission. The hardest thing probably was when the train started leaving. The platform was lined with members and investigators, our friends and family here. They were waving at us, smiling. Some ran alongside the train until they couldn't anymore. I don't have the words to describe how I felt. But it's an image I will never forget.

The train was crowded with all our things and all the missionaries. We just talked, about our past together and our uncertain future. We laughed, cried. No one slept. The next morning at about 8, we rolled into the station at Kyiv."

-sister renae louise andrade

   those are my members. those are the ones i spent the grand majority of my mission serving among. and so that is an image that moves me. and there my loves were gathered. in an exodus to the west. talking of their past together and their uncertain future. laughed, cried. no one slept. there's so much in those words.



so i don't have anything definitive to say. i'm just speaking from my soul. in a raw kind of way.
ukraine is my everything. interlaced somehow into every part of who i am to some extent or another, even though the influence is sometimes invisible. she's still there somewhere in every corner of my soul. without her, i would be incomplete. i wouldn't be me.
ukraine.
she means so much more than can ever be described.
and only those who have been in that place at that time can understand.
what it means to have dead eyes. then eyes that find life again. in a way so uniquely its own.
a process every. last. one. of. us. goes through--especially in the donetsk mission.
that is. ukraine.
i met my demons. i beat them.
but. that doesn't mean that demons don't still rage. that mobs don't still combine.
therefore. for now i still wear my worried shoes.

moments. days in the sun.

. hearing a story about a child's speech pathology successes and having those little taps on my heart saying, 'yeah, that really is what i want. to facilitate real growth. this really is the means through which i will do as i'm meant to do.'

. coming home to a sunny balcony when i know no one is home. because a balcony to read is better than harold.

. thriving. finally. almost. thriving.

. seeing how far i've come. seeing a difference. seeing the change. seeing perspective. this is a landmark. this is not the end. (something is coming.)

. god telling me to go to the stake easter musical fireside. and going and being richly rewarded. all the day long. lord, i would follow thee. blessings: a marvelous work and a wonder.

. the support and encouragement of members in ukraine for my missionary loves in this time of trial. the way they are stepping up. (more about ukraine and my heart will be coming, obviously.)

. teaching me to hope again. learning how to breathe.

. the stark contrast of new spring life to the still-mending browns and blues of nature. the week of blossoms.

. i listen to the wind on my soul. i sketched a kite on my russian paper that i was revising this weekend. probably symbolic.

их тайн(ы).

one of my favorite people on the planet - who happens to be ukrainian and makes the life of all people better, particularly missionaries - posted this on fb today. and i need so that it was stored somewhere. because it is beautiful. and so here it is. if you don't understand. try google translate. if you still don't--let us talk.

Их было двое - Он и Она. Они где-то нашли друг друга и жили теперь одной жизнью, где-то смешной, где-то соленой, в общем, самой обыкновенной жизнью двух самых обыкновенных счастливых.

Они были счастливыми, потому что были Вдвоем, а это гораздо лучше, чем быть по одному. Он носил Ее на руках, зажигал на небе звезды по ночам, строил дом, чтобы Ей было, где жить. И все говорили: "Еще бы, как его не любить, ведь он идеал! С таким легко быть счастливой!" А они слушали всех и улыбались и не говорили никому, что идеалом Его сделала Она: Он не мог быть другим, ведь был рядом с Ней. Это было их маленькой тайной.

Она ждала Его, встречала и провожала, согревала их дом, чтобы Ему там было тепло и уютно. И все говорили: "Еще бы! Как ее не носить на руках, ведь она создана для семьи. Немудрено, что он такой счастливый!" А они только смеялись и не говорили никому, что Она создана для семьи только с Ним и только ему может быть хорошо в Ее доме. Это был их маленький секрет.

Он шел, спотыкался, падал, разочаровывался и уставал. И все говорили: "Зачем Он Ей, такой побитый и измученный, ведь вокруг столько сильных и уверенных". Но никто не знал, что сильнее Его нет никого на свете, ведь они были Вместе, а значит, и сильнее всех. Это было Ее тайной.

И Она перевязывала Ему раны, не спала по ночам, грустила и плакала. И все говорили: "Что он в ней нашел, ведь у нее морщинки и синяки под глазами. Ведь что ему стоит выбрать молодую и красивую?" Но никто не знал, что Она была самой красивой в мире. Разве может кто-то сравниться по красоте с той, которую любят? Но это было Его тайной.

Они все жили, любили и были счастливыми. И все недоумевали: "Как можно не надоесть друг другу за такой срок? Неужели не хочется чего-нибудь нового?" А они так ничего и не сказали. Просто их было всего лишь Двое, а всех было много, но все были по одному, ведь иначе ни о чем бы не спрашивали. Это не было их тайной, это было то, чего не объяснишь, да и не надо.

kindreds.

if you were to take me, jillian, and megan.

we each have a kindred spirit in the first presidency or the council of the twelve.

president dieter uchtdorf. he and me.
gentle, but firm and snarky-stubborn.

elder jeffrey holland. he and jillian.
the fire, the riled-up knowing and pulpit-pounding.

president henry eyring. he and megan.
sweet and sensitive, but solid as a mountain.

the personality. the everything.

the balance they make among one another.

the need for all, though they are so different in style.

if we had ever been a threesome. it would be like a threesome of those three.

(yeah, we know. a little scary.
and yet they all play such a pivotal role.
and target such different varieties of audiences.)

also. conference. this weekend.

last week i went to salt lake for the general women's meeting.
it was a beautiful day.

this film might make you weep with its beauty.

covenants. i love this new emphasis.
talking openly and with focus on that which truly matters most.
i'm all about that.

can i tell you a little story?

it's a mission story.

(try not to hate me. i know how annoying that gets.)

about a year ago we had a zone meeting in which the new emphasis of idea was brought forth:

introduce baptism within the first five minutes of a meeting with someone.

me, on the inside: ohhhhh, no they don't.

everyone already thinks we're a cult.

reason number one i almost refused to go on a mission:

the number pushers and baptism-obsessed.

so there was that. i was skepty ms. skeptical.

and in this thrown-together, short-notice meeting after watching conference, i was even more skeptical.

but then. they did a practice. to show a sample.

generally speaking, i was still opposed. too impersonal.

but then.

an elder in his role-playing three minutes in to a first meeting said,

'one of our main purposes is to help and support you

in building and strengthening your own personal relationship with god.

and we do that by making covenants with him, such as baptism.'

and there it is. that is something i can get behind.

something that truly fully takes us as missionaries or members out of the equation.

something that truly explains why it matters to someone else.

because in my experience, ukrainians (and most people) thought very little of us as silly girls with tags.

usually ignored us, or yelled at us, or a lot of other often unpleasant things.

why the heck should they listen to something backed by selfish motives?

they shouldn't.

but when they could see, we're just there to help them. to guide them. to love them.

well, that. that's laudable. that's a worthy goal. a good act.

and so i spent the rest of my mission saying that in greater emphasis to people.

we simply want to help you come closer to god.

to have a personal relationship with him.

and covenants are just the means through which we can do that.

which ties directly back to the plan of salvation.

(and i'm all about the plan of salvation.)

so that's why. i can still be mormon.

because that's what really matters.

that's why we do what we do.

to find god. to live for god.

to become.

and help others in their own becoming.

that. is something i can get behind.

that. is something i'll get all worked up and feisty about.

because that is what matters.

that. is the root of everything.

gchat.

the closest doug, steve, and i come to being in the same 'room' ever since i got home from ukraine:

it's a modern life, yo.

do we actually chat with each other?

weellllllll.

sending (in my case, receiving) random emails with links counts as communication, right?

in other news:

i'm really into screenshots lately, apparently.

i'm so over this semester. like, please end.-

the history of the soviet union is fascinating. in a scarily creepy way.

especially that which happened in what was really not that long ago

in a country that in many ways has changed very little since that time.

the streets i walked, the people i know. many lived through part or all.

if you've never read sofia petrovna (which you probably haven't), then you probably should.

i feel the need to apologize to the universe for the fact that lately i have been as contrary as mary lennox.

"mary, mary quite contrary, how does your garden grow?"

i told emily roommate this week that i'm kind of a music snob.

she laughed. and then she realized i was actually serious.

this song has been stuck in my head all day long.

rivers and roads.

reasons i am cool:

sometimes i think i'm funny when i am writing papers.

have to get your kicks somewhere, right?

and, you know. keep track of all the parts.

so i get creative in my highlighting.

it's the writing process, you see.

#через18дней #18daysandiwillbefreeeetemporarily

isle of hope, isle of tears. ellis.

my great-grandfather nicolaos nevrakis passed through ellis island.
with his father, georgio nevrakis.
the year was 1916.

arriving from canea, greece, as the ellis island record says.

grandpa nick.

we watched this film in a class today.
and.
it is cheesy, but beautiful.

sometimes i like america.
this is the america i love.
her roots.
my roots.

(the song in the background tells the story of annie moore, an irish girl.
the first immigrant to pass through ellis island into the united states when it opened in 1892.
she was 15 years old.)

iwanttogovisitnewyorkagain.