highlights and lowlights and redlights and golights.

because a little listed summary is the only adequate way to include all the important things.

in no particular order, some delightful lights of the break are included, but not limited to:

+ jillian's sealing. (the most beautiful morning of light.)
+ megs being back in america for a little minute. (can't even. those armknechts, though.)

+ fabfour reunion and an impending #apartment210 reunion. (i can't get over these women.)
+ break being one week longer than the byu one i'm used to. (more than a day after new years? what?)

+ having my first entirely solo session go supa well. (we gonna be bessst friendzzz.)
+ being just as entertained by the 'science experiment' as my client. (and the toy dinosaur that helped us.)

+ reading and reading. on my time. by my choice. the little things, you know? (i highly recommend the giver.)

+ naterson. (i mean. i know. right? i know.)

+ family parties. (and getting to know his delightful fambam.)
+ shnuggletimeourturn. (never gets old.)

+ movies. so many movies. (with a harry potter marathon on top.)
+ chinese food for dayz. (pass the sweet and sour chicken, please.)

+ dinners and laughs with laurs. (we're hilarious.)

+ christmas eve traditions. plus one. (the night before christmas is a crowd favorite.)

+ so many occasions for playing rosatheviolin of my own accord. (and fingers remembering things i forgot.)
+ jenniferannemariemckay. enough said. (cosmic soul connections.)

+ twinkle lights and the poinsettia quilt. my favorite place on a cold winter's night. (always.)

+ visiting with renaenae. (and. logan is literally in the middle of nowhere. how does anyone survive??)

+ the symphony. (always makes me heart-eyed. i really adore evenings at the symphony.)

+ sleeping in. naps. sleeping some more. (sometimes i think i spent the whole break asleep. opa.)

the only lower lights?

- it's january. (my januaryhatred is real. not over it. never over it.)

- snow. everywhere. (is winter over yet?)

- break ends.in three days. (i just.can't.even.)

sunday evenings, you know?

He RELISHES your potential.

that future comes alive when you do more than just exist.

divine nature ignites--discover the depth.

rosemary m. wixom.

sense the sacred.

these trials are the very things that qualify us.

keep the vision of our Father's promised rewards in front of us.

linda s. reeves.

see in one another the beauty of the soul.

in partnership with the Almighty.

in the work of salvation, there's no room for comparison.

shine with the beauty of holiness.

God delights.

carol f. mcconkie.

dearest, God is near.

embrace truths. not only with mind, but also with heart.

the sound of her laughter filled the house.

eva herself was happier, whenever [great aunt rose] was around.

moving forward and upward, focus on the wonders and miracles of life.

God didn't design us to be sad. He created us to have joy.

eventually there was something that turned my whole life around:

FAITH. and faith led to HOPE. and faith and hope gave me confidence.

now is part of eternity.

faith gave me the hope i needed to live joyfully now, filling my life with meaningful things.

dieter f. uchtdorf.

(women's conference + sunday glows from the front porch.)

buckets.

the thing about the orem location of one of my jobs this summer, 

is that it's meant being able to see megs so often because of proximity to her home.

which is to say, it's practically down the street.

a hop, skip, and a jump, if you will.

(the armknechts love me. obviously.)

i have a million things worth writing about, 

and i'm hoping i eventually get around to it.

but until then, we must be satisfied with snippets.
including the fotochki from some mountainingwithmeg.

because what's a blog for, if not for a vain gathering of photos of yourself and those you love?

come on. 

it's for posterity's sake, guys.

you know?
and because we like swings and parks and shakes and mountains and sunflowers.
and each other, obviously.

and there's for our vanity's sake.

because isn't megs a baaaabe?

(we're so vain. and the song actually is about us.)

it's mostly for posterity.

but maybe alittlebit because we and the mountains are pretty.

because life is about finding whatever it is that fills your bucket, you know?
like days with meglet.
snoconesandshakesandmountainsandlaughs.

time, time is a fickle thing.

To lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer's day, 

listening to the murmur of the water, 

or watching the clouds float across the sky,

is by no means a waste of time.

John Lubbock

[the mountains and lakes with those whom one loves are also a good idea.
all in the name of sunshine--and tiedyedpeacesignhippielove, apparently.
you'd think i planned to revisit the 60s all in one. i really didn't.
stay forever, june. though maybe cool down a touch?]

holiness: holy lands, holy people.

And the Lord God said, 

It is not good that the man should be alone;

I will make him an help meet for him.

Genesis 2:18

whenever we hear this phrase (myself included) i think we always think of the literal and obvious implications: adam and eve, husbands and wives. and particularly the term 'help meet.' i love that term. and i love the idea, as expressed in this article here that a friend shared with me. the concept of man and wife as perfect complements to one another. but a few weeks ago, i was struck with a thought. struck with realizing that this phrase can mean much more than we think it means.

It is not good that the man [or woman] should be alone.

the thing about graduation, is that it defines relationships by default--separating relationships of people with whom you stay in regular contact from those who, though they may be important to you and have once played a regular role in your life, cease to play a part when your regular routines of daily living are no longer in sync. and i'm sure i wouldn't be the first to tell you: the lapse of time following graduation while in transition into new jobs, routines, and before starting into whatever comes next--well, those moments can be filled with incredible loneliness and isolation. because all those people who once were a part of your daily everything, are now gone. in a blink, all that once was ceases to be--at least in the form you've grown accustomed to.

for the first time in years, there's time to catch up on the hours upon hours of sleep you've been missing. to write and write and write some more in unorganized streams. to delve into the depths of life's mysteries and spiritual insights that you haven't previously had time to explore and study.
all of these are incredible and noble things. and ought to be given time. i'm the first who will laud the benefits of solitude--time spent alone in order to be introspective or to spend time alone with the father. to be alone with. but. at the end of that introspection, you must come out. and when you come back out, where do you go home to? to whom do you go back home?

i once read somewhere that the moment of truth about the life you live comes when asked for these two little words: emergency contacts. this is where the truth about the people of your life comes out. the truth about what truly matters amidst all the other bustlings. with whom do you find refuge?

because people need people.
it's in our very nature--this tendency to make connections and yearning for understanding.
(for more about connections and people, here is an excellent essay on the subject.)
because people--it is the people who bring lingering holiness to a place.
people together with God.

my first sabbath in israel--that was the day that i was gifted an enlarged understanding about this phrase we throw around and what it really means: the holy land. by typical definition, this name comes from the following facts: this is where jesus lived and died. this is where he served his mission, and his presence made that land sacred ground.
now. i love jesus. i adore who he is and all that he stands for. but when he stood on this earth as a mortal being, it was 2000 years ago. as a small piece of perspective: these united states have only been an independent country for around five percent of that time.

therefore, where does that holiness linger after 2000 years? what form does that take? people from around the world gather to the holy land in droves every single year to worship their god and to feel of the holiness of the holy land, particularly the holy city (jerusalem). and, skeptic that i tend to be, i am more of the opinion that was expressed in october's general conference by thomas s. monson:

Physically walking where Jesus walked is less important than walking as He walked.

Emulating His actions and following His example are far more important

than trying to retrace the remnants of the trails He traversed in mortality.

thomas s. monson, ponder the path of thy feet.

i'm skeptical of those who cling to flashy sites where events in history occurred. not because it's wrong to see the world. by all means, see the world. i adore traveling. but. to see it just to say you've been there? to see it because there's a feeling in this land of closeness to jesus that can't be found anywhere else? well, that i disagree with. to see it just to feel of the spirit of the holy land? well, that i disagree with too. there are those who really do say--there's a certain peace and comfort that you can't feel anyplace else than to walk where jesus walked. but this statement specific to israel is one i disagree with most of all. i don't think you have to be in the holy land to find that comfort or peace. you don't have to be in the holy land to find god, come to jesus, and begin to become more like him.

nevertheless, i love the holy land.

i think everyone should go to israel.

but not for the reasons you'd think.

the best way to get to know a city is to walk along its streets. talking to people. walking down the side-streets. when a guide tells you to look one way, look the opposite way: this is where some of the most beautiful glimpses will be found. and this. this is what travel is truly about. not just the place, but especially the people within the place. that's why i love to travel.

and jesus? jesus is in the people. he is in these experiences.

in running into an old russian couple and walking along the street talking to them. in these streets of people gathered together in a handful, speaking a handful of languages. in sacrament prayers in hebrew. in being able to crack a cranky 22-year-old taxi driver. in the art of people living.

because nothing brings the whole world together the way jesus does. it's because of him that i can communicate with these people such as the ukrainian couple that pointed us in the right direction to the branch or befriend a handful of other russian speakers who also found themselves in israel at that time. it's because of him that i know their souls as i do. 

so, when going to the holy land, where is jesus really?

on these streets and inside these people.

in the people who are brought together.

in who jesus is--today and every day.

because where he is and we are and we all come gathered together in his name?

that is what makes a land to be holy.

in the living. in that art of living.

if you go to the holy land to find jesus, you won't.

over and over again, everywhere we went, these are the lines that ran through my head:

he is not here: for he is risen.

 matthew 28:6

and at first, i admit that i was a little chagrined by that. chagrined that in that place of all places there was not more given to jesus. but before long i realized and personally experienced: it's because he lives. he is living. he is anywhere we allow him to be. the gates are open wide. and while there is a tranquility about so many of the places, it's no different than other holy buildings around the world. they are made holy by the spirit present there. they are made holy by the spirit that is carried inside people. people choosing to feel. because. jesus can be everywhere and his light infiltrates all things.

this is holiness.

these are my holy lands.

made holy by jesus and what he means in my life or your life today.

by people who are brought together and striving.

by people building connections one with another, taking glimpses into each other's souls.

using love as a means to see the face of god.

that face of love is the face of holiness.

the holiness born of connections.

so if someone were to ask for the moments in which i truly felt the spirit of the holy land?

well, i'd tell you of the people i met and the magic in the air due to their presence.

the moments that brought them to me, the moments when i felt of god's presence, regardless of what we did.

because a land without people?
well, that's just an empty space on a map.

i love me some armknechts.

it's no secret that i'm a little bit (read: a lot) in love with megan beth. 

- - -

two of her sisters returned from missions in the past couple of weeks,

so i went to their combined homecoming today.

why?

honestly, i think sistersarah and sisterkaty were wondering the same thing. 

but meg wasn't.

afterwards, i met a friend of her mom's from college who had come to town for the occasion.

oh, you came just for this? --meg's shocked reaction upon learning what really brought her there.

what can i say? i love me some armknechts. 

and, you know. i really couldn't have said it better:

i love me some armknechts.

   i met meg on october 4, 2012. you don't easily forget the day you enter a country that's about to be your home for many months. and, transfer day is thursday. как раз, the thursday after arriving in ukraine is the day we met. because megan beth. well, i only knew her as sister armknecht. sister arm, when trying to make it easier on ukrainians who just really, really couldn't pronounce her german фамилия (family name). (let's be real, if they struggled with nevers, they're really going to struggle with armknecht. i think we had already been companions for weeks and already become bffs before i even knew how to correctly spell her name in english without asking her.)

   our time together was golden, and that area sacred ground. it was only later that we truly realized the depth of miracles we'd experienced together. the people of ours from that time--they're among the people who stand out the most from our entire missions. our sasha--who was more for her. tomara--who was more for me. iraida. sveta. and perhaps the greatest miracle of all: our friendship. because. had we met at any other time, in any other place, i'm not so sure we would have been friends. in fact, i almost guarantee it. but. at that time. in that place. we were primed to see and be. and since that time, the love has only grown.

   i mentioned our notes a couple of days ago. but. i didn't mention the extent to which those notes were so often a lifeline. glimmers of sparkle in darkness, if only for a moment. answers to prayer, or sometimes even just a reminder of that which is good and our own role within that. and some days--one especially, those notes were pieces of salvation.

   meg is one of those people who leads you to jesus just by who she is. because to come to know her, is to come to know him. i realized recently that i've been surrounded in the past few years with people who are just so good at that--at making god a part of every change and uncertainty, because he is their foundation. and meg was one of the starts of me starting to consciously see that. because she just knows him and loves him and is good to her very core. she'd do anything for god. in fact, she does. and you know what? her sisters are filled with that pure goodness too. and so is evan. and so are her parents. it's an armknecht thing, i've come to see. a perfect blend of spunk and poetry. each in their own way.

   megs and i, we have one of the most special relationships i've ever known. and. i treasure it deep inside as one of the most precious parts of my soul. because she is a part of my soul. i just didn't realize it before october 2012. but. an inseparable part of my soul. she is the moon and i am the sun. one without the other is useless.

   she's going to oxford this fall. oxford! and. something about that is starting to sink in these days. something about israel was a foretaste of a cross-the-globe relationship. and then sitting in the midst of her family today, it hit me again how precious all things armknecht are to me.

   her sisters. watching her sisters, i could see pieces of her. seeing the pure goodness that surrounded me in her cousins, aunts, and children of cousins--in addition to her own immediate family--well it did make me to almost cry today. because that is why we do all the things we do. that is why we live the lives that we live, serve the missions we serve, and strive the way we strive: in order to attain daily families like these.

   and that? well, that's something i can get behind. and that is what makes life most precious. having people like megan beth armknecht sailing through life with you. ahoy. be mine? maybe i can sell you with the transcript of one of our signature i like you poems.

i like you.

i like you more than i like anna akhmatova.

i like you more than i like dr.purves.

i like you more than i like russian lit.

i like you more than i like the whole russian department.

i like you more than i like fudgyrichperfectbrownies.

i like you more than i like hearing aids.

i like you more than i like literacy.

i like you more than i like the moon AND the sun.

i like you.

- - -

i like you more than sundeee walks. 

i like you more than spring. 

i like you more than twinkle lights, 

for all the light you bring.

i like you.

(because if you know me. you know.

for me to like anyone more than these things--

that's a whole lot of like.

more than like.

даже love.)

i love you, megan beth.

there never was a happier time.

i consider the summer i turned twenty to be the happiest time of my life so far.

and i dare say that summer will always remain near the top of that list.

there never was a happier time.

i've been thinking a lot lately about that summer.

when this place was my place, these people were my people.

that time when my entire existence consisted of a life of sweat, labor, and love.

my summer in romania. 

i've never been so satisfied, so fulfilled. a life of the purest simplicity and the purest of souls surrounding me. and there never was a happier time. never before have i been somewhere that i never wanted to leave, somewhere that--by the end especially--had become not only a home, but a lifestyle that i could have easily and happily lived forever.

because it's there i fell in love with that musty scent of old paint and incense and books so unique to the inside of old churches. the thrill of a language not native to you becoming your own. the odd, but wonderful thrill of sweat and hills to climb. the delight in walking everywhere and being in the city. (this is where the change began in me--when i began to be a citylovinggirl.) and much, much more.



most of all. that eastern european heart and soul, different even in some ways from those purely russian, and especially from western europe. because there's something different about these people in those places that no one else knows. everyone's heard of moscow, or at least the country of russia. everyone's heard of paris, london, and berlin. but what about românia, let alone iași? what about ukraine, let alone donetsk or kharkov?

what is it, you ask? what's different about them? that's just it. it can't be pinpointed to any one thing. but there's something in them that i came to understand. something in their history that lingers in every part of who they are, because it is a history that isn't so distant. a history of events barely older than me. a history that wasn't history, but a story lived. and in these people that most the world doesn't know or even care to know, there is the most profound beauty i've ever known.

i wish everyone could walk those streets and look into their eyes. see past their faces and into their hearts. not only those on the streets, but also become acquainted with those who were mine in section 2 and at the hospital. i wish you could see each of their faces, see them as i do. watch them as i say, hai la mine. я жду. i wait until the day i can call to them again. longing. for hills and endless stairs to climb, skin that's never been tanner, stuffy, sweaty rooms, eyes that have never been brighter, and perspective that's never been clearer. because all these things to me came as i threw myself into that which was my call--to the work in each day, which could be better described as full commitment to the souls that came my way each day. a predictable set in section 2, as well as the unpredictable passing ships in the hospital. those children i gave names to call them by, because they hadn't been given one. and so i chose one that seemed fitting, and this is who i know them as, even if they didn't stay long. there was an esmerelda and a felicity, an eliza and a robby. i wish that you could see them too. the babies, and those who are mine. i wish you could glimpse into even just a day with them--a glimpse into a day from the way things were that summer.

today marks three years since i opened my mission call to ukraine. three. ( i have a thing for the number three, you see. ) it probably seems odd that on a day such as this, i'm thinking and talking more about romania than ukraine--much, much more. there's a reason, though. these nations. these cities. these people. they are irreversibly connected in my mind, permanently connected in my life.



the thing about my call to ukraine, is this: my very first thought while reading that letter--after moving the envelope that was blocking that line down and seeing the capital U and then reading ukraine--my first thought? i'm going back to eastern europe! regardless of what else ever happens in my life, march seventh will forever be a day that i can look to in order to remember the tender mercies of god. a day that is direct evidence of the way god directs and guides a life--the way we are led and carried, directed exactly to where we need to be.

march seventh is the day that shows me god knows me. it shows me that this thing, this thing that started out as a feeling, and then grew into a hope. which then turned into a quiet thought, which then turned into a quiet word. (thanks, regina.) this hope of returning to eastern europe--perhaps romania, perhaps not. this love of a place because of the understanding i came to have of the depth of these souls. march seventh is the day that answered that prayer and yearning. march seventh is the day that shows me not only is god aware of us, but answers the desires of our hearts--those known and unknown. march seventh is the day that serves to say: 'oh hey, em. i've got your back, remember? there's a plan. just you wait and see. and this is the day i show you. this is the day you glimpse into the glory.'
[have we talked about this? when speaking to me, tatăl ceresc (heavenlyfather/romanian) most frequently addresses me as em. in a phrasing and intonation that is particularly tender and distinctive. weird? sorrynotsorry.]

because you don't just end up in romania or ukraine. they're not everyday places. and in those years especially, everything felt particularly guided. did you know that i made my way and ended up in romania because of not getting a job that i was about to get? a very good job that all indicators pointed to me being given. it was because of not getting that job that my entire schedule and plan was able to be adjusted. and suddenly i was going summer. and suddenly i had it all planned out to be going to romania a year later. which all started from not getting a job.

i found romania while looking at france. but france was geared more towards students in their first and second year of french courses, much less being offered for the level i was at. and i stumbled into romania and that's when my life truly changed. guided. because if it wasn't for not getting that job, i wouldn't have gone to romania. if i hadn't gone to romania, i'm almost certain i possibly wouldn't have gone on a mission. and had i not chosen to serve a mission, i wouldn't have ever gone to ukraine. and without these pieces, i'd be missing so much of who i am. because i was always meant to go to romania and ukraine. it was always a part of me, even when i didn't consciously realize it. it was still there. still waiting to be found. not that it wasn't there before, but that i couldn't quite see.



i don't mean to undermine ukraine and my experience there in any way. if anything, i hope this magnifies it. because they shared many similarities. at the core of which is what i learned of real, genuine love and faith. that said, there were differences too. in fact, that's something that was hard for me to grasp while in ukraine--the differences from the beauty of what romania had been. not necessarily in the people, but in the experience. because love and fulfillment came so easy in romania. the people were already there awaiting me. those babes of mine. but in ukraine, it was fewer and farther between. it took more faith and more trials of that love. and that. that's why i'll always love românia. because god is so good to me.



i consider myself by the end of my time in romania to be among the prettiest i've ever felt. because of that which was awakened in my soul. because of the color to my skin that came from europe and came from labor. because of the grime in my hair and the perfect ringlets that formed at the nape of my neck, particularly on extra sweaty days. because of the way my eyes were opened, and there i learned to truly see that which is most essential--which is to say, that which is invisible to the eyes. because there never was a happier time.



as mumford says so well, now my heart stumbles on things i don't know. to say life at this stage is marked by radical uncertainty is the greatest of all understatements. if you're wondering what the twilight of uncertainty looks like, this is it. i really don't know what the future will bring. i really don't know what's in store for my life or how it will come to be. but because of march seventh, i know it will be. i know it will be something grand and glorious, something specific to who i am and who i'm becoming.

because of march seventh, i can take another step.

one step enough for me.

it's time to begin, isn't it?