how they shine for you.

i've been thinking a lot about ukraine lately. about my ukraine, to be specific. (whendoinot?) but in actuality, it's because i've been home now longer than i served. one more time: i've been home now longer than i served. and the three year anniversary from the day i entered the mtc recently passed. and there's something about things like this that force you to think--reflection and pondering and a whole lot of thinking.

the hardest thing i ever loved: never enough while being too much.

may i show you of some loves from my ukraine?

not by any means an all-inclusive selection of my ukraine.

just a random collection taken mostly, though not completely, from two summers ago.

because there are so many things about that summer that were pivotal for me.

because in that summer, i found peace.

in the active verb kind of way.

because i chose to. because i almost had no choice but to do so.

because. i needed to find it.

how did i? i found it in chaos.

it was lack of control that allowed for clarity of vision.

because i was completely outside myself while being more aware than ever of my own heart.

and that's when i learned best: peace is a choice.

when so much may be spinning out of control, there can still be peace.

peace in doing what you know to be right anyway.

peace in following your heart--a heart seeking to become a heart like His.

a new heart also will i give you, and a new spirit will i put within you:

and i will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and i will give you an heart of flesh.

and i will put my spirit within you.

ezekiel 36:26-27.

it may not have always been pretty, but it was always beautiful.

like meeting this babushka and already recognizing her because megs had known her the summer before me.

or being there with my two obi daughters on a pleasant summer evening.

speaking of megs, how about our sasha? сашка наш.

meeting a formerKGBlooking man on our street corner, and finding our long lost uncle instead.

lessons and streets and history and laughs and protective concern.

a man who really listened, but sometimes couldn't listen.

who saw. who knew. because he's a good man. a very good soul.

speaking of sashka and goodness, we can't talk about him without mentioning this woman i love.

novels and novels i could write about tomara and our short piece of merged eternity.

this woman i love, i leave to god to order and provide.

because her heart is one of gold. she there for me and i there for her.

i met her at the beginning of my mission, and i told heavenly father that it would be okay--

were i to not have any other real loves the rest of my time in ukraine-- that tomara was enough.

toma is always enough.

speaking of having enough, what about вера who survived the holodomor?

(ukrainian famine in the 1930's also known as the "terror famine." a genocide.) 

более того, what about the beautiful legacy in her descendants--

in both ukraine and russia, among the strongest in faith?

the stories she'd tell us, or her son-in-law who said, моя семья - это моя радость. 

[my family is my joy.]

speaking of joy, what about the thrill of entering a lesson with вера,

and having all three of us know that we were changing it on the spot without ever communicating in words?

or that summer of being with sister hassard and sister andrade in general.

because together we learned and i came to know what it means to love and to serve in balance.

(and they taught me and i taught them how to take a chill pill.)

and to laugh. oh, how we laughed.

speaking of laughter, what about the lessons and dinners and gatherings and joy we shared with this family?

they were so good to megs and me. to everyone, they are so good.

so willingly giving of themselves. so patient with me and my newness.

speaking of patience, understanding, and love. how about хозяйка люба?

still loving us after calling and locked out of our apartment at 11 pm on american christmas.

if that isn't patience, i don't know what is.

to say nothing of how she cared for us, the family home evenings we had in her home,

and the way she so freely gave of herself. 

and while we're talking about freely giving of oneself, we must remember these women.

these sisters. the laughter and tears and love we shared.

what a place we were in back then. what a place, indeed.

speaking of those places, how about the day that megs finished her mission?

the blessing of getting to be her companions for some of her last hours in ukraine,

or the pouring rain that drenched us minutes before our first meeting with our new mission president.

great first impression, obviously.

speaking of firsts, there's the first time i met this other tamara.

(i'm telling you. there's something about that name.)

on a split with two new sisters, and having one of the most beautiful lessons of my mission.

going back to an area i adored despite being there only a short time,

and meeting a woman who so earnestly sought understanding.

and so we made metaphors and talked of trees and libraries. there we talked of real growth.

and while we're talking about real growth, what about my sister fin fin?

my youngest daughter as i finished my mission who trained the moment she finished being trained.

all the good conversations and all the grit we threw into reviving an area.

an area new to both of us on a street i knew too well.

with the mention of my last companion and the youngest daughter, how about my firstborn?

while all of my daughters were so different, it could say the same thing that means something different:

to all the good conversations and all the grit we threw into an area new to both of us.

learning to be human, learning love, and learning to learn.

with all that learning, let's mention this woman and her beautiful poetry.

she wrote a poem that she shared with us about three kinds of prayers that was strikingly beautiful.

and was part of an area that re-initiated me to my kharkov home.

in the vein of striking beauty, our лариса. who sold us perfume, has beautiful children,

and gave some of the most enlightening lessons to both me and my daughters.

in the lessons themselves, and because of the lessons themselves.

lessons, lessons, lessons. not only the official kind that get a tally in your key indicators.

singing with babushki on cold evenings in late autumn, or listening to them tell their stories.

learning the value of every story, the importance of love, and also of working like you've never worked.

because there's no number for miracles, and the most profound of experiences aren't always in formalities. 

all things in their proper order.

because while missionaries must have heart, they must also have mind.

because too much heart and not enough mind is just as dangerous as too much mind and not enough heart.

anyway. i've been thinking a lot about my ukraine lately.

about my people. about everything god gave me and taught me.

about having a place and purpose, and always belonging.

don't cry for me ukraina. i've been thinking of you.

украина, я тебя люблю.

[ukraine, i love you.]

to nourish and grieve.

i still remember the first time i studied the parable of the olive tree in russian. really studied it, i mean. because of course i'd read it and gone through parts. (and already studied it in english, obviously.) but then came a time when i went deeper.

it was in the autumn and i was in a threesome--my penultimate companionship. (when wasn't i, really? that's how it seems sometimes.) and in the process i kept having more and more of those moments to add to the already hundreds of times that i'd concluded, the gospel is truer in russian. maybe it's not, but it sure feels that way. i don't even know quite how to express the same thing in english.

что ещё мог[ла] я сделать для виноградника своего? i find myself asking this a lot--what could i have done more for my vineyard? he asks twice. first in verse forty-one, then in forty-nine. what more could i have done? is there more? i don't just ask it in regards to my mission, though i think everyone does that too. in life. is there more i should have done or should be doing? it's a frequent perpetual wonder. especially when in limbo. or when applying to graduate school. or. anytime, really.

the lord of the vineyard, though. he doesn't just ask. he works and works and works again. because life ultimately comes down to nourishment. what do we choose to nourish? how do we choose to nourish? where do we nourish? who do we nourish?

i think the beautiful thing about jacob 5 is the manner in which the lord of the vineyard nourishes. he always is carrying hope, all the day long.
11. чтобы я, быть может, мог сохранить его корни.
[that perhaps i might preserve the roots thereof.]
20. я так долго удобрял её, и она принесла много плода.
[this long time have i nourished it, and it hath brought forth much fruit.]

over and over again he says these things. that perhaps i might. this long time he nourishes. with a maybe and a might. and you know what else he keeps saying? горько мне потерять это дерево.

eight times, he says, it grieveth me.

7. it grieveth me that i should lose this tree. 
11. it grieveth me that i should lose this tree. 
13. it grieveth me that i should lose this tree and the fruit thereof.
32. it grieveth me that i should lose this tree.
46. it grieveth me that i should lose them.
47. it grieveth me that i should hew down all the trees of my vineyard, and cast them into the fire that they should be burned.
51. it grieveth me that i should lose the trees of my vineyard.
66. it grieveth me that i should lose the trees of my vineyard.

i don't know about you, but i'd say that's a lot of grief. in russian, though, it's phrased like this. горько мне (gorko mne). here are just a few of the potential translations: to me it is bitter. it pains and distresses me. it makes me sick at heart. i am grieved. because горе (gore) carries more than a one-word translation of grief. it can describe grief. woe. sorrow. misfortune. distress. trouble. broken heart.  and that carries so much more richness of meaning than just grief, don't you think? because to lose anyone at all is distressing.

and you know what else? he doesn't clear the bad until the very last possible moment. at the seventh declaration of grief, he says i will spare it a little longer, for it grieveth me. because he wants us all to grow. he wants so that we were all preserved. over and over he nourishes some more, never casting off until the very last possible moment when he absolutely has to do so. and even then, it is only because he must clear away the bad for the good to be able to grow.

furthermore, from jacob five на русском i also learned this. there are those who will not bring forth fruit, despite the labor given to their nourishment. be not weary of good works. agency means that some fruits never blossom--by their own choice. that doesn't mean the nourishment, labor, and love was for nothing. sometimes that just happens. despite the effort. regardless of the effort. notwithstanding all our labor (32), notwithstanding all the care (46). and these statements of loss, are followed directly with the grief to be losing. the labor is not rendered futile in the lack of fruition. it's just that sometimes--notwithstanding--that's all you can do. чтобы в последний раз все были снова удобрены (63). and in english, this is translated as, that all may be nourished once again for the last time. but when i read it in russian, it sounds more like, so that in the end, all were nourished again.

and yet. he keeps trying. keeps nourishing. keeps planting and moving the branches.
even when he knows the notwithstanding is coming.
he keeps trying, that perhaps he might.

and this? this is love and mercy in its purest form.

this lesson that began in saltovka, and never really ends.
the nourishing and the grieving any loss of that which we cherish.
notwithstanding--justice, love, and mercy keep on meeting.
as they should, wouldn't you say?

choosing.

the thing about a mission is that you choose. anyone should be sure that it's a choice of their own, but especially as a sister. there's no obligation whatsoever to serve full-time. in fact, when i made my choice, there were plenty choosing not to go.

the thing about a mission, though, is that also at some point--usually at the beginning--that choice made as a statement turns into a question. i chose this? because when you make the choice, you don't know. no one can see into the future. you make a choice based on a visualization that you create in your head that was made according to that which you attempted to predict. which, of course, is normal and good and right. i'm a firm believer in the power of visualization as a means to guide your desires and direct your choices. but then you get in there, and as you ought to expect, you encounter the unexpected and unimagined possibilities that are now reality and you say with a hint of betrayal, disbelief, and possibly disappointment all rolled into one: i chose this?

missions are an odd sort of alternate universe that highlight and force simplicity and minimalism in every aspect of who you are and what you do, because you're called out of the world with a singular purpose. and the effective fulfillment of that purpose requires picking everything apart and simplifying to the core basics of what you believe and the doctrinal foundations that guide your life. and in such an experience--choosing a mission and entering the field--the discrepancy between expected and reality is quite pronounced.

i'm not here to talk about missions, though. (feel free to lament that it took me three paragraphs to get here.) because while all of this is true, and i myself experienced it and lived to tell the tale (and, by choice, to not tell many a tale), i've been surprised at how much i now see the same experience hidden in far more places than anticipated. it was always there, of course. but not until now does it have a name and face like this each and every time.

the discrepancy between the visualized expectation and reality. everyone is guilty at some point or another of creating a prospective image of the future with details that are more than fuzzy--even when you know you shouldn't. perhaps especially when you know you shouldn't. because that's what it means to try to imagine the life you have ahead of you. because if only you could just see ahead--to imagine the first day of a new school semester or year as a whole, to imagine a career role in twenty years, to imagine an internship or job placement, to imagine a future spouse or family. there's power in that dreaming and visualization. because i believe in that searching for an image we create, we find which strokes of the paintbrush we couldn't manage without in addition to those that aren't so necessary as we once thought. and because in the formation of these choices, we allow ourselves to believe that brighter things really are ahead and it will all result in something glorious. those creations give something to believe in.

but what about that discrepancy from the image we've so painstakingly drawn? even when the picture is made with allowances for life's realities, it's still just a picture we've made. but. that picture. inside that picture are strokes of the heart of our desires. after you make a choice, and perhaps as part of making that choice, you design the idea--an image of what you want it to look like.

what do you want? the heart wants what the heart wants. what do you want?

Desires dictate our priorities, priorities shape our choices, and choices determine our actions.

The desires we act on determine our changing, our achieving, and our becoming.

Dallin H. Oaks, Desire.

and this is why we dream. our dreams are desires. our desires guide our choices. but. there's a difference between capital d Desires and lowercase d desires. what we want most (capital d) in comparison with something we think we want (lowercase d)--when in fact there's something ahead far better suited to our own personal interests, needs, and capabilities.



one of my jobs this summer is in a niche of this field that i always thought i wanted to specialize in and study in depth. in fact, i'd nearly planned on it, and nearly applied to a few other graduate schools because of an available specialty. if not that, then i'd find opportunity to work to further study and specialize in it once out working. because i'm good with puzzles and finding answers for what makes people tick. and. well. it's a passion of mine, really. and most of my experience revolves around this. (when i was in israel, there was a woman who was given a free pass by me for anything because even in israel, while it was still april she wore an autism speaks pin on her shirt every day. i'm not even a little bit exaggerating: free pass in my book.) and i love it. autism is fascinating to me, maybe because it is such a mystery and each individual is a different puzzle piece. there's so much we don't know, but also so much that we do. anyway. i'll save my autism obsession and observations for another lump of words. the point is, i love it. i love the individuals i've worked with who have autism, i love the individuals i've worked with in working with those who have autism. it's a beautiful, often indescribable, rewarding experience.

however. there are moments when in my head i say, with a hint of chagrined disbelief: i chose this? 

despite my love for it. despite my interest. despite my passion. despite my previous experience. despite all these stars that have aligned to bring me here. despite all that--this summer is showing me what i don't want to do with the rest of my life, not what i do. it's showing me what i love about speech-language pathology specifically rather than behavioral therapy.

and there's a place for that. there's something laudable in that. there's value in having this experience, and in the hilarious, darling, as well as draining moments that fill a day. (sometimes all within the same 10 second period.) and yet. there's something vexing about it too. i chose this?

because it's not what i expected it would be, even if i did choose this and it chose me. rather, it's not so much that it's not what i expected, because i have enough experience to know the face this work wears. what i didn't expect is how i feel about it now. what about that discrepancy of finding that it's not what i necessarily want to, or should, specialize in forever?

the answer to it all is that it all comes back to capital d Desires compared to lowercase d desires. and i have capital d Desires that matter most. and those lower case d's--well, those are only given placement when they allow for attainment of a capital d. and the capital d will always supersede lowercase d, even when we don't know why a lowercase d has to go--we just know that it does.

and this. this is the educating of desires. in choosing and living the image you've created, including the unexpected and unanticipated. because that's what it means to educate your desires--to come to know them and the faces they wear in every kind of light, in both the portrait you paint and the portrait that results. because in the education thereof, some lowercase d's are ultimately sent into extinction, and others rewarded a tenured position next to a capital d.

The Spirit of Christ teaches us that we must pray, that we must ask for the things that we seek. (...) But before we can do this with focus, we have to become aware of a multitude of defined or undefined, conscious or subconscious desires. We have to learn to bring them to our awareness, to analyze them, to categorize them, and to bring them in to order according to priorities. When we do not do this, we will be condemned to remain, in our prayers, on a superficial level, or even on the level of formality, where there are no answers or there are only imagined answers. But there are always hundreds of different desires fighting for supremacy within us. The act of categorizing them is a very painful, but needful act to become, in the eyes of God, a mature person and to be taken seriously. (...) When the Light of Christ is able to penetrate our hearts, prompted by the enlightened testimony of truth by a focused teacher, it will cause in us a state of awakening, an awakening of the real me, the child of God, so that we can learn to channel our desires to focus on our true needs.

F. Enzio Busche, Unleashing the Dormant Spirit.

paint that picture in colors or words. write them down. by all means, write them down. because the process of giving a color and shape to desires is in itself illuminating. it gives something to believe in. because before we start the education, we surely need to know what we're educating.

this is where desires fit inside our agency--in that choice of the desires we educate. because that is the true gift of agency: to use those desires and priorities as tools in making choices. because choices are personal and meaningful and important and it is the choices we make that our lives are created. and desire? well, desire is at the heart of absolutely everything. no wonder they always say, the desires of our hearts. the heart wants what the heart wants.

and when what you want turns out to not be what you thought you wanted? don't be dismayed. there's always another lowercase d waiting on standby. always.

what do you truly want?

вот это--желание наших сердец.

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.

i've searched high and low.

two weeks ago (one representation of how behind i am on everything in life) the parkinsons came into town for hannah's birthday. those hales cousins, you see. and so grandma invited me to join with them at dinner to celebrate. ^^then had ice cream. (because what's a birthday without ice cream?)

it's been a month now since that night.

(the day i fully process the past three years of my life will be a miracle.)

but i'm still going to write about it anyway.

because it was meaningful. because it changed my perspective.

we sat and talked, and somewhere in the midst of hearing about them, and the missionary twins, and everything else, it really hit me: two months isn't that long. and from that moment, there were two months until the end of the semester. (two months until israel!) and now, just one until i'm done with my undergraduate career. and for the first time this semester, that night i finally started to feel that two months would go by fast. let me be the first to tell you one month later--it is. it's filled and flying.

after ice cream, we all went back to grandma's where my car had remained, and there we all talked for a little bit before i parted ways with them. and here my perspective changed again.

karen and grandma both started to talk of their college and after-college years. the years that preceded marriage and the years directly following marriage. they talked of their own experience and the way things came to be. karen told a story of someone she had dated and left thinking, i could probably like him. i could make that work. but then soon after, when dating mark (her husband, my uncle), she realized that she just did. she didn't have to think about it. she just liked him without having to think about liking him. it worked.

this is the thing. i've thought that before too. i could probably like him. i could make that work. and something about hearing that someone else has thought that too--well that meant something. you can think that, and you can let it go, and eventually him comes--a him that you don't have to think about it with--that you just like them. and then i knew. when it comes, i'll know. because i won't have to think myself into it.

the grandest thing of all, was something like this. seeing the universality of human experience and an enlarged perspective of families. the way these relatives of mine went through all these same experiences, though the details themselves were different. twenty plus years ago, they lived these years too. and here they are now looking back, seeing the way it all works out. seeing the way it worked out so perfectly, filled with love and light and goodness. filled in a way so perfect, anything else is unimaginable.

and now they're a part of my beautiful extended family, with a delightfully prosaic and snarkily charming family of their own. beautifully real relationships. because that's what it's really like as life comes to be, as life finally works out. it just is.

and back in february, i was struggling to see that.

struggling to see anything ever moving forward.

struggling to see how life ever falls together.

but now i know.

it always does.

i can't tell if each part is near or far.

i don't know all the when's or how's or who's.

i only know some.

but i know enough to know--it's there.

even now, just one month later.

my life. the destiny of my life.

all is falling together, and all will fall together.

it always is.

i've searched high and low. 

and the lost is being found.

hold onto hope.

because hope is always (eventually) filled.

if nothing else, given an answer of some kind.

filled with perspective.

because two months really isn't that long.

and neither is one.

( 31 days 

until my finals are through.

but who's counting? )

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?

til my soul is in flight.

from the mountains down to the sea.

i get lost in my mind.

can i tell you about today?

i don't know who you are.

but i need to tell you anyway.

// i love talking about hearing aids and i think they're the most interesting thing in the world lately.

// at work today, i got to take a russian call for front desk. because the other russian speaker at front desk was already gone for the day. (sorry, joel.) so i got to talk to the most pleasant russian man about his son's course. спасибо, Эмили. спасибо вам большое. << those are the words i treasure. and therefore this part of the day alone put me on cloud nine. also, i love middle-aged russian men from ukraine. like this one i chittered with today. because. because this is why. this is the answer.

// after that call i had the moment. the moment that told me, this is why i'm still studying russian and why i learned it in the first place. so that i may communicate. so that i can talk to people like him. so that i get to have experiences like this. i do it for this. << that is the answer.

// pushkin. just. aleksandr sergeevich pushkin. i don't even know where to begin. he just. he gets it. the beauty of what it is to be human. i realize that he and lev nikolaevich tolstoi are both long since dead. but i actually want to be best friends with both of them.

// that table outside the library and jfsb that i spent summer 2010 studying on. i still sit there to read sometimes, while the weather's still nice. and today i did. me, the sun, the shade, and some reading about aphasia. (^^the previous two photos to this point are from that time. and apparently i used to wear jeans.)

 

 // georgie face sharing the beautiful music he's made with me. byumintbrownies, postits, and chitterchatting.

 // we finally have a fan in our apartment. the ac doesn't work and it's been like hades for us on the third floor. firstworldprobs, we know.

// to be wonderstruck. encounters and observationists. feeling winds of movement. of change. loverly.

// making frozen chocolate covered banana pieces with megan beth. (yes, they're real real good.)

(this is actually my favorite photo of all time of meganbeth. it epitomizes her.

the dreaming eyes, the wild hair, the arms wide open,

the legs in motion, but also firmly planted. all in autumn.)

// that golden almost-autumn sunshine that lasted all the day long. the wind that makes your hair tangle and flows through your fingers, breathing life into your heart and soul. breathing perspective. i listen to the wind, to the wind on my soul. because this time of year always makes me think of хтз, megan, and especially our саша and томара.

// megan beth and i. we took a sister drive. driving through fresh and clear mountain air. with all the windows down, the sun roof open. because this is what is needed. it is good for the lungs, the head, the heart, the soul. fresh air, changing leaves, and sunshine. and it is in fact, one of the best decisions we've ever made. hippieish mountain music and all. provo canyon is my favorite. because sometimes your soul just needs to breathe. and there's something about the mountains that makes a person feel whole.

// as we were parking, we passed by a girl in our ward who is mutual friends with spencie spence elder sunshine and had just seen him. he works at the creamery. so we spontaneously went to visit him and got ice cream too. and. he loves me. i love him. we have the weirdest most darling relationship of sister mother brother son siblings, who also share cold mountain. sometimes i forget how much i love. i forget how much those connections mean. also. raspberry lemonade ice cream? crowd favorite.

because god really is good.

and somehow, someway, everything really does work out.

let me run through a field in the night, let me lift from the ground till my soul is in flight.

and i'll start to soar.

this is what mother and daughter look like.

(almost two years after meeting one another for the first time--in this life, anyway.)

so yeah, maybe we (especially me) have severe crow's feet at the age of twenty-three.

but.

all of these lines across our faces tell you the story of who we are.

we all have a story to tell.

and it's worth every line.

song of the day: flight, sutton foster & megan mcginnis