Outward Expressions of Inward Commitments

While serving my mission, the line from the sacrament prayer which says,

"and witness unto thee, O God, the Eternal Father, that they are willing to take upon them the name of thy Son, and always remember him, and keep his commandments which he hath given them..."

suddenly had a deeper meaning for me. Though I had heard the prayer literally hundreds of times already, the meaning of it finally begin to sink in.

I began to realize that the act of taking the sacrament every week was telling Heavenly Father that I was willing to take Christ's name upon me, and live in accordance with His commandments. As a result, in the silence of the sacrament meeting, I now often find my thoughts turning to the past week and asking myself, did I follow the commandments? Did I read my scriptures? Did I pray? Was I kind? etc. Sometimes I feel my week went well, sometimes not. But either way, I then find myself reflecting on the upcoming week. What do I need to change? How can I do better? Are there things I need to be more cognizant of?

Today, during the sacrament, I bowed my head and closed my eyes as I privately reflected. I silently asked the Lord to help me that my life can conform to His will and to let me know of the things that I am not aware of that I need to change. My stream of consciousness ran from a reflection on the difference between Heavenly Father's mode of operation, which teaches us of His way, and then allows us to choose for ourselves which path we will choose...to what a contrast this is to the power and control behavior evidenced by abusive people...that pattern of behavior strives to compel others to conform with their will, and it often takes away the choice of others...I love the Lord's way, although often I wonder, given how important it is that we are good in this life, that he is not just a bit more compelling...but I recognize that even righteous ends via unrighteous means, are still not righteous...

I was somewhat startled out of my thoughts by the loud voice of a speaker marking the end of the administration of the sacrament. I opened my eyes to see two little, twin African-American boys, peering over the top of their bench at me. They then turned around, consulted one another, and both folded their arms, closed their eyes, and fervently bowed their heads in the same manner I had been. I was trying not to laugh when I realized they were copying me.

I suppose I shouldn't have been too surprised at the high counselman's announcement that the topic of his talk was on how our covenants are an outward symbol of our inward commitments.

My Evening with Max

We walked in hand and hand, Max and I. There were no strange looks, or hushed whispers.

"I warned them before you came." Jason told me amid the din of the restaurant. "I told them that you'd moved in with a guy, and you were bringing him with you."

"Thank you." I replied. It spares the awkwardness.

Later that night Paul (my ex-fiancee) told me, "When Jason told me, I couldn't believe it. I mean, it was only three weeks ago when we went out to ice cream, and you never mentioned anything about it."

Well, it is true, in case you haven't already heard. I moved recently and Max is one of my new roommates. These blurry pictures gives you a vague picture of what our abode looks like.



One half of the living room.



Suz and I in the dining room enjoying cucumber water and a Mexican dinner.

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My car was idling at a red light as we were on our way to Jason's birthday party when someone honked.

"What is going on?" Max piped in from his car seat in the back.

"I don't know." I replied honestly.

"I was not asking you." Max informed me in a matter-of-fact manner. "I was talking to myself." As if asking yourself a question out loud were the most normal thing ever...

----

We pulled up to Annie's apartment building. Max is immediately mesmorized by the water fountain.

"This is Anne's place." I explained to Max.

"Wow, she has a really big house." Max exclaimed.

"Oh, Max, this is an apartment building." I clarified.

"What is that?" He asked, because he lives in a house, and has always lived in a house.

"Well, everyone lives in different sections of the building." This was an utterly new concept to Max. I could see him trying to wrap his head around it.

On the way home, Max asked me all about words that only have three letters, because those are easy to spell, or so he says. Then he wanted to know how to spell transformers.

When I parked my car in front of our house, I took his hand to cross the street. His tiny hand grabbed mine, and the other clutched his precious, new transformer.

Me n' Max

(Please don't mistake the bright pink apron as a sign that I can cook now; I still can't.)

Studette of the Month - June 2009

First of all, we call her K.L.E.B., short for 'Kristi Loves Everybody'. And she does.

There are some friends in life that are such a part of your existence, that you have to wonder if you are friends just because life put you together.

Kristi and I decided we were best friends when we were Sunbeams in Primary; we were three years old. It only made sense right? We lived in the same city only minutes from each other. We went to the same church. We are both the oldest girls in our family. Our two little sisters are exactly the same age. We worked at the same place in high school. We attended the same seminary. We attended the same proms. We shared the same friends. We were in the same gym class. We are both equally uncoordinated.

With so much commonality, I used to wonder if we were just situational friends.

But she loves Disney, boardgames, Boston and 'The Boys'. She loves pop-culture, shopping, penguins, Princess Dianna, and scrap booking. I love literature, architecture, the outdoors, camping, world travel, and running. Her blog is dedicated to Disney, mine is dedicated to deep, ponderous thoughts.

But situational friendships don't last 30 years.

Situational friends forget you once the situation ends. Kristi called me every week my first year of college...EVERY WEEK, pre-cellphone era, on her own accord, when we had to pay dearly for long distance. She remembers my birthday every year, even though I haven't been home for a birthday since I was 17. She used to send me care packages from New Hampshire containing pieces of New Hampshire that I might be missing (like a sand dollar...because she knew I missed the beach). She was at the airport when I came home from my mission AND she wrote me while I was gone. A visit home necessarily includes a visit with Kristi; there has never been an exception. Because that would defy the unspoken K.L.E.B. code. She has forgiven me for my stupid humanness repeatedly (keep in mind that we were friends through junior high and high school) because of her K.L.E.B. nature. She has seen all my vices and loves me anyway. She gives without the expectation of return.

I used to think that K.L.E.B.'s were normal and could be discovered in abundance. But I've discovered that a true K.L.E.B. is a rarity. I am grateful that I got one...my very own K.L.E.B.

Even Though

Life is beautiful. I believe that. I believe that even though I don't have air conditioning in 90 degree weather. I believed that when I was spending 12 hour days studying for the bar. I believe that even though...even though there are a lot of even though's in my life.

Tonight my housemate comments, "Chantal, for the last two nights I have heard the voice of a man. He calls my name."

I begin to freak out. "What? From outside the window? A man is calling your name from outside the window!!"

"No, inside the house. He calls my name."

I should interject here that my roommate speaks much better English than I speak Spanish, but there is still a significant language barrier. I should also point out that her room is RIGHT ACROSS THE HALL FROM ME.

Resuming the story: I continue freaking out. "You hear the audible voice of a man, inside our house, at night, calling your name?!"

She begins to see that I am not understanding fully what she is trying to express. Her voice becomes hushed.

"No, it is not like that. I feel good. It is a voice and he tells me that he is aware of me, and he is watching over me. I feel so good after, so peaceful that I can sleep the rest of the night."

Sleeping at all is somewhat of a miracle in this 90 degree weather, but slowly I begin to understand the full import what she is saying. He knows her by name. He is watching over her. He has not forgotten her, even though...even though there are a lot of even though's right now.

A Tribute to Men and Boys on Fathers' Day

Normally on Father's Day I would talk about my dad, but I did that last year. If you want to read it see here. Instead, I would like to express my appreciation to guys in general.

In my life, guys have always been somewhere in the picture. I was born between two brothers, and I loved it. I LOVE my sisters, but I was so glad to grow up with the boys. We didn't sit around fussing about our hair and shopping, we played. I grew to appreciate early on the playfulness of guys, thanks to my brothers. We made forts with the furniture, went sledding in crazy places, built towers in the back yard and explored the woods. My high school years were spent hiking, canoeing, running, cross country skiing and rollerblading thanks to my brothers and guy friends.

I love the way guys always skip rocks by the water. I love the way old men always have to crack a joke. I love the sense of adventure that isn't matched in us female counterparts.

I love helpfulness in guys. To my dad who supported me when I was training for a marathon by biking behind me for 14 MILES, VOLUNTARILY so he could give me water and whatever else I needed while I was running. To my little brother who never thought twice when it came to helping me scrub my car our after long road trips. To my older brother who drove hours just so he could spend a few hours with me when I was home one year. To the countless guy friends who have helped me move over the years, or patch my roof, put up dry wall, put trim up, replace car tires, or fix a shattered car window.

I love being a woman. I do. But I am grateful for men, all of the men who have added so greatly to the quality of my life. Thank you for your playfulness, humor, responsibility, help and friendship.

Some Sisters....Some Dancing....

Studette of the Month - May 2009

Mom, Colette and Ginette outside the Boston Temple

Of course, this month's Studette of the Month is my mother, although it comes a little late. A few things:

(1) I love, and have always loved talking to my mom. She is a good conversationalist, and even as a little girl, I enjoyed conversing with her.

(2) Mom is a woman of great depth. She understands things to a deeper level than I do, and I have learned to trust her judgment and viewpoints.

(3) She is a woman of great virtue. I have really never met anyone as virtuous as my mother. Ever. I am quite certain that I never will.

(4) My mother adores my dad, and genuinely loves and respects him. I always enjoyed being the child of two parents who genuinely love each other. And I especially loved having a mother who respected my father. I never grew up hearing disparaging things about men, which I greatly appreciated.

(5) My mother is unusually genuine. There are no false pretenses with mom, in any way. She is incredibly honest. If there was any error in her honesty, it would only be tempered by her humility. If anything, she puts her worst foot forward. She does not substitute appearances for what really is. I have grown to love this more, and more, and more with life experience. She is as real as they come. On the flip side, she appreciates genuineness from others.

(6) My mother is incredibly good. I could always feel this growing up. I think we all could. She is just a very good spirit. Though she is not flashy, or trendy, or brilliant, she is exceptionally good.

(7) Mom is confident. Mom has a quiet confidence that is utterly refreshing. She was never really prone to self-esteem issues. I think part of this is that being as good as she is, deep down she has confidence in this. Though she was painfully shy as a child, she always believed that when people would get to know her, that they would love her. I would wish this confidence on the whole world.

(8) Mom is intelligent and wise. She always insisted that we talk like we are educated. There was to be no use of the word "ma" or "ain't" or improper grammar. She still corrects my English. Mom reads a lot of books, which means that her critical thinking skills are well developed. I love going home and seeing which books she has been reading lately. Depending on the review she gives, I steal them till I've finished them, and she does the same for me.

(9) Mom walks the walk. There is NOTHING hypocritical about my mother. She doesn't expect anything of anyone that she doesn't do herself. If she expects you to be honest, she is. If she expects you to be a quiet giver, she is. If she expects you to exercise from the age 40 on, she does. Her integrity is among the very best I've ever seen.

(10) She is happy. Mom always used to say, "Chantal, if you are good, you will miss out on some of the fun. You will. But you will find that you will be happy." I have found that she was right, and that happiness is wholesome, and priceless.

Psalms 31:10-31