Hope's Bright Flame

    I made a very dear and eternal friend in Maine, who taught me many precious things, and continues to impact how I think, feel, and view my challenges. He has and is experiencing pain and trials incomprehensible to a spoiled princess like me. Despite trying to do the right thing, he had almost all that he loved,worked for, and cared about... stripped from him by the selfish pursuits of the person who was supposed to be his most loyal allay. He is haunted and mocked daily by this loss and betrayal. Yet, he has taken that bitter cup without bitterness but has accepted it with astounding grace, humility, and obedience. 

     By today's societal norms, he would be validated and even commended for any hate and revenge... but I have seen in him the application of Christ's teaching, "pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you". I have been deeply touched to see how he worries over and even prays for his transgressor. I wonder if I would/could do the same if it were me. 

    His endurance and capacity to see things so black and white- yes... to still even see the white- the truth, the good, and God's love and mercy untainted by bitterness and pain... Astounds me. I was struggling to move forward with faith and courage in certain aspects of my life... and here is one with much greater reason for doubt and hesitation and yet is pressing forward with surety and humility. He showed me what it is  to have "steadfast faith in Christ." He shared his yoke with Christ... and because he has continued to move forward... he is able to lift others and pointing them towards Christ- I being one of them. I experienced this in my own moment of languish. I am grateful for this preservering angel sent to me at the right time. This is a real man.

    As I face my own unique challenges... can I... with far lesser trials, excuses, and obstacles... be a real woman? Will I exercise such steadfastness in Christ? 

Lessons learned in Halifax

    My Guatamalan mission president told once shared with us a story that embelished the examples I saw in the people of El Salvador and Belize... sobering me to a greater understanding and appreciation for the temple.

 

      He said that for most of his childhood, his parents slept on the floor. When he was old enough to recognize that this wasn't normal, he asked his mom why. It was then that she told him that years before they had sold their bed to pay for their trip to the temple in Mexico so that their newly converted family could be sealed in the temple for all eternity.

 

     I also met one of the first families to be baptized into the church in El Salvador that traveled to Arizona (which was the closest temple that existed in those days) to be sealed in the temple. This was a huge trip... and an unfathomable and seemingly impossible expense to this young and poor family with many children. I remember being deeply touched and impacted as they related to me that they sold their home and almost all of their possessions in order to pay for this trip.

 

      It was stories like this that made everything I had learned throughout my life- CLICK. To these people... there was no sacrifice too great, no price too steep, or suffering too extreme to outweigh the eternal promises of the temple. They truly saw the bigger picture- they had vision set on eternity. They saw their temporal "sacrifices" as just that- temporal! These decisions, sacrifices, voyages, and covenants were made years ago... and I could see with my own eyes and feel to my core... that they and their families had been deeply and eternally blessed. They and their children, and their grandchildren... were reaping the eternal blessings the Lord had been pouring upon them since their decisions to forsake ALL and follow Him- to the temple.

 

    I saw the saints of El Salvador and Belize saving their pennies throughout the year to be able to pay for their big trip to Guatamala City- a long, expensive, inconvenient, and dangerous trip that took up to 16 hours. They didn't see all this as any huge "sacrifice"...but did it all with hearts bursting with gratitud for the opportunity to enter the Lord's house. It was like President Hinckley said,

 

 “You are making a sacrifice, but it is not a sacrifice because you will get more than you give up, you will gain more than you give, and it will prove to be an investment with tremendous returns. It will prove to be a blessing instead of a sacrifice. "

 

 I will never forget watching the tears of joy they shed upon their return from their arduous journey. I also could not deny the difference I saw in those saints that made these "sacrifices"- their resulting strength, joy, comfort, and light. I have always pinned to be like them.

 

    Yet... I have always lived with a temple nearly in my backyard. No "sacrifice" needed to get there! I thought it was a top priority for me... but then I moved here. The temple is only 7 hours away in Halifax and Boston... but for some reason... it seemed forever away... and amongst all that I become involved with here... it became a more and more lofty goal. Yet... I feel that I have been even more blessed for efforts required to attend the temple while here.

    In June, I was feeling terribly "homesick" for the temple. I was very isolated here... but those "heart throbs" were not from lonliness... but from a deeper pinning for the peace found only in the temple. SO.. I set out to go to Halifax! Not feeling a need to pay to stay in a hotel... I opted to stay in a hostel! I had stayed in hostels in Central America... and they always suprised me for being clean with a respectful atmosphere amongst international travelers. I expected no less in Canada! At almost midnight, I followed my GPS and turned onto the road that had my hostel...and was initially taken back by what I found. The streets were dark but full of colorful and exciting people in the most elaborate apparel. From the music, to the smell, to the elicit drug inspired murals... I was getting the sense that this was no where I wanted my grandma to see me in. Yet... I felt at peace. I pulled up to my hostel... and couldn't help but laugh- what was I doing here? Yet... I felt peace. I finally found someone to open the door for me and was given a tour of the musty bathroom, simple bunkbeds, and rundown design of the hostel. My roommate seemed nice enough, and I continued to be confused as to why my Spirit was so comfortable when my brain was in a frenzy. I flipped a mental coin and the Spirit won. I parked my car and was bringing my bag out when my roommate was already waiting for me outside and kindly grabbed my bag and started up the stairs. He turned back only to eagerly say, "Listen! I have got such a surprise for you! We're gonna have so much fun tonight!!"... and all I could say was, "oh... umm... ok! I love surprises?"...but my brain started reeling trying to prepare for whatever it would be. When we got to the room... he was excited to thrust a hug jug of beer in my hand and wave a marijuana joint in my face and say, "Check it out! I got this from some Ozzie that was heading out and couldn't take it on the plane!" YA!" and as I tried to start formulating my tactiful response... he asked, "so... what brings you to Halifax?" ... and I lost it. The irony of it nearly caused me to wet my pants. All I could squeak out was... "I'm... here... to... go to the... Mormon temple!" ... and even through my tear- filled eyes... I could see a genuine kindness and goodness radiating out of this stranger who was so kind to offer to share with me his favorite things. I then explained a little bit about who I was, and he was instantly accepting and ok with my soft rejection. He wanted me to at least talk with him outside while he smoked his joint... and I (after learning in the past how sensitive I am to second hand) asked him to do so AFTER I went to sleep.

     He was hungry and I was nervous about him traversing those "dynamic" streets outside alone... so I went with him to get the Canadian special, "Putine" (french fries drowning with gravy and drentched with cheese curds) that he was determined that I try while in Canada. I found myself picking at this new dish while sitting crosslegged on a dirty and tired floor of a deteriorating hostel in Halifax, Canada with a new and slightly tipsy friend... and I felt so good about it. As we were eating... our conversation magically warfed into a beautiful, sincere, honest, soulful, spiritual, and inspiried dialogue. He shared with me his incredible journey through drug addiction, drug dealing, jail, getting married, having a child, and his desire to do better. We talked about who we are children of God, what our purpose is in life, and how to change and obtain happiness. This dingy room became so filled with light and joy... even I was taken back at the transformation. At the end of 3 hours, my new friend stopped and said, "woah. I've been getting goosebumps... and feel something... something... awesome. I've never talked like this before... and never felt like this before!!" he then looked at his roll of a marijuana and said, "nothing and no one has ever stopped me from smoking before... but how I feel right now... I don't even want it. This is.. amazing."

   This man had told me some dark and intense parts of his past and his soul...and yet during those hours... I had caught a beautiful glimpse of the way God sees him- who he really is and who he can become. I was filled with gratitud for the Spirit telling me to stay. I thought about where Christ walked... and who He spent time with... and was so glad that I had stayed in that hostel... and despite the lingering stench of beer and pot, the colorful language accidentally spewing from my companion, and the blaring music from the rainbow bar across the street... I felt prepared to go to the temple.

Joe and I are still friends, and I know he reads this blog. He was moved to start his own- and he has continued to teach and touch me.

 http://joef259.blogspot.ca/2014/07/i-remember-when-i-was-15-man-once-said.html?m=1

     When I walked into the temple that following June morning... all I could say in response to the worker's warm greetings was, " I. am. home."

 

 

    This last weekend I had made plans long before full of seizing my last opportunities to hike in Maine and relish the outdoor luxuries I have here. When my friend Brandi, who was baptized 2 weeks ago, came up to be excitedly and told me about the Halifax temple trip...I hesitated. I started thinking about how I was going to D.C. in a week, and then to Salt Lake... where the temple would be so close and readily available without the extra burden of traveling 12 hours and "losing" a whole day. As I looked into her eager eyes and prepared my lame explanation of why I wasn't going... I was struck by the Spirit and heard myself saying, "ya girl! Of course!". Upon further assessment... I came to the acceptance that I couldn't miss Brandi's first time in the temple!

     I am so glad I didn't miss this trip. It was probably equally good for me as it was for Brandi. We met up with a canadian branch on the other side of the border at 2am and got to the temple at 9am. I watched these members- from the barely walking elderly to exhausted mothers loading on their 6 sleepy kids... I marveled at how I could find getting myself there remotely "inconvenient". I'm a night nurse- I'm nocturnal- I'm used to being awake at 2am... but for the rest of the saints- this was probably a really hard thing! - and they probably do it regularly- all to go to the temple. As we prayed together, the Spirit was so sweet. I didn't know these Candian members, but we were all united in heart and purpose... and it was tangible.

     I was especially blessed to be present for the O'connell's sealing ceremony. They're a family that was baptized a little over a year ago. Emma is in my sunday school and I goat sat for them...and have watched their excitment over the gospel throughout my months here at church. Watching this family in white and make such sacred promises from God... and receive the greatest and unfathomable promises from God...was a truly Celestial experience. Why was I ever tempted to miss this!?!?! Sitting on the bus on the way back and watching the sleeping faces of these faithful saints... I considered myself the most blessed to be with them. I am so grateful to have partipated in a real temple pilgrimage. I am grateful to have been here with members that "get it" and are willing to do whatever it takes to "live it".

  

Summer Lovin'

Thank you everyone for the sweet birthday wishes! From the flooding of facebook, texts, calls, and even snail mail deliveries- I did not feel so alone out here. I spent my birthday sleeping after a night shift and then was suprised to be put on call and allowed to go to the fair with my good friend Mike.

The Presque Isle fair was so quaint and cute... I adored it all!

         (Amish boys!)

When we passed by the karaoke section, I couldn't help but soak in the ambiance of geriatrics in cowboy hats and vietnam veteran vests yodeling out old country classics with their sweet faltering voices. I was in love. The man next to me said, "hello! It's my birthday!" and I said, "Well gee! It's my birthday too!" and he exploded. "COME UP WITH ME, PRETTY LADY!" and dragged me up on stage and had everyone sing to me. I knew I was a gonner when he busted out his harmonica and started belting "Crying My Eyes Out For You". That's when I lost my heart to sweet little Hewey. (yes, that really was his name. )

The next day I went on a day long motorcycle ride with David, a friend from the ward. Did mention how BEAUTIFUL Maine summers are? HOLY.

 

I think the best birthday gift of the year was presented a week early. My good friend and coworker, Brandy Downer was baptized. A few weeks into my time here we got talking during a night shift, and she had a lot of deep and personal doubts, questions, and needs. I hooked her up with our wonderful sister missionaries... and Brandy took off. She is so on fire.

The best was when I got to work the other night. She whipped out her Book of Mormon and exclaimed, "I finished first Nephi... and I GET IT!!!" She was so excited to report that since getting the gift of the Holy Ghost the sunday before... she was amazed at how her mind was opened and that she was finally discovering things in the scriptures herself. She was understanding, appreciating, and learning from the stories. I may have wept a little. I can't even count the number of people I have seen converted to the gospel throughout my 25 years... and have seen so many incredible people and experiences and changes. Yet.... it is still as if it was the first time every time. It has not gotten remotely stale or old to me. This is my high. Watching others fill with light and joy from the gospel.... is my ultimate buzz.

One of my best friends, Michelle, loves to have a birthday week. A birthDAY is not enough- she likes to make it a week long. I decided to spoil myself and give myself a birthday month. I took this month to read the Book of Mormon and it was the best gift I could have given myself this year. Spending my shifts engrossed in my book and finishing the the last few pages on the trampoline in the middle of the woods was a really special experience for me. My coworkers must think I'm a crazy religious zealot- and perhaps they're not too far off? My coworker said, "ya know, I have some mormon friends... and I'm gonna tell them I met a mormon nun!" and I was so confused and said, "huh?" (because The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints doesn't have nuns) She said, "I dunno... I just think if mormons had nuns... that's what you'd be! You're a mormon version of a nun and I think it's great!" - hahaha I didn't know how to take that other than to laugh. I recommend this birthday challenge. I can't think of a better way to celebrate my life and entrance into life than to study about my purpose in life, find deeper meaning to life, and feast more fully from the Bread of Life.

When I first got here, I was exhorted in a blessing to get to know the members of the ward. This counsel has been such a blessing and many opportunities have fallen into my lap. For example, the O'connells had me goat sit for them while they were on vacation. I had no idea I could love goats so much!!

A few nights ago, I was invited to Family Home Evening at the Torruella family's home. They are an AWESOME family that is mostly from Idaho. As we got talking Idaho... turns out that they are from the Ontario, OR stake.... and that my Grandpa Clark was their Patriarch that gave their two oldest children their patriarchal blessings. This is such a "coincidence".. but it was truly a tender mercy to be with people all the way over on this side of the continent that know and love one of the most important and personal people in my life- Chad Clark. The veil felt pretty thin in that home that sweet and spiritual night.

I have been so humbled and touched to be the recipient of so much kindness here. People here are SO GOOD. When I first got here, I met Mike at his bike shop. I left my number to be called when a new seat came in. A week or so later he called me and said, "Hey, I know how it is to move somewhere new and not know anyone. Just know, that you do have a friend here. I am here and happy to help if you ever need anything. " - This was such a simple gesture... but meant so much to me. We've had a lot of really great outings of walking through parks, trying swordfish, and post-shift kale smoothies from his garden. He's has an athletic rockclimbing, mountain biking, pro-skier spirit that has helped him ride through a lot of unique and difficult challenges after a ski accident in Salt Lake. His engineering education has helped become super functional despite it all and an indespensible contribution to the community that he is constantly serving. He has become a dear and life-long friend to me and an example of unconquerable optimism and enthusiasm.

When the basement flooded in the house that I am watching (I know, classic-Kali, right?) the neighbor on the corner was there to the rescue. This man and his wife adapted me as their own as he spent hours pumping out the basement and fixing the pipes and tanks. The had me over for homemade grapenut icecream (very classic to the area) and he gave me dozens of nose whistles (I'm becoming a pro) to share with whoever I found along my way. This man LOVES music and kids, but they could never have any! Instead, they spend their lives seeking ways to serve the kids within their grasp. I woke up one afternoon to find that the wife had snuck in and left me cookies on the counter.... for nothing but goodwill and sweetness. I was so touched by their example of being true neighbors. I want to be such a neighbor- no matter where I am or how long I am there for.

I have become very comfortable and acclimated with many aspects of Presque Isle, Maine. I could easily spend more time here.... and when the manager was asking me to extend my contract... I started to consider it. Yet.. I feel like it is time to move forward. I feel like I am revived and ready to move on to whatever awaits me. I feel like I am supposed to be focused on getting to D.C. and to finally spend some time with my older brother, Andrew. I haven't lived near him in 11 years, and I have been pinning to be part of his life again. Now is my golden chance to do so! I have been offered other jobs... but I am being moved to turn them down and hold off until I am able to be closer to my brother.

Between being so far away from my family, being in a family ward, recent family trials, focusing on being closer to my brother, teaching sunday school lessons about family, and preparing for a family... I think I've thought a lot about family. Something peculiar has been festering inside of me the last year. I've been homesick. This homesick is different than what I felt in Israel during my grandpa's funeral... it's deeper... it's very distinct. Being here and pondering about families... I've come to realize that I am indeed homesick... but for my future home. The home and family I will have. Is that  possible? Does that make sense? Pathetic or not... I ache for them... the parts of me that I have yet to meet. It is a yearning I am willing to bear until it is time to... be home.

My life in Maine

     A number of people of people have asked why I haven't "continued" my blog the last few months here and have requested that I do so. I'm not sure what they're expecting, and I'm not sure my tales of this quiet little town and my life of tranquility will be what they seem to be holding their breaths for. I suppose I've stalled sharing certain things because I feel like I don't really have anything incredible to profound to share! I'm still trying to process and digest what I'm experiencing and learning here and still can't make any "and thus we see" statements. I could just start rambling and see if anything of interest comes out. I've got one easy patient and a whole night ahead of me.

    So... I'm here... across the continent... in a self-imposed social timeout. I knew no one when I came here... and was technically "alone". Yet... I have really never felt alone. It is a beautiful comfort and feeling that I have spent hours trying to explain to people here when they say, "but don't you get lonely??" For many here that have never lived away from their families and have kept the same friends geographically close to them their whole lives... I seem insane. It's not that I don't miss many people that I love fiercely.. nor is it that I don't need people... but it has a lot more do to with Christ's promise in John 14 when He says, referring to sending the Holy Ghost, "that he may abide with you for ever." I have found so much comfort and support from my friends in the scriptures and the increasingly strong presence of the Spirit. It is indescribable. I wish I could give others a real taste of what I experience... but I have to be careful not to forcefeed my joy and excitement down those that couldn't care less and have no desire to taste. Seperating myself from the comforts and support of familiarity, friends, and family... has helped me become better aquainted with this "constant companion" that I have been given. Hopefully as I move on from now... I can be more aware of and sensitive to His undeniable presence no matter where I am. For now though... this social isolation has helped me develop and better friendship with an unwaivering companion.

    I feel so safe and secure here! (though some accuse me of naively feeling that way anywhere) I feel confident that I can stop and ask anyone for directions (a constant and unfortunate necessity for me) no matter where I am. (never mind the killer running loose in the next town over. oops!) I just tell that these people are kind. Some of the kindest are in the local amish communities. I am loving them!! It is so fun to see their buggies parked at walmart, or in the next lane over in the intersection, or walking around town. I am dying to know them. I stopped and bought jam from a man naping under his buggy. His name was Joseph Zook. He said I could come do chores on the farm with them anytime! You better believe I will.

      French music has become a new obsession for me. 75% of the radio here is in french, so I've developed some favorites... but still can't figure out what they're called! There are a lot of Arcadian French speakers here and the hospital fills up with their geriatrics. I LOVE THEM. Old people garble is even cuter with a french accent. A woman woke up once and was confused and hysterical. As I ran in there and tried to figure out what was bothering her, she was yelling at me in french. I hollered back, "SPEAK ENGLISH!" and then she started screaming incredible profanities in english that I'm sure were heard from all parts of the tiny hospital... so I quickly said, "NO NO! Speak french! SPEAK FRENCH!!!" Seriously though... there are very few people that could be more darling than a frail little man with a thick french accent saying, "I hope my bowels move!" *swoon*

     The hospital that I work at has been a very different experience. Not bad! Not at all! Just very different. It's much smaller than where I was before, and the patient acuity level is way different. If a patient is severely sick, they are packed up into the helicopter and sent to the south part of the state to a bigger hospital. (As long as there isn't a moose on the helicopter pad like there was a few nights ago. Only in Maine!) It almost feels like cheating not to be spending most of my shift on my feet... running to keep someone alive. At first it hurt my pride that they would send away the kind of patients that I'm used to caring for... and though I often don't feel like a "real nurse"... I have come to appreciate many things about the change in pace. Not running around like a chicken with my head cut off has allowed me a lot of time to read and ponder. I have rekindled an old passionate flame with good literature and am loving it.

     One of the many things I have missed is the influence of latin culture in my life. The language, the food, the culture, but especially- the people. I walked into walmart (I know... it's been really painful for me... but unavoidable. There is NOTHING here.) and saw a group of latin men! Perhaps I was looking at them weird... because they were all staring at me... and it was an odd moment of mutual "...do I know you?" ... and so... to break the staring contest.. I smiled as said, "Buenas tardes!" as I was walked by... and was startled when they all errupted into a loud response of "BUENAS TARDES!!!!!"... and we were all in shock. They are here straight from Mexico to work on the farms here for the summer. They could hardly believe that they have found an American that spoke their language.. and we were happy to find someone new that could understand us.

   In Caribou, I was living fairly close to a plot of land that had a number of bunk houses. The last few months.. I have seen a lot of latin looking people there and have pined to meet them! I wasn't sure how to just show up and start talking with dozens of men... so I held back until I had a better plan. Last sunday, I made a TON of cookies with a new friend I made at church... and we headed over to my neighbors. When we walked up with big bowls of cookies and I said, "hello neighbors! How are you guys?"... they all just froze and stared. It was not the reaction I was expecting. So.. to try to break the ice I said, "umm.. I live right nearby... and I... brought you cookies?" - I was speaking spanish... so I couldn't figure out why it was like talking to a wall. They continued frozen. So I said, "well... ok! So... here ya go!" and we handed them the cookies. Then someone slowly said, "...what? These are..for us?" I laughed and said, "umm... ya, you're my neighbor!" and they all simultaneous broke out into smiles and laughter. I think they initially thought I was from the government. They invited us to eat dinner with them and we started talking and became good friends.This next week I am starting as a volunteer nurse in a local mobile clinic that goes around to all the farms in the county and works with the migrant workers. I am SO excited. Totally my groove.

I am living in Presque Isle for my last month. I am dog/cat/house-sitting for an awesome family that is on vacation for a month. The house is near the state park... and it is spectacular here. I feel like I'm in a little cabin in the middle of nowhere. Oh ya... I basically am!

    Did I mention how much I love the ward up here? LOVE IT. There are so many powerful families that have taught me so much. I love being there and soaking in their examples. I've been blessed to spend time with many of them in their homes... and it is so much of what I have needed. I've been serving as the sunday school teacher of the 14-15 year olds- a total dream of mine. I ADORE them. I also substitute primary... and am so humbled by their knowledge and mastery of the things that I'm supposed to teach them! For example.. last sunday... I was asked right before church to teach the 4-year olds. I hurried and looked online and saw that the topic for that day was "reverence". I suddenly imagined a tiny room full of 4 year olds screaming, running, crying, fleeing... and I was terrified. I went to go pick up my pupils the third hour... and these sweet little 4 year olds led me to their room... with their arms folded and text-book reverent. "Shoot. This is another extreme. What could I possibly teach them?" These girls were pro. They taught ME.

Welp... sorry this isn't more exciting and exceptionally eventful... but it was an honest update!

Wind in my Hair

        When I first came to Maine what is now 2 months ago (seriously!?), I started my routine of biking to work. It's 15 miles from the brocolli fields of Caribou to the "downtown" (baha) Presque Isle.... which sounded like nothing! I had done 50+ miles fairly easily in the Salt Lake Valley... and so I assumed this was going to be a joy ride. I failed to take into consideration how flat the valley was... and the magnitude of the rolling hills here in Maine. Soon into my first voyage to work... I started to forget how beautiful I found these huge green hills upon arrival... and was begining to loath the next hill before I even finished the last. I thought, "Freak. 15 miles all up hill.... this is gonna be GREAT going down hill all the way back after a 12+ hour shift!"

      On my way back... I was facing hills AGAIN. How could that be?? Wasn't this supposed to be a pure coast back now? As I was giving a pep talk to my legs and they were telling me about the long night they just had at work... we were interupted by a flash of envy when I saw a biker flying down the hill that I was fighting to climb. The thought, "pf... ya... he's jetting it because he's going DOWNHILL." ran through my mind. Then I suddenly stopped and had a huge epiphany. That biker was going down the same hill that I must have gone down on my way to work 13 hours before! Why didn't I remember knowing I was going downhill? I suddenly realized that after every hill I finished... instead of enjoying the feeling of gliding downhill and feeling the wind in my hair... I was too consumed with powering through it to get momentum and prepare for the next hill that I was dreading. I had physically stopped on my bike and was overwhelmed with this realization. It astounded me because the Spirit penetrated my heart and told me... that this was an error I was committing with my life!

      My life here in Maine has been lovely. I've been free of a lot of pressures and burdens that I had faced before... but I was struggling to enjoy it. Just like this bike ride. Rather than appreciate the opportunity to stop and enjoy the feeling of the sun on my skin I pined for during winter, all the changing smells of trees, flowers, and field, rather than give my legs a break, consciously relish the feeling of the actually clean air hitting my face, or even the humor of the bugs splatting on my glasses... I was missing it all! I was unecessarily CHOOSING to be stressed out, to fret over a future I couldn't control, and bemoaning a past I couldn't change. Standing there, panting and sweating in the middle of a meadow... I finally was confronted with this pathetic reality of myself...and was asked, "Why?". The discussion and answers that followed were fairly complicated, personal, and unecessary to include. I share this private moment to explain why... I am determined not to miss out any more. When things things are good, I want to accept them as such. I want to learn to be sincerely,completely, and wholly grateful- no matter what side of the hill I'm on.

              "Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues, but the parent of all others." - Cicero

My personal light show

"The true value of a human being is determined primarily by the measure and the sense in which he as attained liberation from the self."

                                                                       - Albert Einstein

I had high hopes and dreams for this 4th of July. I saw it as a golden opportunity to try to get the young single adults in my ward or my new immigrant friends together and have a prime missionary opportunity and a great time with new people. After hours of knocking doors and looking for people on my list this week.. I had no success. I thought "ok... I'll get my Mexican seasonal worker friends together!" ... Couldn't get ahold of them. When I woke up this afternoon (after working last night) to find it pouring rain, I thought, "forget it, I just want to work". I really did want to work. Work has finally gotten interesting between our cracked out man escaping the hospital stark naked and a new atv accident... I felt like I was in an ICU! ....but not even the hospital would have me! There were no crossfit classes today... I think I read so much today that even Nelphi was sick of me... But I had to get out of the house! So.. I went on a run.

     It was probably the best 5 miles of my life. It was perfectly warm... Raining... Lovely summer night.. and unbelievably picturesque. As I was going along, I looked around at the dark broccoli fields around me... And was shocked to find that the fields were....glittering!! It was as if I had taken a shovel of glitter and had launched it over the field... But I hadn't. I suddenly realized that this captivating phenomenon were from the fireflies! I just had never seen them in such glory. I stood there in awe listening to the music of the rain hitting the leaves of the trees, being sweetly cleansed by the drizzle... And watched my personal independence Day lightshow. To me, this topped the fireworks of my childhood and even the ones I had seen in D.C. This was different. 

       In that moment, I reflected on the independence in my life. I was filled with gratitude for the liberties that this country has granted me- to learn, to live, to be as I choose. I can't even begin to recount all the blessings that ran through my heart.. Of those things and people that have given me liberty... And all the results of my liberty that I hold so sacred. In those moments of reflection... The Ultimate Liberator came to mind. I realized that the deep and profound freedom I had been discovering over these last few weeks here in Presque Isle were not so related to the country or state I was in... But that I was becoming liberated from my personal and private enslavement through the atonement of Jesus Christ. I realized that the more I had come to depend on my Savior... The more free and independent I had become. That is something to forever celebrate!

     Standing alone in that farm land basking in the glow of glittering broccoli... I felt free. I am so grateful for the liberty that no man, law, nor government can ever strip from me. 

Happy Independence Day my loved ones!!!

Culture Shock

         I have been having quite the experience here in Maine. It's been a strange mix of confusion, feeling out of place, and disbelief. Though not to the same extreme... I have felt it may be almost comparable to the "culture shock" I experienced upon my arrival in the country of Belize. Yet... I'm still in "my" country... in the USA... I couldn't be having a "culture shock"... could I?
       According to the Merriam-Webster definition....
   "Culture Shock: a sense of confusion and uncertainty sometimes with feelings of anxiety that may affect people exposed to an alien culture or environment without adequate preparation" 

         ... I am having a culture shock.

       Now, lest I be misunderstood... this is not a cry of discontent... but rather... a submission to the reality that I am living. I have always prided myself in my capacity to be flexible and easily adapt to diverse and strange situations and environments. ...I've been proven wrong. 

       There is nothing wrong with where I am. Nothing needs to be changed in regards to the people, the area, the hospital, or the culture here. I had high hopes that I was being sent here to make a big difference in someone's life... or in the hospital.... but I am realizing that I didn't come here to change Presque Isle.  
                                     I am here so that Presque Isle changes me. 

       Life here is so wonderful...  but I don't know how to live it. It is opposite and even caustic to most of what I have ever lived before... and to who I have thus far been. I came thinking that I'd get to learn new things about people... but I'm mostly learning new things about me. Some, of which, are not so pretty or comfortable. I am a long way from "home". Over 2,000 miles. I left a lot a things and people behind... and thought I was making a great escape. I am now realizing... that I seemed to have followed myself all the way over here. 

      Being in the middle of nowhere doesn't offer much more than one of main things I pined for:

                                                                     time. 
 Now that I have all this precious time that I never seemed to be able to obtain before... I don't have all the silliness I drowned in before to fill it. So... now what?

      In my many 24 years... I have lived with deeply engraved formulas that...
                                                       Self Worth = Productivity
                                                                       and
      One's productivity is measured in units of stress, busyness, and check marks on a "to do" list

So... here I am... in the middle of a potato field... with no calls to pick up extra shifts, no church calling, no gym to go to, no one in sight to serve, hardly any missionary lessons to go to, no temple to serve in, no seminary to teach... nothing to do but... run, read... thiiiiiiiink.
       According to my well developed life-long philosophy... my self worth has taken an automatic plummet. Moving here.. and taking away all of my "busyness"... has stripped me of my value, capacity, potential, and ultimate worth. All because my planner is now... almost useless.                                                                   HOW CAN I LIVE LIKE THIS!?!?!?

    Of course... I can agree to the reasoning that all my religion and personal beliefs would tell me... that my formula is actually false doctrine. That God would never place my worth on such a scale. I get that... but I don't get it. I haven't really had to. The scale has always worked great for me... because I've always been able to tip it in my favor. Now that I'm thinking about it... it does seem silly, huh? I've never put anyone else on that scale. That would be unfair and unreasonable... obviously everyone else has divine nature and eternal worth without utilizing such bizarre mathematics. So... why am I making up my own?

     Anyway... without getting too deep or out there with this all.. the point is... this is different for me. Some call this the "end of the world"... and someone disputed that and said, "no, but you can see it from here!" The sign for Maine says:

      

some say, "Maine, the way life used to be"
It is so... simple. Life here is... simple! It's great! It is so different... and despite the shock of it all... I am trying to really value it and relish all the little things. I am in the Aroostook County... which is HUGE. I suppose it's geographically vast and demographically quaint. It is also the oldest County in the country.

I live in a little town called Caribou.

 

Which is part of the old swedish colonies!

 I work half an hour away in the 10,000 people big city of Presque Isle, also known as

the "hub of Aroostook County".


There is no hurry here. NO HURRY. What is a hurry? What do we have to hurry off to? I am always in a hurry.... so I am the alien here.I've been in a hurry to graduate, to get my license, to go on my mission, to jump into my career, to be a travel nurse... ect.  I am the weird one. Time to adapt.
    In northern Maine.... family is not just an accessory to life. Family IS your life. In this regards... yes... Maine IS the way life should be. As I travel through "desolate" land, or... farm country... I see houses here and there... and when I first got here, I thought, "gah! People live here? Out here? HOW?". Today it was warm, sunny, beautiful. People were out mowing their lawns as their kids played in their yard. I then realized... OH. They live with their FAMILIES.     ...what else do they need? Why did that take me so long?

   Church was such a great experience on sunday. It was full of screaming kids and waddling toddlers... total heaven. The families are so solid, big, and tangibly happy! I wasn't sent here to lift up the ward... they have already lifted me! They love and live the gospel. They don't need the excitement or prestige of a big busy city... with all those kids... they have the excitement they need- and the kind that really counts. I was invited to sit in the pew with a family of 14 kids. WOW. The father was a nurse where I work, but then he went into liver failure. With hardly knowing him... he freely and joyfully told me of the miracle of finding an organ donor who was a former coworker that became his brain-dead patient. It was so miraculous and touching... I could tell that this was a special man. Not to mention... he's adopted 9 kids and has 14 in total. Sitting at the end of this big, happy, techni-color, multi-racial, united and happy family... was an honor. The kids were so cool and quality. When the 14 year old next to me pulled out her ipad during sacrament... I immediately started to roll my eyes, "the youth these days! Come on! now is not the time to play games!"... but when I saw that she was sincerely and earnestly reading "The Living Christ"... I shrunk into my shell of shame. They have accepted me as their 15th child. :)

    Did I mention how beautiful it is here? The BIG open sky that was so so blue today... the green rolling hills full of so much foliage! It is gorgeous! They tell me the potato blossoms are the real ticket. There we go... something important to put on my calendar. :) I am loving the random little houses that are so cute, clean, and happy. My phone does no justice to the beauty of it all... but...

The people are beautiful too. I feel like I am living "Our Town" by Thornton Wilder. They are so kind, approachable, down-to-earth. I feel like I could knock on any door and find someone eager to help at any time. I am loving the cute little nuances in culture... and find pleasure in soaking in every bulletin board I can find.

(For you west-coasters... Supper=dinner)

In case you were wondering about the fiddlehead of the "Fiddlehead Supper"... It is the delightful top of a young fern..

That is a big rage at this time of the year and sold all over.

Yes... my life has become so eventful... that I am blogging about... fiddleheads.

I have always loved Paul's declaration in Philippians 4:11,
       "I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content."
                             ...but my wandering spirit has always failed to live it.

     As I was sinking my toes into the mud and skipping rocks at my nearby pond... I saw two geese gliding on the water... and I was envious of them. They looked so... calm, peaceful, and able to accept the tranquility around them. They weren't wanting something else while they had so much around them. They were grateful for where they were and weren't already making escape plans. They were happy to stay. They seemed to have mastered the art of taking the emptiness I saw and felt as, "beauty". I know I'm making a lot of assumptions about geese... but in them I saw... what I wanted to have. I thought about what Paul said and watched how these geese seemed to so beautifully personify his creed.... until I remembered...
                                                     Geese migrate.