Spend a lazy Sunday

In my arms.

(I won't take, anything away.)

Also, when you live in Southern California, you can have evening picnics any day in October. And because your husband is with you (when he is spending lots of days and nights and weeks in Utah this autumn), you have them as often as you can. Backyard picnics. Schoolyard picnics. Etc., picnics. They are a delight.

The disaster.

One to two days ago my sister's parents-in-law were confronted with a disaster: A fire, roaring across their Colorado Springs-town. They were given 45 minutes to evacuate. Both thought it was merely a safety precaution. Both thought they would be back within two days. These shared thoughts showed in their packing—two changes of clothes and two dirt bikes from the father, and two changes of clothes, a few pictures, and food items from the fridge to take to my sister's from the mother. That was (nearly) all.

Where their home of 24 years stood now stands ash and a scattering of bricks. There is one tree, half green, half scarred, and another tree, standing resilient. The mother-in-law is in mourning. (Very, very understandably in mourning.) What does she mourn for the very most? That she didn't pack anything of her mother's—that every physical remembrance is gone.

I would mourn that too. One hundred times over. One million times. I do mourn now, for this family member of my family member. I cannot even comprehend what their loss would be like, or how their loss must feel. I realized that they too could not comprehend it. It must be why she grabbed small things—temporary things. A French philosopher I read and loved, named Blanchot, wrote a book about how "the disaster" could not be written. This disaster could not even be thought of.

And the thing that happens after natural or other disasters is happening to me now. I am thinking about my sister's family, and my sister, and myself. I am thinking about the things that I value. I am thinking about the losses that may come, and the losses that have come. I am thinking about how to best be prepared. I am thinking about what I would have grabbed.

Spencer was asked this on a little questionare for my bridal shower. "What would you take in a fire?" He had to answer, and then I had to guess his answer. I got it wrong, because he said his piano. Jokingly. Not comprehending the reality that sometimes there are fires, and you have to take things from them if you want to keep them safe. If you want to keep them. I asked him again, this week, these days. We talked about our answers together: Each other. Our computers. Our passports. Our important papers. Pictures we might have (though we try to keep them backed up).

If I could, I would take my white bike, but it is resting in my grandma's garage. If I could, I would take my off-white wedding dress (that belonged to my other granny), but it is resting in my parent's home. (I wonder if I am safer, with my things divided, or if there is more of me to lose.)

I think again of the fragility of life, and how it can change in a moment. How it can be defined (or redefined) in a moment.

I think of my own disaster, that I tried to write about, because I needed to get it out of me. I needed the words down on paper, so I could be grateful, and so I could remember in a way that heals. Almost every day I notice the scars on my legs and wrist that weren't there before. One day when I couldn't keep from looking at them, Spencer reminded me, "Everyone has scars." I pointed to the biggest one. I touched it gently, while whispering something to Spencer about its size relative to the others. He told me that I had a bigger one, one that I hadn't noticed. He was hesitant to tell me, but told me anyway: it was on my back, where I had laid in a pool of glass and blood for hours. Of course it was. How could I have forgotten?

The last few days have found me glancing at my scars in gratitude. They are reminders that I am still alive.


Their house before the ravaging:

Their house after:

Finished!

Remember that one time I chose to go on two trips in the middle of my finals? Oh, me too. Let's just say I have never been more excited to finish a paper. And also that tomorrow begins the slow recovery of my life.

I said this on a Sunday.

(In Vienna, early fall.)

James 1:27 states, "Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world." The first time I remember hearing this scripture, I was in high school and was running around the local track with my father. We ran together often, and as we ran our conversations frequently turned to things of the spirit. He told me that this verse extended to everyone who was lonely, and everyone who was in need, including the poor and the destitute. Because of this, I am going to include those things as well.

President Dieter F. Uchtdorf spoke about the Welfare Program of the church in this last conference. Among many important things, he said, "Sometimes we see welfare as simply another gospel topic--one of the many branches on the gospel tree. But I believe that in the Lord's plan, our commitment to welfare principles should be at the very root of our faith and devotion to Him."

There are three main points that I would like to impress upon each of you. The first is that we are all beggars. The second is that we are all responsible. The third is "why" we give. I would like you to think about these things as I talk with you.

One. We are all beggars. There are probably times when you have needed help. The help that you have needed has probably varied. At times it may have been an answer to a temporal need, at other times a spiritual one. Perhaps some combination. I hope that that help came, in whatever form you needed it.

There have been times in my life that I have needed help. One of these instances occurred last year, after I finished my Master's degree in Boston. I wanted to stay there. I looked and looked for a job. I had done well in school. I had work experience in my field. I met with professors and advisors regularly to seek help in fine tuning my resume and cover letters. All to no avail. It was a very demoralizing time for me, to work long hours every day, with nothing positive to show for it. The weeks passed. And the months. And I was still unable to secure employment. I couldn't afford to stay in Boston very much longer. Around that time, my oldest brother called me and invited me to come live with his family in California. He asked me to nanny my nephew for a few months, before his wife went on maternity leave for their second child. It rescued me. It instilled my life with new purpose. That purpose was to love a 2 year old child with curly, black hair--to read to him, play with him, and feed him. I was able to help my brother, but even more, he was able to help me, and do something that I could not do for myself at that time. He was able to give me a place to sleep and a car to drive, among many other generous temporal things. There were also many spiritual gifts given to me at that time, including love and encouragement. Because of those things, I was also able to use that time to apply to PhD programs, and ultimately got into my dream school. Then there are the kindnesses of my sister-in-law. There was one unfortunate month during that stay that I was very ill, and could barely leave the house. I was sick and she more than visited me. She bought me juice. She shared her meals with me when I was too tired to cook food for myself. I remember one particular evening when she ate sushi with me and talked with me.

I have not only been blessed by family members in times of need, but by ward members, including those in our shared ward family. Two days after our arrival in Vienna, my husband and I were still without a place to stay. We happened to meet a sister from the ward. A kind sister. She asked my husband how we were, in a very genuine way, and he told her we were fine. Probably also in a very genuine way. I however, who am not quite as adventurous as my husband, was not fine. She asked me how I was, and I started crying. She listened as I told her our story--how we were married one month before, how the day after that, we were hit by a semi-truck, did an aerial through the sky, and landed upside down in a deep ravine, how because of that we were unable to leave for Europe as early as we had planned, how despite that, we had spent the last two weeks in Europe, bicycling across Slovenia and Croatia, and how (for the time being) we had only those things we had been carrying on our bikes, how we spent our first night in Vienna at a hostel and the second night sleeping beside a campground, because the campground itself was unfortunately closed for the season (unbeknownst to us), and my knee was too hurt and too injured to ride any further.

When I finally stopped talking, this sister did what sisters do. She gave me a hug, and invited us into her home. And after bicycling many days in the wilderness, her house truly was the land of milk and honey. And even more wonderful, it was the land of herbal tea and American peanut butter--which two things I had been desperately missing.

We were strangers, and she took us in. We were hungry, and she fed us supper. I was dirty, and she let me take a shower in her bathroom. She handed me a towel. She showed me where the shampoo was. The conditioner. She let us wash our clothes. I think she did these things, because she knew, like King Benjamin, and like others, that when she did these things to us, she was doing them to Christ, and was, in a very real way, "merely in the service of her Lord."

These original kindnesses extended into deeper kindnesses. One of my first thoughts was that we would never be able to be as nice to this couple as they were to us. Then I realized that on one hand, there might come a day when we would be able to be that nice to someone else. We could as it were, "Pay it forward." But, on the other hand, I realized that that wasn't really the point. It wasn't really the point that I couldn't repay them deed for deed, because while that is still true, my current status does not make me exempt from service or from giving. I am still responsible. Right now. Regardless of my circumstances. I can still share meals with those who may need nourishment or company. I can still give of my time. Etcetera.

None of us are exempt from this pure gospel of giving. And indeed, each of us is responsible for everyone else, which is my second point, confirmed by President Uchtdorf: "Please do not think that this is someone else's responsibility. It is mine and it is yours. We are all enlisted. “All” means all—every Aaronic and Melchizedek Priesthood holder [and I would add every Beehive and Relief Society sister], rich and poor, in every nation. In the Lord’s plan, there is something everyone can contribute."

My third point concerns why we serve. President Uchtdorf reminded us that we visit the orphans and widows, feed those who are hungry, and clothe those who are naked because all things are spiritual to the Lord. He said, "The two great commandments--to love God and our neighbor--are a joining of the temporal and the spiritual. It is important to note that these two commandments are called "great" because every other commandment hangs upon them." He went on to lament, "Unfortunately, there are those who overlook the temporal because they consider it less important. They treasure the spiritual while minimizing the temporal. While it is important to have our thoughts inclined toward heaven, we miss the essence of our religion if our hands are not also inclined to our fellowman."

Because this is the Lord's principle, the Lord himself taught it when He was on the Earth. It explains why, time after time, He took care of people's physical needs first, whether by feeding them loaves and fishes, or by healing all manner of their infirmities. One important time, he even encourages the Nephites to go to sleep. It is in 3rd Nephi, after he visits them and teaches them. He said, "I perceive that ye are weak, that ye cannot understand all my words which I am commanded of the Father to speak unto you at this time. Therefore, go ye unto your homes, and ponder upon the things which I have said, and ask of the Father, in my name, that ye may understand, and prepare your minds for the morrow, and I come unto you again." I really appreciate these verses, because I know myself when I am hungry, and I know myself when I am tired, and know that during those times I don't see reason, let alone the soft, gentle guidance of the Spirit. Christ wanted to teach the people. He wanted to nourish them spiritually, but He also knew that not even He could do that effectively until their physical needs were met, which in this case meant sleep.

I recently saw something very beautiful, and because it is not only beautiful, but relevant, I am going to share it with you. It was a short video, showing a Brahmin man who knew these same truths. In his own words:

I was working for Taj Group of Hotels Bangalore. I saw a very old man. He was eating his own waste for hunger. I thought what is the purpose of my life? What am I going to do? In a star hotel, I feed all my guests. But where in my hometown there are people who are living, even without food. I quit my job, and I started feeding all these people from 2002... We feed the homeless, mentally ill, destitute, and the old people who have been left uncared for of the society. People are suffering for food. They don't have food to eat. If you don't give them food to eat, they will die of human hunger. I cut their hair. I give them a shave, I give them bath. For them, to feel psychologically that they are also human beings, there are people to care for them, they have a hand to hold, hope to live. Food is one part. Love is another part. So, the food will give them physical nutrition. The love and affection which you show will give them mental nutrition.

Being a Brahmin community and an orthodox family there are a lot of objections. Brahmins are not supposed to touch these people, clean these people, hug these people, feed these people. Everybody has got 5.5 liters of blood. I am just a human being. For me everybody the same. There are thousands and thousands, and lots and lots of people suffering. What is the ultimate purpose of life? It's to give. Start giving. See the joy of giving.

I especially love his testimony that, "Food is one part. Love is another part." It is true. It is also that same linking of the temporal and spiritual that President Uchtdorf talked about. And while we are told that "the poor will always be with us," we must still work toward zion now. We must still work towards becoming a people of "one mind, one heart, with no poor among us" now. This is our duty. This is our call. Of this I testify, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

If you believe in yourself, you will know how to ride a bicycle!

This little boy--and this little video--gave me courage to ride a (road) bicycle, 36 miles down the Oregon Coast. This is true despite the fact that I have previously only ridden vintage bikes and cruisers, where their baskets carry my school bag or groceries, and their high handle bars let me sit straight up. This is also true despite the fact that I have previously only ridden 25 miles in a single day, not even at single time.

The whole thing came about by a joke. Each day for three days one of the riders touring with S said he would be willing to trade me places. I.e., he would take my car for a day, and I his bike. Each day for three days I laughed it off. This time at lunchtime I said yes. We switched right then.

I was terrified--that a car would hit me from my left side or that loose gravel would make me wreck from my right side, of dropping down to one of the lower handle bars, down-hill's massive speed, the narrow shoulder with its beautiful, but treacherous heights, my inexperience in such conditions, or on such a bike. I didn't even know how to shift gears. S gave me lessons and encouragement, but it was not quite enough. At this point I was still afraid of listening to music, so kept reciting memorable lines from the boy's speech in my head.

At the end, I truly felt happy of myself.

Waiting for the cyclists to break camp-time.

Directly pre-lunchtime.

Post lunch-time.

Boom.

Oregon, Sweet Oregon.

Thank you for your:

+Green grass.

+Trees.

+Pretty blue skies.

+Gas station attendants.

+Non-existent sales tax.

+Public libraries.

+State Parks.

+Slow speeds.
+Tracks/high jump pits.

+Temples.

+Light houses.

+Ocean views.

+Sea lions.

+Best ice cream.

+Salt water taffy.

+Black sand.

+Clam chowder.

+Safeways.

+Hippie houses.

+Bike tours.

+Best friends.

+Old friends.

+Memories.

+And so forth.

I will always love you.

S finished putting my bike together last week.

And the quality of my life has gone up one hundred fold.

Picking apples, making pies.

Yesterday day was fall time bliss in all its forms: gold leaves, orange leaves, red leaves, taking the scenic route, Northborough, Cambridge friends, apple orchards, apple cider, apple donuts, apple pie, apple everything, as well as hay rides, smiling children (including baby Søren), pumpkin patches, and freshly made kettle corn. Delicious. To wrap up this perfection, yesterday night was the RS broad cast and a night bike ride to and from Belmont with Katie, which inspired me to say, "Assuming we don't die, this will have been a really good idea," and inspired Katie to answer that she likes any sentence that begins that way. Thank you, New England for being so lovely.