Joy of Heaven.

In response to a month of sadness, my dad wrote:

[ . . . ] One thing that I want you to know, and that is, we must not underestimate the joy of heaven. Consider 3rd Nephi. In Chapter 10, upon the annihilation of the wicked Nephites, Christ was lamenting their destruction and loss. Indeed, great was His loss, as He had to send so many of them to their eternal damnation. And yet, atmost 3 days later, in Chapter 17:20, after seeing the righteousness of the survivors, and praying to the Father, He told the righteous Nephites, that His joy was full. How is that possible? The destruction of so many souls that He loved and died for happened so recently. How can He be joyful, not to mention, fully joyful, again just a few chapters later?

The answer, Eden, I think is that hell, with all its fury and sadness, is infinitely small compared to heaven. Hell has no power to deprive Heaven of its Joy!

Den, though hell is a sad place, and we’re experiencing some of it, let not your heart be set on it sadness. Let your heart instead be set on the Joy of Heaven! [ . . . ]

This is a gospel of truth with a plan of happiness. Christ lives, He loves us and He will never leave us alone.

Alone.

Lately, your nights end like this. All by yourself in an empty apartment, with only your sobbing to keep you company. Sadness is amplified when you're alone. And the recent air of death around you seemed to have pushed the closest people away from you. Or maybe they were never there for you anyway, and you're just now noticing it.

I've seen you fill your home with new friends and interactions in hopes that someone will notice you and catch you, in hopes of keeping your mind off of the night. But when the sun is down, you're falling onto your pillow, drowning in salty waters.

Heavenly.

I hope there are ton of mahjong tables for you up in heaven. Save a match for me, Po Po.

And I hope heaven is, well, Heavenly.

 

It's been a while, and it's been introspective.

When I first found out that she left the church, my roommate shared a scripture with me: Alma 31:31-35. The last verse brought us to tears.

35 Behold, O Lord, their souls are precious, and many of them are our brethren; therefore, give unto us, O Lord, power and wisdom that we may bring these, our brethren, again unto thee.

Her soul is precious, but I haven't the power nor wisdom. I offered a compromise because I didn't want to lose a relationship with her and her children. "I'll respect your beliefs if you respect mine." But since then, I've needed to always be on the defensive. With constant talk coming from her, my mind started getting muddled—my sword is small, but my faith is greater than my doubts.

Everytime I was alone with her, she attacked my beliefs. And after she attacked, she came to me with an olive branch to lure me back in and give me the feeling of "Everything's good between us" or "I respect your point of view." This abuse was abused. Each attack, she would always reach out to me after. These gave me hope that she wouldn't attack again, though it made me more cautious.

But when it turned out she was furious I turned to our parents for support and told me to "Leave my parents out of my life," I began to see the patterns. And sure enough, her olive branch came. And I decided not to take it this time.

An Interview with Alonzo Gaskill.

Let me introduce you all to one of my favorite professors at BYU: Professor Gaskill. I've never had a more energetic, more engaging professor in my college career. His world religions class can be irreverent at times, with him cracking jokes about his mother-in-law or about times he's embarrassed himself, but he is very intelligent and knows a great deal theologically. In fact, he's been called Hugh Nibley on amphetamines...or was it methamphetamines? Either way, even though class can be rowdy, you can tell he holds the truth, found in many religions, in the highest esteem.

I recently interviewed Professor Gaskill on his newly published book The Lost Teachings of Jesus on the Sacred Place of Women.

Photo from Amazon, where you can also purchase the book.

It seems to me almost like destiny the way Prof. Gaskill came across these scrolls. He was just hanging out at a used bookstore and found some Russian guy's journal. It recounted his trip to Tibet and discovery of scrolls at a Buddhist monastery. These scrolls had some of Christ's teachings and it contained sermons that aren't included in our New Testament today. One of these sermons was on women and was, as Prof. Gaskill said, "the only part that really drew me in—enough to write a book on it, anyway."

I Wanna Get Better.

I didn't know I was lonely till I saw your face.
I didn't know I was broken till I wanted to change.

I wanna get better.

Time to run.

I had this whole thing written about how this was the year I was going to hit the ground running and how I was going to figure out my life and everything. I quickly erased it because, let's be honest, I have no idea what I am doing.

I hope I can figure things out soon.

It's December.

It's December.

Thank goodness.

This was perhaps one of the busiest semesters in my entire college career thus far. And to be honest, I've burnt out. Perhaps going to school spring and summer was not a good idea because everything has been rather bland to me. School, work, people, music--they all were routine. And it wasn't until these last couple weeks of this semester that I started feeling like myself again.

We were planning on going to Colorado two weekends ago to see Trevor Hall and Nahko and Medicine for the People and I thought that that would lift my mood. But the snow put an end to our plan very quick, and I was a bit bummed, but somewhat relieved because I had too much to do.

That same Saturday we were going to see Trevor and Nahko, I went to see Isaac Russell at the Velour. I think he is a brilliant artist and although it wasn't the best concert I've been too, "Heaven" had me feeling again. That, and Isaac's guitarist who looks like a bearded Ben Wyatt/Adam Scott. And I love Ben.

(This was from the same concert I attended. Thank you to n8hankins for recording this.)

Tame.

"What does that mean--'tame'?"
"It is an act too often neglected," said the fox. "It means to establish ties."
"'To establish ties'?"
"Just that," said the fox. "To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world..."
"I am beginning to understand," said the little prince. "There is a flower...I think that she has tamed me..."

--Antoine de Saint-Exupery, "The Little Prince"

The Little Prince

I hate saying goodbye. Sometimes my fear of saying goodbye is so overpowering, it prevents me from getting to know people. Because once I get to know someone, we would create that bond and we would be unique in all the world to one another in some way. But the only thing constant in the world is change and with change comes goodbyes, both temporary and not.

Last Friday afternoon, I said goodbye to my boss who is leaving to work with the homeless in Salt Lake. In mid-December, I will commemorate the beautiful lives America said goodbye to in Newtown. In the new year, I will say goodbye to friends graduating. Years (hopefully lots of them) down the road, people will say goodbye to me, and not after saying goodbye to friends along the way.

Goodbyes make life daunting.

Someone told me they believe that in heaven, every person we ever tamed in our lives, who tamed us as well, will reunite with us and it would be as if we never said goodbye at all.

I choose to believe that as well.

Why did I post this on Thanksgiving day? Good question. I'm not sure. (Also, fyi, I'm writing this at two in the morning so if none of this is making sense...that is why.) I guess I wanted to thank you for your friendship to me through my 21 years. Wherever you are (and I am sure we know each other if you are reading my personal blog ha), I hope you are well. I am sorry if our goodbye came abruptly and I ask for forgiveness if I am to blame for that.

But I am glad that our bond did happen and for how I've grown through it. I am thankful for the kinships I have right now and for the love and support they give me. Most of all, I am ever grateful for the relationship I have with my Savior Jesus Christ and for all that He has done for me. He lives.

Happy Thanksgiving, my friends. I truly love you all.

Hide-and-Seek.

When I was younger, I played a lot of hide-and-seek. I would hear the joyous reunions of the hiders and the seeker from my own hiding spot, and my heart pounded each time I thought they would find me. But I was never found. I was ok with it then. It made me feel like I was a good hider.

Now I am older and sometimes I make sure no one can find me. But I am afraid of those times because I can hide for a long time and I am more afraid that no one would ever seek me, or that no one would ever realize I am gone. I am the most afraid that I will disappear and that when I am asleep, no one will be there to hear my staggered breathing, heavy and withdrawn, no one will be there to touch my fingertips wandering in the dark to let me know they know I am here, and they found me.

To my Illia.

My dear Illia,

Congratulations on your mission call to Denver North!

First, let me just say, I love you so so so much. Second, woohoo! Denver! And third, you know that I sometimes have a hard time expressing myself when so much passion fuels my words. So I am writing this. (Also, I am more eloquent writing than when I stutter.)

Illia, I am so incredibly proud of you and your decision to serve a mission. I just want to let you know that I love this Gospel so much. We've never really sat down a lot to talk about it, (at least, I don't remember telling you) but I want to tell you about a spiritual experience I had this past winter/spring.

Back before Easter, I experienced the horrid unfeelingness, yet perpetual sadness, of depression. After some pivotal news, I was pushed from being relatively normal to depressed, I forced an emotional barrier to surround myself. Nothing was getting through and I was not going to let petty emotions get to me. And it worked for a little bit. But when it came crumbling down, and it broke a couple times, several people witnessed many emotions at once from me. What they got mainly, though, was my sadness and a subtle anger. I hated everything and I disliked everyone.

One Sunday, my Relief Society president came up to me and asked me how I was doing. I hate public crying, but I did it. I burst into tears in front of several people, one who literally took a step back and said, "Whoa." My RS president took me to the bathroom and held me as I cried and as I told her everything. In the midst of it, she asked me if I had faith. I said that I thought I did. She told me that I needed to have faith that Heavenly Father had a plan. I scoffed internally. I wanted things fixed now. I didn't want to go through this.

But I was feeling crummy, so I took her advice and I asked for a Priesthood blessing from my home teachers. And it was...nice. (This is in no way a reflection of my home teachers at that time, but I think more of a push for more faith on my part because I am a lazy person.) But I didn't feel "fixed" and so I continued to feel the darkness of depression.

Then, a good friend came in town. That was the most beautiful Easter ever, Illia. He offered me a priesthood blessing. And at first, I said no. I thought that I already got a blessing. It just needed the time to settle in, or whatever. But the more I thought about it, the more something inside nagged at me to ask for one. I needed to exercise my faith and ask for another blessing.