Love One Another

Disclaimer: This post is not to convince or persuade or convert the reader to support or join or even like the LDS church. I realize I have no power in changing a person or their beliefs, and that such a serious and personal decision lies only in the hands of the reader. I write this post merely to share with you my own reaction to some recent events, and explore topics that arise in the discussion or religion in general. If you find offense with me or with anything that I say, I sincerely apologize and hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me. 

After spending some time this evening reading under the comments section of an article centered around the LDS faith (an article which intent was to be silly and entertaining) it was once more brought to my attention the amount of animosity and hatred that is extend toward the church, filled with uneducated assumptions or twisted facts from those who either haven't taken the time to know, or once knew and fiercely misunderstood the basic concepts which are taught by the LDS church. I have a few things to say about this:

Elder Gleason

A beautiful and monumental thing happened for my family on Friday June 14, 2013. My younger and only brother Mitchell received his call from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints to serve as a full time missionary. For those of my friends and readers unfamiliar with what exactly a mission is, I'll give a brief overview (for further explanation, click here): young men and women have the choice to shake the things of the world and consecrate their lives solely to the work of the Lord. This means no electronics, no movies, no books or music (unless it pertains to the gospel), and, sadly no family or friends. While it may seem strange that these young missionaries are to refrain from speaking with their loved ones, the purpose behind it is to help them maintain their focus on furthering the work. They are allowed 2 skype sessions/phone calls a year (more or less depending on the mission), and to e-mail/write letters to family and loved ones (also depending on the mission). 

Many not of the LDS faith may think that this is a crazy sacrifice to ask of any 19-year-old kid, and to an extent, I agree. As I've mentioned before, I stand strongly by the decision of serving a mission to be made personally by the individual deciding to serve. I have thus far decided that it is not the time for me to drop everything and serve, but for my brother, fresh out of high school, he can't seem to wait to get out there and preach. A lot of the time the decision is based on a desire within the individual's heart to serve. I don't have that desire- but it doesn't mean I don't love the Lord and his gospel, I just desire to serve and sacrifice in different ways.

My brother has always had that desire, and his dreams were made a reality this last Friday. Mitchell was called to labor in the San Francisco/Oakland California Spanish speaking Mission. This means that on October 23, 2013, my sweet baby brother will fly to the Missionary Training Center in Mexico City, Mexico where he will stay for 3 or so weeks to brush up on Spanish and learn the most efficient ways to share his knowledge of the restored gospel of Christ. Once his time at the MTC is up, he'll fly to California where he'll serve the remainder of his two years. 

While I am overjoyed that this is happening, just writing about it chokes me up. If I didn't believe in the gospel and trust in the Lord with all my heart, I wouldn't be able to let go of my bubbie for two whole years. But, I trust that this is the best path for him, and I support him in his endeavors. 

Elder Gleason, you will bring many souls unto the never ending joy that is the restored gospel of our Savior Jesus Christ. You will return with honor, and you will make your family proud. I know this because I know you, and you've never given me reason to doubt otherwise. 

Give the world a reason to dance.

The girl in teal writes back

(you can also read this story here)


The first time I saw you I choked. You were staring, but not in a threatening, creepy way, like the way that one-guy stares at the girl in that damn book everyone tells me I need to read. You stared at me in a sort of shock, and I felt my heart leap into my throat, where I choked on it. You didn't notice because I've gotten better at covering up my emotions, and even if you did I don't think it would have stopped you from staring. Nothing was going to stop you from staring.

I stared back, briefly. Not in the same manner in which you stared at me. To stare that same way you did would require some sort of intrigue and hope for the future, and I was past that. I hadn't felt anything in months, and I wasn't planning on feeling anything again, maybe ever.

Two weeks went by before I saw you again, staring. You were sitting in the same chair, in the same lecture hall, with those same piercing eyes. This time my heart didn't move and I didn't stare back. Part of me hoped it would create that same intrigue I saw in you the first day. Part of me wished you would just go away. All of me was scared.

That day you came over to my house stumbling through the door, I was scared again. Scared you would do something to me, something to you, or something to both of us. But you didn't. You just lay there, on my make-up stained couch, head in my lap with your hands covering your beautiful brown eyes. My hands shook as they stroked your thick hair. You blamed it on the medicine, and getting old. You told me about her, how she broke you, and made you the way you are now. I just listened and felt sorry because I had been there.

I'm sick, you said, and I just stared back, brows knit together in frustration because that was all I could get from you. You suggested we run off to Spain together so I could kiss you there because I didn't want to kiss you here on the couch. Let's go, let's buy the plane tickets now, you said. I almost believed you.

That night you told me that there was a story to be written about me, and you took my face in your hands and kissed it. You kissed me longer and harder than I ever thought possible and when you were done kissing, you took me in your arms, and we lay on the couch in silence. For a second, I remembered what it was like to want something.

And then you kissed me goodbye. You said you would call me. You said you wouldn’t forget. I watched you get in your car and drive away, and then I waited.

You forgot.

Sonnet Writing

Once upon a time I wrote a sonnet. I was asked to share that sonnet with people on various social media sites. Here is that sonnet:

Through darkest nights I choose to walk alone

And searching, shifting, sifting through my life  

I seek a place, a hidden little home

In which to hide my saddest pain and strife.

 

To keep despair inside me, or relent?

And can I leave this secret song unsung?

But then shall all my lonely days be spent,

Like smoke beneath a ceiling I’ll stay hung.    

 

Yet, even as a tempest sea does toss

My insubstantial heart about its waves,

A man does take my storm and make it stay.

 

The Christ, the Son of God does take my loss

And with his perfect life my soul he saves.

Through him my darkest nights are brought to day.