A Little Bit of Sunshine

Sadness is but a wall between two gardens

2012-01-18T19:09:00.000-08:00

It has been a long couple of months. I have been spending time grieving. Grieving for missing out on Truman Joseph Anderson's beautiful mortal life. He was born deceased on November 13, 2011, at 5:45 am. I delivered him in the labor and delivery room of Sunnyside Hospital in Clackamas, Oregon. He was nine inches long. Perfectly formed. With Tyler's eyebrows and a lanky frame. Too perfect for this world.

Most of my grieving and journaling have been done in private. It's a private pain, you see. But I love him still. He has shown me a new way of seeing the world. Someday I'll be able to write it, what Truman knows, what Truman shows me. But not now.

I remember after miscarrying with our first baby, Sterling (Feb 2009), I went back to work after a week. My boss was a wise, wise, lady. She basically said that as an American culture, we do not know how to mourn. How to grieve.

I suppose that is true in a lot of ways. Going to school for a family therapy degree sure has helped me with my own observation of grief. Two years after that first miscarriage, I was sitting in a "pretend" grief and loss support group in one of my classes. I took the role of being a woman who knew she would never be able to bear biological children. Small, stuffy, room. What does it mean to me, I'm asked, to not bear my own children. I had one of those cathartic moments of life: a feelings of despair, grief, hurt, unfathomable pain--all those things that I had felt when Sterling miscarried--they were still there. 2 years later. Inside me. Hidden from even my heart. And in just the right moment, they all came tumbling out in sobs that I did not dare stifle. My poor classmates, just hoping to get through our group therapy class assignment.

I sat in a doctor's office several days ago, learning about possible causes/treatments of future pregnancy losses. Some parts of me were in the room, listening to the good doctor. And other parts of me were far, far, away.

"Number of pregnancies?" the medical assistant asked as we arrived for our consultation. "Two," I respond. "Number of live births?" . . . "Zero," I respond.

I respond. I go on. I go to work. I live. And I grieve. Grief changes you, makes you see things in a different hue. And others who grieve can tap into it. You walk on the same plane, even for a moment, and somehow you're connected to the deepness of loss. You don't say things like "it'll be okay" or "you'll have another." Most of the time, you don't say anything. You just get it. You know grief. It's unspoken. It's in the eyes. It's private. And shared, too.

The gardens go on and on. The walls must be climbed over, drilled through, bombed. Sadness exists. It must be respected, observed, maneuvered. Sadness is but a wall between two gardens.

Goodnight, Truman

2011-11-16T10:22:00.000-08:00

Blogging

2011-11-04T16:03:00.000-07:00

One thing that keeps me from blogging is the feeling that I need something spectacular to blog about, like having a baby ;). If the news is out, what's left to say?

But then again, I sometimes struggle to get through blog posts about fantabulous trips, mostly because it was obviously more exciting to be there than read about being there. Some of my most favorite posts I've read (and written) have been about the ordinary miracles we call life. Speaking of which, do you know that song? I think it's from the newer version of Charlotte's Web:

http://youtu.be/bqZE4ZDnAkQ

Some of the lyrics go like this:

When you wake up everyday

Please don't throw your dreams away

Hold them close to your heart

'Cause we are all a part

Of the ordinary miracles today

Ain't that the truth? Heavenly Father designed this life so that we could wake up every new day with dreams in our hearts. Alma tells his sons to retire to their beds at night with the affections of their hearts placed in the Lord and then to wake up with thanksgivings for all their blessings.

Maybe it's just because it's the gratitude month, or probably because I've had the windows of heaven opened and blessings poured out of late--but it is so easy for me to wake up with thanksgivings in my heart these days. I wake up and think, "I'm still pregnant. I'm living in a beautiful home that feels like a sanctuary from the world. I'm Mrs. Anderson (someone called me that today and it always took me as off guard as it did the day I got married). I have a family of my own, people to love and care about. . ."

We had a Kirtland period, and now we're steadying ourselves in Nauvoo. Beautiful city. Beautiful life. Definitely worth blogging about. Definitely worth living for. So glad I didn't give up. So glad I'll have these mountains behind me when the next peaks enter the distance or my view from the front door.

Baby Anderson and Med School

2011-10-24T10:28:00.000-07:00

I have pondered when to share the "news" to the online world regarding a special delivery that should be landing in Portland, Oregon, around April 9, 2012. Today was the day, because a)we got some really cute ultrasound pictures of this little one (hoping to find out the gender but the tech said she'd get in trouble if she told us before the 18-20 week appointment. grrr :) and b)we got some other great news today--T got accepted to the University of Colorado medical school! The joy is overflowing around our dismantled house right now. I wish you could come and squeal with us!

I know the joy is great because the sorrow has been great, too. Dreams do come true, but literal blood and tears sometimes have to be shed first. My heart aches for those who are still trudging down the path of sorrow, but likewise, I would not be here if I had not gone down that path. It was the only option. Brigham Young said (in his journal of discourses) that when we see our deepest trials as they really are, we will discover that in fact, they are "the greatest blessings that could be bestowed upon" us (p.345).

In CS Lewis's "A Grief Observed," Lewis proclaims, after much deliberation, that "It there is a good God, then these tourtures are necessary. For no even moderately good Being could possibly inflict them if they weren't." Amen. Absolutely necessary. Transformation equals heat, fire, affliction.

My favorite poem, ever, which I discovered while going through what at the time was my hardest experience yet, that of serving a mission in South Africa, goes as follows:

They cut desire into short lengths
And fed it to the hungry fires of courage.
Long after—when the flames had died—
Molten Gold gleamed in the ashes.

They gathered it into bruised palms

And handed it to their children
And their children's children. Forever.

-Vilate Raile, 1947

It's past time to be moving now

2011-10-23T11:20:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite mission companions, Sister Mbithi from Nairobi, Kenya, used to say this phrase at the end of appointments when either the investigators or members were getting long-winded: (imagine it in the best, darling African accent ever): "It's time to be going now" (emphasis on time and going). I would always try to hid my smile, because my companion was the picture perfect portrait of patience, but once we got out, she would mumble something about being there forever if she did not speak up. She was very good at getting us out of there.

This morning, upon returning home from a weekend-long babysitting adventure, I saw the boxes, the laundry from Thursday, the odds and ends that on their own wouldn't be so bad but together are reminiscent of Joplin Missouri footage--and I thought, "It's PAST time to be going now."

Tyler from the kitchen: Oh no.

Sundy from the stairway: What? What?!

Tyler: Something gross. Don't come in here.

Sundy: Ants?

T: No.

Sundy: A mouse? A slug? [mind you, we have had all of these appear on the floor of our kitchen at various times throughout our stay by the mule pasture].

T: I'm not going to tell you.

S: [the unknown is much worse than anything, right?] Tell me!

T: A snake.

S: Ahhhhhh!

It's past time to be moving now.

A Dreaming Doctor

2011-10-19T08:47:00.000-07:00

When Tyler was 2 years old, his sister BreAnn was born with physical and mental impairments. From a young age, Tyler learned to protect his sister. The few times I have seen Tyler shed numerous tears have centered on situations where those with physical and mental infirmities were treated with humiliation or mocked. I have become much more sensitive to those with special needs and also those who in jest and often without realization mock the children of God.

One of the first things I fell in love with Tyler over was the bond he still has with BreAnn. BreAnn is capable, brilliant, strong-willed, lovable, and full of dreams and hopes. She once told me about what it will be like for her when she gets married and has babies to tend. I know that BreAnn has a special sense of the eternal "now" that only the godly can see. Her mortal body is merely a temporal house for her eternal spirit. She senses that blessings, even ones that take years to come to pass, are still very much in her grasp. Never in a million years would I try to tell BreAnn that she should pick a different dream--she KNOWS she will be a mom, a wife, a queen (well, in her case, a princess--every Halloween, this is no question; BreAnn will be Princess BreAnn) to her family. It may take time, but one day, I know it will happen. And the waiting, the patience, the diligence in struggling through, will bear BreAnn precious fruit that is desirable above all other fruit.

While re-listening to Elder Hale's talk from this past General Conference, this line struck my heart: " ...To all of the good Samaritans who minister to the sick, succor the weak, and care for the mentally and physically infirm, I feel the gratitude of a loving Heavenly Father and His Beloved Son." Maybe it's too personal to publicize on a blog like this, but what struck me in the gut was that this line applies to Tyler's personality and spirit, both pre- and post- mortal, and especially now. It was not coincidental that he would be chosen as an older brother--a guardian--for his sister. He had already developed those qualities before coming here. And it is no wonder that he continues to have a desire to care for the sick as a doctor. He has spent his whole eternity thus far preparing. It didn't start with his good grades and test scores. It's been in the works for ions of time.

I speak of all this at a time when, for the fourth go-around, Tyler is attempting to show admissions committees and interviewers around the country that he is fit and capable to do the work of becoming a doctor. I wish that for 20 minutes, the veil could part and they could see what I've only gotten glimpses of, glimpses that bring me to tears and gratitude that I get to share an eternity with this healer. He has been learning the healer's art for a long time.

I recently updated a loved one on Tyler's status of interviews for medical school. This loved one gently asked if Tyler had considered some other options besides doctor that would be "less demanding" and not as competitive. I know that question came from a place of true love. Who likes to watch someone get up numerous times and get beaten back? Everyone wants

to cheer us on, but to me, it felt a little like telling my sister in-law that she should choose a different dream; "Don't work to be a mom, a princess,

a wife. . .

You can always be a baby sitter." She knows what her destiny better than I do. She sees beyond the current hardships and day-to-day tragedies. BreAnn is mastering patience.

And she has inspired me to do the same. So has her brother, my eternal companion and choice. Here's to you, honey, and to all the lives you will heal and bless. You are fit for the label of healer, of doctor. President Monson said that the "future is as bright as your faith." What a noon-day, mid-August Portland day that will be like.

My Serenity Prayer

2011-10-05T09:16:00.001-07:00

We're moving at the end of this month, going to take over "a fortress" while the owners serve an LDS mission in Finland. I'm delighted to move, especially as winter starts to come on. While there are so many joys I will miss about this townhouse (namely, the mules in the backyard and the memories), I'm already feeling the coldness that seeps from the single-pained windows. Fortunately, no frogs or slugs have crept into the dryer vent--yet.

Tyler has definitely been the motivated one as far as packing goes. He was explaining to me last night that it probably took him more time than it needed to to stack boxes in the guest room because he loves to make things "fit perfectly." We are definitely from a different mold. I'm grateful for his somewhat OCD tendencies, as they definitely compensate for my more "creative" qualities (also referred in a former life as being "me_sy"--it's still a swear word to me).

I ramble. All this packing and organizing left me in a good place this morning to start taking pictures and wall hangings down. Nothing says moving like blank walls. I feel it's important to have this transition time, to take away and pack layer after layer of the home we built while we lodged in this house.

As I took down this wall hanging from my mother-in-love, which has been hanging over our staircase, I paused for several minutes:

Most people know the serenity prayer (if at all) from AA or other addiction recovery programs. I think we all have addictions in our lives. The addiction to want to control, the addition of over-eating, the addiction of gossip, etc, etc--not just drugs and pornography, though lots of good people struggle with those, too.

But this morning, my pause was a pause of overwhelming gratitude. The Spirit of God swelled in my heart and ended up emptying my eyes of some moisture, as I realized how much closer I have come in living out this charge; I have been given--by God--acceptance, courage, and wisdom in sorting out the painful parts of my life. Annette gave this quote to us the Christmas after our late-staged miscarriage. 10 months later and the wounds were still fresh. I could not heal from that experience until I came to a place of acceptance, of courage to change the things I actually have control over. The bitterness of loss has been cultivating a place in my heart for hope, for joy, for love in unexpected ways.

This morning, on the staircase, I thanked my God for every opportunity for growth (aka as disappointment, discouragement, heartache, pain) that I've experienced, here in this house:

"And the blessing of the Lord shall rest upon thee and thy house"

Alma 10:7

I feel the blessings. I feel them today.

The Holy Present

2011-09-23T21:21:00.000-07:00

My friends, it has been too long. Far too long. You see, I've been living in the "holy present" as Elder Maxwell called it. But tonight, my cousin reminds me that "at this moment you're as old as you've ever been and as young as you'll ever be." It's really got me riled up. And it makes me think of this song.

Please, wherever you, just kick off your shoes, grab your loved ones, and dance to this song from "Pippin":

I'm getting the boot

2011-08-11T17:58:00.000-07:00

I posted this a few days ago, but here it is for those who didn't get a chance to read it:

You know how wonderful it is to be with the young women and still feel like you're "with it?" Still young, still fashionable, still in the know about boys and lip gloss and slumber party giggles. I've been in YW's since I've been married. In our first Oregon ward, I was MiaMaid advisor. Loved it. In this ward, I was YW's Personal Progress Specialist for a year and then got put in as Second Counselor with the Beehives for a year. Loved that. Loved them. Love their sparkle and their laughter and their purity and their desire to be true to the faith that their parents have cherished. I loved reciting the YW's theme with them and finally getting that part about home and family right and feeling the Spirit witness that keeping the values close to their hearts WILL prepare them to make and keep sacred covenants and serve missions and bless their families.

Saturday evening was just rolling along. I was savoring recipes from my Food Network magazine (not a good idea when you're fasting, but I digress). . . when the Bishop calls. He wants to meet tomorrow. Sure, I say. . . is this. . .? Yes, he says, you're getting released. We're releasing the presidency before school starts. . .

New calling. Probably cub scouts leader or RS chorister or some calling that is just what I need but not what I want. I want to be with the girls. It's like a territorial thing, you know? Like every person that finds out you're in young women's is like, "Oh, I was in young women's and I LOVED it." Yes, you loved it. So did I.

I'd been planning this Young Women's Christmas lesson about Wise Men Still Seek Him and "We Seek After These Things" and the temple being the place we travel to now to be at the Savior's home. I was planning our Beehive president's (who has totally blossomed from awkward to wonderful in two year's time) surprise birthday party. I was thinking up ideas for Evening of Excellence and plotting how I could get to Girl's camp next summer. The girls had just helped me make my very first friendship bracelet. We were going to move to the twisty ones.

And talk about the presidency. I LOVED my presidency. The president is this mix of fun and love and creativity and joy and kindness and everything you'd want to be in 10 years from now with darling kids and a beautiful home and all the sunshine I needed when the days were dark. I need to stop. This is getting depressing.

I am so grateful for callings. I'm grateful that the Lord can turn burdens into light and that we get to experience a bit of his love in our stewardships for the seasons we have them.

Update: I am now the primary teacher to 12 8 and 9 year-old children.

DC, Here we come!

2011-08-06T21:45:00.000-07:00

I've been plotting to take Tyler to Washington, DC since before we were married. DC/Virginia is my second home, the places I spent as a child even more than Utah.

And we're going! Tyler has an interview at George Washington University's School of Medicine, so we're making a trip of it. This will count as our summer trip/3rd anniversary get-away/why-NOT-take-a-trip vacation.

It's so needed. The only extended (we're going for a week!) trips we've been on since marriage have been to Utah to visit family. And while we will technically be visiting family on this trip, too (my aunt Karen and uncle Glen live in Virginia, Happy is at Georgetown, and my parents will be in Charlottesville while we're there), this trip is definitely out of the ordinary.

I want to show Tyler my childhood fortress Monroe, where seagulls soars and salt water sprays:

I want to walk by the monuments on the National Mall at night with T's hand in mine, feeling gratitude for those who more than self their country loved:

I want to take my husband to the places where I first gained my very own witness that God has a plan for families and individuals; particularly, that God had a plan for MY family and ME, even a little youngster:

And of course, I want Tyler to have an incredible first experience with all the East Coast wonders, like Bodo's bagels, Au Bon Pain, and other waiting delicatessens :).

Here we come, Smithsonian, Foggy Bottom Metro Station, Colonial Williamsburg, Kennedy Center, muggy fall, forested hills, my country 'tis of Thee. We'll be arriving shortly.

It's Official

2011-07-26T13:35:00.000-07:00

http://www.westernpsych.com/directory/practitioner_detail.php?id=315

I am a child, couples, and family therapist.

Myrtle

2011-07-21T17:34:00.001-07:00

She has rested her head at a little nursing home in Tualatin, Oregon, for who knows how long. Her missionary plaque hangs on the wall, little known to the staff that that lady is this lady. The one lying coma-like in a bed-- she tramped across the Southern States for two years as a latter-day missionary in the 40's.

We'd sing to her. The first time we came, staff told us she didn't talk, but she loved music. She had a picture of President Hinckley on her wall. We sang hymns and primary songs the first time. On our way out the door, Myrtle called out "No!" We brought her a picture of President Monson, telling her about his call to be the current prophet several years ago, probably while she had been listening to music. We told Myrtle about our callings, our lives, about the beauty of the world that we had been told she loved.

She was a professor once. She worked with the boy scouts for many years. So we'd been told. When family came to visit us, we took them to visit Myrtle. Something about her spirit calms you. Everyone feels it--especially staff.Our visits were brief, but Myrtle's peace lingered in our lives for days after our visits.

On Monday, I got a call from the nursing home staff. "Myrtle has stopped swallowing. If you'd like to say goodbye, you'd better come soon." The day had been busy. I felt that we must go--we had to say our goodbyes. The last several times we'd visited, Myrtle didn't even open her eyes. We pulled out of the busy Costco parking lot and drove to Myrtle's bedside. Walking through the doors of the center felt the same as always, the radio playing oldies and that nursing home smell ever present. Old age sat everywhere--it always had, but that day, death felt formidable.

Was she still breathing? There, we saw her, last room to the back. Her pink sheets and bed. She was there. Eyes open. We walked across the thresh hold of the room, and instant Spirit greeted us. A hollowed, hallowed face shone from the bedside. That perfect, smooth skin. . .

"We've come to say goodbye, Myrtle. You must have loved ones here right now," I whispered to Myrtle, acknowledging the thickness of holiness in the room. We sang "Oh My Father," prayed, and left our friend to rise up to eternity.

Projection

2011-07-19T12:09:00.001-07:00

I ran across a friend's facebook page (let's call her Alta) where she commented on her frustration with mothers who don't encourage their daughters to be modest. Mind you, both of these women are mothers with daughters. Almost immediately, her friend (who I do not know--let's call her Bea) started commenting on Alta's facebook pictures that Bea considered immodest (short shorts) from back in the glory days of high school. Bea had a profile picture in a spaghetti-strapped tank (which I obviously consider immodest because I'm mentioning it) and commented that she believed her children should be modest, but she would not force them to dress differently than they chose to. . .

So the woman go back and forth, back and forth, each one casting blame at the other person for her lack of compassion, lack of tack, judgment, etc. Soon the whole idea about modesty is out the window and now they are focused on each other's tactics in approaching "friendly conversation and facebook profiles."

Far removed from this converstion (it was a back and forth dialogue between Alta and Bea, except for when Alta 's hubby chimed in to give back up to his darling) were 22 additional people who "Liked" the original comment. I'm sure there were/are an equal number of people who disliked the comment, but had no "dislike" button to push, so they moved on with their day.

What was it between these two women, bantering back and forth for over a day about modesty? Some might say it was a power struggle. Obviously. But what prompted the comment to begin with. Why did my friend have so much disgust with the mothers and daughters she saw out in the heat of summer in low cut tops and tiny shorts? What prompted Bea to feel that her name was written all over the original comment (which it was not).

I submit two likely culprits: guilt and blame (aka projection).

Wikipedia (the source of all truth :), defines projection as the following:

"Psychological projection . . . is a psychological defense mechanism where a person subconsciously denies his or her own attributes, thoughts, and emotions, which are then ascribed to the outside world, usually to other people. Thus, projection involves imagining or projecting the belief that others originate those feelings.

"Projection reduces anxiety by allowing the expression of the unwanted unconscious impulses or desires without letting the conscious mind recognize them."

The heat came not from the other party, but from the self. Blame is an outlet for pain and inner discomfort. It was easier for Alta to be disgusted by other mothers and daughters than to deal with the guilt that she may have about defying her own mother with immodest clothes, or perhaps her sadness that she will not be able to wear that certain style, or her daughter won't--I don' t know what feelings she was escaping. It was easier for Bea to blame my friend for being judgmental than to accept the feelings of guilt that she is wearing immodest clothes, or whatever.

My point. I am no Freud, but I can smell projection from a mile away. Why? Because I do it all the time.

Post Grad

2011-07-18T11:08:00.000-07:00

A few updates from my life:

-Today is the 6th day of a terrible, gushing cold. My tp roll is getting great usage, better than a tree-top job back in the glory days when staying up late and running around outside was fun.

-I put my two weeks in after only a month and a half of a new job. Got a better job.

-My parents are moving to Virginia for 8 months. Jealous, is all I have to say.

-Tyler is definitely winning our family's "biggest loser" contest :(

-While the Cuisinart indoor ice cream maker is NOT helping me win the weight-loss competition, it has definitely been the favorite kitchen-gear purchase of my life.

-The non-frugal purchase of an Android phone has actually helped me cut down on my internet addiction. I spend way less time online now that I now I can be online 24/7. Always want what you can't have, I suspect.

-Grilled mangoes--best summer time treat. Cut up a mango and leave in its skins. Put some foil on the grill-- brush some lime juice and olive oil on the flesh of the fruit. Grill 3-4 minutes on each side. It kind of tastes like a peach cobbler. Mmmmm.

-My deep cleaning once a week goal has dwindled in unbelief.

-One of my best friends and her cutest children and reliable husband moved 4 hours away. Sad day.

-I still believe that the joy is in the journey. I've been a journeyin'. . .

Happy 3rd Anniversary, Honey

2011-06-13T07:55:00.000-07:00

Such a total union, such an unyielding commitment between a man and a woman, can only come with the proximity and permanence afforded in a marriage covenant, with solemn promises and the pledge of all they possess--their very hearts and minds, all their days and all their dreams.

-Elder Jeffery R. Holland, Oct 1998

Being Frugal

2011-05-11T19:24:00.000-07:00

Have I blogged about this before? I feel like I have. But it's still on my mind. Sometimes I am really frugal. Like I will not buy anything in Hawaii because the prices are exorbitant and like I really wanted it anyway. . .

Or take Satursday night, when I was just dying for some Panda Express Green Bean Chicken. Have you had that stuff? It's just delightful. Crispy beans, long strips of white onion, grilled chicken with that oh so delicious sauce. I can smell it now, with some icy root beer, too.

No, we did not go. We ate this instead:

It was a frugal decision. A mutually frugal decision. These are bowls of steamed green beans with chicken veggie pot stickers. And that little packet? That is our sauce. Straight from the freezer, bought for an occasion such as this one, where neither of us feels like cooking. Phew! Frugality is tough.

But then there are weighter matters. . . like . . . smart phones.

Ty and I have been using our pitiful phones that "look cool" but "act like a fool" for 22 months (as of yesterday). I'm starting a new job on Monday and I will receive a small stipend towards phone calls made when I am away from the office (which will be the majority of the day--more on that when I start working). Tyler's work will pay up to $75 specifically for a data plan so that he can email, call, etc., any time and any where.

This is where frugality becomes even more challenging. It starts to wrestle with the concept that I know doesn't really exist but has been a part of my vocab for years. Years. The word is--fair. Is it fair for Tyler to have a smart phone while I do not? Is it fair for me want a smart phone when my work will not reimburse what Tyler's job will.

The questions go on. Is it fair to get an expensive phone when 35% of the time I do not know where my phone is? I've left my phone in a McDonald's in nowhere Pennsylvania. I've dropped my phone in the toilet. Is it fair for Tyler to want to get a hold of me and not be able to because I have no smart phone? What is fair anyway?

When the guy at the Tmobile store was downloading my contacts (yes, I did get the new smart phone, too), there were dried crumbs and grease on the phone.

Frugality did not win, friends. I got the Gx2 with Google. Apparently its all the rage in the android world, at least the T Mobile android world. I just barely figured out how to check my email. I'm pretty sure this phone will become my life saver. Well, maybe it's more that I will spend my life figuring out this phone.

But don't worry. We are still frugal. We do not have cable. We drive one car. We go to the grocery store two times a month instead of weekly and have saved a ton.

I think I'm just trying to convince myself that it was okay to not be frugal about this phone. Oh well, I have 13 more days to decide if this is a must in my life. I'm pretty sure I've already decided.

The graduate

2011-05-02T19:01:00.000-07:00

I will write more about this adventure soon, but I'm currently celebrating : )

Adoption. . .

2011-04-20T10:34:00.000-07:00

This is NOT an announcement. Well, it is in a way. Tyler and I have been praying about how to extend our family, and we know that adoption will a part of that process. I'm at peace with this, and excited. It will be a long process--the Lord told me that from the beginning. But I know there is a plan for our family, and it brings me such peace.

28th Birthday

2011-03-18T10:34:00.001-07:00

Cousin Crystal taking me to Rimsky's for dessert (she got a vanilla steamer (milk). . .And I was naughty and got this decadent raspberry and chocolate creamy to die for--can't explain it dessert. And hot chocolate. And then the cheese--let me not talk about the calories consumed on my day of birth celebrations.

And can you see the hair cut??--yet another birthday present. This one from my cousin Kayleen.
Swirly chunks of dark chocolate, fresh raspberries, cream, sugar--all floating together in even more whipped cream.
Tyler was not to get me a boxed gift--a ticket to Utah was present enough. But when this little jewel of an Anthropologie came out of the back seat of the car, I was thrilled.

Yes, I loved this. And yes, T picked it out himself. Looked for bright colors, he said. . .My favorite little lemon cake in the world--it's about 5 inches in diameter and every single bite is heaven on earth. I wish there was a New Season's Market on every corner.

Favorite part of the day: Sitting in the temple talking with my Heavenly Father about His goodness in my life and feeling that He knew I was there, in His house, on my birthday.

Faith is always pointed forward . . .

2011-03-06T10:12:00.000-08:00

Tyler was just reading "The Best is Yet to Be" by Elder Jeffery R. Holland. T read me this quote:

"It is possible that Lot’s wife looked back with resentment toward the Lord for what He was asking her to leave behind. We certainly know that Laman and Lemuel were resentful when Lehi and his family were commanded to leave Jerusalem. So it isn’t just that she looked back; she looked back longingly.

In short, her attachment to the past outweighed her confidence in the future."

Clear the throat and ouch! Was Elder Holland talking to me? Somewhere along my path in life, I got disappointed by my anticipation of future events that ended up going . . .not as planned?

So in order to protect myself from disappointment, I started worrying about the possibilities of the future, holding on to the past, and waiting to see if things would be okay before I got excited.

Sounds kind of pessimistic. And adultish. And lacking faith. Maybe that's why I've felt this need to really live this year.

Could it really be that the BEST is yet to be? That's exciting!

Here are some future things that excite me:

-Making St Patty's Day Sugar Cookies

-Turning in my blasted thesis

-My mini Spring Break trip to U.T.A.H.

-Graduation

-Tyler's brother's mission call

-Having a family

-Making family home evening games, lessons, etc, for my files.

-Etc. I could go on.

Anticipation rather than fear. Like an African Elder once told me, look forward ever, backwards never.

Sun

2011-02-25T08:24:00.000-08:00

When my sister Lacey started a revamp of the Sundy Lynn blog, she put this picture in the upper corner of my page. I probably don't know anymore about how to make a cute blog page than I did then, but this picture means more to me now than ever.

Why? Because I know more than ever the importance of reaching up:

when I'm down

when I'm stressed

when I'm selfish. . .

It's when I reach up or out that I am lifted, that I feel the sunshine in my soul.

Life is good. Oh so good.

Hives

2011-02-20T21:07:00.000-08:00

This is not a picture of my skin. But it could have been. Imagine this type of blotchy redness (except redder around the edges) all over my frame--front, back, middle, legs, feet, arms--scary!!!

It happened all the sudden. I was sitting in a family group at the county corrections center, facilitating conversations with support people and their adult incarcerated sons about the best and worst things about recovery from addiction. . .

All the sudden I felt hot. And itchy. I took off my jacket and started to scratch my back against my chair. Heat seemed to ooze off my skin the more I scratched. I excused myself for a moment, went to the restroom, and could not believe the grapefruit sized welts all over my body. Group was over for the night.

I called my medical expert--T--who is an expert on dispensing hydrocortisone cream, allergies, and when to call the doctor. He suggested that as I could still breath, I could go to the drug store for some benadryl , which he said would be the same thing they'd give me in the ER. I considered the $50+ bill for a trip to the ER, and itching like mad, grabbed liquid capsules and an orange juice from a nearby Albertsons.

The 30-minute car ride home was long. I knew that the more I scratched the more I would itch, so I sang, prayed, laughed, screamed, and sped.

I got into a cold shower, got a blessing, and T iced the hives until most of the swelling went down.

What caused my hives, friends? Was it an allergy, an attack of poison oak? Nope.

It was "emotional STRESS". The hives continued for another day but they have subsided.

The body is smart. It knows when its had enough. I guess I know now, too.

V-Day Cookies

2011-02-13T18:39:00.000-08:00

I've had extra time these past couple of days. . . Martha Stewart gave me the recipe (not in person, but you know what I mean).

Ah, there is nothing so sweet and wondrous as Valentine's cookies on Valentine's. Too bad they're already gone. (I did give some away :).

The Power of Cheese

2011-02-02T10:56:00.000-08:00

Cheese promotes good sleep. Cheese tastes different depending on it's state-shredded, melted, cut, cubed (have you ever noticed that? I sure have.) Cheese contains natural opiates--it really does make you feel better. I think that's the power of cheese to me--it's comforting.

My love for cheese spans my lifetime. Before I started worrying about preservatives and processed foods, these were some of my favorites (and confession, if they happened to be at a party or someone dropped them off on my doorstep, I would not be able to resist):

Actually, I doubt they had Kettle brand back then, but you know those Ruffle ones, Cheddar and sour cream? Mmmm. And Cheetos, definitely Cheetos. I DO not love cheese in a can or Velveeta cheese--that stuff reminds me of long car trips in the heat and day after day school lunches.Really, I wasn't picky back then. Even Jello No-bake cheese-cake was okay. In fact, when I tried the real stuff, so rich and heavy, I wasn't super impressed. But no cherries, please.

Ah yes, the cheap, the fatty, the no nutrition but loaded with cheese powdered Kraft original. When I was pregnant, it was what I craved. Comfort, I tell you.

Now that I'm older, I understand that I cannot eat cheese like I did. But every so often, I just CRAVE a shmear of cream cheese, melting on a toasted bagel in all it's calorie and carb-laden goodness.

If I had to pick a favorite cheese (which is like picking a favorite child--and they both start with "ch"), it would be Coastal Cheddar. The label does not lie--it is rugged, sweet, salty, creamy heaven. If you have not tried this sharp cheddar variety, please head to your nearest Costco and beg for a sample. Try it with apples, pears, grapes. Put it in your salads. Make a grilled ham and cheese with it. Eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Know that while this cheese is loaded with saturated fats, etc, it will bring you the joy your day is lacking. Every time.

Forgiveness

2011-01-28T10:25:00.000-08:00

I had a rough week. It's been at least 6 days of stress, confusion, guilt, anger, and a lot of feelings that I cannot exactly pinpoint on a "how are you feeling today?" chart. Let's just say that I felt betrayed and sacrificed for the good of the team. No details needed. The torture and tears ended last night when I read this quote from President Monson on my fridge:

There is really no way we can know the heart, the intentions, or the circumstances of someone who might say or do something we find reason to criticize. Thus the commandment: 'judge not.'"

I love that forgiveness is a reality, that the malice in my heart has been replaced by the pure love of Jesus Christ. No need to worry about fair, right or wrong, who's to blame or not. Just a release and a let go of natural man chains.

Report

2011-01-19T08:13:00.000-08:00

Just wanted to check in and say that I have been keeping some of my resolutions. It's only been three weeks, but I've deep cleaned something every week thus far :)

I've been living. Last night I came home dead tired and instead of facebooking I asked T to play a game with me. He graciously agreed. It was looking like a continual loss of Five Crowns for me (thank you, Lacey for the new cards :). But in the 13th round, when the Kings went wild (please tell me you know this wonderful game)--I triumped!

My life is full of abundance. I have ears to hear and eyes to see the blessings and miracles of living today!

Resolved

2011-01-07T15:45:00.001-08:00

Resolutions. Some people (like T) LIVE for them. I have always felt a little grumpy (ha! see last post) about goals. I tend to feel discouraged before I even start the battle. But would you look at this face of the girl below?
Man, she looks happy! And stress-free, just riding Marissa's (9 yr-old sister in law) new bike around farm land Benjamin. Maybe it was a self-fulfilling prophecy, but I just knew I'd be crabby after coming home from a 2 and a half week vacation to Utah. Don't get me wrong, there were plenty of up and downs on that trip, but the feeling of being disconnected to real life was quite cozy, charming, whatever you want to call it. It was fantastic.

And now I am sitting at my computer, supposedly writing my thesis (first draft due in less than a week). And our house is cold. We've tried some new plastic stuff for over the windows (the guy at Fred Meyer's was able to convince me out of a space heater to Tyler's relief :), so maybe that will help. I'm in my pink bathrobe with a sweater and jeans.

So the purpose of this post:

being resolved to set and keep some goals.

1) Don't die. This one is obviously not completely in my control, but I want to live. Really live. I don't want to have "dead" days, where I give up on giving all I've got. So I guess a more positive spin on that would be

2) Really live. Have spontaneous adventures at least 2x a month. Smile more. Learn some funny jokes and execute them. Encourage others rather than compare myself to them.

3) Keep up the exercise and food routine. You know how they say diets don't work? It's true, because a diet means you're going to kill yourself for a while and then go back to your old ways. Well, in 2010, I started changing the way I live. I was on a live it (is there a life or death theme going on here?). When I stepped on a scale for the first time in months, I realize I've gradually lost 20 lbs over the space of a year. That was some slow, almost unnoticeable change, but it was just from eating healthier and jogging several times a week.

4) Tame my creative side. This isn't what it sounds like. Everyone in my family knows that I HATE the word "messy." Do not even hint to me that I am disorganized. I'll go off the handle. I talked about this with my therapist the other day (yes, I have one, and you should, too :)--she said "You know, you should come up with a different word for yourself. You are creative. You are continually in process." Yes--I like that much better than messy. But I want to tame my creativity a bit. I'll do this with the following commitments:

A) Deep clean one thing once a week

B) Stop "stuffing" as Tyler calls it--I can't stand looking at clutter, so I'll stuff things in drawers instead of walking upstairs, etc. No more. If I can't put it were it belongs, it will stay out of place.

C) Tyler got me a nuvi GPS for the car--I will keep the front seat cleaned out so we can feel like we have one of those ritzy cars with our ritzy GPS.

D) Keep my school papers cleaned up instead of stacked next to the computer. Enough said.

5) Give my burdens to the Lord more freely. Now I know this one isn't a S.M.A.R.T. goal, that it will be hard to measure, but I have a worrying problem, and it's a favorite thing that I need to let go of. When I'm weighed down, I have a choice. I can give it to the dear Redeemer--He's so willing and oh so able.

6) Take trips. Even small ones.

7) Graduate.

8) Teach voice students (I have 4 now).

9) Become a mother. I feel like I already am one in some ways, but I want to hone in on those sensitivities, desires, nurturing qualities, regardless of whether I get pregnant this year or not (which I've already figured out is pretty much OUT of my resolved control).

10) Be a better blogger.

Happy new year. I have clients out my ears, a thesis that keeps calling me, a husband who sacrifices for my good, a family that means the world to me, and friends who care. I am blessed and my cup will continue to run over so long as I keep counting blessings.

Grumpy

2010-11-01T09:11:00.000-07:00

It's challenging to accept, admit, and live with the fact that I am not always sunshine. This role of bringing sunshine to the lives of others has been one I've carried, yearned for, and tried to execute since the time my Grandma gave me the nickname. I started realizing when I got married that Tyler tends to more optimism than I do. Wait. . .I thought, isn't that my role? Isn't it me that brings sunshine? I've had several conversations with loved ones of late (you know who you are) where I have stepped out of the sunshine role and stepped into a place of "this is me and if you love me you'll like me"--it's been met with resistance, frustration, some acceptance, and a comment that "the old Sundy wouldn't say things like that."

Hmmm. This is challenging, as I've mentioned. Doing a family therapy program wasn't supposed to change ME, it was supposed to change the lives of the people I help. I have spent the majority of my days of earth trying to "bring sunshine into the lives of others."

That's not to say that others have not brought me joy, nor that I don't enjoy serving and lifting others. Both are true. I am currently searching for the balance of being true to myself (which for many years I did not think was possible because that would break the sunshine role) and be a compassionate daughter of God. The words of Elder Holland ring in my head today:

"Negative speaking so often flows from negative thinking, including negative thinking about ourselves. We see our own faults, we speak—or at least think—critically of ourselves, and before long that is how we see everyone and everything. No sunshine, no roses, no promise of hope or happiness. Before long we and everybody around us are miserable. . .'The spirit of the gospel is optimistic; it trusts in God and looks on the bright side of things. The opposite or pessimistic spirit drags men down and away from God, looks on the dark side, murmurs, complains, and is slow to yield obedience.' We should honor the Savior’s declaration to “be of good cheer.” Indeed, it seems to me we may be more guilty of breaking that commandment than almost any other!" (Tongue of Angels, May 2007).

So I admit it: I've been stressed, pressured, anxious, and yes, even grumpy. I'm trying not to 1) beat myself up for feeling this way 2)blame other people/circumstances for feeling this way or 3)abandon the ones I love while I "get over it". I am going to 1)be real about how I'm feeling, 2) "Look and live" and 3)keep pluggin' along.

Moderation

2010-10-25T09:48:00.000-07:00

I promise this post is not a tattle tale on my husband--I am guilty of the same behavior much more of the time, but I know our life is getting a little out of control when even temperate T is struggling with moderation.

Case Example #1: The Drive Through

Tyler does not like fast food. He read a book (In Defense of Food--all about eating food in its most natural state--something you don't generally find at fast food), plus he's counting our pennies to apply to many, many med schools next Spring. So we don't do fast food. . . except when we're both getting out of class at 10 o'clock on a Friday night and we have to BACK at class at 8 am the next day.

So we're at the drive through and in true Tyler fashion he picks the cheapest thing on the menu--I convince him that we should split a pumpkin smoothie and go for the 10 cent more burger with cheese-- I'm telling the lady over the intercom, 2 burgers, one small pumpkin smoothie, a glass of ice water. . .

Lady at Burgerville: Will that be all for you?

T: And a large fry

S: And a large fry.

Case Example #2:

It's Sunday night--we had a salad for dinner and it's about time to turn in for the night. Family phone calls are almost finished up, and T's in the kitchen.

S: What's going on?

T: I've decided to make homemade hot chocolate and scones-- I need a sweet treat.

Absolutely we need a sweet treat. No complaints by me.

Technically, I guess this still might be considered moderation for a few reasons. First, Burgerville prides itself on only using the freshest ingredients, all from local farms (though I'm pretty sure it was a white flour bun). Secondly, the scones had whole wheat flour. Thirdly, if I'm writing about these experiences as anomalies, it's not the norm. Right?

Jogging in the Fall

2010-10-15T10:12:00.000-07:00

This is Portland in autumn--blessed, blessed Portland. I admit that it still takes a bit to get me out jogging 3-5 times per week, but how I love the sunshine and crisp air when I start out, breaking into a rhythm with my ipod as my feet almost magically spin in circles, carting my body onward, ever onward. I loved jogging in Botswana more than any other time in my life, including now, but this day brought me back to those blessed days, too.

Confession: I generally end my runs with David Archuletta's "Touch My Hand"--if you know the song, it's cheeseball, but one time my cousin Kayleen told me the song reminded her of me and T, and since then, I just picture scenes from our lives together as I do that last little push to the finish.

Today I decided to climb one more hill after David's song ended. "Joy to the World" started playing--I laughed to myself and thought I should just turn it off, Christmas is still two months away :) But I was jogging uphill--I didn't want to stop to fiddle with my ipod--and then the clear, forceful, redeeming words rested on me as I fought my good fight-- "and wonders of His love", repeating again and again. I stopped jogging and started dancing. I promise I've not lost all of my senses (yet) but I also promise that I must have been a dancer before this life--when I feel the greatest bouts of joy, I just dance. My sister Lacey might remember me jumping/dancing around our living room a time or two, but for the most part, this is a private affair, me praising the Lord with dance.

I hope I can keep this feeling in my heart today, my sometimes sad and sometimes lonely and sometimes selfish and sometimes hardened and self-pitying heart--the wonders of His love.

Doing this

2010-09-24T11:57:00.001-07:00

I sat in a group of fellow grad student counselors yesterday, explaining why my life is hard right now. I basically have a 30 hour a week job (my internship) like the rest of them, but I also am taking six classes with a total of 30 assignments due throughout the semester. Crickets chirped, then they all told me I was crazy and needed to drop classes and graduate a year later.

Hmm. There are plenty of reasons for "doing this" that I did not share with my classmates. But, dear readers, I will share them with you:

1) My end goal in life is not to be a family therapist. I desire to a mother.

2) Motherhood has not been "happening" the way I figured it would, so the Lord provided me this in-between time task to increase my ability to love and nurture children when they do come.

3) When children DO come, I want to be out of school.

4) School costs a LOT of money.

5) A LOT of money needs to come to our family to pay for the said experience, as well as any necessary arrangements for children to come to our home.

6) The longer I am in school, the more tuition rises and number of classes increase.

7) Whether or not I get to be a mom in the near future, I need to be done with school to progress our family's future.

Thus, I grind through, supported by the Lord and my husband, cheering friends and family members, and apparently NOT my fellow graduate student counselors.

Thoughts from my dad

2010-09-20T07:56:00.000-07:00

I've had similar thoughts to this for a long time now---an email from my dad to my brother serving as a missionary in Japan:

Dear Paul, September 19, 2010

We had a life changing experience at our Empty Nester's FHE on Monday night. Yes, they let us come even though two of our four have flown back to the nest for a short rest. Dr. Raquel Cook came to our back yard, and shared some lessons that she has learned from Nine-Eleven. Nine years again she lost over twenty co-workers from the attacks in New York.

Raquel grew up in Utah County, and even graduated from BYU. But a nagging anger consumed her, and Raquel had to get out of Happy Valley. After graduating, Raquel lived in 38 different countries in her 20's; India, South Korea, China and Saudi Arabia to name a few. When asked if she was ever in danger traveling around the world, Raquel responded that the only place in her life that she had been mugged at gunpoint was in Salt Lake City. Utah. Go figure???

The Lord allowed Raquel to meet and work with Mother Teresa in India. While intending to merely meet her, Mother Teresa put her right to work helping to comfort Lepers, providing compassion and comfort to these outcasts.
Prior to meeting the Dalai Lama, Raquel Cook was instructed to prepare by fasting from speaking for an entire week, which was next to impossible for her. Raquel's goal was to asked for help in dealing with the anger that consumed her soul. But in not being able to articulate her thoughts for that very long week, the anger question was swept away, and was replaced with a greater desire to have more compassion for others.

In London, while doing her Master's degree, Raquel lived with Muslem, a Jew, a Christian and an Atheist. These five women developed a warm openness, and shared in great detail their beliefs. Her Muslem friend would shared passages from the Quran, and Raquel would offer latter-day scriptures in their evening devotionals. They were both amazed at how much they had in common. Before parting, her friend gave Raquel a Quran with engraved on the cover, and hugged her whispering "You have made me a better Muslem". "You have made me a better Mormon".

Yes, in unusual and remote locations, Raquel kept running into members of the Church. She has been endowed in the Temple. Raquel sees so many parallels in the many religions she has learned of. We're not the only people who cloth themselves with garments. God speaks in so many ways to his children throughout the earth.

On the way to work with an investment firm on September 11, 2001, Raquel was rescued from under a parked car as the buildings were falling around her, and thrown into a darkened basement where she wondered if Armageddon had arrived. Surviving the attacks on New York City, Raquel walked through thick ashes fearing she was walking on the dead consumed in the furnace of the explosion. Life shattered with loss, reliving the nightmare over and over, and then rebuilding her life, Raquel turned her energy towards teaching students at American Fork High School, and now at UVU. Many have been lifted through her vision.

Raquel Cook shared a powerful summery of her sojourn through many lands and cultures with these words; "I studied Taoism in China, and I read the Analects of Confucius. I've visited temples in Asia and mosques in the Middle East and cathedrals in Europe. I have immersed myself in 38 countries and attended religious ceremonies of Jains, Jews, Sikhs, Buddhists, Hindus, Muslims, Baptists, Mormons, Shintos, and Native Americans. I've been to the Vatican and the Ganges and Mecca and Salt Lake, and never in that tim e or in any of those places did I meet a single person who was different from me."

We are children of the God who loves us intensely. Love, Dad

Overwhelmed

2010-09-10T12:01:00.000-07:00

Overwhelmed in two ways. First. . .

My tension headaches, itching ears, and sore jaw that I can pop back and forth are back. They came as I started seeing clients at my internship. So far I have a client who was abused by her Mormon stepmom until she was 18 (my client is a recovering meth adict and in her 40's now), a 10 year old whose alcoholic mom can't see him until she can get clean and sober, a 27 year old woman whose husband forced her to get an abortion and now makes comments like "you killed my baby" to attack and control her, a woman from South Korea who has a 4 year old boy whose been acting out the violence he saw his dad act out on his mom (strangling) and now is kicked out of preschool while his mom tries to work 2 jobs at Japanese restaurants, a family with three kids and parents who plan on divorcing when their 9 year old turns 18, and a young couple who are both in recovery from heroin.

I have been a caregiver my whole life and if anything is going to teach me that I am NOT powerful enough to "fix" other people, heal other people, or change their lives--this internship will.

Second. . .

I am overwhelmed by the compassionate love of Jesus Christ. Overwhelming sweetness, calm, peace, and POWER washed over me as I read the words of Isaiah moments ago:

For the Lord God will help me, therefore shall I not be confounded. Therefore have I set my face like a flint, and I know that I shall not be ashamed.

And the Lord is near, and he justifieth me. Who will contend with me? Let us stand together. Who is mine adversary? Let him come near me, and I will smite him with the strength of my mouth.

For the Lord God will help me. (2 Ne 7)

Wow. Strength from above, yes, the enabling power is swarming in my heart right now. . . And then he speaks even MORE directly to me and people like me who feel the need to do it all and never feel like it is enough:

"Who is among you that feareth the Lord, that obeyeth the voice of his servant, that walketh in darkness and hath no light?

Behold all ye that kindle fire, that compass yourselves about with sparks, walk in the light of your fire and in the sparks which ye have kindled. This shall ye have of mine hand."

I'm stunned. I am NOT powerful enough to "fix" other people, heal other people, or change their lives. . .but He is.

Letter to Paul

2010-08-21T12:26:00.001-07:00

My brother is serving a mission in Japan. I wrote this today and feel like pondering it more. . .

Dear Elder Peterson,

My heart is brimming with hope this morning as I feast on the words of Isaiah. I’ve felt a drought in recent days, reading for reading’s sake but only feeling “fluffed”, not filled. This morning, like Nephi, I can say “my soul delighteth” in Isaiah’s words. Now don’t get me wrong, the historical, prophetic parts of Isaiah’s words are still a mystery to me, but I liken his words to my life, and I find deep parallels.

I’ve been reading in 1 Ne and am overwhelmed by how much God loves those who make covenants with Him. So much of my life I’ve felt an obligation to please God and serve Him so I can obtain blessings. I’ve also felt extreme guilt when I’ve disobeyed His laws, knowingly or otherwise. I remember saying family prayer one night while in high school. I must have said something in the prayer like “Please help us to be more worthy of the many blessings we enjoy.” After the prayer, Mom wrapped her arms around me and said something about how God ‘s love for us is not based on what we do but because we are His. That felt like a contradiction to me and my 16/17 year old mind couldn’t handle the paradox: so God loves us the same no matter what we do, but God can’t bless us unless we keep His commandments. Being blessed is the same as being loved, right? WRONG.

Isaiah speaks to all of us who have once covenanted with Him but then estrange ourselves from Him (doesn’t that include everyone?). If the Lord only loved the perfect, He’d have a pool of zero mortals to love. He says “oh, all ye that are broken off, and scattered abroad”; that’s exactly how I feel when I recognize my weakness and errors-broken off from the love, good for nothing but being burned up. But before I lose hope, Isaiah says “Listen” and “harken from afar”. . . Even when I stumble, I have made covenants (I have been WILLING), and that’s what He’s asking from me. There’s this beautiful dialogue between Isaiah and the Lord (and I’m likening it to me and the Lord”

The Lord: “Thou art my servant, oh Israel, in whom I will be glorified.” (1 Ne 21:3)

Sundy: “I have labored in vain. I have spent my strength for naught and in vain; surely my judgment is with the Lord” [I haven’t done it all, I haven’t been what I needed to be, so I know Thou will judge me harshly]. (1 Nephi 21:4)

The Lord: “In an acceptable time have I heard thee. . .and I will preserve thee.” (vs. 8).

He will preserve me!! In the chapter before the Lord says “I have refined thee, I have chosen thee in the furnace of affliction” (20:10). So even though sometimes I do chose to cut myself off from feeling the Lord’s love or cease to have His Spirit to be with me and feel like that limb that’s only good for being thrown into the fire to be burned. . . I will be preserved! I will be made finer than gold that perishes in fire (1 Peter 1:7); yes, all I will have is a pile of ashes; “Wherefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes” (Job 42:6); “I have eaten ashes like bread, and mingled my drink with weeping” (Ps. 102:9). And then our most merciful God, through His Son, the Redeemer, will take us in His arms to

“appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified (Isa. 61: 3).

What a process! To be a part of Him, then be cut off, then be burned to ashes, then be restored, only this time gloried, solidly planted in the Lord.

I can’t speak a part of what I feel today. I love you in this journey of ashes and joy and mourning and praise! My prayers go up to our merciful Father every day in your behalf.

Deep Love Hurts

2010-07-19T09:35:00.000-07:00

If you decide that you are going to love someone (and I do believe that love is a decision, a choice) than you have just signed yourself up for some pain and heartbreak, too. I just finished (after 2+ years) a book my mother-in-love Annette gave me for a graduation gift-- Covenant Hearts by Bruce C. Hafen. It's been so long since I started that I feel like I need to reread it.

This is not just a book for people who are married. This is a book for anyone who has or will love someone else, and not just romantically. A beehive girl in our ward shared that her favorite line in one of the sacrament hymns says that the Savior "saved our world by love"; she compared this to how other people typically talk about saving the world.

SO, love. More than the song "L is for the way you look at me". . . Not the trite but the true. Not the spontaneous but the enduring. Brother Hafen says in the last chapter of his book:

"Even when love wounds us, that is because love matters so much. The deep hurt is the mirror image of the deep joy that awaits us. The ache we feel wouldn't be so bad if it didn't come from something so good" (p. 263).

I learned about love from my family. I can honestly say that my family loves each other in deep, maddening ways. Sometimes, if you were to walk through the door, you might wonder if these individuals do love each other by the way they interact. I think about the pain and I think about the joy--the flip side of the same token. It hurts because it means so much. I love my family. I know they love me and they love the Lord. And I know, in the end, all families will be saved by love, by sacrifices in the similitude of the loving sacrifice made by the One who first loved us.

Sundays

2010-06-06T14:51:00.000-07:00

There's a certain serenity to Sundays. You know when a day is so calm and clear and you just feel holy and you think, "It feels like Sunday"? I love that Sunday comes before Monday, that you get two days of "weekend play" and then there's a day of consecration before putting your hand to the plow again on Monday.

I made a commitment a long time ago to not do certain things on Sundays (like watch TV, do homework, etc.) that for me are personal decisions; how I choose to keep the Sabbath day.

No, God will not smite me for watching a non-church movie on Sunday, nor will I fail classes if I chose to do homework, nor should I be the judge for anyone else about what they should or should not do on Sunday. I just know that as I continue through my journey of mortal life, I get heavy. And having a day of rest--true rest--is paramount. For me.

An illustration:

My freshman year at BYU I made it into Concert Choir. This was a special year for Concert Choir: it was the first and last time (to date) that they were invited to go on tour. We didn't get to go to South Africa or Ireland (like the smaller group, University Singers, did). No, we got a 3 night, 4 day all expenses paid bus trip to the Pacific Northwest (e.g. Portland, OR, and Vancouver, Washington).

There were some wonderful moments during this trip, including singing at the Portland temple groups and watching a blind middle schooler sing his heart out while our choir shed silent tears. There were great acoustics, bright lights, and funny moments. But what I remember most happened the Sunday we drove back to Provo. The whole trip we stayed with host families who graciously provided us with meals and a place to sleep. My host family the last night happened to be LDS, and since they knew the next day was the Sabbath, they made sure to pack a large sack lunch for my travel.

The buses left after breakfast. I spent the day chatting with fellow choir members, singing hymns, trying to make a dent in Lectures on Faith. Around 5 p.m. (about 4 hours from our destination), the buses stopped and Sister Hall announced that we would be eating at Golden Corral for dinner. I was confused--wasn't it Sunday? Didn't we all have food from our host families? Everyone unloaded and gathered for a prayer. My unease remained. As we walked inside the restaurant, I can still see the plates stacked and the feeling I got when I reached out for one: this did not feel like Sunday. I put the plate down and went back to the bus.

As I boarded I noticed several other people quietly seating, reading scriptures or trying to sleep. These peers were not making bold declarations of "holier than thou how dare you break the Sabbath"; they just sat in the peace that I felt stronger and stronger as I made my way to my seat. Thickness caught in my throat and my eyes filled with unexpected tears. The Lord's outpouring of love surprised me. He had seen my little sacrifice (after all, I still had food--I'm sure many others on the trip did not, and regardless, Sundays on the road can be seen as ox-in-the-mire moments for sure) and He wanted me to know it.

Only later as a missionary did I come across this scripture in Isaiah about the Sabbath day:

13 ¶ If thou turn away thy foot from the sabbath, from doing thy pleasure on my holy day; and call the sabbath a delight, the holy of the Lord, honourable; and shalt honour him, not doing thine own ways, nor finding thine own pleasure, nor speaking thine own words:

14 Then shalt thou delight thyself in the Lord; and I will cause thee to ride upon the high places of the earth, and feed thee with the heritage of Jacob thy father: for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.

That is exactly what I experienced on the bus in 2002: being fed with the "heritage of Jacob", which to me was so much more filling than any buffet, even Golden Corral, could hope to be.

The Path to Him

2010-05-16T15:15:00.001-07:00

Hi all,

We got Tyler's rejection letter from the only medical school he applied to yesterday. We had been waiting since October for the news--this was the school here in Portland that he was on the alternate list for last year. :(

Yes, it is sad, heartbreaking, and FRUSTRATING. But the Lord has been so good to us. We've felt comforted and feel led to a couple of options for the current time. However, Tyler is no quitter. He'll reapply when the time is right. When people ask about how Tyler has approached his applying to schools, the general conversation goes like this:

"Tyler did well on the MCAT (32Q) and had a high science and general GPA (3.9). This was year three of applications. The first two years he applied to over 10 schools, each time getting 4-5 interviews and 2-3 wait-listed positions to different schools. This year he ONLY applied to OHSU (here in Portland) because I am in school and my program won't be done until April 2011."

I'm telling you all this so you don't have to ask all the details. I mean, of course you can ask questions if you want, but you know how it goes: "So, has Tyler heard from medical school?" and "Oh, no. What are you guys going to do?" It just kind of rubs the rejection in again :). Yes, he has heard. No, we do not have definite plans for the future. No, he is currently not considering PA school, chiropractic school, nurse practitioner school, Caribbean school , etc. He IS considering a Master's of Healthcare Administration here in Portland, but that's not for sure, either. Life is up in the air, and asking about it doesn't make it any more clear.

Does this post sound angry? I'm not angry, well, at least right now I'm not. I just know how well-meaning people ask lots of the same questions, and repeating answers wears on my already weary soul :)

Like I said, the Lord has comforted us. It doesn't make sense. But this is, of course, because we only get to see the current puzzle piece. When life is over and we see the work of art God made of our lives, I know we'll be grateful. One of my favorite quotes I found on my mission says that "our detours and disappointments are the straight and narrow path to Him." (Pres. Hunter said it, and I believe it with all my heart).

The Beach

2010-04-27T14:10:00.001-07:00

The youth from church got to go on an overnight beach trip, and that meant Tyler and I got to go as well. Did I ever mention that my family (of origin) has never been a camping family. Tyler comes from one, but I think I have rubbed off on him. We didn't even have sleeping bags until the day of the camping trip when I went to pick them up at Freddies.

We crammed 3 15-16 year old boys into our Corolla and ended up at Camp Meriweather in the pitch black RAIN. Duh, Sundy, camping requires more than a sleeping bag. I did not have rain gear (which really is a must for Oregon, anyway), a flashlight, extra socks, etc. It made for a pretty cold and miserable night. After a jog on the beach (I actually found an unbroken sand dollar for the first time in my life, including 6 years of living on the Chesapeake Bay), the rain had cleared enough for us to go on a 5 1/2 mile hike to Cape Look Out. "Look out" is right, particularly after a night full of rain. The mud was thick, and of course it started raining as we made our way through the "temperate" rain forest :). Yes, this picture is me, not a friendly troll, all decked out in three sweatshirts, a blanket, and the emergency poncho I found in our roadside emergency kit in the trunk.

Of course, all of that gear eventually got pulled off and traped back in my arms with my no-longer-white socks when the sun came out. I was so muddy, tired, and cranky, Tyler and I skipped the lunch of hotdogs back at camp and traveled to an oh-so-heavenly beach house at Rockaway Beach (I won lodging at this beach house in a service auction at church, which is a story in itself, but I digress).

What a night and day experience: warmth, light, comfort, & peace filled my soul and body at this sanctuary of civilization, all after "roughin' it" with the youth in the rain.
This is my dazed and happy look of disbelief that I could be so lucky to be at the beach with my honey. . .

Yes, it was a wonderfully romantic trip, and I had to show a picture to make you jealous :)

We were tagged (together)

2010-04-11T19:27:00.000-07:00

My cousin Crystal "tagged" us together. I had to get clarification on what this meant, but now that I know, here you go:

Four Shows We Watch:
1. American Idol (both)
2. White Collar (Tyler)
3. Medium (Sundy)
4. Pushing Daisies (Both--yes, it's off the air, but we watch reruns)

Four Things We're Passionate About:
1. The church youth program
2. Good cheeses & whole foods
3. Good music (We each have our own standards for this one)
4. Moderate politics (no extremes, people, right or left)

Four Phrases We Say A Lot:
1. "Babe." (Sundy to T)
2. "Honey." (T to Sundy)
3. "Sad about it." (Both)
4. "Oh" (with an upward swing on the h)

Four Things We've Learned from the Past:
1. Patience (still learning).
2. Forgiveness is the mightiest sword (Sundy).
3. Work hard (T).
4. You've never met an ordinary person.

Four Places We Would Like to Go:
1. Southern Africa (multiple countries :)
2. Chile
3. Washington DC

4. European tour (must include Mozart's birthplace, Salzburg)

Four Things We Did Yesterday:
1. Visited Herbert Hoover's childhood home
2. Weeded the garden.
3. Watched Evita.
4. Went to McDonald's (ice cream cones) for the first and hopefully last time in Oregon.

Four Things We're Looking Forward to:
1. May 15th
2. April 2011
3. Chelsey's wedding
4. Tomorrow's jog

Four Things We Love about Spring:
1. Longer days
2. Tulips
3. In season veggies & fruits
4. Frolicking mules

Four Things on Our Wish List:
1. Children
2. Medical school/Internship
3. New bedroom furniture/decor
4. A hand blender

Four People we tag:
Jeff and Robin

Sarah Hall

Marcie Molnar

Lacey Jean

My Spring Break

2010-03-28T19:59:00.001-07:00

I'll show you the end from the finish line. . .

Treatment plans, DSM IV-TR diagnoses, Genograms, etc.

97 pages on what makes a healthy couple and how to do effective couples' therapy ad nauseum:

This paper (for one class) is over twice as long as my master's thesis will be:

Yes sir, I had it professionally bound and have looked through it over and over again, admiring all the toil and brain power. Turning it in tomorrow.

This is the look of relief after spending over 50 hours on this fantastic little project:

I'm too pooped to go into further detail. I am glad Spring Break is over so I can go back to school. . .

On second thought. . .

2010-03-20T17:15:00.001-07:00

Tyler: [Working in the garden] Sun. . .

Sundy: [Working on homework outside by the garden] Yeah?

Tyler: Are you sure that you're more scared of ants than snakes?

Sundy: Wahhhhhhhhh!!!!

ANTS!

2010-03-19T13:40:00.000-07:00

I hope this leaves you squirming as much as it does me. I. . .HATE ANTS. This is a time that calls for all caps.

I haven't always hated ants, and maybe I really don't . . . No, I do. It started in Texas when as a little girl I realized that my baby sister was sitting on a castle: an anthill home to bazillions of angry, red, fire ants. She was splotchy for days.

Then there was that intoxicating cream cheese frosting with chocolate sprinkles carrot cake that a recent convert made my trainer for her birthday. . .except that before we left our flat that morning, the cake didn't have sprinkles on it. Our mights, minds, and strengths were stronger than usual that day because we knew what was waiting at home.

Me: Hey, I don't remember the cake having sprinkles on it [from the door].

Sis. Hiatt: [moving closer] Yeah, and they're moving around, too. . .

You already know the end of this story, but can I just ruminate on the horror of discovering a colony of black African ants throughout our entire flat? They marched in straight-lined legions from under the beds, across the walls, over the floors, up the table legs and chairs, 3 inches deep into the honey jar, and yes, to their final destination: our treasured remains of carrot cake.

That's the thing about ants: they're smart (they sure do know how to feign dead0; they have good taste (only the sugary sweet stuff tempts them); they look so innocent.

But not in this house. We have been cleaning out our cupboards, disinfecting our counter-tops, emptying our trash, and setting out poison traps for MONTHS and to no avail. I get my Raid ant-killer out often and squeal with terror as I get 'em. I squash them with my hands (I'm an ant mass-murderer). I don't take delight in this. I cannot handle opening a drawer and seeing 15 little black dots pretending to be dead until I draw near and they scramble.

I can do spiders and snakes, high-crime neighborhoods, and graduate school, but get me around some little black ants and I'll be wringing my hands, chills down my spin, letting out horrified squeals of consternation and panic.

Maybe this would qualify for a specific phobia; it is causing marked impairment (in my desire to be in the kitchen) and significant distress .

Turning 27

2010-03-10T15:49:00.000-08:00

Oh, how the years go by. Tomorrow I'll be 3 years closer to 30. I haven't seen any gray hairs as of yet. On my morning walk, in the cool of the trees and river path, I thought about what I accomplished as a 26 year old.

I came up with the following:

Applied, got accepted to, and started graduate school.
Finished my year of AmeriCorps service.
Made two Amish quilts.
Locked up my keys 5 times (Twice in the house, three times in the car): a new record.

And that was the list. . . [Crickets chirping].

If I was a goal oriented person (which I semi-am), I would feel that this last year was not my most productive. But as I am a relationally-oriented person foremost, I've continued thinking, and while all the rest are works in progress (aka lifetime pursuits), I none-the-less consider the following as productive pieces of my mortal probation:

Started the healing process after our miscarriage
Reaching outside of myself to make new friends
Trying to stay connected with old friends
Learning and loving more about my eternal companion every day
Mourning with those that mourn
Self-recognizing blind spots and pride in all their secretive and entitling ways
Continuing a love-affair with the Word of God
Keeping hope for the future
Living in the moment (every now and then)
Forgiving old hurts from myself in all my foolishness and others in all their humanness
Eating healthier
Doing something physically demanding every day
Grappling with life's questions, heartaches, pains, and mysteries with continued faith in the Healer of all wounds.

I'd like to say that as a 26 year old I became a mother. Maybe I did. I feel different. I'd like to say that at 26, my husband entered his first year of medical school. He didn't, but I've seen more and more reasons why he already is a healer. I'd like to say that I rid myself of all bad habits, social blunders, and selfish ways, but I didn't. And good thing, because what would I have to look forward to in turning 27? :)

Frogs and Mules

2010-02-14T20:26:00.000-08:00

Have I told you about our backyard pasture? Well, technically, it's not ours, but the tiny yard we do have backs up to a mule pasture. I love to draw the curtains and let the every now and then Portland sunshine stream into our happy kitchen. . .

You can see the actual pasture here (behind us):

I can't explain the happiness I experience when I look out back and see "our mules". They come up next to the gate; we've even fed them apples. I delight in their daily habits--when they whinny and hee-haw like donkeys, when they gallop in a pack (there are 5 of them), when they trot back and forth, back and forth, when they curl up on the ground for some warmth.

Tonight, on Valentine's day night, we got home and as we walked up to the front door, I heard the croaking chorus of frogs out in the pasture. Just like the country. Of course, the 2-4 frogs that seem to live under our house and inside our dryer vent aren't as thrilling, but the effect of far-off frogs was pleasing tonight.

Simple things. Happy things. Frogs and mules.

One year ago

2010-02-02T11:56:00.001-08:00

On Feb 2nd of last year, I'd had a pretty great day at work and came home to have dinner. I wanted to check on some insurance information and went to open a drawer when I felt the sensation of water coming from inside me. I was 14 weeks pregnant at the time--way too early for my water to break, way too early for labor, way too early for all my dreams of being "mommy" to be dashed.

After calling the on-call doctor and being told it may not be too bad, to wait it out and call the doctor in the morning, and after trying to get in touch with my doctor all the next day for an ultra sound that would finally be scheduled two days later, I went to bed with the blessing Tyler gave me as my only source of peace.

In the early hours of Feb 4th, I learned deeper meanings of the words loss, pain, numbness, cold, emergency room, toilet, placenta, baby, suffering, and anguish than I had yet to experience. Tears and screaming escaped without warning. Love and compassion poured down and out from my eternal Father, eternal companion, and my eternal family and friends.

Grief is something you travel on your own. It doesn't matter who else "had a miscarriage" or "lost a loved one" when you are the one who is hurting. Sympathy is not needed and empathy does not exist, for each person's suffering is unique, save Christ only.

How grateful I am that the Lord entrusted me with a little time to learn the honor of motherhood. How blessed I feel to have deeply personal experiences that assure me of life beyond the mortal grave no matter how awful and dark that grave may be.

I made this quilt to symbolize the baby we never held in our arms, but now hold with our hearts. It was our miscarriage, never to be replicated, never to be forgotten.

2 years ago

2010-01-25T14:11:00.001-08:00

I made a calendar for T for his birthday in May and sent it to press with January 15th as the 2 year anniversary of our first date. Tyler made me this fabulous surprise candlelight dinner while I was away getting sugar free ice cream from cold stone (wouldn't suggest it--if you're going to splurge, do it right) to celebrate that blessed night two years ago...

We realized the next day that the actual date was January 17th. It fell on a Sunday this year, so we didn't worry about celebrating twice. Carpe Diem.

Feeling Problem-Saturated?

2010-01-21T13:41:00.001-08:00

There's this concept in therapy (mostly based in narrative therapy, where you retell and and restructure a lot of the stories you've always told to yourself about life and stuff) called externalization. I love this concept.

Instead of thinking things like "I am depressed" or "I am a mess" you think in terms of your relationship with your challenges. For example, a therapist might ask the first person, "When do you remember your relationship with Depression beginning?" or "When was a time in your life when Depression wasn't able to shake your hand?"

And messes. . .heaven knows (and my sisters) how the worst insult for me is to be called messy (or fat, for that matter :). So when the temptation comes to look at my school books sprawled all over the floor, table, desk, and couch and say to myself "Why are you so messy?" (like right now), I will say instead "Messes love your company, don't they? You are fun person to be around--lots of people want to be around you--isn't it great that you get to choose your friends?".

This way, I have a choice and am not continuing to label myself. Good stuff. . .

Family

2010-01-07T08:05:00.000-08:00

I just spent 14 days with the people that make life so glorious and beautiful. Family: I think it's my favorite six letter word (Tyler is five letters). You know what I'm talking about--the warmth, the compassion, the let-it-all-hang-out moments, the food, the tears, the strength. I miss them.

I triumphed over my first semester of graduate school

2009-12-17T17:16:00.001-08:00

This is a happy day. With three minutes to spare, I emailed my professor to let him know that I finished my last of MANY books of the semester. . . and that was the end. The end!! For a few weeks, anyway.

And I COULD NOT have done this without the support of my chief editor, bottle washer, and cook, the magnificent Tyler Joseph Anderson. Seriously, by the end of this thing, he'll know as much or more about family therapy than I do. He has read and edited every paper, listened to me spill my guts about all the reasons I am not fit to be a therapist, and anxiously helped me analyze our own families and marriage (well, maybe anxiously is a bit of a stretch, but he definitely was patient).

T's not home tonight--working late. This moment of triumph is missing half of its provider (brought of course by the letter, the man, the companion of my dreams and reality--get it? reali--T?)

By triumph I mean that I worked and read and wrote my tail off. Two A's to report so far--I haven't cared about grades since high school. Now I think about each subject and my need to retain all that knowledge for actual clients, children, and families.

This is my forte--this is where I need to be. A lot of stress, brain, money, and soul are going into this degree. It seems that the rest of what I thought my future would hold rests on this part of my earthly mission. My patriarchal blessing says that many will come to me for counsel in my life; I never pictured that meaning a therapy degree, but the Lord is in this.

His goodness faileth never. . .

Hope

2009-12-09T13:50:00.001-08:00

I never recognized how much of my heart, my life, and my being rests on my emotions. I feel things deeply. Yes, I like to analyze (this is a function of the brain), but what do I like to analyze? Why I feel the way I feel. Emotion. I cried a lot on my mission. I cried a lot in my first year of marriage. I cry a lot when my emotions are bruised. Funny how my sisters used to ask me why I didn't cry during sacrament meetings growing up. Tyler never knew he was going to marry a cry baby-- I think I cried all of once during our engagement. Crying helps me regulate my feelings; they get too full and clogged up in my body so the tears release pressure.

So I can't tell you all the things I cry about, but here's the latest. It was testimony meeting and the Spirit was thick and rich. Mention was made of the 2nd counselor's wife who suddenly got terminal cancer and disappeared from church without warning. One of the ladies I visit teach asked the ward to not forget about her non-member husband and son that didn't join the church with her and her daughter 6 years ago--"they still need your prayers," she said. A sweet sister bawled through her testimony that God answers every prayer, sharing the heartache of not being able to have kids during her first few years of marriage and now having three precious little ones. Testimony meetings bring me a sense of hope.

Hope gets the short end of the stick-- faith and charity steal the show most of the time. But during this past year, this happy and difficult year, my eyes have turned upwards towards the "star of hope". (This is where the crying part comes in). After this Spirit and emotionally charged testimony meeting, we sang "The First Noel"--the second verse got caught in both my heart and my throat--

They looked up and saw the star
Shining in the East beyond them far
And to the earth it gave great light
And so it continued both day and by night

I got it. Like for the first time I could picture what it must have been like for people in the old and new world when that star appeared. It was the birth of Jesus that everyone was waiting for, but it was the sign--the star--that shone, confirming that their hope was not in vain. For the wise men, the star was still "beyond them far"; it took several more years of traveling before they would claim their visit to the mercy seat. The light from the star continued both day (in the good times) and by night (the darkness, the mists of sadness, discouragment, broken dreams, pain).

Noel! Noel! The Latin origin of noel is natalis, meaing "birth"--the birth of Christ was the long awaited birth of hope. I felt a lot of hope in testimony meeting today; I guess that's what brought on all the tears. Tyler and I have dreams. Big dreams. And as I have felt for the last few years of my life, "the future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams" (Thank you, Eleanor Roosevelt). I believe in hope. Hope comes from faith. Faith is the first step, believing in what we can't see. Hope follows, the peace and assurance that passes understanding. Dreams do come true, with a lot of work and faith and love, and yes, hope.

Family

2009-11-12T15:46:00.000-08:00

Guys,

I am learning so much about family. About families. About generational pull and all the ways that families are messed up. Even the best of families are stuck in subconscious relational and emotional games that they learned from their parents and their parents' parents.

And guess what? Family, no matter how messed up or perfect, is what this life is all about. There is no greater love than in the family unit. That means there is no greater place for pain, grief, joy and wonderment than in our families.

Life is about connection. We learn in the womb how to connect and disconnect with others; being close to others while at the same time learning how to separate our individuality from those same people. When we want to be too close too much of the time, we become enmeshed. When we get hurt, frustrated, disappointed or angry, we can become distancers and avoiders of that closeness--we disengage. The healthy person, the healthy relationship--yes, even the healthy family--is made up of individuals who know that they are a unique, separate, wonderful people and also are contributing, loved, valuable members of a bigger whole, too.

An African dictum that I recently heard and loved is that "Because I am, we are." The struggle to remain my own person and yet stay in relationship, even when it's hard, is a delicate balance. That balance is what some family theorists call a differentiated self, or a differentiated family.

I want to find this balance, but in the mean time, I rejoice to know that I am not the only one who struggles with this--there are theories about this, whole books and articles and websites about being one with someone while continuing to appreciate and love the unique aspects of myself.

Tyler, Sundy, and Emma

2009-10-25T21:08:00.000-07:00

No, this is not our daughter. This is our "niece"--Emma Rudolph, daughter of Jenny and Andrew Rudolph. Is she a doll? Um, yes! She was so happy to sit in my lap and play with my fake pearls tonight.

It's a little hard sometimes to be so far away from close family and friends, so having Jenny, Andrew, and Emma 45 minutes away is a real life saver. Plus, the Perry-Hanchetts live down the road, too. Additional plus, we have made some great friends here in Oregon, too.

Life is good. School is challenging but it keeps me hopping. Tyler is the best friend I could ever ask for. We laugh at each other's blunders--we're good at keeping it real.

I'm happy for autumn time. I love the Primary children's program every year, even the boys who practically scream "I am a Child of God"--at least they know it and aren't afraid to show it. I love Oregon. I love Tigard, OR. I love Sundays. I love that my husband just fed me MORE not-so-healthy dessert even though I know how many calories are in that bite. I love living life. . .

Compulsions

2009-09-25T11:00:00.000-07:00

So I'm blogging instead of studying. I learned about this yesterday in my Human Growth and Development class (this is not your typical ages and stages HGD class--it's all about relationships and how the mind wraps itself around those relationships). This--blogging instead of studying-- is a compulsion. I know, you think of gambling, pornography, over-eating--yes, these are compulsions, too. But according to Erik Erikson (or at least my professor's interpretation of him), any activity that "hijacks your brain" to help you "check-out" of what you should be doing (because what we should be doing causes anxiety) is considered a compulsion. Compulsions are common in our day of Facebook, Ipods, and the remote control--just tune me out because I can't handle life.

Well, maybe this is not compulsive right now (ha ha; rationalization is a key component of impulsiveness and entitlement) because I am blogging about what I study, right?

Oh, well. What I'm also learning is that we, as human beings and that includes me, Miss want-to-be-perfect Sundy Lynn Sunshine Anderson, are in process. To be "in process" means that we have not arrived, but we are figuring it out one experience at a time. Funny it is how trying to be perfect actually stunts growth and development (which, you recall, is the name of my class).

I wonder how much of my life has been spent agonizing over what I haven't done right or have done wrong instead of exploring what it is that I can do with my current state. But I must keep this thought at a wonderment stage, and not start regretting the time that I regretted the time that I didn't do that which is what I should have been doing. . . over and over in my mind: Do you get it? Do you get me?

Perfectionism is a stunting disease--it stops natural growth with fear, shame, embarrassment, doubt--I think I still pride myself on this infectious disease. I have always wanted to look perfect. Well, world, hear me now-- I am not perfect. I am striving, but I am not there, and that was never supposed to be the goal, anyway.

Life is about tasting both the bitter and the sweet and learning to prize the good. Beating myself up about how I have tasted the bitter is not the purpose of my mortal probation. That I would taste bitter is part of the plan. Perfection isn't based on how much work I do--my merits will never be the A grade I earn. It cannot be earned. There is One mighty to save who got the perfect score and laid it down for my soul. Perfection is the cost. He paid it because I can't.

So I give my all as a part of the process (I am, after all, in process)--to become a little nicer than I was yesterday, to have purer intentions than I did last month, to give more of myself to the Lord than I did in 2008--and I do this not so that I can claim perfection, but so that I can taste what sweetness is. So that I can prize the good--so that eating the fruits of righteousness can transform the parts of me that are obviously bitter. If I don't attempt righteousness, and hope that the Lord will save me from my sins, I will start trying to find joy IN sin, which isn't possible--pleasure will be my reward, which has a pretty short shelf-life. "In process" means that stagnation is not possible--I am either eating bitter fruit (often comes with extra sugar coating) or fruit that is whiter, sweeter, and purer than man can attempt to create.

I've spent a lot of my life attempting to prove to God, my family, my friends, myself, that I am worth loving because I am almost perfect. How sad to discover that all my toils have actually pulled me away from the people who love me anyway. And that their love is not given to me because of what I do or don't do or pretend to do or not do, but because I am. Because I exist. Because we've built a relationship and connected and shared pain and joy and suffered and rejoiced amid the carnage of mortality, however big or small that looked like on any given day.

So I have a new goal--I will exist. I will allow myself and others to be in process. Shame is no longer the cover I will carry over my burdens--Perfection through my own merits will be left along the roadside as I transform through the merits of Jesus Christ. My love will deepen, my joys will abound. I will taste both bitter and sweet and praise the Son of Man (indeed He knows my natural man pains) for His conquering of every disease, including perfectionism and compulsions of every kind.

Mastering the Masters

2009-08-31T14:19:00.000-07:00

I am a graduate student. Whewhoo! It felt so right and happy to be sitting in my first class today with 25 other people who all got to tell their stories about getting to this place at this time. We all feel lead. We all want to help people overcome their challenges.

I introduced myself as number 2 of 4 (referring to birth order). I got lost in the details of how I came to be in graduate school right now (from childhood to miscarriage) that I forgot to tell people my name. It was a good laugh to realize that. Maybe they'll just call me "2x4" from now on.

I should be reading right now. Facebook has been getting in my way, and then I realized that I haven't blogged in over a month. I will have to learn to set aside distractions and study, study, study. Sundy will study.

Oh, how beautiful the dream looks and is starting to feel right now. We are all broken and need help getting fixed. I recognize who the Master Healer is, but I want to "learn the healer's art" in this phase of my mortality.

Therapy

2009-07-26T19:09:00.000-07:00

It's official. I am starting a Master's program in Marriage and Family Therapy at George Fox University on August 31, 2009. For those who don't know, the university was founded by Quaker pioneers in 1891. The majority of my professors are also pastors and ministers of faiths other than LDS. I am in for a great learning experience. We have already moved into a new little town house located 5 minutes away from my campus.

Graduate school. . .I am scared. I'm taking 13 credits to try to stay in the 2 year track, but I've heard that that's a lot. I also have to sign up for my own therapy (at least 20 sessions of it) and cannot graduate from the program until I've done so. I was talking to a therapist who works where I work (she graduated from George Fox) and she said it was an extremely demanding program in lots of ways, but especially with personal issues. Every insecurity, issue, problem you have or have not dealt with will be brought to the surface. I feel like that has happened in my life before: getting ready for my mission, living my mission, getting home from my mission, getting engaged, getting married--maybe I've been prepared for this.

Actually, I know I have been prepared for this--the Lord has lead me to this decision and this experience. I do not know the meaning of all things, but I do know that he leads me. August 8th would have been our miscarried baby's due date. I would not be starting this program had our baby lived. Reassurance comes when I need it most--it will continue.

Marriage and Family

2009-06-14T20:20:00.000-07:00

We just celebrated our 1 year anniversary yesterday--how love grows so sweet and rich in just one year. I wish we'd have planted a tree the day we were married. Then we could watch it grow and compare our developing love to roots sprouting, a trunk with limbs branching out, little green shoots. Time and Sonlight allow love to flourish.

Of all the beautiful things in this life, the beauty of a family happily interacting brings me the most joy. We just got back from Sunday dinner at my aunt and uncle's house--cousins, grandparents, me, my husband, all eating and laughing around the table, taking turns sharing memories. I zoomed out like a camera and watched for a second, hoping to hold the picture in my permanent memory card.

And then I think of the saddest things in the world--families that don't talk, don't share love or joy or warm apple pie with melting vanilla ice cream. I taught the young women in church today about forgiveness and how often it is the hardest to forgive the ones that are closest to us--how bitterness rots the heart and makes you stiff inside where there is no room for the warmth that only family can bring.

Next week I'm interviewing for a Master's program in Marriage and Family Therapy. I've spent the last few years trying to make life better for families in need. As I dig deeper into the lives of mothers, fathers children, I recognize patterns of behavior and belief the debilitate loving homes. Therapy is not a solve-all. Therapy is not comfortable. Therapy is not cheap (getting it or studying it). But most families wouldn't hurt to have someone help them "zoom out" for a moment to notice the trends, the cycles, the dirt that often gets swept under the rug but is there anyway, silently collecting for a day of reckoning.

I want to help in this beautiful and often painful process. I want to help strengthen marriages and families. I feel lead down this path, and it's only starting. . . .

Volunteers

2009-04-29T07:44:00.000-07:00

I've spent the last month pretty much begging. Begging businesses, resturants, and even the organization I work for--begging for donations for volunteer appreciation. I've had a few successes, but mostly I've had a lot of frustration: no one feels that gratitude is worth money. Sure, saying thank you is always appropriate, but why spend money on "free labor".

It isn't even the lack of money that brings me the most frustration--it's the attitude behind the "we don't have the funds for that right now" that gets me sad. I see money and "stuff" thrown around for all sorts of advertising, staff development, partnership opportunities, but there's never enough for the lives of those who are lifting the real loads.

All of the dirty work--the labor and time intensive work--that is done at my social services center is done by volunteers. They spend the gas money to drive to the food bank for 3 truck loads of food (60 miles) each week. They stand in the rain to wait for the food distribution. They break the sweat that loads this food into trucks and onto our shelves. They sort through smelly, musty, smoky bags and bags of donated clothing, getting rashes from unknown contaminants.

Nothing is beneath them. They are without guile and without honor from their "superiors" bring sustained life to needy needy families. They are the least among us and yet are the greatest. I am humbled. I pay tribute. I appreciate volunteers.

2009-04-05T20:09:00.000-07:00

Tyler on the beach, remembering family reunion on this same beach last summer
Feeling the power of the seashore on the Oregonian coast
Depoe Bay, Oregon.
Jenny and new baby Emma
Tyler on Christmas morning with new scriptures and Elder Holland's newest book.

Most Recent Pics

2009-04-04T17:07:00.001-07:00

If you want to see where I live and what my life is like, please check out my little (taller) sister's blog: She has a log of all her adventures when she came for a visit last month.

http://laceysstateofmercies.blogspot.com/

Dreams can be reality...

2009-04-03T09:36:00.000-07:00

My dreams became a reality one year ago yesterday. I got engaged to Tyler Joseph Anderson on the 2nd of April, 2008 (the location seen in this picture, two and a 1/2 months later). Last night, as I wrote in my journal, I flipped back a few hundred entries ago and read the following:

"Yes! I am engaged. I am in shock. I am in love. I am scared. I am happy. I am in engaged. What in the world? Me, Sundy Lynn Peterson--engaged. To Tyler Joseph Anderson....Oh, I love him! It's unreal. I can't believe this is me. I love him. Love, Sundy Lynn Anderson to be."

While the initial giddiness and shock has worn off, the love and excitement has not. I love being married to a wonderful man. We live for each other. We want to be one more than anything, and we work at that sometimes humbling process every day. How do you explain what it's like to bawl your eyes out in someone's arms who feels the same pain that you feel, or can whisper soothing words in the middle of an intimidating or horrifying situation that actually do sooth. Or the excitement I feel when waiting to see his train coming around the bend from downtown Portland.

So, "the future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams." I didn't dare dream it would be this good, real, deep, and happy. But it is....

A "Good Christmas"

2008-11-11T08:22:00.000-08:00

Since October 30, my mind has been buzzing with Christmas preparations. Not for me and Tyler, but for the 5,000 families who have or will be applying for various holiday sponsorship programs in Washington County. 30% of the people who live here cannot afford to, meaning their gross income does not cover basic living costs, let alone a packed Christmas season of presents, stockings, and homemade candies.

The family resource center I work at is doing the only thing we know how to do; taking applications for possible sponsorship, warning each eager-eyed parent that this form is not a guarantee, but a plea to the community to "help 4 the holidays."

The system gets complicated. A family writes down their contact information, if anyone in the home speaks English, each member of the family's sizes and desires for gifts, and whether they would like to pick up the presents and food at the center or have the gifts delivered to their homes. Explicit instructions are given--each gift idea should be limited to $25. I fan through the 200+ applications from families (we've only been accepting applications for 9 days) and see over and over the words "bike", "Ipod", "plasma TV". Then there are the parents who say "anything will do--I just want to give my children a good Christmas."

I cannot judge these families. They are the families that come monthly to our center, expressing gratitude after gratitude for the help they receive--school supplies, diapers, food, clothing, free dental care--they they could not make ends meet without us. Why do they want Ipods and plasma TVs? Because everyone else has Ipods and TVs. I'm sure in their minds a family who wants to sponsor another family is overflowing with the wealth and capacity to fill such requests from both their own children AND the needing family who has requested assistance.

But the sponsor side of the coin is its own world. A man who waited at the center for over 2 hours for free dental care watched as families poured through the door, asking for applications for the holiday sponsorship program. He came into my office and asked what was required to become a sponsor. Surely he is not planning on buying happiness for his own children this Christmas. He wants to give, though, and while a $25 gift per person for a family of 4 will stretch him thin, he desires the joy from the stretching.

Most sponsors have contacted me through email, specifying what kind of family they want to sponsor--"We'd like three families with 3-4 people in each, English speakers who live in this zip code, people who want us to come to their home to drop off the gifts...." Forget our system of first come, first serve. I flip through the pages of forms, hoping to find families who meet the sponsors' requirments.

Tyler and I went to the Salvation Army's holiday sign up on Saturday morning. This was a larger run on an agency then my center receives, as Salvation Army has helped families for Christmas for years and years. Everyone knows to get there early and stand in line until the doors open and 5 can come in at a time. I walked around in the rain, greeting the families. They saw my volunteer badge and wanted to know what I was going to do about the 10 people who'd cut in front of them, and didn't I care that they'd been here since 6 am, and that they were cold from the wind and rain. Oh how I care.

And oh how I wish they could know what a "good Christmas" really feels like--how it fills up every hole in your heart to sing songs of joy to the King of Kings with your family and friends, to watch children dress up as angels and wisemen, to look up at stars and ponder why The night was a holy night. To fall on your knees and hear the angels' voices.

Good Christian men rejoice with heart and soul and voice! A good Christmas is possible regardless of your bank account. "Come, my brethren, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters; and he that hath no money, come buy and eat; yea, come buy wine and milk withoutmoney and without price" (2 Nephi 9:50).

Love

2008-10-21T08:57:00.000-07:00

I'm in the middle of this life lesson called love.

Once, when Tyler and I were just engaged, I told him that I was good at loving people. I've done some reevaluating, and I think I was a little presumptuous. You know that phrase, "you cannot truly love others until you love yourself" or however it goes? I can't decide if I believe it or not. Love as a verb is an extremely unselfish action. Take the time Tyler knew I was having a hard morning, so he started a bath for me, fixed breakfast, and put my clothes on the heater in the bathroom for extra warmth. That was love as an unselfish action.

I do nice things for people but my motivation is not always love.

Then there's love the overwhelming emotion. I drove to a meeting two weeks ago while listening to the classic Peterson family Christmas album "The Feeling of Christmas." I could hardly sing along because the sobs of home and family and yes, love, were too overwhelming. I have no control over this type of love--it just comes, strong and deep, deep inside.

So, what did I mean when I said I was "good at loving people"? Maybe what I meant to say is that I really want to love people; I've often felt that surge of love for others and want it more. Even when I do things with selfish intentions for others, I'm just hoping for some of that loving feeling?

Our Story

2008-09-26T10:31:00.001-07:00

For anyone who wanted "too much information" on how Tyler and Sundy Anderson came to be:

A year ago I went to Washington DC for an internship. I loved my time there--I was a ward missionary in an inner city ward with a lot of converts from Nigeria and other parts of Africa, so I was thrilled! I had decided to take the advice of so many to not worry about getting married. While in DC I a took the graduate studies test and started applying to graduate school for a Master's degree in Family Life and Community Education. By the time I left DC for my last semester back at BYU, I had two fellow interns from Utah wanting something a little stronger than mere friendship. It was so strange to have two fellows after me, as generally I could never even get one :)

Tyler stepped into the picture on the first day of the semester back at BYU. I went to my first class with dread, as I was finally taking my last music history class (one that I had dropped three times in previous years of school). To distract myself of the awaited doom of 20th century music history (zzzzz) I started chatting outside the classroom with a girl who'd just returned from mission about how she would survive coming back to reality and college. I told her about my experiences coming back from South Africa. Little known to me, Tyler was also waiting for this class and was watching me as I chatted away. Later he told me that I had smiled at him at this time, but my first recollection of him was actually inside the class. I was standing in the front and he came in through the back doors with a big smile on his face. I smiled back and thought "Wow, I didn't know that boys still smile like that anymore."

Tyler is a planner, and from that day (7 Jan 2008) until our first date (17 Jan 2008) he figured out all the right ways to get my attention and heart. He introduced himself the next class period by asking me if my name was Cindy and if I had served in South Africa. After clarifying my name for him and asking if I knew him from somewhere, he told me no, and to not worry--he was NOT stalking me :)

He got me to sit by him by asking if I was "too good for the second row." Up until that point I sat in the front row. I moved back beside him. He later asked me how I felt about musical numbers at firesides. Thinking it was a bit strange of a question, I responded with "I think they are a good idea and really invite the Spirit." He stumbled a bit and said he'd asked the wrong question-what he really wanted to know was if I liked singing at firesides myself. Ohhhh. At that moment I realized what he was after--my level of interest and of course, my phone number. He'd never even heard me sing, but wanted to know if I would sing while he played the piano at a fireside for his home stake 30 minutes south of Provo. He exchanged numbers and the next day he called to ask if I wanted to go to a concert with him the following day.

I wanted to go. But I also had a previous engagement with all my high school girl friends. We had planned a birthday party to celebrate all of our birthdays and were swore to go. When I called one friend to tell her I wouldn't be able to make it, she said, "Don't tell me you're not coming unless you're going on a date with your future husband." I decided to tell Tyler about that conversation after the concert. He later told me that that was when he knew he wanted to marry me.

I wasn't sold completely yet, but I had a pretty strong feeling that this was going somewhere good. After singing for his fireside, he asked what my dating situation was like. I told him I normally didn't date a whole lot, but that the following weekend I had two dates with the two interns from DC. He said, "Well, I know you have three boys vying for your attention now, but can I beat the other two to the punch and take you out on Thursday?" I was thrilled. He planned a wonderful date where we got Pizza, went to a Sundance film festival showing of the play "A Raisin in the Sun", and spent 45 minutes talking about Africa when it felt like only a few moments. I was sold. We just connected.

By the time Valentine's Day rolled around we had gone out about 5 times and decided to officially start dating exclusively. On 28 March, he asked me "If I moved to St. Louis, would you come with me?" I said yes. That was the night of our first kiss, outside the Provo Temple, and that was the night the Spirit confirmed that this was the man I was going to married. I didn't think our engagement would happen so soon, but 5 days later, he took me to the Manti Temple grounds, got down on one knee with a ring and asked me to marry him.

So, it's been not quite 9 months since we met, and we've been married for almost 3 1/2 months. Crazy, I know. Tyler and I both graduated in April with music degrees--his in piano and pre-medicine and mine in family science and voice. We took social services jobs in Portland, Oregon and moved here in August. He's applying to medical school for either neurosurgery or geriatrics. I got accepted to all three of the grad programs I applied to, but declined for the time. I work at a family resource center providing food, clothing, information, language classes, and mental and health care for under served, impoverished populations (mostly immigrants). Tyler is a medical case coordinator for a non-profit clinic that treats low-income/homeless individuals with drug and alcohol addictions. He'll probably join the Navy--they'll pay for medical school if he serves as a doctor for them for the same amount of time as they pay for his schooling.

I'm happy. I just got called as a ward organist and as a Mia Maid advisor. I have a lot of dreams tucked in my back pockets as Tyler and I start our life together. There have been some hard moments mixed into the wonderland of marriage, but we are a good match for each other. Ty is extremely smart, patient, kind, and helpful. He's more on the reserved side, but carries his own in conversations with anyone. He cooks more than I do. He grew up on a cattle farm and is the oldest of six kids--the youngest is 6. This is his first time being away from his family (most of which live within a 5 mile radius of each other, including both sets of grandparents) except for his mission to Chile. He reads like a maniac, finishing about a book a week--mostly biographies and theory books.

Our dream is to do a lot of humanitarian aid, especially in Malawi, once he's established as a doctor. We'll see where the road takes us.

Oregon Sunshine

2008-09-19T10:07:00.000-07:00

I recognize that I've been pretty vague about what I'm doing up in Oregon, so here's the low-down: Tyler didn't get into medical school for this year, so we took jobs in the Portland, OR area and moved on the 9th of August. It's been wonderful and challenging to be up here. We stayed with my aunt and uncle until we finally got approved for an apartment (we didn't have enough rental history), but have finally moved into a wonderful ward in the Hillsboro OR stake. I've been called as a ward organist and to serve on the enrichment committee. Tyler is the ward choir pianist and was informed that he would be called to scouting very shortly. We've had the missionaries over for dinner and have been praying for missionary opportunities--I've had several really great ones so far. I went to a retreat for my service as an AmeriCorps member at the beginning of this month. 60 other members were there and I quickly discovered that I was a true minority because I was married and not living with a boy or girlfriend. They were all wonderful people with big hearts who want to serve the low-income population of the state. Probably 20% of them were vegetarians and everyone carried their coffee cups around like an extra appendage. The blessings of living the gospel are so concrete and tangible in my life when juxtaposed with the common American lifestyle I see my peers and coworkers living--it's just different. We continue on. Tyler works for a non-profit clinic in downtown Portland that treats low-income drug and alcohol addicts as a medical case worker. He works with a man whose liver is so hardened and swollen that it's just a matter of time before he dies. But he doesn't want to be addicted to alcohol when that happens, so he's fighting to the end. I am doing outreach and volunteer recruitment at a family resource center, focusing on getting families health care and other needs met like food, clothing, dental care, and social services. I wish I spoke Spanish. I also wish I was allowed to share the gospel. A lady came in to the center and asked if we had any books. I asked her what she liked to read, She said, "Anything good." If there is anything virtuous, lovely , or of good report or praiseworthy.... Since I'm getting federal funding I cannot proselytize. Maybe I'll get a member to donate Book of Mormons to the center. The sun has been shining the entire time we've been up here...until yesterday. A cold front moved in and that's probably the end of the sunshine until April. I guess that's the price we pay for our green forest. There's a lush park down the road called "Noble Woods." There's a stream that runs through the whole thing with bridges to cross. We run there in the mornings and meet creatures like bunnies and squirrels in the quiet misty morning. Tyler (T, as I call him) painted a wall a lovely butterscotch orange to match my African decor. It's starting to feel like home.

Needs

2008-09-10T22:23:00.000-07:00

Everyone has needs. I believe that everyone has more than one. And the people that seem like they have it all together do not have it all together. They have needs, too--a lot of them, probably. I work at a center to meet people's needs--families, children, drop-out teenagers, the disabled, the mentally ill, the immigrants, the homeless, the ethnic, the Caucasian, the bitter, the hopeful.

Five ladies I work with got into a fight about frozen turkeys and where to put the beans on the shelf. It wasn't about turkeys or beans. It was about insecurities and hidden hurts. Bishop David H. Burton said "Oft times those we think deserve our love the least need it the most." Doing that fills our own need 'buckets'.

I'm getting married

2008-05-12T21:44:00.000-07:00

Does the world stop turning when someone gets married? Before getting engaged, I'm pretty sure I'd have answered that question with a quick head nod in the affirmative. I've seen probably more than my fair share of Cinderella stories with the magic of love constantly brewing. Now that 40 days of engagement have passed, I must admit that life goes on.

It just does. Marriage is the door that opens up a whole new world of heart breaks, joys, challenges and thought processes. Marriage means life is never about just you again. Marriage is the promise you'll keep doing what you've always been doing, only now your arms are linked with another soul who's trying to do what you're doing--just trying to be a little bit better, wiser, happier, and stronger with each new day and experience.

I'm glad I'm getting married. I like that life goes on.

My Home Sweet Home of Virginia

2008-03-24T11:17:00.001-07:00

Blessed loves,Please forgive this short email. I am utterly exhausted and it'salmost midnight. I planned a weekend trip to my blessed hometown ofFt. Monroe, plus Williamsburg, Jamestown, Yorktown, Monticello andCharlottesville for this weekend. We just got home. I was theplanner and the navigator for the entire 36 hour trip--my head isstill spinning. I ended up sleeping on a little chair at our hotelroom last night. I think everyone had fun (there were seven of us,all in a rented minivan) but I was just stressed trying to geteverywhere in the limited amount of time we had for each allottedactivity. Imagine a school teacher organizing and carrying out afield trip--that's what it was like.Anyway, I just can't tell you what it did for my soul to be at Ft.Monroe, a place full of so many memories and milestones. I walkedalong the sea wall, with the sun gleaming across the Chesapeake Bay,the wind spraying sea salted water and my hair everywhere. Tearswelled up and stained my happy, grateful cheeks. So much of who I amcomes from living on the blessed little peninsula of "Old PointComfort," an Army base that dates back to 1802. Besides 22 TidballRoad (the tiny house across from the marina where my family lived),the gazebo (where my dad would play concerts with the US ContinentalArmy Band while we sat on the green grass and picnicked), and therocky beaches (where I used to sing to the ocean at the top of mylungs and no one could ever hear me), the Fort is full of Civil Warand Army history. I found out on this trip that Harriet Tubman workedat the hospital for several months during the Civil War and that thefirst militia of black soldiers was organized for fighting there. Isthis one reason why I have so much love in my heart for blackAmericans? Being in Africa as a missionary made my love grow likefire. I don't know what my future holds--maybe I'll adopt Africanbabies some day--but it does not feel like coincidence that I haveopened my heart and mind to "black soul."I keep thinking about home....My heavenly home, my home in Orem, myhome in South Africa, my home at the Barlow Center, my home at Ft.Monroe. "Home I'll be" whenever I feel that deep sense of belongingand comfort. Words from a song I sang with the BYU choirs have beenfloating through my head this whole weekend, and I guess I share itwith you as my testimony of the role our Savior plays in getting usback to our Heavenly Father's many mansions..." 'Rise up, follow me,come away' is the call, 'with a love in your heart as the only song.There is no greater beauty than where you belong. Rise up. Followme. I will lead you home.'" He leads me. I love Him. Love, Sundy

Boston!

2008-03-24T11:12:00.000-07:00

Hi all,I am running to work right now, but I needed to let the whole worldknow that I went to a blessed, blessed single adult educationconference in Boston and Cambridge this weekend! I ended up travelingfor 18+ hours total, but it was well worth the trip. Elder Jeffrey R.Holland "stayed with us." He didn't just speak to us--he was a partof us. For two days, I sat at the feet of a modern witness for JesusChrist. I felt so strongly of the compassion and mercy and kindnessthe Lord must have for me just by being with Elder Holland. When itwas my turn to meet him, he grabbed my hand and said, "Well, aren'tyou a cheerful soul!" I nodded and smiled even wider, not knowingwhat else to do. I told him how the last chapter of his book "HoweverLong and Hard the Road" saved me from coming home from a mission. Hissmile and warmth were so real, so personal.I drank freely of living waters this weekend. The Spirit boiled upand spilled over many, many times. I wish each one of you could havebeen there with me. It was a time to rejoice. Of all the doctrinestaught, I will hold on to these truths for the rest of my days:Being God's child in Jesus Christ's church TRUMPS every othercircumstance in my life.Faith is a gift bestowed upon us because of our personal righteousness.When there are things that I don't know or don't understand, I mustCLING more desperately to the things I DO know and DO understand.One who doesn't bear WITNESS is not a part of the kingdom of heaven.Keep crossing the Sweetwater as long as the Sweetwater crops up.The church of the Lamb is to prepare the world to meet the Lamb.The things we need are usually the things we fear."Any sister missionary is worth four elders. Any where across theworld." (that's a direct quote from the sister's Q&A session :)We meet the Savior in the flames of adversity. Don't resist sufferingtoo much. More than anything in this world, God loves a broken heart,particularly when it leads to a contrite spirit. A true disciple ismarked by that which she suffers."Embrace the breaking of your heart as central to your salvation."Waiting is not an indication of unworthiness, but the Lord's trust andfaith in us that WE will be faithful.Even apostles feel unworthy of their calling.Mercy always overpowers justice. ALWAYS.The last words he spoke to us were in the form of an Apostlicblessing, "as if I am laying my hands on your head individually." Hepromised us answers to our prayers and the desires of our hearts to begranted. He told us that we MUST know that we are loved, adored,cherished, revered, and needed. He promised that those who are ill,who may become ill, or are currently suffering that they will havetheir personal prayers answered and that hope will spring in useternally.He commanded us, in the most power I have personally been in thepresence of, to begin to magnify the greatest gift God has ever givenHis church and yet we don't take enough advantage of--the Gift of theHoly Ghost.The fall leaves were deep scarlet and pumpkin orange. Boston streetsare chaos the its winds are CHILLY right now. But the Charles riverglistened in autumn sun, and I was so happy to be in New England.Love you forever! Sundy

I am Christian

2008-03-24T11:10:00.000-07:00

Hello my "most important audience" (according to Douglas L. Callisterfrom Conference yesterday, talking about bearing testimony to friendsand families, the most important of audiences).Before I tell you of some of the Lord's miracles with His children,might I share some of the personal revelation I received from thisconference? What will I do differently because of my experience withapostles and prophets speaking for the Lord? Well, here are some ofmy insights:Pay my tithing with more faith in the promised blessings.Give up sins of pride to receive meekness and humility.Put others' needs first.Be more honest, especially in the little things.Be more generous—forget about what I've given others.Be more grateful—never forget what others are constantly doing for me.Spend more time with the Lord- study and reflect on His life.Use "Preach My Gospel" when studying the scriptures.Think as a missionary thinks.Come to know my ancestors.Compile a Family Home Evening lesson plan book for my future family.Continue working on being organized (you'd be proud of my clean room,Lacey Jean).Prepare for Sacrament Meeting as the most holy meeting of the week.Purify my inner most heart and secret desires.Give, give, and give some more.Ask more specific questions in prayer, be more fervent in scripturestudy and be patient in listening to the Lord's answers.Plead with the Lord daily that I will never lose my testimony.Love, instead of judge, the people whom are closest to me.Granted, this list is quite long and cannot be accomplished overnight,but I am grateful that when I ask the Lord what I can do to becomebetter, He answers me.On a sad note, my sweet angel of a dog died this week. She was almost17 years old and nearly totally blind and deaf. Her little body wasfound by my dad, still warm on her bed.I grieved for MY loss that night more than HER departure from thismortal world. Sobs escaped and just coming for my little four-leggedfriend who always listened, loved, and sensed my heart. Muffin is nowburied in our backyard under 4 rocks shaped like a paw print. I'vebeen praying that Heavenly Father will allow her spirit will remainaround our house. It was, after all, her house before it was ours.I made my way to Sister Adams' house on Tuesday. She's the sweetinvestigator with a walker who got out of the hospital a week agofrom heart problems. I had never made a go of the DC bus system, andshe lived far away from my office. When I finally got to herneighborhood, I realized that I wasn't going to be extremely safe toleave after dark. But there I was, right in inner city DC, ready tosing my testimony for Sister Adams. The whole experience was so muchlike my mission. The only thing missing was a name tag and acompanion. I helped Sister Adams clean up the living area, talked toher about her children, and sang of forever families and JesusChrist's eternal love. Singing, staring straight into her eyes, theSpirit locked and a force stronger than anything visible passedbetween us. The phone kept ringing, interrupting, but as soon as shewas off, the Spirit came right back. She asked me to sing for anon-denominational women's group on Thursday morning. I accepted theinvite on condition that my boss would allow me to come to work late.Sis. Adams prayed for me with great faith that I would make it thereon Thursday, and that I would make it home safely….I needed both prayers. Walking to the bus stop and waiting there fora half an hour in the dark was not comforting, especially as peopledrove by starring curiously at the little white girl in a businesssuit. But Sister Adam's prayers, and mine, were heard. My bosskindly consented for me to attend the Women Aglow Society. Iattempted to take the bus again. Two hours after boarding, I wasSTILL riding. I met an "Ex-Mormon" who I talked to for quite a whileand had to convince an older gentleman that I probably would not beinterested in dating an older man (i.e., him).The meeting turned out to be a gathering of over 50 devoted Christianswho were already there praising and singing when I arrived. SisterAdams called the leaders over and told them I wanted to sing. Theyraised their eyebrows inquisitively. I looked towards Sister Adams,who looked right back at me with a "don't you want to?" look. "Yes,"I replied. "I am here to sing." Feeling uncomfortable, I was usheredto a table. I would sing after the speaker and the luncheon.The speaker was an Egyptian woman, born into an Orthodox Christianfamily and later switched back and forth between Islam andChristianity. Now she is on a mission to save the Muslim people andconvert them to Jesus Christ. Towards the beginning of her speech,the Spirit touched me several times as I saw the sincerity of herbelief in Christ. Later, she began to mock principles of Islam andtold her audience that if a Mormon should every come their way, shoothem away because they did not worship the true Jesus. The Spiritleft. I looked around the room and realized that the Lord hadanswered my prayer for missionary moments. When it was finally myturn to sing, I went to the front and from deep inside myself began todeclare my testimony in song…"Jesus love is like a lighthouse, when the storms of life appear; likea beacon in the distance, always steady, always clear. And those whowill go where the lighthouse glows will feel of His Spirit and findrepose…" The Spirit moved me and the group as well.I finished, took a deep breath, and said something like the following: Thank you for allowing me to be here today and praise with you. Ialso love and worship Jesus Christ. I have worshipped Him my wholelife. I served Him for a year and a half in Africa, preaching of Him.The "Mormons" are a nickname for The Church of Jesus Christ ofLatter-day Saints. I am a member of that church. Part of theproblems we face as Christians can be miscommunication of ourbeliefs. I thank you for the Spirit I have felt here, and hope thatmy witness has also testified of Christ…"It wasn't exactly like that, but you get the idea. As I sat down, Ilooked at the speaker. Her face was frozen. I don't think she wasexpecting a Mormon to show up to a nondenominational Christianmeeting. I hope now she and all the other 50+ individuals know, likeElder Holland so boldly announced on Saturday, that we are Christians.On my way home, a boy smiled at me by the metro. I was reading theBook of Mormon, the blue one with the pictures. I smiled back andasked if he had ever seen this book….We had a wonderful mini firstlesson on the metro. I explained that this book made me happier thanany other book, along with the Bible, that it was given to us as agift, in countries all over the world, in over 150 languages, fromHeavenly Father. The boy really listened. Cedric Shaw is 19, works atMcDonalds, lives with his father and three brothers, is trying tofinish up his high school credits, and loves poetry, writing, andrapping. By the end of it all, we decided it would be good for him toget to know some of my friends at the Barlow Center. I saw a light inhim. I hope it grows. He's going to take me and several others intothe depths of Anacostia, a place that I would never dare to go bymyself.Sister Adams called me on Saturday morning to warn me that she knowshow it is to feel like God is with me, but that I need to be safe. Ifyou're thinking the same thing, please realize that I learned fromfortunately harmless experience this week that I really shouldn't begoing out to do missionary work by myself anymore. I will take acompanion ☺Every day my desire deepens to serve a mission here on earth. TheSpirit articulated that mission to me in Conference. He whispered,"Come home, Sundy Lynn. Bring as many with you as you can." That'swhat I intend to do. Love you always, Sundy

A New Birth of Freedom

2008-03-24T11:09:00.000-07:00

Blessed friends,I memorized the Gettysburg Address this week. The whole of it. "Fourscore and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continenta new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the propositionthat all men are created equal…." I won't quote the whole thing foryou, I promise, but I have gained such a love for Abraham Lincoln and"this nation, under God."On Monday, my Home and Family Living professor from BYU called and hadan internship interview with me. I unloaded on her that it had beendifficult thus far in finding substantial work to do each hour of theday while at work. By the end of our conversation, I felt relievedand a whole lot better about why I am in DC, trying to promote thetraditional family. She committed me to memorize The Family: AProclamation to the World. So, just know that every time I get on theMetro from now until December 14th, I will have the words of prophets,seers, and revelators flowing through my mind and mouth.My boss told me to come to work on Monday in less dressy clothes—Iwould get the lovely task of organizing the supplies closet. Theentire day, people kept walking by, asking me why I was doing such amenial task. Isn't this what interns do, I thought. David, a youngerspecialist in the agency, sits right by the door where I was sortingand lifting boxes. I mentioned to him that if he needed any help onany type of project, I would be more than happy to help. He sat medown and reamed into me for the next 20 minutes on how I had wastedthe first three weeks of my internship. "You should have been askingme for work three weeks ago, along with approaching every other personin this office for work." I swallowed my hurt and told him "betterlate than never."Heavenly Father teaches me, though. Because I got the laborious taskof the supplies closet, I was able to talk to David. Because I showedup at work on Monday and found my entire cubicle taken apart (picturespulled of the walls, etc) and moved to a smaller, more cramped space,I now sit directly across from the Branch Chief of the HealthyMarriage/Responsible Fatherhood Initiatives. Because I sit here, Ican overhear all that goes on in that office. Three ladies weremeeting to discuss the overall goals of the initiatives on Tuesdaymorning. I poked my head in and asked if it was all right that Ilistened to the conversation from my desk. Right away I was told topull up a chair and start giving input. Later, I was asked to edittheir 230 page report to congress on what has happened in the programthis past year. Even later, they asked me to attend a corporatestrategy meeting at the end of the week to help the 11 differentagencies that deal with Healthy Marriage/Responsible Fatherhood cometo a consensus as to what their next 5 years of outcomes will looklike. Wow. My internship has changed forever.I figured out why the garbage men are outside of my window all morninglong, every single day. The recycling team brings all of the binshere, and they smash the trash from around this entire neighborhoodunder MY window. How blessed I am!I love the song of the heart. I have heard more people singing fromtheir deepest souls in the last week than I can remember hearing in mylifetime altogether previously. Three men get together at the MetroCenter stop and sing praise songs in the tightest, happiest harmony.When they sing, no one can help but start tapping their feet. All ofthe hundreds of people trying to dash home from work slow down andsmile. Two people sang their testimonies at church today. I loveblack soul music. Sitting during the sacrament, music flowed up frombelow us. The heavenly tones of "Teach me to Walk in the Light"melted over me—in Spanish. "Now therefore, ye are no more strangersand foreigners, but fellow citizens with the saints, and of thehousehold of God."The more specific my prayers become in regards to missionary work, themore directly I am watching Heavenly Father answer those prayers. Ireally desire people to see me and recognize me as a member of theChurch, and then ask me about the gospel. That's the best way for meto start teaching the doctrines of the church. So that's what Ifocused on asking for this week. A Jewish man noticed my "big Bible"on the Metro, and we discussed the Mormon church. When I went to thebig corporate meeting on Thursday, a lady noticed me sitting along andinvited me to sit by her. She kept talking about how she needed somecoffee. I never agreed that I also needed coffee, so she finallyasked if one, I drank coffee, and two, was LDS. I answered no to thefirst and yes to the second. The rest of the day, including our lunchtogether, was spent in deep gospel conversation. She is aUniversalist and feels that our churches are similar in many respects. The Spirit burned within as I explained that so many people inSouthern America have joined the church because the Book of Mormon isthe history of their forefathers, men and women who knew of JesusChrist and waited for His coming.The missionaries had me sit by Denise today. She has tried to commitsuicide in the past and has just gotten out of drug rehab. She's abeautiful, shy black woman with only a few teeth left. I love her. Ibore testimony from the pulpit that I know this church is a hospitalfor sick people—all of us are sick, and need healing, lifting,andlove. I asked the members of the ward to allow me to assist inlifting and loving and serving.Sister Adams, a 70 year old investigator with a walker, just got outof the hospital after cardiac arrest. I told her I wanted to comesing to her this week. She happily agreed—I'll go on Tuesday night,just the two of us.I didn't want the General Relief Society meeting to end. The ReliefSociety is the most powerful, empowering organization for women onthis earth. How grateful I am that the 1st counselor is a firstgeneration, Spanish-speaking member—so many people I know here canrelate to her. The meeting felt like what I know our heavenly homemust feel like—warm, serene, complete love that will flow on througheternity.Our tour of Gettysburg was too hurried and quick—we weren't given anyalone time to reflect. Phrases from Lincoln's address kept coming tomy mind, however, and the Spirit confirmed that I really am supposedto "here be dedicated to the great task remaining before" me—thisnation receives a new birth of freedom every time another soulreceives the peace of the gospel of Jesus Christ. How I love Him. Ilove you, too.

City Fever

2008-03-24T11:07:00.000-07:00

Salutations!I am catching the DC fever. So many people who come out here asinterns end up coming back to stay for good. I might be one of thosepeople someday. It's either that or the Peace Core in Botswana.Sickness pulled me down this week, in health and a little bit inenthusiasm, but I am back on the up and up. Monday had me sick inbed. Tuesday I got up but wasn't in the mood to go to work. Too bad.That's the city way of life—you just keep going. My treat for makingit through the day was a trip to the Washington, DC temple. Thesingle's ward organized for us to do baptisms for the dead. I didn'tknow about it because I go to the inner city ward. How grateful I wasthat I happened to have a skirt on and my temple recommend handy whenI got the phone call to take the Metro for a ride to the temple.I was 12 years old when I went to do baptisms at The DC temple for thefirst time. 12 years later, with so many more experiences that havestrengthened my knowledge of the Plan of Salvation, the evening put mylife into perspective. We arrived so late that we actually didn't getto be baptized, but I felt the baptism of fire as I was confirmed and
received the Holy Ghost for some few of my deceased sisters. Peaceflowed through me as a sat in a room full of white light with thehands of the priesthood on my head. The power of godliness ismanifest through the ordinances of the priesthood. Goodness grows inthe temple.Whenever I feel lonely in the city, I hold the scriptures. It seemsso silly that just holding the book brings me comfort, but the word ismy sword. I thrashed through the crowded Metro station on Wednesday,trying to get on my train. I opened up to the words of Abinadi when hewas preaching to the wicked priests of King Noah. His words gripedme, filling me with the Spirit. At the same time, my physical senseswere surrounded by hoards of people, all fighting for a seat. None ofthem had any idea that I was communing with deity. My love for theBook of Mormon grows each time I read, even in the dungy chambers ofthe DC underground.On Thursday I got pulled into a protest in front of the Capitol—2500black Americans were protesting the "Jena 6" charges against 6 blackyoung men from the South. A lady approached me and asked if I wasthere to protest as well. I told her I had no idea what was going on,but that I believe in racial equality. She pulled me up to the frontof the group, displaying me to the protestors. As I was standing nearthe front, getting my picture taken, someone called out, "Get out ofhere, white girl!" I tried to get out, but realized my purse wasstill on the ground in the middle of all the protestors. A manreached out to me—I thought he wanted a hug, so I tried to hug himback. "Girl, I'm not huggin' you," he exclaimed. "You gotta stepback." Another lady came up and apologized for the woman who yelledat me. I finally got my purse and got out. What a rush!
That same day I received a tour of the Capitol and was present for arole call vote in the Senate Gallery. I saw 98 of our 100 U.S.Senators, including Hillary Clinton and Senator Obama . What a rush!They were voting on an amendment to the Iraqi bill that would havecalled for all the US troops to be out by January. The vote was 70"no" and 28 "aye." I rode the tram back to the Hart building withSenator Libermann.Prayer works. I prayed that someone would ask me about the Restoredgospel, not just Christianity in general. Betty, the security guardat the US Postal Museum, had questions about the temple—yes, faithprecedes the miracle.Last night we went to free Baltic dancing outside the Kennedy Center,just by the Potomac River. A cute, young Bulgarian man lead us incircle dancing, where we all held hands and hopped around together.We were sweating and laughing and smiling; people of all ages andraces and backgrounds. Praise the Lord through dance—it was SOjoyful. There was a live band, complete with accordion, drums,trumpet and vocalist. Later on, when a boy and a girl from the BarlowCenter were dancing with me, an old man came up and told the boy heneeded to stop being greedy, and pulled me aside to dance with HIM.We left right after that.I was spotlighted in Relief Society today and set apart for my callingas a ward missionary. My blessing was full of commandment to bear mytestimony, that my testimony would be heard by members andnon-members, plus those were trying to know if this gospel is real. Ican't tell you how wonderful it felt to know that Heavenly Fatherreally does want me to proclaim His gospel with my testimony.I have one—a testimony, that is. It is the greatest miracle in mylife—my living, growing testimony, like a fire that's burning.I love you, and wish I could talk with you in person, and hear of yourexperiences. Please let me know how life is going. Thanks for lovingme enough to read my flittering thoughts.Love, Sister Peterson (oops, Sundy)

I'm Falling in Love

2008-03-24T10:56:00.000-07:00

Dumelang! (Setswana for Hello)I write to you with a box of tissues nearby. The Barlow Center (thebuilding that houses all of the BYU interns) is a breeding ground forinfectious germs. I am one of several who have a nasty cold. Despitemy ailments, I am enjoying day after day of the East Coast life. Maybe I'm sick because of my run to the White House in the rain. Or maybe it's because I get woken up every morning at 6 a.m. due to thetrash collector who comes with beating "drums" just below our window.Who knew that it took 30 minutes to collect the trash? No, I bet it'sthe second-hand smoke that I pass frequently on my way to the Metro.I'm not complaining. No, on the contrary, being sick has reallyhelped my gratitude of health to grow. Elder Maxell said, "The meekare simply more free, more peaceful, and more cheerful." The meek donot complain.There's something about being away from home that makes my prayersmore sincere—I guess it makes me feel closer to family, at least to myheavenly home. As I talk to my Father, I tell him how I long to bebetter, to be more like His Son. When I really connect with Him, mywhole soul is consumed by that desire to "try to be like Jesus." To
my "weakness He is no stranger," but never do I feel harsh judgmentfor my inadequacies when I commune with Him in prayer.And prayers like those seem to lead me places. On Tuesday, I was directed in prayer to sing to someone—just a simple thought, butdefinitely from the Spirit. I went to my internship and picked thesecretary, thinking she might be one who needed a song. She seemed toappreciate the gesture, but I felt empty about it. It wasn't until later that night, while on the phone with a rape victim from Colorado,that I felt the confirmation that I had finished the task. Summer isa girl I've met only once, but who has continued to call me since thatday 6 years ago. As I sang "Where Can I Turn for Peace," I was gladfor the prompting that morning.I'm still expecting miracles—My Uncle Glen shared my last email with awoman at his work. After reading about my desire to share the gospel,Betty emailed me. I have been commissioned to try to help a younggirl named Adoration, 17 years old and kicked out of her house, livinghere in DC. I haven't talked to her yet, but I know all your prayerswould be appreciatedBetty asked me to give a pass-along card to the first grey-hairedwoman I saw, saying that "I am a gray-haired lady, too, and sometimesI need to be reminded that Jesus loves me." I found a lady on theMetro. My approach was, "Excuse me, ma'm, but do you believe in JesusChrist?" We rejoiced together and I gave her the card for the free"Finding Faith in Christ" dvd.You can learn a lot of life lessons on the Metro. In one day, I sawthree blind people, all at different stations, feeling their waytowards the elevators. A young child continued to ask his dadquestions after question, and the father never lost patience or squash
the boy's curiosity. A Muslim man was trying to get his friend toanswer some of life's greatest questions. I was nervous because Iknew he DIDN"T believe in Jesus Christ, but how could I just sit therewhen I have the answers to those very questions…."Excuse me, sir. CanI give you this?" "What's that?" he asked, skeptical. "It's apass-along card from my church." How profound of me, but at least hetook it on his way off the tram.I still can't really tell you what I'm doing at my internship. Rightnow, it's a lot of updating lists on Excel. Working in an office is anadjustment from teaching at the MTC, where the Spirit came when Icalled. A letter came a few days ago from a first time applicant ofTANF. She wrote, "I am a single parent of 2 children pendingforeclosure." As I looked at her neat, slanted handwriting, I picturedher discouragement….And her desire to provide hope for her children."Small and simple things" include working in a cubicle.Our excursion to Philadelphia brought me to tears, especiallyIndependence Hall. I had prayed before that the experience would feelreal to me. Standing in "the most sacred room in US history"(according to our tour guide), I knew I was in hallowed space. Ouron-site professor asked me to sing the National Anthem –I did sofreely, gratitude swelling with each note.While the cheese steaks were yummy, it was nice to come back "home" toDC. As we neared the monuments, it hit me that those are nowlandmarks for me, telling me that I am almost home. I'm falling inlove with the place whose license plate reads "taxation withoutrepresentation."I am in a special ward. The man who was asked to give the closingprayer in Sacrament meeting wheeled up to the front of the chapel, and
after several attempts of getting out of his chair by himself, someonecalled out to just remain seated. He kept trying, so a dear eldercame and lifted him up, and continued to hold him up throughout theprayer; truly, bearing one another's burdens is a sweet honor.Brother Kamosi, a big, happy Nigerian, called me to be a wardmissionary. He told me that the best work in the world was to workfor Heavenly Father. I whole-heartedly agreed.I love you all, and have more stories but no time to tell them. Iheard a quote once that "there's not a person you wouldn't love—onceyou know their story." Thank you for your stories and yourexperiences--I love you so much because of them. Cheers, Sundy

East Coast Adventures #1

2008-03-24T10:40:00.000-07:00

I am rejoicing right now! Coming back from a weekend in up-state NewYork has given me time to reflect on the glorious gospel blessings inmy life. I got to Virginia on Tuesday and was whisked away from thehumid Dullus airport to Glen and Karen Peterson's house (my dad'syoungest brother and wife with their 4 fabulous boys). The Petersonhome is a sweet and loving haven, one that I would like to recreate inmy own family some day. I felt utterly spoiled getting so muchone-on-one time with Aunt Karen and Uncle Glen, pouring out my heartto them about the Provo life I just left--the MTC, the temple service,the beautiful roommates and ward, and of course, there was plenty ofreminiscing about mission days in South Africa and Botswana. Ibrought my newly updated scrap book with me to show off the people Ilove so much from that part of the world. It's amazing to me that myheart keeps getting split into more and more pieces with every newexperience I have and with every soul I meet.Karen took me to get a pedicure and manicure. We shopped in herfavorite health food store, thrift store (The Resourceful Woman), andbakery. Hamilton is lush green right now and I couldn't stop admiringthe green wonderland that curled above and around the Virginia byway.After Karen dropped me off at the Barlow Center (I am REALLY inWashington, DC--the city is below my window), three new friends and Iheaded up to New York. I'd never been to the headquarters of theRestoration before this trip. Going there made me ponder how manymembers of the Church today will ever get to go to Palmayra, or theWhitmer farm, the Book of Mormon printing press, the Hill Cumorah, the
Smith farm house, the Sacred Grove....Not many, I suppose.The Lord taught me on this trip that it is the testimonies of themembers of His kingdom that make any place a sacred place. I felt theSpirit bear more powerful witness of the truthfulness of the gospel ina new convert's home than at the printing press, probably because Icould see how the Book of Mormon had influenced their every decisionsince leaving the world behind and living gospel standards. Icouldn't stop shaking in the Pittsford, NY fast and testimony meetingas saint after saint stood and shared their love for missionary workand the simple truths that beat in my heart, too. The sites of theRestoration are sacred because of the people who go there withconviction of what happened before. Is this making sense? It's likewhen the Lord says to Thomas, "because thou hast seen, thou hastbelieved. Blessed are those who have not seen, and yet believe." I just love the saints of this church. It is a happy thing to be outhere in the field that is full of curious folk. Every where I go Iget to talk to people about the Mormons. I love that I am one whocan be called a Latter-day Saint. So far I have talked to a woman onthe plane, a man at Trader Joe's Market, a Mennonite woman who sold mean Amish quilt--basically anyone who looks my way.My internship starts on Wednesday. I'm currently dealing with a caseof flutter bugs in my stomach due to nerves. Hopefully they fly awaywhen confidence and faith replace fear. 4 months will go by soquickly--every moment counts.Love you all. Sweet dreams, Sundy Lynn