Bees and Turkey

This week I have two things I want to talk about. The first really came as a surprise for me: the honor bee. For those of you who aren't as familiar, the honor bee is a new addition to the personal progress program that a young woman can get by mentoring another young woman in finishing her own personal progress.

It would nag at me from time to time that I really ought to aim for that. I had lots of younger cousins and friends in our young women's group that would be easy to help. But life, as it usually does, got in the way and I would completely forget about it.

And then, last week, our young women's president (and my dearest of dear mother) called for me and the other two friends that I have mentioned a lot on this blog to come up. And guess what she presented us?
Honor bees.

She explained that, though we hadn't actually sat down and went through the method of checking of goals, she could 'think of no more deserving girls'. She brought us all to tears explaining how we had been examples, friends, and truly mentors to the younger girls. Even when most our age might look down and roll our eyes at them.
Quite frankly, us three always thought those little Beehives were cooler than us:). Besides, a good number of them were already taller than us. So I guess we would've had to look up and roll our eyes and the effect really diffuses the temptation.

But the point I got was following the spirit of a law. Sure none of us had had anything checked off on paper, but as I looked at the new little charm to my personal progress necklace, I felt that the Lord knew. He knew of all those girl's camp preparations as youth leaders. He knew of all the times we talked to the younger girls in the hall. He knew of my one friend's contagious laughter when she listened to one of their jokes or my other friend's fun way of making them feel a part of the group. He even knew of the time that I blasted Phineas and Ferb music in my car when driving them home.

How different things are when we remember the spirit. The law itself my produce an emaculate check-list and nice award. But the spirit of the law is something that's inside of you. The reward of that sort of devotion can be felt, both by you and others as you share it. A paper of recognition can only go so far, but a character of recognition can be spread to unnumerable lengths. I learned that there is a whole lot more to following the spirit of the law than I first comprehended.

The second, of course, is Thanksgiving. I am thankful for my mother's cooking and will probably be more so once I leave.
 I'm thankful for my little cousin who came to visit and wanted to play princesses. And, on that note, I'm thankful that I somehow fit into my last prom dress for the occasion because the size of my platter suggested otherwise.

I'm thankful for my fuzzy socks that have kept me warm this whole Thanksgiving break and for my low-maitenence hair because there's more fun things I'd rather be doing on a weekened.

I'm thankful all the lockers I've had throughought junior high and high school. Each has provided me with many adventures. They range from popping my back just trying to open it to forgetting my combo twice and nearly being late for class.

I'm thankful for my car. It goes through the thick and thin everyday and my mother (as well as my little brother) could testify.

I'm thankful for a family who listens to Christmas music while cooking the turkey and mashing the taters and who put up the tree before even all that.

I'm thankful for the Disney station on Pandora. People who work on the holidays. My english teacher who never tells me that I've screwed something up until I admit it myself. For my Precalculus teacher who answers question upon question upon question and who always looks my direction when he assures my brainiac class that he will give help if we need it on tests.

For a good book. For friends who also love a good book. For Subway sandwhiches and baked Lays. For those few classmates that keep life interesting. For my family who has put up with my piano poundings all these years to the unth degree. For my art teacher who lets me draw my book characters instead of boring buildings.

For all the heavenly help I get with this blog and for of you who read it. As well as others who let me fill their eardrums with my endless ideas. (One of my classmates even had a dream about one of my characters. In other words, I talk way too much.) I'll be grateful for the gospel far into the eternities, even (and especially) the sacrament meetings where the organist falls asleep and a toddler flickers the light switch because sometimes the best medicine is simply laughter.

And I'm thankful for the pilgrims and indians who showed us all what's up. Because I could fill the world wide web really, but, again, I talk too much. So I'll leave it to all of you. What are you thankful for?

The Story Behind the Story Behind the Clay People

Again I need to mention my amazing cousin Alicia. She has this quote on her website that made me laugh out loud when I first read it because I can totally relate.

"Everyone has a story. I happen to have a million and can't shut up about it."

Especially these past few months. Ever since I got that silly idea that prompted the making of all those silly clay people, the creative half of my brain hasn't wound down. So ask me about it at your own risk because I have had several friends who have and not only did I answer their question, but I told them the storyline as far as I had it, where I left off, where I wanted it to go, a little bit of the next book in the series, what I was worried about, why I liked a character that was to come in later, why I liked the character now, and so on.

Somedays I get so excited about it that I can't hold a normal conversation without a "Hey, that reminds me! You know that story I was telling you about the other day? Well there's this one part..."

There was even one embarrassing class period where I was drawing the characters I was so obsessed with. One of my good friends suddenly said, "That story is epic."
"Why thank you!" I smiled, "Now I just have to finish writing it."
She gave me a funny look and I realized she was actually talking about the book she was reading.

That, my friends, is a prideful tendency. Its on my dumb-things-to-get-rid-of list. Anyways, I'm beginning to understand why there's a scripture talking about 'bridling' our 'passions'. I usually hear it in lessons on chastity but I think it can relate to any passion. I'm beginning to see how easy it can be to lose control of it.

I am a firm believer that God grants us gifts and expects us to develop them. To use them and to find satisfaction in them. He himself is the supreme creator. I'm sure he has all kinds of talents and ideas. But I'm seeing how letting our passions bridle us can cut into scripture reading time or family time.

So that's been a goal of mine. Because when you can name everything from the favorite food to the place in choir of nine different characters, its important to not let things get too carried away.

But I don't believe in stifling ourselves either. Actually I think bridling our passions is a great way to improve them. Writing is more fun when you don't get to do it day in and day out. Also if the rest of your life is in order than you're able to enlist the help of our savior. As my grandma put it, "You wanna play good basketball? Read your scriptures."

Replacing Pride with Confidence

For some reason I've been hearing a lot of stories about inspiring people lately. I'm not sure what it is. Maybe it's really that  I'm older and pay a little more attention to them now.  Most of the time, they're deeply inspiring. People find ways to run a marathon on plastic and metal while I don't even feel like running a mile on legs. People who are paralyzed seem happier than I am most of the time. I've read of a teenage boy who had virtually no free time between school and taking his working father's responsibilities.

However, being the human that I am, I don't always let them inspire me. Rather, I compare myself to them and pull myself down. It's the same with talents. I've had people say to me, "What? Annelie's joining this craft contest? Well I quit. I've already lost."  And I've said that to myself about others. It's silly! Because, in reality, it's not them holding us back, its us.

Anyways, I heard another story today in Sunday School. It was about a girl with polio who eventually became an Olympic medalist. It was a great story, but the worst of me got the best of me and I sat there stewing while everyone began to talk about determination and strength.

I felt so pathetic. Not the "you-should-do-better" pathetic, just the "you-haven't-overcome-anything-like-that" pathetic. As strange as it sounds, I began to wish I wasn't so darn priveleged! I had it soo easy! How could I ever wish to be as amazing as those people who overcame such hard trials when I never had anything like them?

And then we started talking about those privileges and I realized how selfish I was being. I needed to enjoy these blessings while I had them! It probably wouldn't always be like this. I was sure that, later on, I'd look back on these days and miss them.

And, besides that, having some major battle scar didn't seem to be what my Heavenly Father needed for me right now.  I could recount at least two incidents where I could've been very badly injured but, by some miracle, I came out unharmed. One was on the trampoline when I nearly landed directly on my head but, somehow, didn't. Another was during a night game of cops and robbers when I ran directly into an unseen fence. It wasn't until on the way home, when I found a small scratch on my ankle and a tear in the pocket of my hoodie that I realized it was a barbed-wire fence.

And these aren't huge, but it just stood as a sort of testimony to me that that sort of thing wasn't in the gameplan. I felt that the Lord had blessed me with a healthy body for a reason. He'd given me AMAZING parents, a peaceful home, a superhero of a hometown, and so much free time because that's what I needed in my personal progression. It wasn't that He was trying to hold me back. On the contrary, He was trying to help me be the very best I could ever be.  He had given me tons of privileges. And, just like the stalwart people in the stories, I was expected to live up to thm.

I immediatly felt bad for my stupid ingratitude but, as soon as I repented, felt his love. He knew I knew better. I just needed a reminder.

Where much is given much is required. That phrase almost intimidates me, but I know with His help, I can most definitely give all that is required. Even if, at the moment, its simply letting go of my pride and petty comparisons and replacing them with the confidence and faith that He knows what He's doing.

Singing our Hearts Out

Two more late comers have arrived at the ball this week:

Thumbalina and Thomas (or Tom). I felt sort of jealous for my other clay people because these two seem to be more flashy with the flower dress and the acorn hat (ignoring her vampireish lipstick job and his beauty mark of course.)

Anyways, the real point of this post is to describe being in a youth church choir. Everyone already listened to us at Stake Conference, but I just wanted to share the point of view of a single choir member.

I love being in youth choirs. For one thing, it's hilarious. Get a bunch of us obnoxious teenagers to shuffle into one room and watch the volume rise. People joke, turn around in their seats, burst into loud laughter, tease, kick each other under the seats, talk, text, you name it. It's like being in primary class again.

And then the music starts. In a flurry of shushes and nudges, all of the week's events are temporaily forgotten and everyone becomes more focused on their sheet music. At least in the choirs I've been in. And I think it's great!

I loved this last one because our director decided to make the guys start off most of the songs. And I know that sounds rude, but during practice, the girls were placed in front. And there's just something about the strong sound of guys voices. I'm not sure what it is but it made me a blubbering, mascara mess at EFY and gave me chills during one of our practices.

And when it was us girls' turn to come in, the feelings were the same. It was as if every petty difference was gone. We were all sisters. Beautiful sisters. Daughters of our Heavenly Father.

I'm not sure why the effect was so strong on me this time through. I guess it's just the fact that they were all my peers. I'm becoming more and more aware that the Lord truly does know us teenagers. He knows the strong influence we have on each other and he knows that it can be used both negatively as well as positively. I think that's the reason for these choirs. For young women's and young men's organizations. For EFY and youth conference. He wants us to see that there are people just like us--hundreds if not thousands--who are trying just as hard. There is indeed strength in numbers and He wants to show us that we are not alone.

Our super-hero of a director was awesome. I've never seen a woman with such a strong passion for music. She probably could've gone somewhere amazing with it.  Yet she agreed to the task of taking all us goofy kids and teaching us the power of the songs we were singing. She made sure we knew exactly what we were singing and taught us that heart came before the notes.

I'm not sure how well we sounded in the big stake center, but I loved being there! Because of my lack of height, I was placed front and center where I could perfectly sing into one of our stake leader's ears. But I still loved it! The feelings of the words really came through and I had to keep reminding myself not to sing too much louder than those around me because I really get into music like that (refer to lawn-mowing story).

The weird part is that this summer I won't be in that group anymore. I'll be considered an 'adult'. My writing abilities end at trying to describe how unsettlingly strange that feels. Did I mention that just last week I ran around my grandma's house in boots, belts, and a cloak trying to be a 'shadow hunter'? And that I used a NHS assighnment of wrapping shoeboxes to watch Sleeping Beauty? I know I've described these sorts of things a lot, but they're on a daily basis! Look out college roommate, here I come.