My Soul Hungered

Last night, I was about to retire for the night when I felt the distinct impression to read my scriptures, particularly the book of Enos. Now, I had read this chapter about a week ago and had the thought that I needed to read it more thoroughly. Of course, being pressed for time with limited coherence in the early hours of the day, I ignored the thought. However, fool me twice and all that jazz, I wasn't about to ignore that feeling again. I opened up my new quad to  Enos and read. While I was reading, I couldn't help thinking about my mission.

The parentals. 

1. Often I reflect on the superior quality of my parents. They did a dang good job raising me as a well-rounded person, with a firm foundation in the gospel.
2-7. I have many flaws (not that I'll admit that in person, but it is true). However, I have a desire to perfect them and a belief in the Savior that will assist in healing me of my weakness.
8. I love in this verse when it says, "go to, thy faith hath made thee whole". The Lord says to Enos, Hey, I've helped you out and made you stronger now get out there and get back to work! There is so much more to be done!
9-10. One of the things I worry about, having some experience with missionary work is maintaining a conversion to the gospel in the people I baptize. I think too often investigators are baptized and left without the solid foundation they need to keep coming back to church. This is surely something I will be praying for.
11-14. This one is kind of a no-brainer for me. I will also be praying and pleading for people to accept the gospel.
15-18. I will learn to ask in faith and recognize blessings as they come. The first part is actually something I've been working on; the second part I'm usually pretty good at.
19. I will preach the gospel.
20-22. With the help of the members, I will try to convert the stiffnecked people of France. Now I'm not sure how far this parallel extends-hopefully the Frenchies aren't bloodthirsty barbarians like Enos describes the Lamanites. We'll see, I guess. I'll have to make sure to look back on this upon my return.

Practice Creates the Master

I think the gate has gotten taller since
this picture was taken. Prison, indeed.

Call me an eagle scout, but I like to be prepared. I was one of those kids (still am) that always had a backpack with them when everyone else had only their wallets. That being said, what better way to prepare for a mission than to volunteer at the MTC? I may or may not have had to do that for my mission prep class anyways, but here's how it went:
I talked to my madre en route to the building and hung up just as I reached the security guard. He said, "Yeah you better hang up!" Jokingly. It was funny. He let me inside the prison walls just as my friend Jake, who teaches French here, was exiting. So Jake escorted me to the holding area. There, I saw David from my ward and Hillary from work, so a girl joked about how popular I was here. We sang and prayed and they split us into two groups. I went upstairs to work with the Visitor's Center missionaries.

Kirtland Visitor's Center

Although we were originally told to be ourselves, the lady in charge of this group said it would be a good idea to have an inactive person in our group. I was grouped with Abby, from my mission prep class, and a girl who actually was inactive. Yet somehow, I was the only one willing to pretend to be inactive. I felt so awkward and embarrassed and guilty lying to them and not answering questions I normally would because of my role. So that's how the London and St. George visitor's centers went. I felt especially bad after the lesson was over and I told them I was serving a mission, because I am a really convincing inactive person and they probably thought I shouldn't be serving a mission.
But then the inactive girl agreed to pretend to be inactive. Not sure how that worked. But we went to the Kirtland MTC and I joked around with them a bit before they told us the story of John Tanner. Essentially, he was a wealthy and successful convert in the early days of the church. He had a dream that he needed to go to Kirtland on Christmas eve, so he got rid of his cornicopious possessions and loaded up his family and they left early Christmas day. He donated an exorbitant amount of money to the church over the years. When the church had some money of its own, Joseph Smith wrote him a check for its debt to Tanner. Tanner ripped up the check and said What debt? And Joseph Smith cried and blessed him that his family would never beg for bread again. And they are ridiculously wealthy to this day.

The Church Is True

Psyched for some time
with DHutch.

Remember how I've been feeling overwhelmed as of late? With my brother coming and work and intramurals and mission and moving and school? Well, the church is true. As the semester is drawing to a close, I feel like I have less to worry about than a week ago. Intramurals are over and work ends in a few days. I have a ride for Derek from the airport and a ride to SLC for my EMT exam. Part one of the EMT exam is finished already. My mom and I talked about mission stuff and I feel better about that. My possessions are staying at Ben's storage garage. As for school, this is the real kicker. My basketball exam has been done for ages, three classes gave me the test questions in advance-one I already took, one that is letting me use my notes, and another scheduled for Saturday. That leaves one exam that is based partially on exact past test questions that I have looked over several times. As my favorite movie character would say,

It's all comin' together. 

This is all just a testament to me that the Lord knows us and what we need. If we are faithful and live righteously, we will be blessed. I think the reason for this blessing  of peace and comfort in the midst of chaos is due to my recently established habits of morning prayer and scripture study. One of my favorite professors gave a little spiritual thought every Friday last semester and one of the most applicable messages to me was his testimony that rising 15 minutes earlier to start the day with scriptures and prayer was worth it. And I had never thought of it like that. When I read scriptures, I always thought I needed to read for at least half an hour, which means that much less sleep. But, I decided I needed a better system because I am often too tired to read at night, so I decided I would eat breakfast in the morning to diminish my food supplies and read my scriptures while I'm at it. Morning prayers are something I often forget because of my lack of mental clarity in the early hours of the day. However, during a recent visiting teaching appointment, I, in my missionary mode, extended a  challenge to service and checked in on daily scripture study and prayer. She too has had difficulty with morning prayers. Now I send her a text every morning, reminding her and myself of this responsibility. If I didn't know before, I know now the power and blessings that come from these small daily activities.

Skirts, and Dresses, and Tights, Oh My!

Hm. Reminds me of
Timeline.

And by "oh my," I really mean, "ooh la la". Well, after much ado from my mother, I have been on two epic shopping trips of my life. (And by epic, I mean that if I had a single day left to live, I would have spent it on these excursions, because it felt like they went on forever. And now I feel like Dunbar). Seriously, though. I have never been on shopping trips of such magnitude and extension in my life. By the end of it, I felt like I was deliriously stumbling through a never-ending wasteland when my feet keep moving but all mental functioning has ceased long ago. Luckily, I've been able to keep these field trips to a minimum, allowing sufficient recovery time in between. And trust me, I need it.

Kawai Shimai, Japan
Nagasaki, 4/3/13

And I've even been practicing wearing my clothes so that I can get used to the feel and make sure I like them before I leave. Sometimes my classmates will say things like, "Wow. I don't think I've ever seen you wear real clothes  before!" Well, kiddo, your mental faculties are still in tact, don't worry. But this is seriously a point of stress in my life right now. I mean, who just has mission-ready clothes in their closet? Mine's filled with t-shirts and shorts and socks. Ask me if I even brush my hair every morning. On second thought, don't. Good thing I have so many missionary friends to pester about what I need to buy and what shoes are the best and such. Nadine has been a big help. She showed me some decent shoes, which unfortunately didn't fit me so I couldn't test the waters. I kept telling her to walk a mile in them and let me know if they're still comfortable. She refused. It seemed reasonable to me; I don't know what the deal was. Anyhow, she's at the MTC now, so hopefully she'll let me know soon!

Be Ye Therefore Perfect

This may come as a great shock, but I'm not perfect. Very few people are, really. Even President Monson starts forest fires every now and again. But this is a subject that has preyed on my mind quite a bit, of late. One reason for that is because I have this ideal picture of missionaries in my head who are perfect in their knowledge of the gospel, perfect in obedience to the commandments and mission rules, and perfect in love and appreciation for their fellow men. By that standard, I have a long way to go, but hopefully I'll be ready by the time someone decides to go ask the missionaries.

If anyone can hook me up with
a meeting with this stud, do it.
I love this guy. 

 A goodly number of talks and lessons have been focused on perfection as well. My favorite is Tad R. Callister's "Our Identity and Destiny," a devotional address given in August but replayed today. The whole thing is about how we should strive to reach our divine potential. What is more motivating than the knowledge that you can be a god? Tad suggests two ways to help us fulfill this potential: first, participate in the saving ordinances of baptism, receiving the Holy Ghost, using the Priesthood, endowment, and sealing. Each introduces us to and helps us to use the godly power we will yield eventually. Secondly, we need to seek after gifts of the spirit to "lift us above our mortal weakness and further our pursuit of godhood".
Although missionaries are not perfect, reaching for godliness is an important part of the service. D&C 4 specifies this virtue, among others, as essential. And to achieve this state of perfection, missionaries require the gifts of the spirit to better represent Christ and imitate his qualities. The gift that immediately comes to mind is the gift of tongues and the interpretation of tongues. Not knowing a jot of French, I feel like this would be especially useful. However, the motivation for this gift must be pure. We cannot ask to be able to speak the language purely for the selfish ease of our own understanding. The purpose for which we seek these gifts must be to bless others and help communicate with them properly so that they can learn and rejoice in the gospel of Christ. With a significant portion of effort and a desire to bless those we live with and serve around, these gifts will come. Notice that it is only with effort and struggle that the gifts will come. Brad Wilcox assured my Mission Prep class that if you pray for the gift and struggle along with the language as best you can and want it for the right reasons, it may be a while, but eventually, everything will click into place and suddenly you'll understand.
In order to receive the gifts, it is also essential to ask for them. "Ask and ye shall receive  knock and it shall be opened unto you" (D&C 4). When was the last time you asked for a spiritual gift? These things are top priority because they help lead down the road of godhood. And who doesn't want to be a god? "Not I," said the little red hen. Get crackin.

Choices

Satan annoys people in different ways. I was talking to Nadine and Ho’o about pre-mission life and it’s crazy. Nadine described it as a lot of darkness. While I wouldn't describe it that way, this semester has definitely been super hectic.

Hermana Enos, Mendoza Argentina 3/27/13

I've never felt so busy in my life. Between 12 credits of school work, an EMT class, the Malt Shoppe, mission prep, athletics, and friends, I’m going crazy. And that may be a contributing factor to the fact that I've never been sick this often in my life. I feel like one of the Rigby’s. For example, Tuesday I left my EMT class early and skipped my basketball game (causing us to lose by 5 and get knocked out of the tournament) in order to visit with Ho’o for her only available hour. In the words of Ursula:

“Life’s full of tough choices, inn’t it?”

My other concern is how different Provo will be when I get back. And thanks, Dad, Lauren, Kevin, Steel, etc. for pointing that out to me. Between people graduating, moving, and getting married, nothing will be the same here when I return. But then again, neither will I.  

There's Hope Yet

Recently, I've come to the inevitable conclusion that I love family. But not just my family (although you guys are great). I love all family. I like meeting people's families, I like seeing the different ways they joke around, and I like pretending that all families are mine. And I'm pretty comfortable with doing so. 

This is about as good as a family picture gets. 

That being said, I'm not afraid to pick favorites. We can all be good friends, but it's hard to provide everyone with an equal portion of my time and attention. The criteria for a majority of my best friends is athleticism. That's just something I connect to and love. Especially basketball. So those of my siblings that play and enjoy that glorious sport receive an extra portion of my blessings. And that's just the way the cookie crumbles. That being said, here's an experience I had with my sister this week:

Have you ever seen anything so fine?

And it came to pass that I received the assignment of my mother to acquire a set of scriptures. And it came to pass that I, Naomi, said unto my mother, I will go and do the things which thou (and the Lord) hath commanded. And I, Naomi, took my journey with my backpack up to the BYU bookstore. Having obtained the records, I inquired of my nearly eight-year-old sister, Lavinia, her preference in cases. After revealing to her all the color choices available, she decided on a pink case. Really? A pink case? And it came to pass that I beheld the most glorious one of all, hanging above the floor and shining with all the brightness of the noon day sun. (Or, so it seemed.) I quickly described the case to Lavinia, who replied: "Get it. Get it now." I love it.