...and to all a good night

christmas time is never really an easy time now.

normally it would be filled with joy, peace, and laughter,

but there is always a little piece that misses what could have been.

this christmas marks sam's second birthday and grandpa's second christmas in heaven.

as i was listening to my christmas playlist, the song "christmas in heaven"

by scotty mccreery and tears started to fall.

the questions that are asked during the chorus

are always the hardest to make through:

And I wonder

Are you kneeling with shepherds before him now?

Can you reach out and touch his face?

Are you part of that glorious Holy night?

I wonder: what Christmas in Heaven is like?

Is the snow falling down on the streets of gold?

Are the mansions all covered in white?

Are you singing with angels "Silent Night"?

I wonder: what Christmas in Heaven is like?

that first christmas i bawled every time i heard this song.

it's getting better, but the wound is still fresh.

there are so many first, and seconds, and thirds,

that i don't often want to think about it.

but i will teach my children that grandpa

was an amazing man, who loved christ and his family

more than anything else in the world. 

that he worked hard days and nights to provide a life

worth living for his family.

and that he is waiting in, and watching from, heaven

for the rest of us to join him one day.

the christmas season is about celebrating the birth of our savior.

yesterday, we had the opportunity to bless and give a name to a newborn nephew.

and it just brings to mind some of the thoughts that 

mary would have been experiencing as she bore the christchild.

how much do you think she understood of the father's plan for her newborn?

do you think she understood she was carrying the savior of the world?

this christmas season, let us focus on the lord of lords,

and king of kings. the one who's birth the angels sing.

for he truly is the reason for the season.

he suffered so that the sting of death cannot last.

he died so that we might live again with our families.

is that not enough to celebrate?

little moments

grandma and i
in front of a statue of joseph & hyrum smith

grandma and grandpa bingham
in front of the nauvoo temple

grandpa bingham
explaining the use of a cellar

the rebuilt nauvoo temple

little did i know that this was going to be the last time 

i would spend time with grandpa.

and that hurts a lot.

three and a half years ago, we stopped in nauvoo, illinios to appreciate the time 

that the early lds saints had spent here and learn about the city 

they created on the crest of the mississippi river.

this would also be the last time i would

spend with my grandfather on this side of the veil.

grandpa was always willing to share a piece of the vast amount of knowledge

that he accrued over the years. i always begrudged the idea of riding in the car

with him because he really did always want to share something.

but now i wish i could take back every skipped ride

so i could just spend a few more minutes with him.

he was a strong man, both physically and spiritually.

i miss him like crazy, and every time i see a big green tractor

in the amber fields of grain, i have to choke back tears.

grandpa only heard me speak spanish fluently once.

over the phone, minutes before he passed away.

i can still remember that night like it was yesterday.

i was sitting in a lesson with a less active and her granddaughter.

we had just finished the closing prayer when i got a call from my mission president.

it was 7:15pm on a wednesday. 

he called and asked me where i was.

he calmly explained that my mother had called 

and that i needed to go home before she called me at 7:30pm.

he explained that my grandfather was in the hospital and

my family was worried that he wouldn't make it through the night.

i walked back home in a daze and barely said a word to my companion.

i sat down across from my companion at our desk and waited for the phone call

from +1 (865) mom-num#. 

as soon as i picked up the phone, i had a pit in the bottom of my stomach.

she explained that my grandfather had become seriously ill

since the slightly worrying, but otherwise normal, email i received on monday.

she told me that he was on a ventilator and that all the other grandchildren

had said their good-byes. i was the last one.

and i began to cry as i bore my testimony in a language that only he could understand.

i do not remember a single word that i said to him, in english or in spanish.

i just know that it was something special between him and i. 

i could hear the heart monitor begin to panic as i finished.

mom got back on the phone and said that it was time to go.

and that was the last time that i spoke to my grandfather.

i think i made it to the dial tone before i broke down crying.

my companion politely excused herself and left me alone with my thoughts.

i called my zone leaders and attempted to explain through my cries

that my grandfather had passed and that we wouldn't be continuing to work.

he vaguely said "uh huh" and hung up, too.

at this point i was ugly crying with snot, hiccups and giant gasps of air.

i poured myself onto my knees beside my bed and did the only thing

left that i could do: pray.

what words came out of my mouth and the language are all a blur.

all i could feel and remember was my stomach hitting the floor over and over

as the reality of that short ten minute phone call washed over me.

i remember having the impression to write about that day in my journal,

so i crawled over to the desk once more, sat next to my bed, and wrote for the next 45 minutes.

every heartache, every sob, every feeling was written down on a single page in my journal.

by the time i was finished writing, the sobs had subsided and i had a feeling of peace.

i would be able to make it through these next few days.

the emails that i would receive describing reunited family, beautiful eulogies,

and thoughtful flowers that we all knew grandpa would disapprove of,

wouldn't be the daggers in my heart i thought they would be.

i could survive.

my companion knocked on the door to the room and

asked if she could come in.

we planned, and i answered the next three phone calls with some difficulty:

the zone leader, looking to be comforting;

the sister leaders, who didn't quite grasp my grief;

and the mission president's wife, who let me grieve for just a moment 

before telling me to be strong and serve the lord with all energy of heart.

the next days were precious. i had some wonderful experiences with 

the scripture in doctrine and covenants: 

"and whoso receiveth you, there I will be also,

for I will go before your face. 

I will be on your right hand and on your left,

and my Spirit shall be in your hearts,

and mine angels round about you,

to bear you up."

i had never had such a personal fruition of a scripture

until that week. angels walked with us, and

most importantly, i knew that i was supposed

to be on a mission in nicaragua at that time.

little moments come and go,

and it is our duty to capture them.

take the crazy photos.

take the time to sit and chat.

put the phone down and enjoy the moment.

because they rarely last.

and they rarely come around again.

that time i actually won

one morning i didn't have to work until later in the afternoon

so i thought i would sleep in.

then i got a call from an unknown number at 6am alaska time.

now usually i do not answer phone calls from unknown numbers,

but something told me to pick it up...

so i did.

on the other end of the phone was a nice woman from the kaplan group,

and she was calling to let me know that my essay had been selected

as the winner in their annual business scholarship.

repeat: i had actually won a scholarship essay contest.

i was so groggy i could hardly comprehend what was being said

but at the same time, i was so excited.

i seriously think i cried after i hung up the phone.

they sent me an email confirming my acceptance of the scholarship,

i received my scholarship monies a few weeks later,

and then they published this article on their blog.

just thought i would leave it here for future posterity.

having sight, but no vision

passion and drive tend to loan people a spark of ingenuity or confidence to do something incredible in a moment of indecision or self-doubt. how many times has love drawn a shy man out of his shell to fumble across a room, only to fumble across his words as he speaks to a woman he finds spectacular? entrepreneurs, engineers, and scientists use drive to create new things, design new parts and change the way the world works. and all because they have a vision of what could be.

having sight but visionless connotates a man who has lost his passion or drive for his work. an entrepreneur who slugs through his day, with no movement forward. an engineer or scientist whose shoulders slump forward and whose head hangs down in defeat. they all signal a lost and directionless man. they have gotten so caught up in the details of their work that they have forgotten the bigger picture. they have forgotten how the tiniest protein in the chain of polypeptides can determine how the body reacts and breaks down it down. innovation and creativity come from men and women who realize that even the smallest parts are important in life.

it is my opinion that we all have passion and a drive to do things in our lives. being able to see the world around us is an added bonus, as long as we have a vision that will carry us at least into the next five years of our lives. some scientists work for fifteen years in a field before they publish something notable. entrepreneurs may try hundreds of models before they successful sell something. but they keep on going after all of these failures because they have a vision for what it could become. 

marveloptics.com

la casa del señor

there are few things that can bring you

back to the mission field after you have left.

a physical visit might bring back memories.

but there is something about seeing pictures

of converts and less active members of the church

that you and your companion labored and prayed

for and with that brings those moments back

in full emotional force.

but i think one of the most bittersweet moments

is seeing pictures of these people entering

la casa del señor. 

to give you a little background,

in order to enter a normal sunday service

with the church of jesus christ of latter-day saints

there are no restrictions.

all visitors are welcome.

but in order to enter the temple,

one must meet certain criteria

and be worthy to enter his sacred house.

and as someone who has been inside that house,

i want everyone i meet to be able to go inside

and be apart of the blessings and spirit

that is always there.

thanks to technology, it's become easy

to see pictures of people going to the temple,

dedicating time and incredible efforts

in order to attend the temple. 

it's become easy to share in these

beautiful and incredible moments.

the smiles

the tears

the prayers

the blistering days and

soaking nights.

they were all worth it,

just to see them there at

la casa del señor.

a seminary trick

i still remember this trick from seminary,

although it has been almost eight years.

open the book of mormon.

ask left or right.

ask again.

count the verses,

ask for a number in that range.

give a spiritual thought from that verse.

sometimes you come up with 

some very difficult scriptures.

but tonight, i came up with this

beautiful verse from alma:

my joy is full because

i know that my redeemer lives.

i know that i have someone

who has truly felt every pain and heartache

that may come my way.

a believer's prayer was performed so beautifully

in church yesterday by some good friends

and the entire time, the spirit just kept coming

in waves of confirmation.

the believer's prayer is heard.

and if you cannot have belief,

a desire to believe will be enough for now.

an eternal family

there is something wonderful to know that 

the lord blessed us with the opportunity to have an eternal family. 

this past year was one of the hardest testimony testers for me. 

in may, i had to say goodbye over the phone, 

from 3000 miles away to a beloved grandfather. 

and just this december i never got to meet a wonderful little cousin.

there is something heartbreaking about two funerals in one year. 

one for a man who got to live a full-ish life and a man who never got to live. 

but somehow, there is a peace that lives in my heart. 

a knowledge and conviction that my family can be together forever 

allows me to put one foot in front of the other 

and not be a hot mess of emotions and grief. 

grandpa is waiting for us. 

he's preparing the mansion in heaven that we will all share. 

and little sam is there with grandpa, 

learning as a child should 

from such a wonderful role model. 

and sometimes i get a little jealous of the angels.

but it helps the aching heart to know that they are happy.

my soul was racked with eternal torment;
but i am snatched, and my soul is pained no more.

this was the scripture that we found open in the days

after my grandfather's funeral.

there were probably some of his last words

he read from the scriptures before his death.

and what a powerful statement.

my soul is pained no more.

looking back on that week, and the letter i wrote

home, i realized that i was being prepared well

before i even knew something was astray.

i had been studying in the book of mormon

and reading in the doctrine and covenants

about what happens to man after he leaves this life.

and what a comfort this scripture still is to me:

and the next verse says: 

and then shall it come to pass, that the spirits of those

 who are righteous are received into a state of happiness,

which is called paradise, a state of rest, a state of peace, 

where they shall rest from all their troubles 

and from all care, and sorrow.

the way i talk

the way i talk

it's become a quick favorite for me.

makes it a little bit better

that morgan is from knoxville, tennessee

just like yours truly.

but a lot has changed in the last little while

with the way i talk.

today marks two years since i entered the mtc

and started one of life's big journeys:

a full-time service mission for

the church of jesus christ of latter-day saints.

i now speak with a little utah vocab,

heck, fetch and crap.

a little bit of that tennessee drawl,

y'all, darling, sweetheart.

there are a few more spanish pleasantries mixed in,

gracias, por favor, and hola.

and now the vocab of a returned missionary,

college, work, homework.

the way i talk

is now a little bit more grown-up.

i am trying to grow up.

prepare for the inevitable part of life

that requires you to snip the safety net

made by your parents

and create your own life.

and i owe a lot of that growing up

to the experience i had in nicaragua.

two teenagers, with a very rough idea of the real world,

wandering the streets of a foreign land

preaching a message that they firmly believe.

there is very little training considering 

the objective that is given. 

yet, the way we talk

is not with our mouths.

but with our testimonies, the spirit of god

and a lot of faith.

it's a language that you don't learn

from someone else.

rather, it's an individualized experience.

there may be similarities you share with others

but no feeling, notion, prompting

is the same person to person.

and that's an incredible language to master.

a good missionary sees it occasionally.

a great missionary sees it frequently.

but an extraordinary missionary sees it always.

i am no judge of character for myself,

but i do know that there are many moments

that i can remember that i spoke the words

that the hearer needed.

they were not my words,

but the way i talked

was enough to let me know

that they were the right words

that the man upstairs understood

and knew that person needed

at that precise moment.

it sounds a little bit like my daddy

it don't cuss around my momma

some words you've never heard

'less you come from down yonder

the man upstairs gets it

so i ain't tryna fix it

no i can't hide it

i don't fight, i just roll with it

oh, kinda slow like the Mississippi rolls

it's the only way i know

man it ain't my fault

i just live the way i talk.

#lifeunfiltered

after a church meeting today,

one of my leaders handed me an article.

he simply said that he had shared it

with some other members of the congregation

in an previous meeting

and would like me to read it as well.

the story is about a girl who hides her life through filters.

and unfortunately hides her despair so well

her parents are blindsided by her suicide.

now, i don't know why this leader decided to share this with me.

because i assure you, i would never think of ending my life that way.

but maybe it wasn't for me.

maybe, i was just supposed to read it

and share my thoughts.

the article talks about how part of Madison, said girl,

must have struggled internally with the difference

between the life we are living on the inside

and the filtered life we are letting the outside world see us live.

"Even people you think are perfect are going through something difficult."
a taken from a post on Madison's Instagram account.

and it's so true.

today we talked about charity in our women's meeting.

and what it really means to be charitable.

sure it means to be "willing to bear one another's burdens ... 

to mourn with those that mourn, 

yea and comfort those that stand in need of comfort..." 

and i think it goes so much further than that too.

"a compliment should be voiced

and a criticism should be hushed,

not the other way around."

--wise words of an institute teacher

we need to be more willing to truly listen to other people.

and let them understand our sorrows.

but we also need to see into the inside world they are living in.

truly try to understand their hurt.

so they can feel like someone is truly there that understands.

not just a friend with words.

i am not the best friend you could ever have.

but i find joy in lifting the fallen.

trying to emulate the savior.

and i am not trying to say any of this to get attention.

but maybe what we all need to do

is to look around us

and try to have a little love and understanding

for those around us.

strangers, friends, or family.

because you never know what another might be going through.

your words could be their saving grace.

literally.

my number is twenty-three

a couple of years ago,

i fell for a friend's post online

and had to write 23 things about myself.

some things haven't changed, yet other's have.

1. i still love country music. the only reason i ever listen to pop radio

is because the country stations are playing commercials.

2. i still love western swing dancing.

it's been a little rough getting back into the saddle post mission, but it's still a thing.

3. i have been to a concert. i saw scotty mccreery live for $5 as part of his "see you tonight" tour.

waiting outside the doors wasn't too bad when you have good company.
rhett, me, andrew

third row my friends. for $5.
thank you utah state.

4. i have shot a gun. lots of times. and most times i have a pretty good shot too,

wyoming mountains make the best backdrop for pictures

5. i am still better at fixing other people's problems.

my dad calls it perspective; i call it free therapy.

6. i must have skipped this one.

so, i'll make one up.

i know spanish.

y si, puedo entenderte cuando hablas de mi.

7. i work at a grocery store again. 

and some days are better than others.

like wednesdays. i like wednesdays.

fridays and mondays not so much.

8. i still automatically respond to people's comments.

thank you customer service jobs.

9. the number is a lot bigger than three now.

10. i am getting better at recognizing faces.

it's still hard, but i can thank the mission for that.

if you can remember a unique quality about them,

it helps a lot.

11. to  16. 

nothing has changed.

but allow me to digest something:

i am an accounting major.

and yes, i like it.

there are a lot of numbers,

but even more principles and concepts to remember.

#appreciate_your_accountant

17. i found out that i won't have to take a calculus class

or any more math-intensive classes to graduate

and i cried a little tear of gratitude.

18. i now live with only three other girls.

and we are each other's sounding boards.

no hard feelings here!

19. my love life is still interesting like string theory,

but at least it's engaging now.

(no, that was not an announcement)

20. more than words can recount.

21. i have fixed myself of this habit.

(thank you mission)

but sometimes, it would be nice

to knock some sense into people.

22. that one has changed.

to quote keith urban,

"to, to kiss and tell, it's just not my style."

23. beards are still one of the most attractive things ever.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

these kinds of posts are kind of fun to write,

because i get to see my personal growth.

somethings haven't changed,

and i guess that just makes me, me.

progress is made

and i am thankful for the memories

that mark those changes.

thank you.

the little white dress

a couple years back, one of my young women's leaders gave me this:

hang on to your values
hang on to your testimony
hang on to your goals...
so that some day you can
hang your temple dress on me.

and it sat in a memory box for a couple of years until i got to that point.

surely, it will be the day that i hang my wedding dress up beside it,

thought little laurel me.

never thought in a million years that i would be going on a mission!

when they changed the age at which missionaries could go

i was totally complacent. 

woo! go missionaries! congratulations!

me: i still know that i'm not going on a mission.

but the lord knew better.

i moved out to school, 

took a missionary preparation class at the lds institute.

still wasn't convinced i was going on a mission.

and then i got a new roommate after christmas.

and i attribute the keeling point to her.

angie was an rsm, ready to preach the gospel

and full of light. 

when i wasn't angry at her for being my mother,

we were talking about the experiences that she had had on her mission.

and it was incredible.

my parents were skyping rae and i one night

and asked us (in february mind you!)

what our plans were for the summer.

we both surprised our parents:

i was going to prepare for a mission

and rae was going to go home.

in the ensuing months, i got my job in jackson,

moved out there, earned lots of mula

and tried to prepare spiritually for the mission.

i met some amazing people and 

i chalk those six months as second best

behind the mission.

i got home,

chugged through my paperwork

and got my call:

nicaragua managua south.

and it all came home:

i was going on a mission.

in six weeks.

ten days wait between submitting my papers

and getting them. 

the lord needed me NOW.

and so i did.

and the day arrived for me to receive my endowments

and buy my own white dress.

and it was incredible. 

being inside the temple like that

is literally being in the present of god's greatest people.

i had some amazing friends who came to support me,

one of them being an old young women's leader.

and now, almost two years later

i have worn a white dress many times

and now i am trying to remain worthy of putting it on.

hang on to your values

hang on to your testimony

hang on to your goals

the rsm life

i am just going to put this out now:

the rsm life is a lot different than i thought it would be.

i will be honest with you:

i thought that being a sister missionary would change

more than it did.

now, allow me to explain two parts.

part 1: the idea

when i got home, i was expecting a crowd of friends from the ward or stake.

i was expecting that in the ensuing weeks between being home and starting school,

that i would go on a few dates, figure out a few more things about this "new" world.

then i would move into a new ward at school and it all would be different.

people would treat me differently because i had served a mission.

i would get asked on dates, have some more friends.

i needed to find a job, and preferably one that paid better than minimum wage.

i needed to start over. reinvent.

but still be me.

part 2: the reality

coming home off the plane, i had just left my companion in the airport an hour ago.

i had been awake since three am that morning, with only about five hours of sleep.

i had just left home in an alternate universe, and was stepping into reality again.

and i was just excited to hug my daddy.

i got off the plane. i tried to be one of the last ones off the plane,

and thanks to "missionary seating" as i like to call it, it wasn't a difficult feat.

and then i ran down the tarmac, left my luggage in the walk way

and hugged my daddy for the first time in eighteen months.

and then the rest of the family each got their hug, and it was all just a blur.

we took some pictures with the lovely people who had come to see me home

like my favorite young women's leader, kari kah

of course, the family. grandparents included.

and the wonderful tennessee family, as i would call it

fackrells, sis pesci, sis kah and son, vaughns.

i couldn't be happier with that happy moment. 

it truly was surreal to be in the knoxville airport again.

i had dreamt of the moment so many times, that it all played out like exactly that:

a dream.

we drove home. the wind had destroyed a wonderful sign that my siblings had poured their hearts into making, but it was a play on a sign that my aunts made for me before i left

and so it said:

welcome home janelle.

daddy had a nice little surprise for me in the driveway

a "gift" that i had requested.

and he let me drive it to the church to be set apart....

crazy father.

but anyway. i showed everyone some nicaraguan culture

and shared a few trinkets that i had brought home.

and then real life hit.

i was no longer a missionary. 

i was no longer a representative of

la iglesia de jesucristo de los santos de los ultimos dias.

i was no longer hermana graves.

i was janelle again.

and it hurt like heck

it's been said that as a missionary, you are set apart from the world.

and i promise you, it's true.

the lord walks beside you, and there are moments if you catch the light just right

you can see him there in the companionship.

there are no words that describe the feelings of complete exhaustion or complete excitement

at the end of the day.

a good day is one where everything went as planned, where nothing went planned,

or when nothing and everything went as planned.

but it was all okay, because you were on the lord's errand.

stepping out of that limelight was really hard.

because it was no longer about you being a missionary,

it was about you being a return missionary with all these things to do for you now.

going to rant: i hate it when people how my mission was and 

are satisfied with the answer ::great, thanks.::

i spent eighteen months serving the lord.

the word great does not do it justice.

i appreciate the thought of asking, but let me tell you a little bit about it.

i did not get along with all my companions. but i love them all.

i had a lot of converts who are not currently active in the church. and that hurts.

but then i also have a few converts who are strong. a few who have chosen the higher road.

i did not always have success.

but i was successful.

my mission was

invite others to come unto Christ by helping them receive the restored gospel,

through faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and His Atonement, repentance,

baptism, receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost, and endure to the end. 

and i did it. 

and when i got home, i had no mission statement.

i had a few plans, but definitely no mission call.

and i was lost.

my extended family came and went,

and my family tried to finish their summer strong.

i went to the temple for the first time in almost eighteen months

and made it through a session without crying for joy.

but i was wandering.

then i picked up a job for a couple of weeks and was doing something again.

being out of the house, thinking of all the things that had changed.

friends married, with children, others engaged.

it all came down to same:

i felt like the time had just been frozen on the home front

but coming to terms with all the changes was difficult.

i really had to start from basically ground zero with everything.

for my birthday, my mom bought me a new wardrobe for the "post mish me."

a new phone. a new vehicle. a new job.

a new life.

and now here we are.

seven weeks home from the mission.

and still awkward as crap.

i haven't been ask on very many social outings.

i moved into the new ward, but don't have very many friends yet.

i love my roommates. i like my new classes.

i found a great job in the bakery at a local grocery store.

and i am no closer to figuring out a few more things about life than i was seven weeks ago.

the visions of being treated differently because i am a rsm are not what i thought them to be.

i'm just another one in the crowd. 

and it's taken some time to get adjusted to that.

i don't like being one of the crowd for very long.

and like a friend once told me "you jumped on that bandwagon."

the mission was an amazing experience where i got to see the lord bless his obedient servants.

i have seen many people change their lives and continue to change themselves because of the message that we as missionaries shared with them and their relatives and friends.

i have seen what happens to missionaries that follow the promptings of the spirit.

i have witnessed first hand the lord's hand of protection in my life and that of my companion.

i have seen the light of christ in the eyes of a boy willing to follow jesus with all energy of heart that he tells his mother to go to church every week. 

i have seen the hand of the lord in so many ways.

and now i am having a light problem and can't see through it.

in my institute class yesterday, my teacher began class with the story of the brother of jared.

when the brother of jared was given the instructions to build a ship, he went and did.

and then realized a couple of problems: no light, no air, and no steering.

the brother of jared then goes to the lord and converses with him of these dilemmas.

 the lord quickly responds that he will take care of the need for steering, and the plans were given to him to create air holes. but then the lord says: 

"what do you want me to do? i can't just give you everything."

he give him parameters, some guidance. and then says: "alright, go."

and this is where the miracle comes in:

if the brother of jared hadn't had his 'light problems', he would have missed the opportunity to 

see the savior.

that's right: without trials, he wouldn't have been able to grow enough,

to show the sufficient faith, to see first, the finger of the lord,

and then the body of the christ. 

the savior awaits to show himself unto us,

but we must muddle through and solve our light problems first.

god has given us the commandments (our own parameters)

and is giving us real time commentary on what to do (general conference, anybody?)

and there's more.

the brother of jared went and did.

he brainstormed and thought of something.

he acted

and created sixteen small stones out of rock.

but they would have just been rocks, without the ability to give off light

if the lord had not touched them.

we can do all the work.

we can go and act, and do, and be busy

trying to solve our light problems.

but if we don't accept that the lord has to help us,

that we can't do it all by ourselves

our efforts are just rocks.

right now, i guess it's time to re-evaluate my light problems,

turn them into rocks,

and have the faith in jesus christ

to ask him to turn them into the stones that will

"shine forth in darkness."

pray as though it all depended on God.

work as though everything depended on you.

-saint augustine