Mostly books

My last post may have been a bit misleading. I haven't just been sitting around worrying about my life being stagnant. Really. Aside from trying to figure out my future, I've been pretty busy. Several trips to visit family members, a couple of road trips, trying to work on my publications, doing freelance writing work, working on my mom's house--taking care of the lawn, repainting the downstairs, taking apart a deck, planting a flower garden, pulling out carpet, putting in a fence, building some raised garden boxes, planting a vegetable garden, deep cleaning a swimming pool, putting up some drywall, staining a huge cabinet--serving at church, volunteering in the community--life has been full, and good. Also, I've tried to read. As you'll see from the following list of some of the books I've read, I was on a bit of a Jeff Benedict kick for awhile--I really admire his straightforward writing style and his research. Sadly, my library record reflects a lot more books checked out than I have actually finished. Oh well--one day I'll actually read all the books I intend to. :) 

QB: My Life Behind the Spiral by Steve Young and Jeff Benedict. 

Really enjoyed this book. I’ve been interested in Steve Young as a person since I wrote to him on a writing assignment in the eighth grade and he wrote back—I was touched that he would take the time. I learned more about football in this book than I have ever known, but most especially, I was touched by the life experiences Steve shared, particularly that of his struggle with anxiety and an inferiority complex, his friends and family who have shaped and supported him, and his deep commitment to his faith and being a disciple of Jesus Christ (especially throughout his singlehood and all the temptations and pressures that came with his high profile). Highly recommend.

How to Build a Business Warren Buffett Would Buy by Jeff Benedict. 

This book documents the history of the creation and growth of RC Willey—the huge furniture and home furnishings retailer that was begun and owned by Bill Child until it was purchased by Berkshire Hathaway in 1995. I was given a signed copy in a class at BYU—I can’t remember when or which one—but it has sat on my shelf for years. I finally picked it up this summer. I really enjoyed it. It was an easy read, and I learned quite a bit about the big business acquisitions process. Also, was very impressed with the high level of service and integrity that one can maintain in business, when fully committed to it. Recommend.

The Mormon Way of Doing Business by Jeff Benedict. 

I really enjoy this book. Have read it a few times before. Always impressed by the examples of high-profile businessmen dedicated to their family, to God, and to integrity in their business practices. Highly recommend.

The System: The Glory and Scandal of Big-Time College Football by Jeff Benedict. 

To be fair, I didn’t actually finish this whole book. I read about 2/3rds of it though. It looks at several different US Universities with big football programs and goes through each step of the process of creating the University Football System. I found many things to be fairly interesting, especially when it came to BYU—my alma mater—but also found it very difficult to read some of the corrupt and ethically questionable practices that seem to be commonplace or common happenstance across the board. But then again, that was the point of the book. 😊

My Name Used to Be Muhammad: The True Story of a Muslim who Became a Christian by Jeff Benedict with Tito Momen. 

So interesting. I have a lot of Muslim friends, although none of them are from Nigeria—the homeland of Tito Momen, the man whose biography this is. The book documents Tito’s life growing up in a strict, very conservative Muslim community as a child, his move to Palestine (if I remember correctly) for University, and his faith journey away from Islam and toward Jesus Christ. Tito ended up being baptized as a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and was imprisoned for fifteen years in Egypt for leaving his faith. He was also disowned by his father and family. But I promise—the ending is great. This was a super book and I highly recommend it.

Wild Swans: Three Daughters of China by Jung Chang. 

Oh my. So interesting, and also so difficult to read. I spent a lot of time in deep thought during and after reading this book. Prior to reading it, the only things I knew about China and Chinese history were from The Good Earth and Disney’s Mulan. This book is a biography and autobiography in one. It is the story of three generations of Chinese women—a granddaughter writing about her grandmother’s life, her mother’s, and hers. Learning about the Chinese civil war, and Communism, Mao ZeDong, and the Cultural Revolution was terrifying. It is disturbing to think that people can be so blinded by misplaced loyalty to do so much wrong and enact so much pain on so many. I was shocked to learn that more than seventy million people died during the cultural revolution in China. SEVENTY MILLION PEOPLE. Seventy million souls. Seventy million children of God with thoughts and hopes and dreams and feelings. I thought a lot about loyalty to a “supreme leader,” and how dangerous it is for that supreme leader to be anyone but God. Highly recommend this book.

The Good Earth by Pearl Buck. 

Also so hard to read. It’s the story of one man and his life in China before the civil war—his experiences going from being the poorest of poor people to a very rich man at the end of his life. At first, I really liked him. I could relate to his life struggles and the things he wanted. He found a wife and initially, loved her and appreciated his family. With the growth of his wealth, however, came pride that led him to make terrible decisions that ultimately took from him, in my opinion, any goodness he once had. Particularly sickening was learning about the treatment of women in China. I was reminded of the power of virtue and the inherent value and power incumbent in women. Where women are not valued as they ought to be, societies suffer. This is clear in this book.

Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer. 

Story of Alex—a headstrong boy who goes to Alaska to live in the wilderness by himself. He dies there, and this book is the result of Jon Krakauer’s research and putting Alex’s story together after the fact. I really liked most of this book. I could relate to the sense of wanderlust and love for simple things—the sky, nature, simple food, traveling and really living (as opposed to sitting in a box or in front of a screen all day). Recommend.

Les Miserables by Victor Hugo. 

I’ve been meaning to read this book for ages. To be honest here, I still haven’t made it all the way through. I own the unabridged version, and this summer I finally read the first half—about the first 500 pages, up to when Jean Valjean becomes the mayor, is found by Javier, and escapes again to rescue Cosette and moves with her to Paris. This book is so beautiful. In fact, I feel it is the best fictional story ever, ever written. It teaches so much about forgiveness, mercy, and justice. The way Hugo writes it, it’s as if an older man has invited me into his parlor to sit by the fire and listen to a story for the evening. It’s written so intimately and so beautifully. The prose is fantastic. Two of my favorite parts were learning more about the priest (such a beautiful example of true charity), and about the struggle Valjean went through before he turned himself in to the police. So relatable. Highly recommend.

A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. 

I love this book. I read it every year. My favorite is sharing it with others by reading it aloud. This past Christmas, I wanted to share it with my little sisters, so I got one of them to read it to me as I drove us around in California on a sister’s trip we were on. They didn’t appreciate it very much, sadly, but I still love it. I also got to watch the new film about how Dickens wrote the book called “The Man Who Invented Christmas.” Really good. Such an inspired story. Could not recommend more highly.

A Girl and Five Brave Horses by Sonora Carver. 

Loved this. This is the story of Sonora Carver, the girl who used to dive horses from high towers into swimming pools at fairs and carnivals around the United States from the 1930s on. She was eventually blinded but continued to dive for many years after. I have always enjoyed the movie “Wild Hearts Can’t Be Broken,” which is loosely based on her life. The real story is vastly different, however, and vastly interesting. Included in it is a side history of carnivals and fairs in the United States, and an account of adjusting from being a sighted person to being blind.

I Got There: How I Overcame Racism, Poverty, and Abuse to Achieve the American Dream by JT McCormick. 

The autobiography of a man who went from living in the slums of Dayton, Ohio to being the CEO of a major corporation. I enjoyed this book and related to a lot of it. Recommend.

Navajos Wear Nikes: A Reservation Life by Jim Kristofic. 

So interesting. The autobiography of Jim Kristofic, a white kid from Pittsburgh who moved with his mom and little brother to the Navajo Reservation in Arizona. He became fully integrated into the culture and community there and is able to explain things from the inside out. I really enjoyed reading this and related to some of it because of my experiences being immersed in cultures and communities that are not my own.

Brain Rules: 12 Principles for Surviving and Thriving at Work, Home, and School by John Medina. 

I always love a good medical book, that isn’t too technical or heavy on the terminology. This one was a neurological book about how the brain works. I found it easy to read and interesting. I particularly enjoyed reading about how to maximize the efficiency of my brain and also the inherent differences in male and female brains—it’s real! I have a great love for the human body as a creation of God and felt in even greater awe at His handiwork as I learned more about how the human mind functions.

Born a Crime: Stories from a South African Childhood by Trevor Noah.

Really, really enjoyed this book. Living in New Zealand, there are a lot of South Africans, and I have read and learned little bits about Apartheid here and there for a few years. This book was awesome because it gives the not-so-frequently-talked-about Black side of Apartheid. I didn’t know who Trevor Noah was prior to reading this, but I did really enjoy his book. I liked that it was more of a history of South Africa during his lifetime than it was a play-by-play of becoming Trevor Noah.

All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr. 

I’m not much of a fiction reader. This one had very important reviews though, so I took a chance. It was a well written story of a blind girl in France during WWII (plus several other major characters), but overall I didn’t enjoy it that much.

The Richest Man in Babylon by George Clason. 

Essentially a money-management book. Probably the best ever written. Highly recommend.

All the Symbolism in a Broken Phone

Hola friends,
I know I haven't written on here in awhile, but I'm still alive.

The point of this post, however, is that my phone is not:

And that, my friends, is a perfect illustration of what my life has looked and felt like lately.

When I moved back to the US after finishing my studies last year, I needed a new phone. However, I also had plans to serve a mission for my church. This was the direction I felt from God, and although it was not an easy decision to make (read: among other things, I would much rather be focusing on finding and loving my husband and raising my own babies than praying for love for a 19-year old companion and for patience for someone else's 18-year old babies), I trusted God and knew that He knows what is best for me better than I do. If He wanted me to serve a mission at this stage of my life, who am I to question His plans?

My aunt and uncle, who are some of the most generous people I know, told me they wanted to give me a graduation gift, and offered to buy me a nice new phone. I was grateful but declined--if I were going to be leaving soon for an 18-month mission, what did I need a new phone for? Thus, in lieu of that, my generous aunt and uncle let me use an old family phone they had. That is what I have been using, and it was the pattern my choices took--to save money for my mission (and also just out of practicality), I didn't buy anything new. I didn't make plans past January. I've politely let every guy who approached me about dating know that I wouldn't be available long-term at this point. The direction to serve a mission was so strong, and I was so willing, that I expected everything to be smooth sailing, with God's blessing, from there.

It hasn't been though. Although I technically only needed to finish up a few publications before I could submit my mission papers--and, although I'm usually the kind of person who gets things done as soon as I put my mind to it--those publications are still unfinished. I try and I try and I write and I write, but it's been like I'm pushing up against a brick wall. Aside from other things that made moving home difficult, lately, the hardest thing has been watching time slip past, with nothing changing in my circumstances. I have found myself looking up at heaven, asking God what is going on and why He is not helping me, especially since I've been trying to do what I felt He wanted me to do.

Well friends, one thing I know about God is that He is much smarter than I am. Whereas I only see a small piece of the picture, He sees the whole thing. And sometimes I have felt Him take me down a path, only to lead me somewhere else--the place He wanted me to go in the first place, but which was only accessible by traveling the first road for a while before.

That's what I've experienced in my life lately.

Because of this: Around Christmastime, all of my feelings of frustration and confusion were coming to a head. It had been almost eight months since I had moved home, and I felt that all I had experienced was wasted time. I was feeling terrible about myself, my situation, and even starting to wonder if God had a plan at all, or if this was really all He wanted for me. I was feeling very dark and very much in need of some help.

*Enter the broken phone*

On New Year's Eve, with all of these questions and confusion and frustration running around my mind and heart, I was getting out of the car in the garage in the dark and my phone, which I had placed in my lap and forgotten about, fell out of the car and flat onto the cement floor. As I heard it fall, I knew the screen was shattered. I picked it up and in that moment, immediately recognizing that I now really did need a new phone, it was as if God gave me a sign I could finally understand: I was not going on a mission anytime soon.

Oh the confusion. And the frustration. And the tears. And the darkness. Starting New Year's Day, my shattered phone (representing my shattered plans), sparked a spiritual wrestle that led me through rethinking every major life decision I had ever made and every spiritual prompting I had ever received. I found myself questioning their value if they only served to lead me here: living in my mother's house at almost thirty years old, with an education I wasn't using and with no real answer to why in the world I was supposed to do all of the things I had felt I was supposed to do in my life.

I have since developed a renewed love for spiritual wrestles, and the light that comes from the prayer, study, and temple attendance that went with mine. This invitation, from a man I esteem, was my first step toward the new right road:

In evaluating all my life choices, I realized that there is nothing I would do differently. To change something would be to deny the direction and spiritual guidance and all the blessings I had received in the meantime, which would be to deny God working in my life. And I could never do that.

As I sat with rebuilding that foundation of trust in God--of putting ALL of my trust in Him--things started to happen, and my life started to change. Instead of serving a mission, I was asked to take on a commissioned research project for the next year. The thing about the project is that I will be doing exactly what I feel I have been prepared to do. And the other thing is that now is the perfect timing for it. It could not wait until after an 18-month mission; it has to be now. In fact, every life decision that I have been questioning in recent weeks is somehow miraculously answered in this project. And somehow, because God is good and amazing like that, all my "waiting" in the past few months has ironically served to give me a perfectly clear schedule, ready and open to accept this project as it has come.

It's been awesome (in the real sense of that word), to process everything that has come and to see and consider what God was really doing in the past sixteen months of my life. Somehow He was leading me here, instead of where I thought I was headed.

And I'm grateful.

Because with this new road, a whole slew of other dreams can come back up to the surface again, instead of having to remain buried like they were before.

 

1. Marriage. By accepting this "mission" and not the standard one I was thinking I'd be undertaking, I'll be able to date and *hopefully* progress toward getting married sooner rather than later (I know I have a PhD, but the people I care most about affecting by that are my future children and family--I want to teach them to love God and love people and to serve both with all that they have and are given).

2.  Idaho. As much as being home has had it's challenges, living in Idaho again has been a great, much-longed for gift (remember my poem?). 

There is a big part of me that never wants to live anywhere else ever, ever again. I want to stay tucked up in the hills in a home far from a city or any suburbs, surrounded by God's creations, in a place I can breathe clean air and raise hardworking, fun-loving kids, close enough to an airport to go serve the world too :)

3. Being myself. With the new job has come a new opportunity to move out on my own again. As much as I have loved being near family and especially, having my little brother close, I need the independence of living my own life to feel truly, authentically me. I am going to stay in Idaho, but out of the blue, clear sky, I feel a lot of light and direction from God about moving soon to a town about an hour from where I currently live. Joy of joys, this place is still within my Temple district (so I can continue serving there and attending as often as I can), still close enough to family and the wonderful friends I've made in the past eight months to see them often and be there for important events, is a University town with potential for teaching or other academic opportunities, is surrounded by beautiful hills I can run and hike in, and is an hour closer to an international airport. God is good. 

So, to sum up: my life plans for the next year have changed. 

These were mine

And these are Gods.

I think I'll take His.

Thank you, dear friends, for caring about me and about my life. Here's to a new future. New experiences. New hopes and dreams. Here's to my hand in God's.

Love love,
me

But I'm going to make it

This video clip from the Pirates of the Caribbean describes how I feel about my life right now more accurately than words:

It's going to be close, but I'm going to make it.
I will step off the boat next Tuesday.
My PhD and life in New Zealand and friends and everything that has sustained me here for this journey at sea will be gone. There will be a new path--a new country, a new life. I hope it goes better than Captain Jack's experiences in Port Royal.

<3 p="">

Glaube und Hoffnung

I have officially passed my PhD!

with my main supervisor (EmProf James Bade) outside the graduate centre after passing my defence

My life as I've known it for the past 3.6 years is over. It's time to start a new chapter.

There are so many things I am looking forward to about moving back home:

Proximity to family

Betos and Cafe Rio

Old friends <3 div="">

Summer roadtrips, hiking, and camping

Country music on the radio

Moving on with my life!!!!!!!!!!!

Getting a smart phone, and then being able to text my siblings/cousins (see #1)

Being at family events (again, see #1)

Spending time with my grandpa

There are also many, many things I am going to miss about New Zealand. This beautiful country is my country--it has been my home for the past several years, and I can't imagine parting from it. I will miss:

The humidity (but actually, my hair won't miss it)

The green

Northland

The Waikato

Bacon and Egg pies

Hoary accents

All my friends and family

Kai moana (seafood)

My independence

Temple trips--the Hamilton Temple itself

Running into people I know everywhere--Pak'nSave, markets, in the city, firesides, etc

Proximity to the islands (fie foki ki Tonga)

Struggling and growing

The rain (only sometimes)

The culture (pasifika, maori)

My young women and youth--seeing what they become, running into them in the Temple, being there for their endowments

Pokeno ice cream stops

Driving on the left side of the road (it's the true side)

Stubbies with gum boots

Roadtrips

Carrots and apples

The peace, calm, and serenity

Maori names, words, language

Number 1 pancake

Snowman mango dessert

And so much more.

I have a love/hate relationship with my emotions. On one hand, I'm glad I feel so much--it is easy for me to love people and places, and I think people see my sincerity because my emotions are all right out there on my sleeve and rolling down my face. But sometimes, my feelings are too much. Farewells are some of those times. Right now I am on a roller coaster. Life has been so stressful for so many months that sometimes I just can't wait to leave everything behind and get away. But then there are the moments of peace, when my mind reflects on precious people and memories and experiences and tender moments. It is then that I can't help crying, and I cry a little bit for sadness at everyone and everything I'll miss, but more so with gratitude at all I've been given, and how much it means to me.

I am so grateful I had the opportunity to do a PhD, and to do it in New Zealand. I am so grateful for all the hard things, because the work of my Father in Heaven in my life during those times is now precious to me. I'm so grateful for all those who have reached out to me over the years--who have been my friend, believed in me, supported me, shared with me, invited me, welcomed me, taught me, hugged me, prayed for me, picked me up, blessed me, and otherwise been a beautiful part of my life.

I didn't expect that this is where I would be at 28 years old, or that these would be the experiences I would have. There's a lot I had hoped for that hasn't happened, and so much I never imagined that has. It has been a great ride.

Today in Sacrament meeting we sang Hymn #97: "Lead, Kindly Light." Coincidence? I don't think so.

The lyrics give voice to my current personal pleadings with the Lord:

Lead, kindly Light, amid th'encircling gloom; Lead thou me on!

The night is dark, and I am far from home; Lead thou me on!

Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see the distant scene--one step enough for me. 

I was not ever thus, nor pray'd that thou Shouldst lead me on. 

I loved to choose and see my path; but now, Lead thou me on!

I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, Pride ruled my will. Remember not past years. 

So long thy pow'r hath blest me, sure it still Will lead me on

O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till The night is gone.

And with the morn those angel faces smile, Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile!

The good news is that there is much good to come--mexican food and Zion's park hikes and cross-country roadtrips and jobs (I hope!) and new dreams and family time and a new world of navigating life back in my home country. I'm excited. I'm grateful. I'm humbled. I'm happy. I thank God.

LIFE is a great reason to rejoice.

Life lessons from a PhD #2: Stay on the bus

2014 - 2015, I had a serious problem with my back. At first, I thought I had just overexerted it and that it would correct itself (back pain/problems are just a natural result of being tall and having to contort yourself into smaller/shorter spaces your whole life), but gradually my condition worsened. It became extremely difficult and excruciatingly painful to do even simple things, like stand up, lie down, sit, or walk.

During this time, I was not only heavily engaged in my full time PhD, but also taking a class, teaching a class, serving in a demanding calling at church, and working part-time as well. Weeks were very busy, and in a new country without any family around, I had no time or opportunity to be sick or ask anyone for help. It was a very challenging time. My health steadily deteriorated until I got to a point where I feared for my future--whether I would be able to remain in NZ and finish my PhD, whether I would be able to walk or run again, or whether I would end up in a wheelchair.

I'm grateful for difficult experiences, because they offer you the opportunity to test what you've been taught. You can turn either to the Lord or to the world. There is a scripture in the Book of Mormon (Mosiah 4:22) that teaches that our lives belong to God, and my faith told me He could help. Most days, after getting home, I would just lie on the floor and cry because of pain and sadness. I often didn't eat because I couldn't bear standing or walking in or to the grocery store, or to cook in the  kitchen--I'd just lie on the ground and feel bad for myself and cry and pray for healing. Each morning, fearing the pain ahead, I would kneel and plead for help to get through the day. Those prayers were repeated as needed until eventually, I felt that I was getting by hour by hour solely by His grace--I talked to God constantly and relied on Him even for the strength to walk a very short distance. To me, my back pain was a personal crucible that felt like an unconquerable Everest--the Lord was my sherpa. And one day, He taught me an invaluable lesson.

It was a Tuesday--my busiest day--and I was headed to the church for Mutual after working and being at Uni all day. My back was on fire--it felt like there was a spear stuck into my lumbar region and every movement or step would send torrents of fire down my leg (I eventually was diagnosed with several bulging and torn disks). I planned to take the bus straight to the church from Uni to get there on time. Now, to help you understand: the route that would take me from school to the church was driven by three different buses--routes which followed the same roads out of the city but then split off to different places the further out you got from downtown. I had only ever taken two of the buses, but when I got to the stop at school, it was the third option that was there. As I boarded, I asked the bus driver if he went past the stop I needed to get off at in order to get to the church on time. He said he did and I got on without worry--I felt grateful that I was able to make it to the bus, and peaceful that I'd get to fulfill my commitments on time. I even said a prayer to thank God for helping me make it. I settled in and started reading while the bus took off.

As the bus passed where I would have normally got off for my own house stop and went further down the road I was less familiar with, I started to panic--the bus turned down a different street, off of the route that I knew would take me to the church, and looked like it was completely deviating from the route I knew I needed to be on. I became very frustrated and internally upset with the driver for lying to/misunderstanding me, and I pushed the button to get off so that I wouldn't get too far off track.

As I got off the bus, I began to cry. I was in so much pain, and felt disappointed in and let down by God--how, when He knew my condition and deadlines, could or would He allow me to get on the wrong bus, get off track, and be deceived by a driver I was now convinced
a) hadn't understood my question
b) had been dishonest
or c) hadn't cared?

Heavenly Father usually helped me so much and was so kind.

Time was ticking and I still had to get to the church, so I started walking around the corner to get back on the right road and on a different bus. It would be more expensive and time consuming, but I had no other choice.

I was still crying when I made it to the stop and sat down on the bench. As I sat feeling sorry for myself and waiting several minutes for the next bus, I kept my eye on the road and the corner I'd just walked around. A bus turned and headed my way. I stood up to flag it down. As it got closer, I was shocked and flabbergasted to realize that it was the same bus I had just got off.

The driver stopped, opened the door, and looked at me.
"Why did you get off?" he asked.
I felt sheepish. "I thought you were going a different direction," I said.
"But I told you," he said. "We're just turn to the mall but turn back around --we go the rest of the way down this road."
He shook his head at me but was actually very nice. It was me who felt red faced and embarrassed as I re-boarded. I sat down and felt quiet. In my ongoing conversation with God, I felt humbled and apologized for being upset. Then I asked, "okay, I know you don't do anything that isn't for my good, so what am I supposed to learn from this?"

The answer came immediately, as a very clear thought and piece of instruction to my mind and heart: 

Don't get off the bus. 

Trust the driver--he knows where he is going. 

I understood immediately that it was a lesson for a lifetime. I understood that "the bus" is a metaphor for the Gospel, and staying on it meant to be faithful to the covenants I have made. Trusting the driver and his direction means trusting Jesus Christ, the head of the Church, and that ultimately, if I believe He is in control, whether He leads me down unfamiliar roads or takes routes I don't know, if I stay on His bus, I will get where I wanted to go in the first place--where He promises He can take me.

I love this lesson, and I'm grateful for the way I learned it. Within a few months of that bus experience, two of my closest friends left the church (as I have mentioned in a previous post), my back continued to be a problem, and other trials came too. But what I learned then has helped me. I am encouraged that if ever I am in doubt of where the bus I'm on is headed, I can always go ask the driver Himself, and be reassured that it's going where I want to go--that I'm still on the right track. Although He is busy driving, He still has patience and time for me. Also, I am convinced that if I ever find myself outside of or off the bus, I don't have to worry that He won't let me back on--there is always a way back and a way home.

How grateful I am for this lesson. I know these things are true. Stay on the bus friends. Trust the driver. He really does know the way.

Love love,
me

I didn't expect depression

I don't mean to do an injustice to any woman who has given birth to a real child and finds herself dealing with postpartum depression, but I feel like that is what I'm going through right now.

People in academia always refer to a PhD thesis/dissertation as a baby or child. There's the same long gestational period, the same anticipation, a lot of work and effort that goes into preparing, a supervisor (birth coach) who helps throughout, regular "check ups," physical and emotional ups and downs, all the people giving you advice about what you need to be doing now and what to prepare yourself for it, vulnerability (being "exposed" to outsiders) and, at the end, there's an incoherent flurry of commotion and activity as many different people rush around frantically to help bring this new "life" into the world. Then suddenly the moment comes and the pressure stops instantly.

Are you convinced of the appropriateness of my analogy yet?

Over the past several months, I have been prepared for the experience of submitting my thesis and finishing my PhD in many ways, but I have discovered that I was not adequately prepared emotionally. The past month before submitting itself was an emotional roller coaster. There were so many things to do, of course, but aside from stress, there was also so much anxiety, ebbs and flows of confidence, etc. Towards the last two weeks, I had difficulty sleeping and could go from perfectly peaceful to churning with anxiety and nervousness in about five milliseconds.

Although those crazy side effects mostly abated after submission (thankfully), sadly, others have jumped in to replace them. All at once I have lost my:
confidence
motivation
ambition
energy
goals
ability to plan or get anything done
discipline
spirituality
memory
resolve
quick smile
desire to see, talk, or spend time with anyone outside of my closest friends and family

and found:
sadness
apathy
homesickness
worry
an insatiable craving for donuts
and a new affinity for staring off into space

In short, I feel like my life has fallen apart.

For the past several weeks I've just been wondering what is wrong with me and why I all of a sudden can't get anything done, or even care much about getting things done (it took me a week to finish this blog post). My list of "to-dos after submission", which I was really excited about and have looked forward to for months, has almost not been touched at all. I even feel like I have lost my spark of spirituality--I've been finding it very difficult to read the scriptures, to say meaningful prayers, and to focus in any church setting. This is uncharacteristic and disturbing to me.

So I've been thinking. And talking to people.
My sister mentioned that it sounds like coming home from a mission. That inspired comment is really what triggered me to realize what I'm going through: Depression. I just wasn't expecting it.

I've dealt with depression at other times in my life, so right now I'm doing the things I know will help me get through.
I'm waking up each morning and giving thanks for the sun coming up and out (on the days it has come out)
Even though I often don't feel like it, I'm choosing to kneel in prayer to express gratitude--I know I have so many things to be grateful for;
I'm trying to do a better job each day at seeing all the ways the Lord has worked and is working in my life, and choosing not to believe that He's suddenly not real anymore;
I'm exercising every day,
And eating healthily (minus the donuts, but I'm cutting myself some slack there).
Although I almost can't stand it, I'm still coming into University and forcing myself to work.
I'm trying to serve and get outside of myself at every opportunity;
I'm trying to be honest with others about what I'm experiencing, so that I don't put up a false front and so that I can benefit from the relationships around me;
I'm trying to remember that the best is always yet to be, and there is a bright future ahead;
I'm trying to be patient with myself and my current situation,
To not look back or give in to feelings of sadness,
To be close to, open, and honest with the Lord,
And most of all, to press forward with a steadfastness in Christ (2 Nephi 31:20).

These things all sound so simple on paper, and they are things I generally take for granted at other times. But right now, in my current situation, little by little, they are making all the difference in my life. I'm still dealing with the depression, and each day is still a struggle in its own way for different reasons, but I've been reminded by the Spirit recently of this fact:

In that truism, I'm reminded that trouble, challenge, and trial are part of the mortal experience, and there is nothing wrong with admitting they are there or that they are difficult. However, giving up, or wallowing in the difficulty, is to be avoided. In these truths, I am finding happiness. Mostly I am finding happiness because I've been reminded of Jesus Christ--I know that I have much to be happy about and to look forward to, because of Him. He is the Light of the world, the Life of the world, and the Hope of the world. He is these things to me.

Because of him, I (and we) still have great reason to rejoice. Even when it's raining.

Love love,
me

Life Lesson from a PhD #1

If there is one piece of advice I love/feel is the most important to give newbie or struggling students who are looking for a special bit of help in their study or life it is this: never, ever, ever do your homework on a Sunday. And you will be blessed!

Sound too easy to be true? Trust me, it's not!

I have learned this lesson so often. As a child, I remember attending one specific sacrament meeting when I learned about Sabbath day observance. The person speaking talked about JOY as an acronym for how our lives should be ordered: Jesus, Others, Yourself. She gave an example of her son doing his homework on Sunday. She asked him, "son, who are you serving by doing your homework today? Is it the Saviour? Is it others? Or is it just yourself?" I was only young (probably middle school), but for some reason, the lesson hit me hard. I don't know that I had ever done homework on a Sunday up to then, but from then on I made it a point never to do so. It wasn't too difficult when I was in high school, but that resolve could have been tested more robustly at University. When life was packed to the brim with assignments, deadlines, and fatigue, I was sometimes tempted to just squeeze some reading or a quick writing assignment in on Sabbath afternoons. Luckily, I had gained a special piece of knowledge my first semester that helped me stick to my resolve: one day at church early on in the year we sang Hymn #147: "Sweet is the Work." Verse two was particularly instructive to me: 

For me, that line came as a lightning bolt from heaven to my heart. It was an answer and a resolve: for peace in my life, to maintain balance and sacredness and show the Lord my trust in and devotion to Him, I could give up even worrying, thinking, or being concerned about the rest of my life on Sundays. I could just put it all on the shelf on Saturday eve, and when I came back to it Mondays, it would all be okay. That is the inspiration I felt. 

And you know what? By following that, things truly were okay. There ended up being many late Saturday nights and early Monday mornings at BYU, but I know that I made it through my bachelors degree in large part simply because I put the right things first and was blessed for it.

It is a similar story for my PhD. Work weeks here can be rough. At different times, I have regularly worked 70+ hour weeks, for weeks and even months on end. This is (or has become) normal for me and many of my colleagues, yet I feel like I have a secret superpower/source of energy and refreshment that they don't. It's called 'keeping the Sabbath day holy.'

Taking one full day off each week (and guarding it strictly from work, school, or research related problems) gives me many wonderful blessings:

• I get a reprieve from life every single week
• I get to rejuvenate and recharge and start over for the week
• I get to think about the things that generally have to get put on a back burner the other days of the week, and a chance to be myself without the challenges of regular day-to-day life. 

Additionally, giving that day fully to the Lord (in the sense that I go to church, don't generally shop, travel, or spend money on it, focus more on serving others or doing things with longer lasting potential, and try to keep it free from all other worries or cares of life) has further rewards:

• I get outside of myself and remember my place in this world, in my family, and among my friends--some things are actually more important than that which we tend to spend our most time on
• I receive peace, direction, help, guidance, and answers as I turn to God and remember my place in His plan
• I get to partake of the Sacrament, which renews, refreshes, and, I believe, cleanses me for another week. 

These things may sound somewhat small, but I can tell you, they  make a huge difference. On Monday mornings, when I come in to the office and greet my colleagues, we chat about the weekend. How I wish they believed in my secret when I find out that, while I almost always feel chipper and happy and ready for another week ahead, they often feel groggy and overwhelmed and discouraged as a result of having spent the whole weekend at the office, never-endingly working on a project which they are fully and utterly sick of. Additionally, I wish I could share with them some of the freedom and joy and strength I feel because I know and have learned how to ask and allow God to help me with my burdens rather than trying to manage them all on my own. Sadly, I guess because of the anti-faith and -religion world we live in, when I do share this secret with others, it is often met by resistance to it; many of my friends still suffer with their burdens alone, rather than trying this out.

I'm not trying to suggest that keeping the Sabbath day solves all of life's problems. It doesn't fully, by itself. There are still some tough weeks, and sometimes, depending on callings or events, Sundays actually aren't all that restful at all, unfortunately. I'm also not trying to set myself up as an example, or to suggest that I am especially good at keeping this commandment. Rather, I just want to share my experience. I am grateful for the instruction from the Lord to keep the Sabbath day holy.* I have definitely seen the wisdom and blessings in this one. My burdens have been made lighter, my work has been made better, and my efforts have been helped along by unseen aides because I've tried to keep this day special. Truly, the Sabbath is a delight to us. Given to bless and refresh and help and happy us, and not to make life harder. I have seen it in my own life, and if greater peace, ability, balance, and happiness are something you are looking for, I invite you to test this one out. But don't just take a day as a break--give it to the Lord. I promise He will give you back so much more in return.

Love love,
me

*Sidenote: I actually feel like all of the commandments that the Lord gives us are, in reality, special insider tips about how to get along easier and be more happy in life.

Life Lessons from a PhD

Big news: I am finished with my thesis.

I submitted last Wednesday with two of my sisters visiting from the US and some good friends in tow. I can't really tell you how it feels to be at this point. Sort of empty/dazed/nervous/excited/depressed/ecstatic/tired/sad/happy/grateful/other things too. Now I just have to wait for the examiners (I'm not allowed to know who they are) to review it and send back comments before I do my final oral defense--I'm expecting that will all be finished by March next year. In the meantime, there is still lots to do.

There are presentations to prepare,
journal articles to write,
emails to reply to,
library books to check out and read,
country music videos to catch up on,
friends to spend time with,
family to visit,
hikes to go on,
a couple more institute classes to teach,
kms to run,
strength to gain,
new foods to try,
time to spend in the Temple,
etc.

In addition to those things, there are some blog posts I need to write.

Introducing a new series in my blog: Life lessons from my PhD

Many times throughout my PhD, I have reflected on whether or not it has been what I thought it was going to be. I feel like the world expects that I have some sort of new abilities or knowledge or expertise now that I'm about to get three new letters behind my name. I  know that is true to an extent, as I definitely know a lot more than you probably care to wonder about the Tongan diaspora and German history in the South Pacific, although being me at this point basically feels the same as being me at seventeen, albeit with a few more memories, experience, and confidence in between. Looking back, the most important and valuable education I feel I have received has come outside of my PhD program. These things can't be put on a CV (resume), and they won't affect my income level, but they are invaluable life lessons that I (hope) I am better off for learning. I thought I'd share them with you. You're welcome.

me, my sisters, and my child, who had a 3-year gestation and is now currently being cut up with scissors by strangers. #yourewelcomefortheanalogy #happinessandalsotears

My 50 miles a day

These days, an empty calendar makes me very, very happy. Whereas I used to get excited by a busy, multifaceted day, now, when I know that my time is not going to be split up between meetings, appointments, commitments, or chores, I feel lucky and blessed. Thus blissfully uninterrupted, I will have time to work on my schoolwork. And by schoolwork I mean thesis, thesis, thesis.

A couple of weeks ago I was interested to read this article on Aspiring Mormon Women. Then, even more interested, I found this one, from the NY Times.

As a synopsis: there is a girl named Keila Merino who teaches elementary school in New York and runs ultramarathons in her spare time.* Her training miles add up to over a hundred every week, even when she's not training for something big. But these days, she is.

In 1978, a beautiful, lanky South African grandma named Mavis Hutchinson ran across the United States from Los Angeles to New York in seventy days. She averaged around forty miles a day that whole time.
That is the distance between Salt Lake City and Provo peeps.

On foot.

For more than two months.

Every.

Single.

Day.

This year, under the auspice of raising money for a children's running group in New York, Keila set a goal to beat Hutchinson's record and do it in sixty-eight days. Math= she would need to average almost fifty miles every day for the length of time between Independence Day in July and Labour Day in September.

I happen to love ultra-sports--particularly endurance running--and I discovered all of this on the very day that a new leg of my own race was starting.

It is my goal to submit my thesis in 58 days. Those who have written a PhD dissertation know that it is no mean feat. It has taken me almost three years just to do the research (and I still feel like I could fill up another year!) Writing is a different beast altogether. As in an ultramarathon, where a twisted ankle, dehydration, nutrient-deficiency, inclement weather, or any number of a score of unexpected setbacks could derail your whole plan (as it did Keila's in the end-- #spoileralert), lack of discipline, material, quality, or confidence, personal problems, sickness, writers block, or any number of other issues can derail even the best, most dedicated of students. And I don't even claim to be one of them.

But reading about Keila and Mavis, and thinking of the ultramarathoners I know in my life (speaking metaphorically rather than literally), I found a new identity:

I Am An Ultrarunner, and My Race Is Not Yet Over. 

With that identity comes determination: if Mavis Hutchison and Keila Merino can run twelve hours every day for two months, I can most certainly work on my thesis the same (taking Sundays off). If they can give up personal comfort and put their bodies under that kind of wear and tear, not to mention the mental stamina required, I can resist my warm bed and embrace the cold, pre-sunrise mornings while I get up and get going. If they can keep putting one foot in front of the other through heat and rain and cold and wind, I can walk to school happily, forego social activities, eat the same lunch four days in a row, and set aside any time-consuming habit or tendency that is not helping me move closer to my goals.

Keila's beautiful sunrise shot

Doing something like running across the US or earning a PhD has a tendency to zoom-in your life to only include those things that matter most. For the past three years, I'll be the first to admit that I haven't been the same person I was before. As I've worked to get through this race, I've had to adjust my priorities and cut back on activities and relationships that I might have put a lot more time and effort into before. Yet I've also learned that there are some things that must always be priorities. For me, these are:

1) my Heavenly Father and my responsibilities to Him

2) my family and my responsibilities to them

So, this is my plan: Keep running. Take each day as it comes. Don't worry about the future but just do your best today. And, take time to enjoy the scenery as it goes by--to appreciate the views you get from the road. I know when this race is over, I'll be better and stronger for having run it. I love it.

See you at the finish line!

Love,
me

*Ultramarathons are any races longer than a traditional marathon. The most common distances for ultramarathons are 70 kilometres, 100 miles, or longer.