Got service?

I've heard that if you're discontent with life, you should lose yourself in service to someone else. Serving brings real happiness and purpose.
I must really need this reminder, because everywhere I go people are talking about service. And it is true: I feel alive and happy when I'm wrapped up in a meaningful project for someone besides myself.
As part of a young singles' conference, a speaker showed us this video. It's silly and of humble quality, but the message has been with me this weekend.

Get Service from speaking on GodTube.

Who can I help? Who can I call just to chat and make sure they're doing well? Who could use a smile at the store? I'm focusing on thinking about where other people are coming from this week. With a little more patience and understanding, I'm hoping I'll be able to see opportunities to serve.

Signs of Life

It's been a lovely week of visiting elementary schools on the Eastern side of Carolina. I spent time at the beach, in parks, and in my car when I arrived 15 minutes too early reading this book. 

Ooh, ooh, it is a good one. 

In the world of nonfiction, there's a fine line between expertly employing words to tell an honest, interesting story and.....just being boring and verbose. 

Natalie Taylor's memoir is absolutely the former: I love her voice and her wit and the way she brutally bears her heart in this book about her first year's journey of becoming a widow, having a baby, and trying to make sense of why life is still tirelessly marching onward. 

If you're a reader, especially, you'll love the way she uses familiar literature to explore ideas about what life is all about. Sometimes she's imagining Holden Caulfield having Picnic, Lightning days (from the poem by Billy Collins, which he writes in response to a line in Lolita) and at that point in the book, she makes a comment about how Holden would react in her situation and it is so darn pickin' hilarious and poignantly painful at the same time, with all those allusions woven up into the mess, that I just have to sit and think about it for a moment, maybe re-read that paragraph because I liked it so much.

I also have to give a shout out to my favorite character: Natalie's Fairy Mom Godmother, her imaginary godsend to help advise her through this ordeal, FMG for short. The FMG is funny. When I say funny, I mean, I totally spewed chocolate milk all over one of my pages because I took a swig right before I read something the FMG said, that kind of funny. You have to read the book to really get to know and appreciate her, but one of my favorite scenes with the FMG is right after Natalie finishes a training workout for a trialthalon her sister talked her into signing up for. She's panting, resting over in the shade while everyone else is chatting like the bike ride and run were no big deal:

 "Some really nice person made homemade cookies and brought bananas for after the workout. I sit in the shade staring at my feet while the rest of the team talks cheerily and debriefs about the workout. I don't think Tammy even broke a sweat. 'See you next Saturday!' Jack yells on the way to his pickup truck. 'You're dreamin',' my FMG says. She is lying on the pavement with a towel over her head and a half-eaten cookie in her left hand. (pg. 264-5)"

P.s. If you're one of those people who can't really read a book unless it hooks you from page one: Bingo, this one is for you, too. I was just browsing Barnes & Noble's new releases before meeting a friend, liked the cover, flipped to page one and before I knew it, I was a chapter and a half into Signs of Life. So I bought it and couldn't put it down, hardly.

This book is a great one for bringing out my over-analytical thinking. I've never lost a spouse, but the book allowed me to contemplate the grievious periods in my life right along with the author. So I feel as though I went through some awesome, gratis therapy this week, as well.

One last thing, I'm not really sure how I feel about trailers for books, but I found this when I was searching for the book cover picture and liked it. If you need one more little nudge to read this book, here you go:

Carolina BBQ

After a Saturday morning of volunteering at a Habitat for Humanity site

{quick side note: this was super fun. We measured, cut, and nailed vinyl siding to the walls of a new home. I'm addicted, I think I'll volunteer there regularly. Look them up in your area! It is awesome}

we went to grab some BBQ.

It was Ashley's and my first time, ever.

Genuine EASTERN Carolina pork BBQ, mac and cheese, and potatoes in a bowl of melted butter.

That's how they do down here in the South.

First things first: you have to know the difference between a barbecue and a cookout.

If you're grilling up some steaks, chicken, hamburgers or hotdogs, that's a cookout.

If you invite your friends over for a "BBQ" and there isn't any pork,

you're going to have some very upset people on your hands.

Also, a "pig pickin'" is a bbq where you've got the whole pig up on the grill, split open, and everybody uses tongs to pick off what they want to eat. These are expected at certain occasions.

For example, in the Mormon church, when you come home from your mission, you better have a pig pickin' and invite your neighbors. Or else.

All that fried goodness, oh yeah.

Mount Vernon

After a night of walking around D.C. and a bit of sleep at a hostel,

I took a cruise up the Potomac River.

We docked at the wharf at Mount Vernon,

which you can see on the hillside about twenty minutes before you come close to the bank.

I pretended I was an elegant visitor in the 18th century

coming from a long journey in a long gown to visit the President.

For some reason, images of Kira Knightley from the Pirates of the Carribean

kept popping into my mind as I stood on top of the ship.

I was enchanted before I even walked up the mountain.

I couldn't wipe the huge grin off my face.

I came up to the house from the back.

From the back porch, you can see everything.

I sat there and watched the river. I could have stayed all day.

The view.

I imagined the Washingtons swimming in the summertime.

All of the rooms were brightly painted: seafoam teal, lemon yellow, taffy pink.

Indicative, apparently, of their wealth.

The grounds were beautiful, as well.

Washington was first laid here and then later,

upon his request, was moved to a new family tomb.

After I toured around and ate lunch,

I returned to the back of the house and watched the river

until the boat arrived to carry us to D.C. 

Put it on the must-see list!

Monticello

When I was in seventh grade, I read a book about Thomas Jefferson and the Declaration of Independence and Sally Hemmings and his inventions and his estate, Monticello.

I prepared a big presentation for my english class.

I talked about Jefferson during lunch, which most of my friends listened to with glazed over eyes. Unless I mentioned the Sally Hemmings thing. Then Maria Ure would start defending the President with huffy, puffy proof of his virtue and goodness. (Two things I never questioned.)

Until Sophomore year of high school (when I got a history crush on Thomas Paine), I was enamored with all things Jefferson. And I thought it would be just lovely to visit Monticello.

April 2012: childhood dream fulfilled.

I walked up the hill to see "the little mountain" where Jefferson and his family lived, cultivated the land, studied, and died.

It was beautiful.

I couldn't take pictures in the house, but the inventions were my favorite (well, and his books).

Chains in a figure eight under the floor that make the doors swing open and close simultaneously.

Dumbwaiters for the food and wine.

Windows and mirrors and skylights situated so that the rooms were full of light.

Closets above the beds, utlizing space.

The clock that also tells the day of the week, which has weights on a long chain and drops through holes in the floor.

The land was luscious.

I liked to hear about when James Madison would visit and where he and his wife would sleep during their stays. I imagined them walking the grounds and looking at the garden.

I thought about him reading (he had two candle holders attached to the arms of his chair so he could read at night) and thinking. I believe his connection to the land had a great deal to do with his feelings about God and liberty.

I loved it.

I'm grateful to him and the other men of his time.

It was beautiful. If you are ever in Charlottesville,

drive around the countryside, stop somewhere

for lunch, and visit Monticello.

Live the Questions Now

An excerpt from the book I'm currently reading:

"Two years ago Ashley's live-in boyfriend abruptly moved out with little explanation. I remember her standing in our kitchen crying, going through her old text messages from him about how much he loved her, how he couldn't wait to marry her and have kids. She kept reading them, like little relics of a past life, and she didn't understand how she had crossed over into a new world of singleness. It was like she was arguing with the person who works at the ticket counter at the airport. 'No! I was scheduled for a wedding and pregnancy, but you've rerouted me to twenty-six and single!' And we all expect that some person behind a counter will just type a few buttons into their computer and hand us a new ticket. 'We're so sorry, ma'am.' And poof, we're back on track. But life can be so freaking absolute. It takes us a while to get that we will never be rerouted."~ Signs of Life, by Natalie Taylor

I like to be in charge. When I was little and my friends came over to play, I told them not only what we were going to play, but also exactly how we would play: what they would say, how they would say it, and where they would stand when they said it. I directed and delegated. I had a plan and I wanted things to go the way I saw would be best.

I also had a plan for life: high school, college, mission, boyfriend, career, marriage, family.

But somewhere in the unfolding of this plan, I felt as though I fell behind. That I had missed my boat and would never catch up. I couldn't sing as well as the girls who had been taking lessons since middle school. I didn't intern at a law firm between semesters. I didn't date lots of boys in college and the one boy I dated, I didn't marry. I haven't published any novels, recorded any albums, or become the first female president, yet.  

In the midst of an overwhelming feeling of I'm not cutting it as a human being, I will never amount to anything, my dad called and gave me a big wake up call (a.k.a. knocked some sense into me).

Here I am in the middle of an adventure: I'm performing, I'm inspiring kids, I'm seeing the world. And all I can think about are these imagined missed opportunities. "Acknowledge your accomplishments and be grateful for what the Lord has blessed you with," Dad said.

Oh, yeah... I tend to forget that I worked HARD to be accepted in a competitive program in school and then graduated earlier than expected. That I moved to a foreign country to serve a mission and while I was there I learned an entirely new language. That I support myself without any help by doing a job that I love. That I have health insurance! That I've been a true friend. That my life isn't even half-way finished and I still have plenty of time to climb as many mountains as I want. But I have got to stop and enjoy the views from the mountains I've already climbed.

So...this might mean that while I am planning and working hard and making choices, I'm not actually the one in charge. God has a plan for me. And part of trusting in His plan is believing that I'm following the path He has set before me. That includes being grateful for the present, acknowledging that He has answered my prayers, and having peace about the future.

This might mean that my life doesn't need to be rerouted. I may be RIGHT on track. In fact, I think I am. That's what faith is all about. Believing that God has led you to this moment, because you have loved Him and tried to follow Him. Because He loves you and has plans for you and knows what you need and what you will become. Heavenly Father is the guy behind the ticket counter, and He doesn't make mistakes. And because of the Savior, none of my mistakes can permanently derail me. The magic of it all is that somehow, Heavenly Father knew this would be my path and He's accounted for any rerouting I would be doing, so that actually it was all a part of the necessary route to begin with.

Are you following me here?

Bottom line: Faith means believing that you are living the best you can and that God wants you to be right where He has placed you. Cue: gratitude and contentment.

What to do when you realize your past has brought you to exactly where you need to be? When you understand that this moment is full of opportunity? How do you express gratitude and trust that the future holds even further fulfillment of your deepest desires?

For me, I took a little road trip on my days off this week.

I tried to live in the moment. I spoke to strangers. One of them bought me a sub sandwich  and said, "Welcome to Virginia, Miss Utah!" I closed my eyes and soaked up the sun. I walked into shops and took my time browsing.

And I stopped and took pictures of interesting things.

An adorable ancient man with shaky hands took this picture with my cell phone.

I held his hand in mine and looked him in the eyes and said, "Thank you."

Don't be so anxious about where you're going to end up that you don't notice where you are right now.

Enjoy every moment of this journey.

"...be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now." ~Rainer Maria Rilke

Seafood at Sea

This docked cruise ship has been turned into a fine-dining seafood restaurant.

I saw it and I thought to myself, "Awesome."

I walked up the dock and boarded the ship.

You could stick your face through that hole

and have your picture taken with Captain John.

Or you could find Captain John and just take a picture

with the real guy.

That's what I did, yup.

Total groupie.

I mean, this guy has a restaurant on a boat.

Captain John's story:

Born in Slovenia, John Letnik arrived in Toronto in 1957 and obtained employment at St. George's Gold and Country Club. Within a few years, he was operating his first restaurant northwest of here near Dundas and McCaul streets.

 John always dreamed of owning Tornoto's first floating restaurant, a vision that finally came true on August 8, 1970 with the opening of Captain John's Restaurant on board the S.S. Normac, a former Manitoulin Island ferry. He moored the vessel at the foot of Yonge Street, the longest street in the world.

Success led to expansion. In 1975, John purchased a former Adriatic Sea cruise boat, the M.S. Jadran, and sailed it back to Toronto. Since then CaptainJ ohn's has been a favourite of Toronto diners, a popular venue for special occasions and a perennial attraction for tour groups. John also regularly provides free meals for the city's less fortunate. In 1997, Toronto City Council honoured John by naming the adjacent wharf "Captain John's Pier." 

Lunch in my new place

It's Springtime here in Chapel Hill

and I've been craving light, yummy

satisfying food.

I made this here turkey burger in my new apartment.

New kitchen=new recipes.

I mixed a bunch of spice into some ground turkey,

browned it in a skillet,

and laid it on a wheat sandwhich thin roll thing

with some tomato, kale, and thinly-sliced zucchini.

The BEST part, of course; homemade sweet potato wedges,

broiled in the oven, sprinkled with garlic and sea salt.

Officially home^^

Toronto

Driving through downtown Toronto...