If you plan it, they will come...won't they?

After a great first day of seminary, I was looking forward to day number two. I even told the alternate teacher that I would teach again, so that she only had to teach two days this week. Monday evening, I had rehearsal for A View From the Bridge, so I was home late. Thus, Tuesday morning, I woke up at 4 a.m., planned a fabulous lesson about how to study the scriptures, and rushed to the grimy community center our ward is renting for seminary class.
I dashed from my car, unlocked the door quickly, and slipped inside to get off the dark street. I flipped the light switches by the door; nothing. I set my bag down and used the light of my phone to scan the walls for another light switch; nothing. I started reaching up on my tip toes, shining the light along the old brick walls. I found a smelly kitchen and turned the lights on in that room, but ten minutes later my search for the main room's lights was still fruitless. I prayed. I searched. I prayed aloud. I wondered when students would show up; my phone showed about 6:10. Okay, no big deal, everyone is ten minutes late. It's the second day, it's fine. At least when Sister Zizer shows up, she'll know where the light switch is.
I sat down at the table and positioned myself to face the open door, where light from the street lamp outside weakly hovered, not quite illuminating anything but giving an idea of orientation by creating shadows. I spent a few minutes browsing Instagram, then checked the time: 6:28. I felt my throat tighten and could sense a self-pity creeping into my thoughts. I prayed for patience and then told myself, "You will be blessed for being here whether anyone comes or not. Do not get angry or make this about you, something good can still come of this."
I felt that half an hour was plenty of time to wait. I decided to call Sister Zizer, let her know I was leaving, ask her where the heck she was, the phone was ringing, it went to her voicemail--
And a car pulled up outside. I would have missed them had I left five minutes earlier. It was Sister Victoria and her two twin daughters, Sianneh and Siawale.
"Sorry we're late," they apologized, explaining that their alarm clock hadn't woken them that morning.
Between the four of us, we still couldn't find the light switch. So we dragged some chairs into the kitchen and had a short 20 minute lesson, accompanied by a lonesome, bothersome kitchen fly. I didn't expect them to be so willing when I suggested it, but Siawale joined in, "Hey, y'all don't mind meetin' in the kitchen, huh?"
The girls surprised me with insightful answers to my questions and full participation during the short lesson. At one point, I asked them if they had written anything in the scripture journals I had given them the day before.
Siawale, again, spoke first. She mentioned reading  the beginning of the Book of Mormon. "I thought about Nephi believing his father's visions and I thought that was so amazing," she shared. "I don't think I could have done that if our dad started talking about visions I would have said, 'You crazy, Dad.'"
I was grateful for their participation and for sharing their thoughts so willingly.
That day, I couldn't contact the other teacher, Sister Zizer, so I went ahead and prepared the next day's lesson, as well.
Wednesday morning, the twins and Sister Victoria beat me to the building. "Good morning!" I greeted them.
No one else came. It was just the four of us.
Sianneh gave the opening devotional. She had read about the vision of the Tree of Life and gave us this thought: "Even if we make it all the way to the tree, we can still fall away if we pay attention to the people in the world. We can't ever let go of the iron rod. Which means, if we focus on Jesus Christ and always have God and Jesus to be with us, we won't fall away. It's up to us." BAM. These girls knew way more than I had expected, based upon the other students I had previously met with at the church.
Their mom, Victoria, participated, as well. She commented about our personal responsibility to learn the gospel, and way others might make it seem unimportant, "Yesterday, I told these girls. On the first day, you have ten people show up, then on the second day, you're the only ones there. That doesn't mean you won't still get the blessings and the things you need by being there."
The rest of the week--Wednesday, Thursday, Friday--only the girls and their mother came. We had wonderful discussions and got to know each other well. On Friday, Nick came with me and we all ate German pancakes during the lesson about obedience. Sister Victoria shared her conversion story: she had been searching for the right church for 14 years before she fasted from 6 am to 6 pm every day for a month, in a desperate plea to God. Toward the end of the month, a friend called her and invited her to come to the LDS meetings that Sunday. She described feeling the Spirit, "It was a like a little child who has been away from home for a long long time," she said in her African accent. "And it was as if I had finally come home, that I was welcomed home at last."
 I have been incredibly touched by the power of this mother. Not only has her faith, patience and humility led her to the Gospel, she has dutifully learned it, learned it well and accurately, and then taught it to her children with consistency. She brings them to seminary and sits with them, participating and sharing on an equal level, before driving them to school and then going to work. She shows them what she believes, and lives it, and expects them to do what is right. AND IT WORKS. These girls not only know doctrines and principles that other students in the ward don't understand, they also understand why they are important.
Today, Sister Victoria sang "How Great Thou Art," a capella, in sacrament meeting. It was supposed to be a duet, but the other sister never showed up to church. She was nervous, humble, and beautiful.
I am certain this experience as a seminary teacher will teach me and bless me this year, in ways I can't imagine. But already, I have learned a great lesson about the power of parents. The best way to teach ethics, doctrine, truth, and Christlike attributes is to live it and learn it with your children. I hope I can be like this sweet convert mother and teach my children just as well.

Friends of Consequence

Look at all those fabulous people! We all happened to be at Anna's excellent one-woman show on Friday night (she's bottom right in the photo).



Anna uses theatre to work adults with autism. Working with a professor who just finished her dissertation on parents of children with autism, Anna created a one-woman piece that explored the feelings, struggles and triumphs of these parents.
It was moving.
Three of her students performed Shakespear monologues before the show. They were fabulous, I was impressed and touched.
Anna became a great new friend. She's super awesome.
We stopped at In-n-Out at the end of the night--nailed it!
The next morning, these and several others all gathered for the all-you-can-eat french toast at Kneader's (!). "The Brits"--two couples from the UK who are always involved with the Nauvoo pageant--had just gotten into town for rehearsal and everyone wanted to get together to catch up. I loved meeting these new, wonderful people! And listening to their stories; they're all involved with special programs or work at something that's really meaningful.
They are good-hearted, and they make good, important work.
These are the kinds I like to be surrounded by--they help me see how we can use our talents and our passions to change the world.

Grateful for this (thank you)

You're good, he kept saying. You are. You're.....good.
And strong.
And beautiful, you're a beautiful person.

I met you when you were, what, 18? I didn't see you for three years after that and now I haven't seen you for another two, no, three more years since then

so that I still have the desire
that I think about you
and desire to call you up...


You have a goodness about you, and a kindness.
And you're definitely feisty...
the goodness radiates, it does.
a sharp cookie


This was the delightful and unexpected portion of a phone call I received this evening.
It’s an answer to that paradoxically perimetered question: whowhatwhy am I; in three words describe--me! in just three words—never! I'm deep I'm eternal I'm evolving right NOW and NOW again--I feel what I am but I'm not always sure I know myself and I hardly feel justly represented by only three measly factions of letters.
Yet tonight he gave me three words and I feel wholly portrayed, unimpaired by classification, surprised I at once consider this description very, nearly, aptly complete.

Good. Strong. Beautiful.