Tai Kwon Do

When I was nine, my older brother watched The Karate Kid. He and the rest of my four brothers were so enthused they convinced our mom to sign us all up for a Tai Kwon Do class. She agreed under one condition: we had to buy our uniform and gear.

I think I borrowed a uniform until I was able to buy my own. The borrowed ones were plain and white. I liked class, but did not practice at home, which made me nervous for every class. However, I had a good instructor. He was a tall, thin man with a low voice, a thick mustache and a trusting way about him. I looked up to him a lot. I wanted to please him with my progress, so eventually I did try to practice a little. I was dying for the day when I could wear my karate uniform in class! It would undoubtedly make me better at Tai Kwon Do! I wanted the belt and the Korean and America flag patches especially. They looked so official.

However, I did not have the money for my uniform. I saved up for over a month. I got an allowance, I did little jobs, and saved money I found in the laundry. I kept it all in a little purse.

You know the smell of change you've been holding in your hand? Nickles, dimes, pennies and quarters all smell that way if you hold them for any length of time. That smell became familiar to me.I counted the mounds of change in my purse over and over as I saved up for my uniform. I had a small wad of dollar bills, but for the most part, my savings were in change.

Eventually, the long awaited day came for me to buy my uniform. My mom and I walked solemnly back into my instructor's office. Both of them stood to the side as they watched me count out every penny of the required amount. After the few agonizing minutes of coins clinking onto the desk, I looked up and saw my mom and instructor looking at me proudly. I was extremely proud of myself. I had done it! I had earned my uniform!

Christ is ultimately the one who saves us. Choosing to follow Him is like me deciding to please my instructor. Someday we will stand before the Lord and give "an accounting" (The Bible, Matthew 12:36) of our lives. I think every small deed is a penny or two in our purse. I have no idea what judgement day will be like, but I think Christ will be just as proud of you and me and our small efforts to practice and to save up for our "heavenly" uniform. I think Heavenly Father and Christ see our efforts whether small or great, and are proud of us when we do our part. We will have their names and symbols emblazoned on our chests and look "official" and be great at Tai Kwon Do!

Champion Good!

Helping Mary

Last year I worked for five months as a certified nursing assistant (CNA). Nursing assistants do dirty work. We deal with all of the messes that the human body can make. However, we are also the ones that spend the most one on one time with patients. We talk with them, dress them, clean them, feed them, and measure their improvement.

One of the most meaningful memories I have comes from when I was Mary's CNA.

Mary was a sad sight. My first impression was of her large stomach, filthy mouth, smelly clothes, and gunky eyes. Mary was wheelchair bound. She did not speak or move her eyes, although people said she loved to sing. Earlier in life, she had been an opera singer. Her opera career publicity photos were displayed in her room. They bore no resemblance to the squashed, empty, lump of a woman who was now confined to her wheelchair.

When she was moved to my hall I had to inspect her condition. It was worse than I thought. Everywhere skin folded (armpits, thighs, belly rolls etc.) was bright red and raw. Her flaking, dry skin had gathered in the sweaty folds in globs of what looked like human cheese. I was disgusted, mad, and full of pity. "No one deserves to be this way!" I thought.
The next morning I gave Mary a shower. I took every pain I could to make her comfortable and to carefully restore her skin to health. Gently I soaped and rinsed her raw skin. I brushed her teeth twice over and flossed them. I wiped her eyes and washed her hair. I tried to talk to her kindly.

Eventually she started to look around and whisper raspy, one-word replies to my questions. Eventually, I told her about my interest in music and asked her if she knew any songs. She and I both knew quite of few of the same songs! While I worked, she and I sang. Her aged voice still showed evidence of her training and vocation. We smiled at one another and by the end of the shower when she was dried, dressed and warm, she was also happy.

Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.

Matthew 25:40

The Grave

I do not fear dying too much. If I had to die to save others or to support a noble cause, I think I could do it. I have never faced a life or death situation. I am certain I do not understand the paralyzing fear or sadness that accompanies it. But, if I am honest with myself, I think I could die willingly. I might cry or tremble while I face my end, but I think I could do it fear or not.

To be honest, what scares me more is losing someone I love. That has never happened to me and I dread the day it does.

Once I had a dog die. He was hit by a car. I cried a lot. I wrote down all of my favorite things about him. And I took good care of his grave for the first little while. However, the pain eventually passed, I got a new dog, and I no longer cried about it. But he was just a dog. What will it be like if it is someone I love?

Once I had a childhood friend die. However, I had not been in close touch with her for a long time. When I went to visit her grave, I cried because I was amazed that someone could just be gone. I had never experienced someone disappearing out of my life before. After I left her grave, I was quiet, but I was not sad anymore. Her death did not have a huge impact on me because we were not close. But,  how I would have felt if we had been close? The supreme sadness of losing someone terrified me.

There is a concept that I cling to. I have been taught it since I was little. It is: There is life after death. The scriptures teach us:

"And behold, again it hath been spoken, that there is a first resurrection, a resurrection of all those who have been, or who are, or who shall be, down to the resurrection of Christ from the dead.....The soul shall be restored to the body, and the body to the soul; yea, and every limb and joint shall be restored to its body; yea, even a hair of the head shall not be lost; but all things shall be restored to their proper and perfect frame" (The Book of Mormon, Alma 40:16, 23).

We can see our loved ones again! Death is not an end! Though it is deeply painful, it is not permanent. Isn't that the most wonderful news? It makes me feel so grateful! I do not have to be afraid! I can be with all of my loved ones again, forever.

"Mother!"

"Parenting is part joy and part guerrilla warfare." Ed Asner.

That being said, my mom is the pro. She is the best at both joy and warfare when it comes to parenting. However, she did not become good at it all at once.

My mom made a lot of personal sacrifices to be a good mom. For instance, she and my dad decided, after a lot of prayer, that they would home school us. I was almost eight. My parents were tentative to take the plunge. They were terrified! My mom had no idea how she was going to handle five children at home all day every day! She certainly had no idea how she was going to educate them at the same time! However, over the next fourteen years, I watched her do it.

I remember:

Hours she spent helping each one of us through pages of grueling math problems. She was just as happy to master a concept as we were!

Her studying our grammar books so that she could answer our questions about compliments and gerunds.

Her reading stacks of books from the library to us. She would read to us and explain history and science, language and art.

She was (still is) particularly good at designing good field trips or projects! Yay for field trips!

Her going to her room to cry when things were frustrating. Sometimes, if I peeked in, I would catch her praying. 

She would often bear her testimony about little things like forgiveness or accountability while she was making us food in the kitchen or driving us to soccer games.

Mothering us was tough. I know she had to give up chances to travel with my dad, take music lessons of her own, be around other adults, work out at the gym, or pursue her writing career. She had to sit inside and deal with five different grade levels of subjects, five different attention spans, and five different tempers every day for years!

However, she has often told me that it was all worth it. She has told me that she loves me and that family comes first. I am grateful to my mom for her example and I hope that I can be like her when I grow up!

Cookies For Sale

When I was thirteen I was in a children's choir. It was a very professional little choir. We performed often and even traveled to venues outside of my home state, Virginia. We had to fund raise annually to provide for these trips. So one year we decided to have a huge spaghetti dinner and a silent auction.

I was completely absorbed with preparations for the event. I worked very hard to invite as many of my friends as I could. I also petitioned them for donations for the silent auction. I envisioned buckets of money and thousands of choir fans in response to my efforts. Over the weeks leading up to auction night, I gathered all sorts of things: snow tires, a dresser, and a dozen or so cookie tins.

The cookie tins were by far my favorite. They had adorable, seasonal themes and were shiny and colorful. Of course, the tins were going to be auctioned no matter what, but it seemed criminal to auction them empty! So, I set to work flipping through my mom's cookie recipes and writing up a shopping list. The night before the dinner, I threw on an apron and got to work. I spent five or six hours baking cookies. Chocolate chip cookies, peanut butter cookies, ginger snaps, and snicker doodles flew in and out of the oven. After they cooled, I carefully arranged them in the tins with parchment paper laid in between layers of cookies. By the end of the night, the tins were beautifully overflowing with tasty goodness. They practically glittered.

Auction night came and I anxiously waited until the end of the silent auction. I was positive my cookies would bring in a fortune. However, when the auction had ended, I saw the bids listed next each item. With horror I realized that each of my cookie tins had sold for......1¢.

My face fell. My whole soul drooped. What had happened? I certainly had put more than a penny's worth of work into those cookies! They were perfect! How could someone be so mean! I felt completely distraught. If only those mean auction people understood how much I had worked on those cookie tins.

Heavenly Father has told us that "The worth of souls is great in the sight of God"(Doctrines and Covenants 18:10).

Christ also taught, "Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings and not one of them is forgotten before God? But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not therefore: ye are of more value than many sparrows." (Luke 12:6-7).

I am sure that to God, we are like those shiny cookie tins were to me. Actually, we are worth a lot more to Him. Just as I was appalled by my cookies selling for 1¢, I am sure that when we judge ourselves or others to be of less value, He likewise is distraught.

Champion Good! Value people! Value yourself! You are worth a fortune!

Chopstick Muscles

We have so many muscles! Tons and tons! There are tiny ones and big ones, strong ones and weak ones. Some we can control and some we cannot. Today I will post about chopstick muscles.

This is my current companion, Sister Lim. She is from Korea. She likes to cook Korean food for us. I like it, even though it can be pretty spicy! However, to eat it properly, I had to improve on my chopstick skills.

So, first I got my own set of chopsticks.

Then I had my first practice. Rice and seaweed. Sister Lim taught me how to hold the chopsticks correctly and set me loose on the food. I did a pretty good job. While I was working away, Sister Lim told me about her childhood. In Korea, she had to pass a test in school where she moved sesame seeds from one bowl into another. If she did not pass the test, she was not allowed to eat around adults or guests!

That did it. We got out some seeds. I tried and tried and tried and finally got one seed into a cup! Yes! I felt very accomplished.

However, the next day when I tried to eat with chopsticks again, I could barely hold the chopsticks. I told Sister Lim "My chopstick muscles are sore!" She laughed. Of course, she does not even notice her chopstick muscles! Hers never get sore!

For most of us "spiritual muscles" (like faith or patience) are a lot like chopstick muscles. We have to use them to realize that we even have them! Using them at first is hard and we might get a little sore. But it gets easier. The principle is the same. Practice makes perfect. I am not as good as Sister Lim with chopsticks yet, but I am getting better! You may need some practice with your spiritual muscles, but you can can pass the test if you keep trying.

Work those spiritual muscles! Love you all!

Represent

Baptism is a covenant. A covenant is a lot like a contract. Baptism is a covenant between a person and God. He or she promises certain things and God promises them certain things in return. In a contract, if either party breaks their promise, the opposite party is freed from their obligation. God never breaks His promises, so it is up to us to keep our end of the bargain.

What do we promise God when we are baptized? Among other things, the Book of Mormon says that we promise the following:

"...To be called His people" (Mosiah 18:8)

"...To stand as witnesses of God" (Mosiah 18:9)

In the Doctrine and Covenants it also says that we are baptized,

 "...To witness unto Thee, O God, the Eternal Father, that [we] are willing to take upon [us] the name of thy Son..." (Doctrine and Covenants 20:77)

The other day I paused to think. As a missionary I wear a name tag. It has two names on it: mine and Jesus Christ's.

I literally wear Jesus Christ's name on my chest every day. When my mission is over, I will miss that. I do not want to ever take it off! I want Jesus' name irrevocably stuck to mine, or rather, mine to His. Then I remembered what I just said about baptism.

I have Jesus Christ's name upon me because I was baptized. I have promised to be called His and to witness of Him, name tag or not.

I have decided to do as Proverbs 2:3 directs.

"Let not mercy and truth forsake thee: bind them about they neck; write them upon the table of thine heart:"

Christ's name is carved upon the table of my heart. I try to do the works He would do. I would not want to dishonor His name. I honor Him by doing my best. When I do my best, I represent Christ.

Champion Good! Represent!