Daddy's Princess

My dad’s favorite story to tell about my childhood takes place in the midst of potty training. (Consider yourself warned—read on at your own digression.) I have no memory of this event and therefore no way to defend myself. But this is how Dad tells the story: He woke me up one night to help me use the bathroom. In a sleepy three-year-old stupor I resisted stating, “Daddy, I don’t need to go potty!” He took my hand and led me into the bathroom across the hall anyway. On the way there I kept up my chant: “Daddy, I don’t need to go potty. I don’t need to go potty.” We made it to the bathroom, where I, still chanting, peed all over the floor.

(Side note: Can we just appreciate for a second the fact that my dad tells that story with love and a laugh? Who smiles over the memory of mopping up pee in the middle of the night? I realize he might not have been laughing at the time, but if you know my dad and how level-headed he is, I’d put down my money that he was.)

My Dad’s other favorite story to tell about me (I have no memory of this either, but I like it better) is about my first day in primary. Apparently, they had all the new, little sunbeams stand up in front of the primary during sharing time and say their names. If you know me, what happened when it got to my may not actually be that surprising. I confidently announced to the whole primary, “My name is Emily, but my daddy calls me princess.”

So, thanks to my daddy, I have believed I was. have tried to be, and was treated as a princess since before I can even remember. My royal treatment continued all growing up. Three more daughters came after me, but I am the only one Daddy calls “my princess.” (Do I take too much pleasure than that? Maybe.) When I turned 16, my dad gave me a silver necklace with two heart-shaped pendants. One heart is smooth and has “Emily” in pretty cursive letters inscribed on the back. The other heart is covered in sparkling diamonds (that I happily pretend are real) and on the back in matching cursive letters says, “My Princess.” I love that necklace so much that I only wear it on special occasions out of fear of losing it.

Fast forward a few more years. I remember coming home from college one weekend with a nasty cold. When it came time to go back to Logan, my dad began offering me all sorts of food, medicine, and whatever else to take back with me. I laughed after declining yet another bag of freeze-dried ham and he said, “Hey, I’m just trying to take care of my princess.” *heart melts*

My princess it title is occasionally . . . okay maybe frequently . . . also used to gently tell me when I’m being ridiculous. For example, “Does that please the princess?” or “Oh, watch out, the princess is not happy,” or simply, “Well, alright then Miss Princess.” There is nothing like a well-placed princess comment to put me back in my place. That, or a round of the song, “Oh Lord, its hard to be humble when you’re perfect in every way.”

While I still feel like, and totally am, a little girl, quite a few years have passed since I’ve peed on the bathroom floor. And I think 21-year-old Emily appreciates being called princess by her Daddy more than 3-year-old Emily ever did.

In world where you can grow up to be anything, I hope I become the princess my Daddy always said I was. In world that can persuade you to believe anything, I hope I remember everyone around me is royalty too. In a world that loves competition and comparison in everything, I hope I treat everyone as the princesses and princes they already are.

Thanks for the royal treatment, Dad. I feel like the golden rule is set at an especially high bar for me now—I know what it feels like to be a princess and have to help others feel the same.

July 29th

To be honest, I was not looking forward to my mission homecoming. This was a day I'd dreamed about since the day I'd left. But now that it was here I could feel that once I sat down from the pulpit, my misson would be a sealed, done deal. And while I had felt a confirmation that my mission was complete, endings have always scared me.

I felt the impossibility of expressing all my feelings. I was worried about making myself sound better than I really had been while on my mission. I wanted to be real. But how could I tell them how beautifully hard it was? I just wanted to tell everyone how much I was feeling, how much I ADORE Richmond, but I couldn't figure out how. I guess I felt like my 10 minute talk had to be a perfectly placed capstone to those 18 months or else it would be an injustice to something that deserved all eloquence.

There were also a few people I was anxious to face. Would things be the same as they were when I left? Plus, my own face was considerably rounder, and I didn't want everyone else to face that.

But July 29, 2018 is going to go down as one of my all time favorite days.

And the reason is quite simple.

Hugs. I love July 29 because of how I was hugged. Hugged over and over by people who really wanted to hug me. Real hugs.

Each hug silently whispered that I didn't need to be perfect. My talk in church didn't need to impress. These people just loved me. There were genuinely happy I was home. All the stuff I was worried about was suddenly nonexistent--one at a time y'all hugged it out of me.

I didn't even know that was possible! We should all hug each other a lot more; maybe there are worries that only leave us when they're squeezed out.

Fredericksburg

Why am I crying?

(You can’t just sit on the third floor of the English building all alone on a cold Friday, in your pink tennis shoes and brown Grand Teton hat, and just start crying. The two other people up here are clearly uncomfortable. Stop it. I didn’t even mean to click on the picture. I was trying to find something else. My finger just darted out and hit the “Fredericksburg” folder. And now I’m crying. And, of course, “Wherever I Go” from the National Parks just had to come up on the playlist at this exact moment. Ugh.)

Not from sadness.

Not from regret.

Not from longing.

Not from pain.

From gratitude—

The kind of (absolute) gratitude that makes you gasp on the inside. It makes you get all quiet and respectful on the inside. Remembering that Someone that spectacular could have made so much happened for someone as unspectacular as you—it makes you quiet on the inside.

Everything spinning around in there stops. All the heads inside my head raise and stare in (absolute) respect for something so (absolutely) Holy. Like attendees at a funeral as the casket is carried down the aisle. There is no checking a phone or whispering to a friend, there is only silence—stilling respect for what’s in front of, and inside of, you.

Not for numbers.

Not for positions.

Not for names.

Not for posts.

For Him—

I am gaspingly grateful for the names, but the numbers were probably average. Nothing I did in Virginia was that out of the ordinary. I tried everyday to be my best, but a lot of dreams went unrealized. Stress never really went away, sweat never really dried, and all the disappointment never seemed fair. Isn’t it always our purest desires that provide the most pain when they are absent?

The gap between these paragraphs is intentional. There are real people with real names that might read this, and I’m scared to tell them how hard it really was. The frustrating part of trying to describe my mission is that I really can’t talk about it. Not the details that make my gratitude so alarmingly real. But I must talk about Fredericksburg. Everything came full circle Fredericksburg. For me, there is a lot more there now than just American history. There is deep, spiritual history. Who knew how much hurt could be unraveled in just three weeks?

But first we need to back up to the beginning. Everyone seems to find a mission mentor; that one sister or elder that looks like everything you hope to be as a missionary. I met Sister Garrigues when she was my sister training leader two months into my mission. I was completely star-struck after spending a day street contacting downtown with her. To this day I remember how she seemed to care so much about every person we talked to. All I wanted was to grow up to be like her.

Later that week, all the missionaries in the area (probably about fifty of us) gathered for a conference. I remember Sister Garrigues standing up to make a comment during a discussion. I have no idea what she said, but I remember vividly what our mission president said when she sat back down:

“When Sister Garrigues talks, I expect you all to listen. She is a missionary who knows how to baptize.”

I’m sure my eyes were as big as they were when as a five-year-old I stared at the big girls sparkling toe shoes at my ballet recital. One day, that would be me. One day, President Smith would say that about me.

So, I tried. I tried so hard to emulate everything I’d seen Sister Garrigues do. And I quickly learned that one frustrating aspect of missionary life is that you never know if you’re doing enough. At least in school you get a grade rating your efforts. Out there you just keeping trying and, at least in my case, agonize over if it’s enough. Through it all, I never forgot President Smith’s praise for Sister Garrigue at the conference.

I really don’t think I wanted the praise so that other people would hear it. All I wanted in the world was to “become a great benefit to my fellow beings” (Mosiah 8:18), and because I really trusted my mission president, I really trusted what he said. His words of advice meant so much to me, so I worked for a moment like the one Sister Garrigue had had at the conference.

Fast forward through the rest of my mission to Fredericksburg. Again, I feel like I can’t include a lot of the details because these are real people. But just believe me when I say that all the “wrongs” I felt had happened to me during my mission where turned into gold.

I made the choice to extend my mission an extra transfer (6 weeks) before my sister Amy received her mission call. Her assigned departure date had us missing each other by just three weeks. When I found that out, I was sad but set in my decision to stay in Virginia until August. I told President Smith about it, and he suggested that I pray about going home early to see her. Long story short, I felt that I needed to go home and see Amy. I needed to tell her that missions are so hard. I needed to tell her that it would be worth it. I promised the Lord I would give it everything those three weeks, and then get back to Amy.

As transfer calls approached, we thought for sure President Smith would send us another companion and we would be a trio for three weeks before I left. That way nothing would be interrupted. I would just slip out.

*you poor thing chuckle here* Yeah, that didn’t happen. Fredericksburg happened. A set of elders left the ward and I replaced them with TWO companions who both needed their training finished. What??

A sum up of Fredericksburg in four sentences (because those three weeks are a post themselves): Sister Dunn and Sanchez were angels. Angels sent from a loving Father who knew a daughter needed what they had. Jessica Hope was an angel. She accepted the invitation to join God’s family and was baptized the day after I flew home.

All of that is so important to me, but it isn’t what makes me gasp inside.

My last day in the mission field was a Thursday. The plan was for the kind member who had offered to drive me the hour down to the mission home in Richmond to pick me up immediately after our dinner appointment. We transferred my luggage into her car, I hugged Dunn and Sanchez hard, and we drove away.

Once in Richmond, I met up with President and Sister Smith and they took me to Bruster’s ice cream. The office missionaries met us there. I felt so special. President Smith frequently taught us the importance of urgency in the Lord’s work. So, the fact that he thought sitting down and enjoying ice cream with me was a good use of time was very flattering.

At one point during my peanut butter sundae, President Smith turned to me and asked me to “share my wisdom” with the group. I don’t think I said anything that eloquent, but I did try to tell him how much Fredericksburg meant to me. I told him how’d I’d asked Heavenly Father if I could show Sister Dunn and Sanchez how to get someone to baptism, and how it had actually happened.

One rule all missionaries live by is that we always sleep in the same room as another missionary. So that meant that after our ice cream I went to stay the night with some other sisters at their house nearby. I knew three of the four sisters living there and loved them. One of the sets of sisters were the training leaders for the area. And because it just happened to be a Thursday, they would be on a conference call with all the missionary leaders that night. When President Smith’s assistants had finished their business on the call, they gave him some time to speak if he was on the line. He was on the line. And I had my moment.

He said that he had just come home from spending time with “Sister Abel” and that it had made him grateful. Grateful to be in a mission that has missionaries who really finish. Missionaries that finish strong. He went on about me for a while and the sisters in the room with me looked at me the way I must have looked at Sister Garrigue.

It was one of those times when I felt like I should have burst into tears, but all I could do was be quiet. I was so quiet inside.

I was quiet because the Savior knew. He knew the quiet pleadings of my heart. He knew how much what President Smith was saying meant to me. The Savior was telling me it was enough. For the first time my mission felt complete. I had finished the work He sent me forth to do. The Savior’s love is so real. And so, I was very quiet.

So actually, I know exactly why I’m crying. And I hope I don’t ever forget.

another test

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Farewell Talk

Moved with Compassion

            I love watching the sky streak with orange, red and purple during a sunset. One evening as I sat watching such a such a scene, I wondered to myself why is it that this is so beautiful to me? Why does the sky changing colors make me feel happy? When my friends and I were stressed out at school we loved to take a few hours and hike in the Logan canyon. Afterward, everything about life felt much more manageable and even exciting. Whether it’s the warm beaches of Hawaii, or a trail lined with pine trees, everyone seems to have some element of the outdoors that strikes them. Even if they cheat and observe from the comforts of a camper. But why is it that time outside is so refreshing and enlightening to us? After pondering over that question, a possible answer struck me. We love nature, because it reminds our spirits of divine creation. As we use our physical eyes to look at rolling fields of flowers, or cascading waterfalls, our spiritual eyes see evidence of a loving Creator. Our loving Creator. Perhaps whether we fully realize it or not, a loving Heavenly Father is trying to tell us that the beauty before our eyes exists because a He knew it would bring us joy. I find Romans 8:16 to be especially poignant as I watch those sunsets, Paul says: “The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God.” (Romans 8:16)

I hope the next time you look at the mountains, or watch a sunset, you’ll open your heart and feel that spirit bear witness that you are child of a God who loves you. I know that each of us is a child of God. That is the most important knowledge I have. But I also know, that we here in this room are not the only ones. There so many of our brothers and sisters who do not know who they really are or how much they are loved. And that is why I will go on Wednesday to be full-time missionary: to do all I can to help people experience that great, motivating, inspiring love Heavenly Father has for them.

The message I will be sharing with my soon-to-be friends in Virginia, is that there is a loving Heavenly Father and that because he loves us he has given us a way to be successful and happy in this life. We call these instructions the commandments. Of all the commandments that have been gifted to us, the Savior identified one as being the most important. When asked what the great commandment in the law was, Christ replied,

“Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. “This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.” (close quote)

At first glance, this appears to be a simple enough command. Love God and love your neighbor. But as I began studying this verse of scripture more in depth, I discovered that these lines are just the top of the ice burg. Below the surface is a mountain of inspiration on how to actually live that command and find real joy in the process. I am anxious to share a little of what I learned and how love of god and men is very essence of missionary work.

First, I am intrigued by the order in which these commands are given. First comes loving God, and then loving your neighbor. On this subject, President Benson explains:

“Why did God put the first commandment first? Because He knew that if we truly loved Him we would want to keep all of His other commandments…We bless our fellowmen the most when we put the first commandment first.” (close quote)

Clearly, the order here matters. President Erying further elaborates when he says,

“Keeping the first commandment always leads to keeping the second, because to love the Father and the Son is to serve those They love. In answer to our prayers for guidance, They send the Holy Ghost to tell us how to help others and to feel at least a part of God’s love. So in that service, our love of God increases and the keeping of the second great commandment leads us back to the first, in an ascending circle. In time, our very natures change. We are filled with the love of God, which, even in a world with so much misery and despair, brings us happiness and hope.” (close quote)

I think that in those moments when we feel the most discouraged and hopeless, even the smallest acts of service can be like adding rungs to a ladder that we can use to pull ourselves out. On a day when I was feeling unsure of myself and what I believed, I walked into the Logan LDS institute to attend a choir concert. As we walked in, a member of the choir, I could tell from her black concert dress, was hurrying the opposite way through the door. As the concert was starting in just a few minutes, she must have been in a rush to do whatever it was she was leaving the room to do. But yet she stopped, made eye contact with me, and just exclaimed with great animation, “You are beautiful!” And then rushed on with whatever she was doing. The second she spoke to me, a great warmth surged through my body. It was like a light had been switched on. Her quick compliment made a way for spirit to testify to me of God’s love. For months following the concert I reflected again and again on that feeling. I couldn’t believe how one sentence from a stranger changed my whole outlook. I was so stunned by her kindness, that I was motivated to do the same for other people, which quickly cured me of my bad mood. That girl showed me the value of kindness, a value that is very easy to underestimate. And she will probably never know. In that hallway, I came to understood the quote, “many of the things you can count, do not count. Many of the things you cannot count, really do count.”

I think to truly understand this command to love, we need to consider the last line: “On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.” All the law and the prophets. So without love for God and men, nothing else we do has real purpose. I think 1 Corinthians 13:2 says it best,

“And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing.”

The times I feel nervous about going on a mission, are those moments when I am consumed in myself. When I think about how it will be hard for me, or what aspects of missionary life are unappealing to me, namely 6:30 AM, that is when the nerves surface and I become unsure of myself. But do you want to know when I feel the most confident in this decision? When I think about serving people. About really actually brightening someone’s life or even just their day. My heart literally beings to beat faster in excitement after talking to a cashier at the checkout line, or the teller at the bank. My mom and I treated ourselves to pedicures last week and chatted with the employees there while they worked. We learned a little about their families and their future plans in life. We talked about my upcoming missionary service and just laughed and talked with them for a while. It made me love them and want to the very best their Heavenly Father has for them. I was ready to skip out of that nail salon, throw my bags in the car, and speed, I mean safely drive, to the missionary training center. This mission is not about me or how I feel, but how I can make other people’s lives better. If my missionary service is not a work of love, then it is a work in vain.

There is a passage in Preach My Gospel, a manual for missionaries, that I especially love: it says: “As a missionary, you have a great responsibility to teach from the heart…(PMG 29). It is essential to learn the concepts of the lessons, but these could not be taught by rote presentation. The missionary should feel free to use his own words as prompted as the Spirit. He should not give a memorized recitation, but speak from the heart is his own terms.” (close quote)

That is the kind of missionary I hope, I aspire to be, one who serves from the heart, not just the hands or the mind. I want love for my fellow men to be what pulls me out of bed every morning and keeps me going strong for the full 18 months. There is special phrase that appears twice the Book of Mormon and I love it. First, it is used to describe the motivation for the Anti-Nephi-Lehies, a people who had sworn never to fight again. Previously, they had demonstrated they would rather die than break their oath. But then comes this powerful verse, “But it came to pass that when they saw the danger, and the many afflictions and tribulations which the Nephites bore for them, they were moved with compassion and were desirous to take up arms in the defense of their country.” (Alma 53:13) Moved with compassion. Nothing but great love, would tempt these men to fight again. Gratefully, they had great young sons who loved them and were willing to take their place in fighting so that their fathers could preserve their oaths.

Another appearance of the phrase describes the motivation of the great missionary Ammon. In the Alma 27:4 we read: “Now when Ammon and his brethren saw this work of destruction among those whom they so dearly beloved, and among those who had so dearly beloved them….they were moved with compassion.” Ammon and his brethren had no thought of personal comforts or rewards, they chose to move and to serve because they loved their people. And while their service may have brought on temporary physical discomforts, it was also the source of lasting joy. They are living examples of what that Heavenly Father told the early saints that, “…no one can assist in this work except he shall be humble and full of love, having faith, hope and charity…” (close quote)

Being in the family I am, examples of people I know being moved by compassion to serve are in abundance. My parents live the command to “love thy neighbor” more fully than anyone I know. Through their example, I have learned the great measures that should be taken to care for those around us. I have listened to them speak with loving concern over what they could do to help with someone’s medical condition or financial struggle. They never gossip, or speak ill of people, but only try to understand where they are coming from and how to help. When the McCumber family welcomed twins into their family, my mom immediately stepped in to see how she could lighten their busy load. She loves to have the two older boys over to play at our house. And she doesn’t just stick them in front of a cartoon either. My mom will pull out games and crafts for the boys to do. Or just play with them on her lap or on the floor surrounded by a pile of toys. She doesn’t serve because she feels obligated to, but because she sees need and sincerely desires to fill it. My mom knows firsthand the stressors of having lots of little kids, and is moved by compassion to help relieve another’s burden.

            I have also all my life watched this ward be moved by compassion to serve. Especially, I have loved learning from each of my young women leaders. There are examples are and where everything to me. I want everyone to have the support and love that comes through the programs of this church. Serving with Sister, Tyler, Sister Gardner, Sister Jones, Sister Larsen, Sister Austin my last few years of high school I know had a big impact on my life. Thank you. Their service to me was the kind that you can’t count, but it really did count.

            I love the gospel of Jesus Christ. The more I study it, the more I am amazed at its depth, truthfulness, and potential to give us real joy. I know that the gospel in its fullness is again on the earth today. I believe in modern day prophets and apostles. Through a careful study of the Book of Mormon, I know that the Joseph Smith Jr. was a prophet. I am grateful for his sacrifice and the sacrifice of all the early saints so that we could have all this. One morning as I sat in the beauty of the Bountiful Temple, I looked around and just wished those early saints could see what their efforts were leading to. Then my next thought was, if only we could see what our efforts are leading to. I know Heavenly Father has a plan for us more glorious and beautiful than we can imagine, in this life and in the next, If we trust Him and follow his plan. I know Heavenly Father has plan for me in Richmond Virginia.

 Please never give up hope that the future holds joys worth holding through the pain of today. I love the Holy scriptures. I am grateful for the many times I have felt God’s love and received nearly tangible guidance from those pages. On Friday, I was again sitting in the Bountiful Temple. I held a copy of the Holy Bible in my lap. I prayed to know what God would have me know this close to the beginning of my mission and then I flipped it open at random. My eyes fell upon this verse:

“And Jesus said unto him, No man, having put his hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.” Luke 9:62
My hand is on the plough, in this work I won’t look back. I hope we can all be moved with compassion to push that plough along.

In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

EMBRACE

"What day is it?"

"It's today," squeaked Piglet.

"My favorite day," said Pooh.

― A.A. Milne

This year I hope to take page out of Winnie the Pooh's book. I think I'll really need to. After all, in less than two weeks, a journey far beyond the borders of my comfort zone begins. I imagine it will be all too easy to gaze back at that familiar land and long to be there. 

But I don't want to do that. I have already given pining for the future far too much of my time.

If you were offered a fast forward button through life, you would push it? During this past year of missions, I probably would have. In my young, narrow mind, three years may as well have been an eternity. But January 25th approaches, I think I'm ready to discard that mindset. I want to shift into loving life as it is right now. Like Pooh Bear, I want everyday to be my favorite day.

To help me in my goal, I have picked the word EMBRACE as a motto. The dictionary definition of the word is to accept a change willingly and enthusiastically. Perfect. For me, embrace prompts an mental image of picking something up and squeezing it to your chest with a big, cheesy smile that make your eyes squint closed. Perfect. I am going to embrace mission life with a smile until time is up. Then, I will gently, lovingly set it down and welcome into my arms the next stage of life. But until that moment, I want give my time as Sister Abel the biggest, tightest, happiest embrace I can. For that is what it deserves. 

As usual, President Uchtdorf knows what I'm talking about:

Doesn’t it seem foolish to spoil sweet and joyful experiences because we are constantly anticipating the moment when they will end?

Do we listen to beautiful music waiting for the final note to fade before we allow ourselves to truly enjoy it? No. We listen and connect to the variations of melody, rhythm, and harmony throughout the composition.

Do we say our prayers with only the “amen” or the end in mind? Of course not. We pray to be close to our Heavenly Father, to receive His Spirit and feel His love.

We shouldn’t wait to be happy until we reach some future point, only to discover that happiness was already available—all the time! Life is not meant to be appreciated only in retrospect. “This is the day which the Lord hath made … ,” the Psalmist wrote:  “Rejoice and be glad in it.”

I think we could also say, EMBRACE and be glad in it.