Tuesday, December 27, 2011

"Sanctuary is a word which here means  a small, safe place in a troubling world. Like an oasis in a vast desert or an island in a stormy sea."

You wanna know what movie I was really excited for? A Series of Unfortunate Events.

I'd read every book, I'd languished in the hilarious and felt a little pity for the children when bad things happened.

You wanna know what movie I was really disappointed in? A Series of Unfortunate Events.

With each passing moment of the movie, I was more and more disappointed. I couldn't believe that they had done such a horrible job portraying the movie. It made me sad, which the books never did. Throughout all the books, Violet, Klaus and Sunny seemed like resourceful kids who never gave up, never got discouraged, and whose parent's deaths seemed comfortably distant.

The movie....did not do that. It showed the sadness--tastefully, albeit--and Violet, Klaus and Sunny looked like....children. Children dealing with the death of their parents.

I didn't like that. I got too emotionally involved. I especially connected with the homesick feeling, for some reason. I felt the despair of having just lost a home, just lost your parents, and then being thrown into a situation where there was no comfort. Not just once, but over and over.

But at the very end, the children get to walk through their old house. The whole inside had been reduced to ashes, and I felt a part of me die with the children each time they discovered something destroyed that had been once precious.



Partway through, the children find a letter, a letter that their parents had sent while on a journey--

The Letter That Never Came. It read as follows:

"Dearest Children,
Since we have been abroad we've missed you all so much. Certain events have compelled us to extend our travels. One day, when you're older, you will learn all about the people we've befriended and the dangers we have faced.

At times the world can seem an unfriendly and sinister place, but believe us when we say that there is much more good in it than bad--all you have to do is look hard enough. And what might seem to be a series of unfortunate events may, in fact, be the first steps in a journey.
We hope to have you back in our arms soon, darlings, but just in case this letter arrives before our return, know that we love you. It fills us with pride to know that no matter what happens in this life, that you three will take care of each other, with kindness and bravery and selflessness, as you always have.
And remember one thing, darlings, and never forget it: that no matter where we are, know that as long as you have each other, you have your family.
And you are home."


I'll admit it--that part of the movie gave me the chills. I felt the spirit so strongly, and I still do every time I think about it, or read those words.

It offered a little bit of compensation for all the horrible things that had happened during the movie. It seemed to me, that the children could get through it all because they were together. And it reaffirmed to me the intense preciousness of my own family--I was struck intensely with the confirmation that no matter what, if I had my family, I could manage anything.

That no amount of sadness could ever take that joy away from me.

Sometimes things in the world testify the gospel to me, really strongly. This was one of them. And every time I listen to The Letter That Never Came by Thomas Newman, I feel it again. I hear Violet's voice and I feel a rush of love for my own family--and an intense desire to have them close, to hug them tightly.

And so, for me, A Series of Unfortunate Events was actually a worthwhile movie. I love it.

In closing, I repeat Lemony Snicket's own words:

"Dear Reader, there are people in the world who know no misery and woe. And they take comfort in cheerful films about twittering birds and giggling elves. There are people who know there's a mystery to be solved. And they take comfort in researching and writing down any important evidence. But this story is not about such people. This story is about the Baudelaires. And they are the sort of people who know that there's always something. Something to invent, something to read, something to bite, and something to do, to make a sanctuary, no matter how small. And for this reason, I am happy to say, the Baudelaires were very fortunate indeed."

Thursday, December 22, 2011

The Honor of Kings

"I was taught that when you visit a King, rather than expect a gift, one should bring one to lay at his feet."



The story of Esther has always been one of my favorites. It's one of the best examples of God's careful planning. But I've always wondered at the circumstances behind the story--what would possess a King of Persia to choose a Jewish woman to marry? How would Haman ever convince that King to kill an entire people?

I suppose there will never be any real answers in this life. But I did see a movie last night that offered an interesting and sensical filling in of those gaps--One Night With The King.

It tells of the story of Hadasseh, a Jewish girl living with her uncle, Mordecai. The King of Persia seeks a new wife and pulls many eligible women from the surrounding villages and cities to be trained as "candidates". Afraid of being persecuted for her Jewish heritage, Hadasseh takes on the name "Esther" and quickly captures the heart of the King. He marries her, and she becomes the Queen of Persia.

Parallel to Hadasseh's story is that of Haman. He is the descendant of Agag, a King killed by Saul. Prophesied to take revenge on the Jews for this misdeed, Haman creeps into the King's favor while setting up his murderous plot.

The two stories meet and the edict for the annihilation of the Jews is given. Hadasseh is given no choice but to break protocol and go into the King un-summoned. She does so at the risk of her life, and is accepted by the King. She offers her heritage up and the King believes her and gets rid of Haman. Happy ending.

There were a few things in this movie that really struck me. For example, the quote found at the beginning of the post.

I've thought a lot about this quote, running it over and over in my mind. Should one really bring a gift to a King? He is the rich one. He has more to give. The subject is unlikely to procure a gift suitable to the King anyway. Should not the King offer gifts to those he allows into his presence?

But in the movie, Hadasseh offers the King her most prized possession, a gift from her parents--the symbol of her past, her present, and her future. He is honored, and she wins his heart.

I began to think of all the things that a King already does for his people. He offers them security and maintains their wealth and freedoms. He is their advocate with the angry Kings of other lands who seek to do them harm.

As I thought of this...I started thinking about our relationship with our King, The Savior. Is it fair of us to expect gifts from him?

Then I started thinking about everything the Savior did for us. He left his home to come to earth and live in dirt and poverty. He took upon himself all of our sins and pains. He even died for us. He is prepared to stand as an intercessor when we go to be judged after this life. He offered the only way that we can be happy for the rest of eternity.

Should we then expect him to shower us with gifts when accepted into his presence? No. He has already done enough for us. It is our duty to bring a gift to lay at his feet. Perhaps even the same gift that Esther offered--our past, present and future. Our heart.



"I was taught that when you visit a King, rather than expect a gift, one should bring one to lay at his feet."

Monday, December 19, 2011

The One Where Rachel Decides That Everything is Going to be Okay

Being home is a semi-glorious thing.

In the semi-edited words of a friend....it's semi-glorious in the same way ice semi-melts in boiling water.

In other words...it's completely and totally glorious.

There are things and people I miss from college. I know this is definitely a point in my life where I'm stepping off of a platform that I've become quite comfortable on....things are changing so fast and so completely, and up until this point I've found myself being dragged forward by the arm, stumbling along backwards like a sad rag doll...and I haven't had time to turn myself around and actually step forward with the changes.

But no more!

I hope to use this sojourn home to fill myself up with familial love, sort myself out, and return back to college face-forward, ready to run with my life, because let's face it, sometimes in life, that decision to turn forward and run instead of dragging behind is the only decision you get to make!



"Time is tricky. You have whole months, even years, when nothing changes a speck, when you don't go anywhere or do anything or think one new thought. And then you can get hit with a day or an hour, or half a second, when so much happens, it's almost like you are born all over again into some brand-new person you for dang sure never expected to meet."

--E.R. Frank

I think one of these days I'm going to look in the mirror and jump at least a half a dozen miles. God is good. God is sneaky. God is all-knowing. God knows exactly what will make me happiest, exactly what will "balance my chi" and what types of things will absolutely confirm everything good and right in the world to me.

God knows when it's time for a change.

And since I really had no purpose in this post except to set right the things I'd messed up on my last post, I'll simply conclude with a list of truths I've learned in the last ten days or so...

  1. It is never too late for a spoonful of homemade fudge and a glass of milk.
  2. There's never a bad time to have a Justin Bieber dance party. Except maybe when your RA is walking through to her apartment....
  3. A worthy priesthood holder is always ready to give the counsel you need from the Lord. Whether through a blessing or hug or handshake or conversation, the Lord works through those who work with him. Even when they are scared or unsure.
  4. The lights on Temple Square? I thought they were the most beautiful things I've ever seen in my life. Not so--there are a whole number of things more beautiful than they are. Among many others, soft smiles, marbles in cold water, teary eyes, stars close to midnight, stairs in inconvenient places, grey skies in the early morning, rain on flushed faces, whispered names and words and promises kept.
  5. Sisters are God's greatest creations. Giggles and "Your Team" and shared books and linked arms and snuggling in the mornings. What else could I ask for?
  6. My parents. Are the greatest.
  7. Everyone should leave home and have an adventure.
  8. You are....you! There is no one who can ever change that, and there is no one who ever should. Everyone has faults. But you must love yourself before loving anyone else.
  9. A boy should ask permission to kiss you. Not because he can't work up the courage to do it any other way, but because he realizes that it's just too important a thing to do without permission. Because he realizes that it's a gift that you must offer him--not something he should ever just take.
  10. God is a sneaky, sneaky fellow.
One last thought, and a sort-of experiment. (If you click on "experiment" in that last sentence....it takes you somewhere really cool! This is what's been on my mind the last couple of days...)
Rachel.

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Psshshhhfffftbbtt

Yes. This is my first, very official "Admit-it-Rachel-you-have-no-idea-what-you're-doing" post.

Because I'm here to admit it. I have no idea what I'm doing.

Can I put forth a little picture here? My feelings in semi-visual form? This has been something bouncing around my head for a couple of days now....

I'm at the pool. It's crowded and hot and the water is crammed full of wet, energetic bodies. Those I have come with are near--behind me fumbling with flip-flops and sunscreen and sunglasses, with "oh! she sees me!" or "is he looking at me?", juggling well-guarded egos and carefully crafted identities. I glance behind me to watch this scene, but step sideways quickly as they set off at a run, bare feet padding on the concrete, running, running, until the water explodes and they sink under.

They laugh and giggle and beckon me closer--but I cannot move. I simply stand there, feelings and skin frightfully bare in my summer bathing suit, so bare and empty that I fear if I move, I will suddenly become so painfully visible to everyone around.

But I must move. And I do. Not a footstep uncarefully placed, I mark the steps, every inch closer to to the pool's edge. But I don't jump. That's just not how I am. Instead, I lean down, and only let the water submerge my ankles. And appropriately so! The ice-cold bites at my toes, and I find myself unable to find the motivation to move--unable to move into the water, unable to get out.

Just sitting on the side of the pool.

Sometimes I feel like this in life. It happened before I came to college here. My whole summer consisted of sitting on the edge of the pool, watching others jump in and splash around. I couldn't get used to the idea of changing my life so drastically, but I couldn't, in good conscience, back out and stay home forever.

It ended up being a slipping-in kind of thing. Somehow, without my knowledge, I fell into adulthood, into college, into life on my own.

This is an okay slipping-in. There are some things in life that I am not willing to slip into. Some things that, no matter how many things line up and come together for, I will never be able to do without full confidence in the outcome.

And until I feel full confidence in that outcome, I'll just be the scared, unsure girl, sitting on the side of the pool.

But really, is there anything wrong with that? President Hinckley sat on the edge of his pool before attending school for the first time, and his parents let him wait a year. Should I really go for something before I feel I'm ready to? College ended up being a fantastic endeavor, something akin to jumping into warm water when nothing less than ice-cold was expected.

But will I get lucky in everything else? Can I always jump into a warm pool? Do I always want to?  (Beyond all this--how far can I stretch this ridiculous metaphor?!)

Anyway. One final question: what if my refusal to jump in were to hurt those already in the water?