Hot-ish

Today was my first time attending church (in its fullness) in France.

The hot topic nowadays is the temperature outside (Haha. Get it? Hot?) because hoo wee, it gets a little steamy in our non-AC-equipped apartments. So naturally, several of the members posed a question like, "Il fait pas trop chaud?" ("It's not too hot for you, is it?") to which we would respond, "Si!" ("Yes it is!"). Then, after meetings were over, we watched as they set to work asking around for a fan that someone could spare for us to borrow. One man insisted that his family could give us one of theirs, and set up the whole thing: his daughter would pick it up from their house and drive it and us back to our apartments.

The small ward that encompasses the entire city of Toulon seem to be a tight-knit bunch. A member of the bishopric introduced us and welcomed us to the ward family in sacrament meeting, and we're not even missionaries or permanent members or anything. So I guess it was just natural for them to take care of us. Needless to say, we uttered several "Merci"'s and "C'est gentil"'s throughout the day. And my apartment? It's full of cool air and warm feelings.

Home-ish

Anybody who's ever been to a foreign country knows that it's kinda hard.

You have to deal with different customs, different tastes, different language, different food, different streets, different people, and different differences, and sometimes it just seems altogether too...different.

That's what I was feeling yesterday at the end of my first week in France. I yearned for comfort, for familiarity, for someone who spoke English and someone who loved my country like I did and knew it was Independence Day like I did.

So what a blessing it was when my attention was drawn to my window around 10:45 last night. Fireworks. Someone was setting off fireworks, somewhere a ways away on the beach. I ran to tell my internship partner next door. Then I went back to my spot by the window and watched. I watched, and heard my friend singing softly "America the Beautiful," until they finished and the sky was black again once more.

I was still in a foreign country, but suddenly home was much closer than it had been before.

Awake-ish

The little boy in the airport was dead OUT. Asleep, asleep, in the deepest deepest sleep. His mother cuddled him for a while, then lay him beside her with his head in her lap. His back curved over her leg and his arm hung, totally limp, off the bench.

I was so tired. The sun told me it was the morning, but my body moaned, "Oh my gosh, I didn't get more than a wee four and a half hours of sleep last night, and now I have to do daytime all over again..."

The boy woke up with the happiest smile on his face. Wherever he had come from, however far he had to go, he was beaming and ready to go.

The lesson for the girl working in France for the next two months: Wake up with a smile.

Ten-ish

Another ten-hour trip means another chance to find the good ishes in the world!

Like that nice man who politely steps to the side as you walk into the gas station store, smiling under his sunglasses and nodding as you pass.

Like that view from the mountains near Jacob Lake (misty green carpet nestled under red-rock plateaus) reminding you of that scene in Cars where Lightning and Sally overlook lovely and empty Route 66.

Like having just enough cash--within cents--to fund your lunch so you don't have to use your card.

Like the pretty periwinkles and the sunflowers that dust the roadside.

Like being relieved when the signs proclaim "Phoenix 36" much sooner than you expected them to.

Like two funny little brothers and one awesome dad who spent ten hours driving to Utah a few days ago, just to turn around and drive you back.

I should spend more ten-hourses noticing the good things.

Faith-ish

I have a daily quote book that I flip through, and it was one day this week that this one came up: "You need never be discouraged or afraid. The way through difficulties has always been prepared for you, and you will find it if you exercise faith." (Henry B. Eyring) The next day when I went to flip to the next quote, I didn't. I needed this one. So I kept it up for several days.

The best part was when it came true on Thursday. I had volunteered to speak French for this foreign language-judge training conference at BYU, and I was so excited. To get it over with. These things are definitely classified for me as "difficulties" in terms of President Eyring's quote.

I waited in the hallway until the French door opened, and who would it be but my old French professor herself! Things seemed a little worse (because she's intimidating) but they were so much better (because she likes me and she's nice). Then the man practicing to be a oral proficiency-judge-guy sat across from me and began to ask me questions.

I felt calm. I felt a smile on my face. I felt embarrassed a few times when I forgot how to say certain things...but I felt okay. My heart wasn't even pumping fast. It was amazing. It sounds silly, but I cannot explain to you how much of a miracle it was. There were at least seven other people sitting around us--to watch him, granted, not me--but I could speak. The way had been prepared, and I could SPEAK!

Afterward Madame took me outside to tell me what I could've done better and to declare me undoubtedly an Advanced-Mid language speaker (that's like, high!). She told me I was ready to go to France.

Maybe I am.

This-ish

It's like this: everyone knows Heavenly Father loves them, but have you ever wondered what your real purpose is in life? Have you ever thought, Hey, I've heard that if I don't do my thing on earth, someone will take my place. And there are people who could. So what am I even here for? 

So it happened like this: I had searched "individual worth" on lds.org and clicked on and read through several of the results. The ninth one down was a Young Women lesson. So I read it thinking about how glad I was that "Come, Follow Me" is the new thing.

Then I found a quote I'd heard before, embedded in its context, and it all goes like this: "My dear friends, you are a royal generation. You were preserved to come to the earth in this time for a special purpose. Not just a few of you, but all of you. There are things for each of you to do that no one else can do as well as you. If you do not prepare to do them, they will not be done. Your mission is unique and distinctive for you. Please don't make another have to take your place. He or she can't do it as well as you can. If you will let Him, I testify that our Father in Heaven will walk with you through the journey of life and inspire you to know your special purpose here." (Comes from a New Era magazine article entitled "Your Life Has a Purpose" by Bishop H. Burke Peterson.)

I was astonished, like this:

And the lesson was like this: When your heart is sad, and you need help, ask for it. The Lord will answer, and miraculously lead you to a 1979 New Era article from a Young Women lesson.

Or something like that.

Antonio-ish

Tuesday I headed out of class to head to the Joseph Smith Building, where the weekly devotional would play in its huge auditorium. I was tired and not looking forward to writing a rough draft research paper and creating a PowerPoint presentation for Thursday. I was tired. I was...tired. The auditorium (how many seats does that thing have? At least 500) was almost completely empty.

Good ish #1: I opened my email to find a video of my niece from my sister. I plugged my earphones in and eagerly listened. Repeating after my sister, the little toddler told me "hi" and that she loved me. I watched it over and over and over and over and over.

Good ish #2: The devotional started, and I kept my earphones in to block out the way-too-loud volume they had goin' on. The speaker quoted the most amazing quote from George Eliot, referring to the famous violin-maker: "[God] could not make / Antonio Stradivari's violins / Without Antonio." (Listen to the whole talk here. It's worth your time.)

Why, that's blasphemous! I thought at first. Then I was like. Wow. Wait. That's. Actually true. I was amazed, because we all know that Antonio couldn't make Stradivarius violins without God--but do we ever consider the reverse? That He needs to use us to make wonderful things? Not because He is weak or incapable, but because He wants to do great things with us.

He wants us to do great things.