Hungry-ish

Participating in a fast is something that I really like to do. It makes me feel good, physically and emotionally, to deprive myself of things that I love and want for a higher purpose. But sometimes it's not even that hard, and sometimes I forget the point of the whole practice. That's why I decided to try something new--some awesome counsel that I received months ago, but never took until TODAY!

It's called a 24-hour fast. Some of you are thinking, Well, that's what I do every time. You guys are good. I'm not as good. So I decided to try it, 2:30 PM to 2:30 PM, all afternoon, all night, all morning.

It was hard.

Instead of being able to leave the tummy rumbles on the backest backburner of my mind, I was consistently and constantly reminded that my body was empty--and thus, the reason for its emptiness. I was consistently reminded that this was to show the Lord my sacrifice. I was constantly reminded of who I wanted to help and serve. I couldn't escape it. My throat was dry, my stomach void. I thought about the Savior because...because He was the only thing that came to mind after the thoughts of hunger or thirst.

I guess what that really does is expose my need to humble myself and think about the Savior more, but it was also a beautiful thing. It was beautiful to try to show the Lord that my spiritual well-being meant more to me than my physical well-being; to rely on Him for the ability to stand and sing and breathe and keep going when my body longed for a slice of my roommate's homemade bread and a cool drink from my holographic BYU cup.

Sacrifice brings blessings--and fasting brings blessings of the ability to go forward in life, regardless of the challenges that face us.

Proud-ish

For the past couple weeks, I have been studying a lesson that I had to give today at church. The lesson is entitled "Beware of Pride," so you can kinda guess the topic.

The good ishes that happened during these weeks were all opportunities for me to see the pride within myself and fix it. So sometimes they were more like embarrassing ishes, or oops ishes, or forcing-myself-to-ask-for-help ishes. But they all taught me something more about pride, and something more about humility--which, in turn, taught me something more about Jesus Christ, who is the greatest example of humility to ever live.

Take this ish for example: I had to teach a mini-vocabulary lesson this week in one of my classes, pretending to address a beginning French class. I was super nervous but it ended up being fine. I did my PowerPoint, I felt all teacher-y. I sat down. Then the student instructor who was evaluating us let me know: the whole time I'd taught the class the wrong article for one of the vocabulary words.

Yeah. Oops-ish.

But I was glad, because at least I learned in front of my peers and not while teaching 101 to a bunch of wide-eyed French newbies.

It was a learning experience just like most every experience in life is; in the context of the lesson, though, it became a building experience. I wasn't just learning about humility--I learned that I could be humble if I tried to be teachable. I learned that I could recognize the not-so-great things in myself and change them to pretty-great things, as long as I caught myself in the act.

And that's what good ishes do. Even if they are embarrassing oopses that force you to confront your own weakness...they teach you to be good-er.

Missionary-ish

It was my last full day in France and I still had my French Book of Mormon, but I had a plan! I'd made a list. I'd prayed. I'd fasted. I'd done it all. I knew the name. I knew my friend. And now I had to act.

When the time came, though, things weren't as cool as you would think. Nothing that came out of my mouth was profound; in fact, I hardly said anything at all. I just handed it to her and...that was about it. Nevertheless, the feeling that came afterward as I was contemplating the event that, That wasn't even me. None of it was me. I had nothing to do with it! It was the Lord. He's the one who worked in me to 1) give me a desire to follow a challenge to give a Book of Mormon to someone, 2) go to France for this internship in the first place, 3) ask my internship partner for advice about giving it out, 4) make the list, pray, and fast, AND 5) do it. It was all Him. He just gave me the chance to be a part of His work. What a loving Man.

So the cool part wasn't me. But part of the cool part was definitely her--my friend. Arguably the only real French friend we'd made outside of the Church during our time in France. And when I told her I had a book to give her, she didn't hesitate. She took it. She said immediately that she'd read it. She acted excited, even. She let the pages fall through her fingers and noted that I'd written "quelques petits mots" at the front. She thanked me, hugged us, and wished us well. Then she left. Then we left.

But none of us, I'd wager, will ever be the same. I'm no fancy shmancy gospel preacher, but giving a Book of Mormon to someone could be one of the best decisions you (I, we, everyone) ever make.

Because it's the truth. And I know it.