:::Daddy Boy:::

Whilst talking with my parents one night last week, my dear mama informed me that she and papa were eating pasties for dinner. :( = sad face.

Have you ever had a pasty? They are one of my top five favorite foods. Ever.

There is a shop close to my home in California that makes and sells nothing but pasties, and every once in a while my dad would come home with gigantic, delicious pasties for dinner. Mmm. Pasties. Pastiiiiiiiiiiiiiiies.

So, I told my mom that dad should send me one.


Wuh?

Um, he actually did.

And not just one, but two.


My dad bought two pasties, froze them, wrapped them in his signature foil+plastic bag wrapping, boxed them up with freezer packs, and sent them FedEx overnight all the way across America, from one edge of the country to another, all the way to me.


I called my sentimental father and told him that I hadn't smiled so much in months. I think he thought that I was exaggerating, but I was dead serious. I've been in desperate need of smiles lately. I smiled so enthusiastically that my big, fat cheeks (which love big, fat pasties), hurt. And then I cried hot tears of happiness/sadness right there at my office desk.


I miss California. I miss my mom and dad, my Aunt and Uncle and my cousin TyTy. They think I'm funny, and they make me laugh. They think I'm doing well in life, and that makes me feel like a winner.

I miss knowing that the beach is just 10 minutes away and smelling the salt in the air wherever.

I miss the weather, I miss the sky, I miss the citrus, I miss the houses, I miss my old libraries.

I miss jeans and flip flops always.

I miss Ralph's, and then the ethnic markets.

I miss knowing Bolsa Chica and Edinger and Warner and PCH.

I miss the food... chicken and beans at El Pollo Loco, chicken fajita pitas at Jack in the Box, pickled turnips at Zankou, dim sum in Little Saigon, Mexican by real Mexicans, and on and on and on.

And I did miss pasties, but then my dad sent me two.


One less thing to miss. A little piece of delicious, potato-y home.

Thank you, Daddy Boy. :)

:::Missionaries:::

I was waiting for a friend after church today when I looked over and saw one of our ward members polishing the shoes of all four of our missionaries. Four pairs of dirty, worn shoes.

I have so much to say about this photo, but I simply can't find the words. I love everything about it.

:::Christian Ways:::

This post is long but I feel so strongly about this topic and wanted to share what I have been thinking today.

In church today we had a talk about retention and the true calling of Zion that put me to shame. If Christ could teach on the side of dirt roads to lepers and outcasts, then I can happily walk or metro or catch a ride to a renovated minimart, sit on hard plastic chairs, and teach nursery in a room the size of a walk-in closet. If His followers could learn on a fishing boat in a raging sea, if Joseph Smith could restore the gospel in swamps and prison cells, then I can do my work and feel the spirit in a non-traditional congregation. If my testimony relies on the trappings of a stereotypical Mormon ward -- the big building, the active congregation, the nice and new supplies, the people that all know how to act, the wonderful programs and fun activities -- then I am in a sad state. Then I have missed everything that Christ has ever taught about who He really is, and what it truly means to take His name upon us and bare the privilege of being called one of His disciples.

If I have ever made a new convert or a long time member feel like they weren't welcomed or they weren't good enough to be part of the fold because they didn't act 'The Mormon Way', then where the heck do I get off pointing my finger at others for making me feel this same way? I'm afraid that sometimes I might have been so desperate to be a success at fitting in that I have ignored the one so I could align myself with the ninety and nine. Or maybe I have tried to make someone else feel like the one so I wouldn't have to that random outlier that tarnishes the appearances of God's chosen people. There always has to be a scapegoat, right?

Here is something that I've realized about the Savior's ministry as I've learned more and more of His ways -- He was almost always with the ones that no one else wanted to be with, and not in a cool 'look at me' sort of way. Just quietly, day after day, when He could be doing more fun and personally comforting things. He touched lepers and walked next to adulterers and sinners. He knelt down next to the lame and listened to the mentally handicapped. And then He spoke with rich men and princes and merchants and priests. Then He brought all of these people together and said, 'Come follow me.' He had such goodness and love inside of Him that He could sit down with a ignorant man on one hand and a scholar on the other and make them friends. It wasn't a charity project, it wasn't a service activity, He was just being who He was, a Christian through and through.

My ward is not normal, and when I first started attending I was annoyed that things weren't all lined up the way I was used to. All I wanted was to go to church and have the same experiences that I was used to having. We always say that the church is the same everywhere. Well then, why wasn't someone doing something about my ward?

When we meet the Savior again I think we will be so happy, and He will be so happy to see us. But I also think there will be a moment where He show us the people we ignored or excluded because they were different and say to us, 'I coudn't be there, why didn't you go for me? I loved her so much, why couldn't you be her friend? Why did you let him sit alone? Why didn't you adapt to help them?' I don't think it will be about guilt, I think it will be a plaintive questioning from a Father who will want to know why His children didn't love each other more.


If I imagine the Savior during His mortal life, I see Him walking down a road alone, then meeting a man on the path. As he continues to walk He smiles, puts His arm around the man, and looks with deep interest and love into his eyes as the man begins to tell the Savior about his day, about his life. Up the road they come across another, and the Savior invites him to join them as they walk. When he does, Jesus acts the same to this man that he did towards the first man -- loving him and investing in his well-being. And in those encounters, however brief they may be, He loves both of them, He teaches both of them, and He brings them the gospel in a personal, adapted, and real way. He is the gospel in action, not in appearance or in culture. He acts out the gospel to those people, and because of His ways these men He met are now brothers and friends with all the most important things in common.

Everything falls away in the end. Flannel boards, primary songs, hymn books and pews, all these things are just the mortal props for an eternal gospel that has nothing to do with foyers and minivans and tank tops under t-shirts and firesides and Girls Camp. If I can't cope with the Gospel in any other form than the Western USA package, then I have missed the whole point, the whole point, and I am mistaken in my belief that I know what the Kingdom of God looks like. Would I even recognize Zion if I saw it? Will I have the desire in my heart to be there when I see who I'll have treat as my equals?

:::Made My Day in 5 Seconds:::

Here is a story about a real act of service.

My blogging friend Jill came up with a brilliant way to assign not just chores to her kids, but also to teach them some life skills, give them an awareness of what it means to take care of and run a home, and have them participate in enriching activities. She simply took some popsicle sticks and wrote a chore or task on each one, then threw them in a bag. Her kids each draw one stick every morning during the summer and have to complete whatever is listed on that stick. Examples? Learn to make a treat, write a letter to a grandparent, read for half and hour, clean baseboards, go for a walk, plan and make dinner, etc.

Really, this is such a brilliant idea. It's simple, it switches things up a bit, and it works.

Here's a quote from Jill's blog about a recent experience her kids had with the sticks --

Whitney had some serious, morning grumpiness about her Popsicle stick job yesterday. She got "clean a bathroom" while Landon got "learn to make a treat" so she thought that was unfair. I don't know what fair has to do with anything, and am sure she wouldn't have had an issue with it had it gone the other way.

(Here are two links to read more about Popsicle sticks year one, and this summer's sticks in Return of the Popsicle Sticks.)

That is why I love this idea so much. Life isn't fair, but we can have balance. We all have to learn how to do things that we don't want to learn how to do, and we all certainly have to do things on a regular basis that we absolutely dislike. Some days you get 'clean a bathroom,' and some days you get 'make a treat.' There are a lot of good days, and there are also many days when you just have to deal with bothersome but necessary life *stuff*.

I thought this was such a brilliant idea that on one of Jill's post I jokingly commented that I wished someone would make Popsicle sticks for my life. Well, could you possibly guess what arrived in the mail shortly thereafter?!


MY OWN SET OF POPSICLE STICKS!!! Courtesy of a very thoughtful and caring and wonderful lady who I have never even met in person. Now that is just awesome. Jill has kids, a husband, and a house to take care of, plus church and sports and friends and all her blogging friends to keep tabs on, but she still took the time to do a seemingly simple act of service for me. If I was my own mother I would be crying right now because someone took the time to do something so nice for my daughter.

I could not believe it when I saw what she had sent me. When I opened the package I actually did a dorky air punch, then hugged the sticks to my chest and bounced around in a circle. This is easily and by far one of the best gifts I have received in my lifetime.

I have not been good about documenting my stick jobs, but now that I have a camera again I'm going to share every task with you. Tonight I came home nearly comatose and really needed a pick-me-up, so I pulled a stick out of the bundle.


I worked on my list as I sat downstairs waiting for my Thai food delivery, and it totally cheered me up. Isn't nice to have someone tell you what to do once in a while?


Three Disney movies? A feature length film about dinosaurs? I guess movies are more about dreaming and wishing and relaxing to me, and not about being intellectually stimulated! Hmm, maybe I can sneak something impressive in at #20...

This just goes to show you that some of the most crucial service we will give to people may have nothing to do with natural disasters, poverty, illness, or other tragedies. Jill's gift has made me realize that the Lord isn't joking or speaking lightly when He commands us to use our personal gifts to help others. This was Jill's idea, so only Jill could have sent me this gift. Look at how happy it made me.

What service opportunities do I miss because I'm only looking for the big ones, or the ones that are easy to spot? Likewise, what can I do beyond the generic opportunities to serve? Almost anyone can take a meal to someone, but what can I, Rebekah, do for someone that only I can do well?

Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you Jill! I haven't been this jazzed up about something in a long time.