Church on Sunday: A Reflection

I've been meaning to use a blog to chronicle my various adventures of working in the Church nursery during my time at home this summer. Since the summer is nigh over, however, I will have to forgo chronicling and simple write a reflection instead.

Every Sunday I go to church.

Every Sunday, beginning at 1pm, I sit in a pew for one hour and ten minutes and I sing, I pray, I listen, I learn, I think, and sometimes I cry. It's okay because I'm there with my biological family and my ward (congregation) family, and they don't mind if my eyes get watery once in a while.

Every Sunday I do some deep thinking during the first hour of our meetings. I try to calm myself, and do some soul searching. A lot of times I do more searching than finding, but that's okay too. It makes the finding times more special.

Every Sunday my adrenaline starts going between 2:10pm and 2:16pm.

Between 2:10 and 2:16, I have to get to the Nursery, which is where parents drop off their kids (ages 18 months-3 years) so that they can attend Sunday School and other classes.

Between 2:10 and 2:16, I have to beat the parents to the Nursery room (this in itself is an epic act, because I'm pretty sure some of those parents are all too ready to send their kid off to the Promised Land of toys and songs and animal crackers that we call Nursery).

Between 2:10 and 2:16 I have to get all the toys out and strategically place them around the room.

Between 2:10 and 2:16 I have to make sure I have enough other people to help me wrangle the herd of between 8 to 13 kids we have each week. This involves sometimes going up to vague acquaintances with a crazed look in my eye and saying "Hey, we'd love to have you come help in Nursery today!"

And if things don't get going in the right direction between 2:10 and 2:16, then I am in for a long 2 hours.

Every Sunday I walk the line.

I walk the line between organization and chaos.

I walk the line between "let them do whatever as long as they're not crying" and "as adults I think we have a moral responsibility to help these kids learn to not kill each other."

And I walk the line between bossy dictator and "Don't worry about it, I'll do it myself."

This has been a tricky thing for me, this walking of the line.

Every Sunday I go home feeling exhausted at 4 o'clock.

I'm exhausted from comforting, disciplining, teaching, feeding, and entertaining the kids.

I'm exhausted from cleaning up 7000 spilled Dixie cups with 2 gallons of water in each of them.

I'm exhausted from distracting kids from their parents so that their parents can leave and have a few hours of peace and spiritual reflection.

But it's worth it, because every Sunday I learn things.

I learn that the two biggest enemies when it comes to dealing with kids are:
           attention spans that are extremely short and
           not having enough activities so it feels like church is going on too long.

I learn that motor skills shouldn't be taken for granted, and that drinking from a cup, even a little one, takes some practice before it is learned.

I also relearn a lot of things that I had forgotten.

I relearn that fruit snacks are magical, and that having a gold fishy snack swim into my mouth is much funnier than just putting it there.

I relearn that knocking down towers is way more fun than building them (not in the metaphorical sense!) and that kicking something over brings pure pleasure.

I relearn the joy of bubbles, of bouncy balls, and coloring.

I relearn the need for routine.

And I relearn a need for simplicity.

And every Sunday, I gain an appreciation for the simple. In Nursery we say simple prayers, sing simple songs, eat simple foods, play simple games with simple toys, and we learn simple lessons. But the simplicity of the concepts that we learn in Nursery does not diminish the importance of those concepts. The theme of the 10 minute lesson that we teach the kids every Sunday is always something along the lines of:

Following Jesus and doing what He asks makes me, and Him, very happy.

Whether we talk about reading the scriptures, saying our prayers, saying please and thank you, or loving our families, in the end, it all boils down to the aforementioned moral. I love this. Sometimes I get so caught up in the complexity of life, when really all I need to worry about is just trying to be like the Savior. When I strive to serve Him, be like Him, and put Him first, everything else will work out in the end. And I have faith in that. Hopefully, amid the giggles, the tears, the carpet squares, the routine and the attention-grabbing tricks, the faith that is so precious to me will be passed on to those beautiful little kids that I got to spend time with every Sunday.

Paper And Writing Utensil

Who knew what kind of effects a pen and a piece of paper could have on a person?



Well, for one thing, the two can be used to write letters. You know, like emails, but old fashioned.


Or this they can be used to write numbers, the numbers seen at 0:45 in this clip:

Who knew that when a boy on one side of the Atlantic Ocean writes on a piece of paper, puts it inside of another piece of paper, and sends it to a girl on the other side of the ocean, it will cause an epic eruption of happiness, not unlike the epic eruption of Mount St. Helens, but with a few less lava-ignited forest fires?

Who knew that when you take a marker, write the number "10" with it on several pieces of paper, distribute those papers to your family members and a friend, and hold those papers up after every musical number at your sister's last band concert, you could evoke laughter and annoyance from a middle school band and their parents? Who knew the magic of paper and pen?

FACE LIFT!

Check it out! The old space got jammed out, so I gave it a make over. Cool, huh?

Sandburg Illuminated Text

Check this out:

https://sites.google.com/site/ghsenglishclasswebsite/home/ipt-286-blog/-ipt-class-materials

Written On 4/6 As I Sat By the JFSB Courtyard Fountain

It's April 6th:

-The day of the reorganization of the church

-The day before my sister's birthday 

-The day with a cool breeze and an obscured sun and a day when 

the JFSB fountain continues to gush magically out of a rock

This day is no different for the Fountain. He bubbles on and on, unaware of date or time or season. His temperature is regulated so that he never freezes. His surroundings are governed so that he is never played in. He is a looking- and listening-fountain only: no throwing in pennies, no swimming, no disturbance. His job is to rumble on calmly as the earth turns and the clouds move and people grow and change and watch and listen.

Slice of Life Day 30: So a man walks into a bar...

I heard two funny jokes today. Allow me to share:

Did you hear about the cross-eyed teacher? 

He couldn't control his pupils! 
(I seriously laughed for like 15 minutes about that one.)

Goldfish: The only snack that looks at death with a smile.

I love jokes. Funny ones, dumb ones, confusing ones, inside ones. If you have any jokes, let's hear 'em!

Slice of Life Day 29: Reflections on the Creation of Text

I'm all typed out. I just typed up 3.5 pages of grammar analysis. And now I'm tired of staring at a cursor on the screen. I'm tired of the website of the word processor determining what my writing looks like.

I want to go write in my journal, or write tomorrow's to do list out on a clean sheet in my planner with my pink pen that I finally found. There is something soothing about the calm creation of text on paper.

I like my handwriting when I take my time; the order of events on the page is reinforced by the neat ordering of my handwritten letters. I like computer-driven writing, but I feel that, as with all things in life, moderation is key.

So, despite the fact that I need to email Dr. Dean and I need to start typing whatever it says on that pink sheet, I think I'll close my laptop for the night, write with pen and paper, and start up my frenzied typing again tomorrow morning.

Typing: Can't live with it, Can't live without it.

Slice of Life Day 27: Seek and you shall find...

Today I embarked on a quest for a most valuable treasure. The only things I took were my keys, my mobile communication device and two pieces of plastic. I hopped in my transport and drove to the place where I hoped to attain the treasure. I drove around and around, looking and looking for the entrance to my destination. A severe lack of signage hindered my progress. But after making a quick call to headquarters, I was able to find the access point.

I entered the building, cautiously hopeful. To gain what I sought, I had to first wait in a line, sign my life away on paper, and wait in a smallish holding area. Then I was taken to a back room by a uniformed guide. My guide tested me to make sure that I was worthy to gain what I sought. She squeezed my arm with a big air-filled band. She poked my ear. She asked me some questions. I must have done well, because she took me to another room.

It was there that I finally came in contact with "The One Who Held The Key For Quest Success." He too poked my ear, this time with a light. He listened to me breathe. He looked in my mouth. These were strange tests to be sure, but I was willing to endure whatever it took to complete my quest. Finally, he signed his name on a piece of paper and gave me that paper. I'd done it! I finally had in my possession a ticket to the treasure.

I hurried to the nearest dispensing station. There, I cashed in my ticket for something greatly desired: a large orange bottle with two-toned pink pills: antibiotics!!!! My quest was complete.

Now, I can focus on the final battle: The Battle of Me vs. Antibodies. With the help of my little pink friends, I will be unstoppable!!!!

Slice of Life Day 28: Freedom!

I decided today that I'm done with makeup. Except for special occasions. And except for times when I have extra time in the mornings when I'm getting ready. But that never happens so don't worry about that.
Anyways, I feel so liberated! No more being chained to corporate entities like Mabelline and Cover Girl! No more make-up remover! No more mascara tears! No more clumps in my peripheral vision!
Granted, it will take some time to get used to. At the moment, I think I look ghostly. But the longer I go without makeup, the more used to my natural beauty I will be :) If only I could do the same thing with sugar...

Slice of Life Day 26: Wake up in the morning...

This morning I woke up with fantastic bedhead. Bedhead fascinates me: how did my pony tail stay perfectly preserved, but the few baby hairs that make up my hairline were arranged in the most artistic of fashions? It's as if Ralph the Night Hairdresser visited my pillow last night, and said, "Well, I can't get to the majority of her hair, so I will make the most of what I have to work with!" I'm telling you, that guy is no underachiever. He does his work well. So well, in fact, that when I tried to push all of those little fly aways back with a tight headband before my morning work out, I was still having control issues. That headband is tight enough to stay in place no matter what I'm doing, but for some reason, it just couldn't keep my hair back in a satisfying manner. The only way to really erase Ralph's work is to take a shower, which is kind of sad though, because, despite its frustrating nature, bedhead is always always ALWAYS good for some laughs. Especially when it is a chronic problem, like for my mom. My mom always has bedhead, and the best part is: her hair is never the same! Ralph the Night Hairdresser always has something great in store for her, which we, her family, always appreciate. Bedhead: a blessing and a curse, but really a blessing. Because who doesn't like starting their morning with a laugh?




Not sure if this is bed head, or if this guy is always like this...

This chick does not even comes CLOSE to my mom's level of bed head excellence. She must have been a victim of Ralph's intern.

Oh wait...

Slice of Life Day 25: An Equation

Chocolate + Giggling + Sleepless in Seattle + Pillow Talk + Empathizing = Girls Night

Slice of Life Day 23: The End Is In Sight!!!

Guess what! I think my smoker's cough is going away! I went and stocked up on medicine, and it's like, as soon as my germs saw that I was preparing to aggressively go after them, they were like, "Oh no! Not the Nyquil! and Sudafed! We surrender!" It's like just the threat of medicine was enough to make my sickness ease up. I'm going to bed early, and I hope that in the morning the rest of my symptoms have also retreated. As soon as I'm done with Mr. Cough and Mrs. Congestion and their children Sore Throat and Sniffles, I'm going to got work on my term projects, all of which I'm actually looking forward to. I'm honestly excited about researching the origins of science fiction in America, looking for grammatical moves in Mary Roach's Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers, and creating scintillating lesson plans. Spring is coming, the end of the semester is almost here, and I think my cold is clearing up: life is bright right now!

Slice of Life Day 21: Musings of a Fairly Sick Person

My body is out of whack. And the cure is not reading a ten page article about expository text literacy (don't tell Dr. O). I think I only comprehended about every other word from that article.....specifically I remember reading about systemic anatomy......or something like that.
I calculated my incidence of illness rate: I get sick approximately 1.2 times per semester.
I learned about some new technologies today in my IP&T class: Prezi and Mendelay. They are pretty sweet.
I feel like Meg Ryan when she gets sick in "You've Got Mail": wouldn't it be nice if someone as witty and charming as Tom Hanks brought me daisies?
I think I'll take a shower. Or maybe just go to bed. Or do some more homework. My decision making skills seem to have been shredded during one of my several bouts of coughing (I sound like I've been smokin' Virginia Slims for 40 years).

This is my slice of life for today. Nobody said it had to be pretty. Or clever. Or coherent.

Slice of Life Day 20: Peace and Quiet

I went to my grandparents' branch today. My grandpa is president of his branch, which is made up of the six residents of an Orem nursing home. Every Sunday he and my grandma drive five minutes to the nursing home, help move chairs and couches into position, pass out hymn books with over sized print, and help the elderly get from their rooms to the lobby-chapel. Wards in the stake take turns providing a chorister, an organist, priesthood to bless and pass the sacrament, speakers, and a musical number; the meeting lasts less than forty five minutes. It's a pretty sweet deal if you ask me.

I went because I wasn't feeling well, because I still wanted to take the sacrament, because I was running late (their church starts 30 minutes later than mine), because I like the serenity of church in the nursing home. When your head is foggy and your throat is sore, it's nice to sit in the company of those whose minds are functioning but their bodies are not. It was so peaceful. The meeting was brief but the spirit was strong. And the messages were tailored to those who were reaching the end of their lives; it gave me an opportunity to reflect: what will I be like when I'm in my eighties or nineties? How will I feel? Will I fear death? Will I welcome it? Will the veil be thin as I prepare to return to my Maker? Will I even realize what is happening around me?

The secrets of the old remain hidden from me, but on a day when I wanted peace and quiet, I found it during the church meeting of six weathered old men and women. My body still felt out of sorts, but my spirit was lifted and I am grateful that I was able to enjoy the Sabbath in the company of strangers: it was just what I needed.

Slice of Life Day 19: Saturday Night

I'm laying on my couch, wrapped in my blanket made out of old t-shirts that I accumulated throughout my high school years, waiting for an episode of NCIS to load, listening to the rain. I'm all by myself, and I don't mind. Some would insist that Saturday night is a time for partying and hanging out and stuff. But I did that last night. And all day today. And I'm tired. So contrary to the norms of college life, I will be spending the rest of my Saturday night quietly and with only a few friends: the rain, my blanket, and the cast of NCIS.

Slice of Life Day 18: Writing About Talking

Tonight I had three interesting conversations.
1: With a friend recovering from surgery. Despite the fuzziness brought on by powerful pain medications, he still made me laugh and inspired me to be better. He walked slowly and he talked slowly, but he made me want to pick up me feet, march on, and finish up the semester on the right note.
2: With a friend that I've known for three years. Sometimes I feel that our relationship is rocky, and that our personalities clash a bit, but tonight, as we talked during a car ride from Orem to Smith's, I felt security in our friendship. We were open and honest and vulnerable, but it was okay because we were and are joined by a friendship that carries on despite our occasional differences.
3: With a friend that I've known for three months. It was during this conversation when I "talked to learn." I love this friend despite our short acquaintance, and tonight I felt that she loves me as well. It is so nice to know that you are loved. I did more talking than she did, and she did more listening than I did, and in the process I was able to come to some important conclusions. She helped with the process of self discovery, and after she left I felt enlightened. She gave me some advice, but mostly she helped me by simply being there, listening intently, all while truly caring about me. It was a wonderful way to end my night.

I'm so grateful for the power of the spoken word and the God-given ability to converse with our fellow human beings.

Slice of Life Day 16: Parts of a Whole

The tops:
Pink with dark red polka-lines.
Outstretched yellow.
Red all wrinkled and scrunchy.

The middles:
Green.
Straight or listing slightly.
Eating light.

The bottoms:
Housed in water and glass.
Drinking all day long, slowly.
Sustaining and supporting.

The flowers on my coffee table.

Slice of Life Day 15: Love is in the Air

The relationship status of the girls living in The Elms 304B:

KO: Engaged
BW: Almost Engaged
HS: Impending Relationship
AH: "He needs to quit dragging his feet and ask me out already!"
CB: "There is a severe lack of tall men in this place."
Me (JC): *twiddling thumbs and disinterested whistling*

I feel like I'm running out of stuff to write about, so I chose to write about the basic atmosphere of our apartment today. Spring is in the air, but so is love. Flowers are budding and blooming, and so are the relationships involving a few females in our apartment. Other flowers lay dormant, and that's about where I am. There are a few guys that I want to ask me out, but I know that they won't, so instead I go on dates with Harold B. Lee, Joseph F. Smith, and David O. McKay. They are good guys, but it would be nice to go on a date where homework and studying are not the main activities. At this point I feel like I should make some sort of resolution to love myself sans boyfriend, or some statement about girl power, or something. But I'm just neutral. Apathetic. Meh. Boys are cool, and I have some great guy friends. But other than planning bridal showers, I think that I'm going to avoid getting sucked into the whirlpool of weddings and weeping and wishful thinking that we call "romance."

Slice of Life Day 14: Daffodils Despite the Darkness

I was on the verge of entering the Mid-Winter Semester Doldrums (nothing a little Spring Break couldn't fix) when some wonderful things happened:

I got an A- on my massive research project that I devoted my life to for over a week and a half. (I gave my teacher a hug because I was so excited.)

I won a book from a drawing! I can't remember the name of it, and I haven't started reading it yet, but the shiny book jacket, the stiff spine, and the witty illustrations are tempting me right now. There is something lovely about receiving a new book, especially a children's book, that awakens a sense of joy and enthusiasm that is rarely provoked by anything else.

I made it to the gym! And I got everything in that I wanted: cardio, biceps, triceps, and some leg muscles that I've forgotten/repressed the names of (leg muscles are my least favorite muscles, despite how helpful they are). I felt awesome afterwords. 

To celebrate Pi Day (3/14) I attended a Pie Party with my ward, and the sense of camaraderie that was present in the party apartment was fantastic. Who knew that so much love and friendship could be present in one room? And it was just because someone wanted an excuse to eat one of the best types of dessert on the planet? I'm so blessed to have such a fantastic ward family: they were the perfect ending to a surprisingly lovely day.

Perhaps the best part of the whole day, though, was the physical metaphor for my day that I saw while I was walking home from campus. The sky was overcast, and it was a little chilly, but when I looked to my right, I saw daffodils emerging from the damp ground; some were simply green shoots, but others where fully in bloom. How wonderful is that? And that's exactly how my day was: I could've been down because of the mid-semester situation, but instead, there were little moments of happiness that managed to make the whole day beautiful.

Slice of Life Day 12 (Posted a Day Late): Fuzz in the Fridge

Today I cleaned out the fridge. It was pretty gross: I encountered fur, frost, and forgotten leftovers of all kinds. But despite the fact that I had some near-barf experiences, I felt so proud when I was done. Everyone's food was in order, things were organized by height, and there is now a general sense of peace in the fridge. Now I'm excited to explore the fridge for meal options, and I know that opening the freezer door won't cause an avalanche. Who knew that cleaning out the fridge would bring such benefits?