Belonging

One of the reasons I love france so much is that so much of me grew up there--despite my American blood and nationality, I will always feel that I belong.

Real friends that are excited about my passions make me feel like I belong.

There are 134 operating temples for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (not including the temple announced for Paris, FRANCE!); and yet, when I went to work on my shift yesterday with the kindest ladies in white of the Wednesday 3B session in the Provo, Utah temple, I just felt a rush of comfort, of home, of happiness. It is there I belong.

I just signed a real contract for fall / winter semesters at a big, lovely place and feel so happy having included God in the decision-making process, having made a decision, and having come to terms with each part of the decision. I finally have a wonderful roommate, a place to live, to work out, and a ward where I can belong.

Freeing up my conducting this summer with Dr. Shapiro has given me great leave to 'create' more than ever. I finally feel that I really belong in front of a choir or orchestra.

Today might have been the first time in my life that I listened to a radio station by myself other than a classical station. It was liberating. and it wasn't bad music either. I was happy being myself and didn't change the radio station right away. I like who I am, I love my fetish with classical, modern classical, musical theatre, and jazz--but I can listen to whatever I want in the moment. My tastes are a part with me. and I belong in who I am.

The day started with biking around Hobble Creek, and ended with driving back up the canyon to the setting sun. It was behind the mountains when I got here, but the moon was just rising. I put down my things and ran outside. The moon was shining exactly upon my balcony. and the sun has kept the earth warm enough for my bare feet. I of course ran down the stairs, and around the yard, singing to my heart's content with the trees and curtsying to the stars coming out. I twirled as the breeze brushed through my hair and the wildflowers bid their goodnight. I couldn't stop smiling. I feel loved and I belong.

I best be off to the Fazioli for a Chopin nocturne tonight. yes, I belong there too.

6th month back from the mission

I've been meaning to write this since October when I had my interview with President Bateman. but I guess the life-train has kept chugging along a little faster than I could handle, all right?

Within a few weeks of being back in the states, I stopped crying at every reminder of Europe. I then only cried at every spiritual reminder of the mission. A few months home, and I only cried when they prayed for missionaries in the temple. I wanted SO badly that the missionaries would know the sacredness of their call. I wanted so badly that they would feel success. I wanted dreadfully for them to grow in this experience. Because I wasn't anymore!

I've thought of working at Mormon temples since I first was able to do ordinances there at age 12. More seriously at age 20. and even more seriously at 22.

By 'working at the temple' I mean volunteering--serving. We're certainly not paid. It's better in French: 'servante au temple' which means a servant at the temple. I applied as soon as I met my new church leaders at school. and started working shortly thereafter.

You should have seen me after the first day of touring where I would work. Ecstatic. Ebullient :) I was completely giddy. As giddy as when I first received my mission call.

The funny thing is that nothing has changed. Every Wednesday, however long the day has been thus far, I become increasingly happy with my time working at the temple. I love it.