Sacrifice

Seven months later it's a snow-day, and I am finally attempting to put this experience into words. It exhausted more sighs, tears and prayers than any other physical experience I've lived through so far. I smiled through much of it, laughed at myself, learned many lessons, kept confidence in its healing (according to God's will), and just kept going... but it's been 7 months; I am still recovering, hoping for the best, still learning lessons, still praying for relief and remembering pain. 

I smile through everything. I am optimistic, think the best of people to a fault, laugh through my struggles, and generally heal quickly. I also have a very high tolerance for pain (maybe a redhead thing?). And when I do feel pain, I don't always know what to do with it. I'll unconsciously ignore it, or mask it, remind myself how many have it worse than I, wrestle through it, count my blessings, and then I move past it. I just wait it out and things work out. It in this case being an overuse injury, tendonitis, some ulna tunnel, definitely damaged muscles, inflamed tendons and irritated nerves.

 

The pain erupted to the point where I could no longer play a note on the piano. I flew home, and in one of my more desperate prayers, I received confirmation and comfort that God knew exactly what I was going through, that this ailment might not be text book, but that it was specifically given to me and that it would help me learn. That it would teach more patience, help relationships, and let me grow. I believed that, and still do, with all my hope and all my heart.

Three weeks into it, I was alone in the Chalet, sitting in a steaming bath full of epsom salts, essential oils, and my own tears, unable to lift my hands to wipe my face pr move a strand of hair ... or really do anything but sit in silence. There were so many books close by I wanted to study, phone calls I wished I could make, emotions to fill a whole journal I was dying to write, music I longed to prepare and practice, or at least a social media website I could browse! But physically, I couldn't. 

Muscles hold memories, and most every day for the last 20 years has been composed of practicing the piano, harp, violin, conducting, teaching from the piano, coaching, typing, writing, and working. Even though I'd never felt real pain while playing piano or conducting, it really shouldn't have been so surprising to receive an injury. Honestly, it was long overdue--I'd never broken a bone, and never had an injury worse than bad knees and mosquito bites. 

Each week that passed I would tell those who inquired after me how it was getting better, how I'd be playing again soon, how I could start my conducting doctorate program without delay. I felt directed from the Lord to continue with my plans to move and to continue with my schooling, so I also expected healing ... in whichever way the Lord had in mind. 

The weeks quickly turned to months, and the ailment moved and morphed through different phases. I always needed help, and tried to ask for it, although even asking requires movement from your arms. I didn't look like I needed help, there was no cast, and I could always force movement when I needed. I somehow completed the move across the country (with a lot of help from close family), and started seeing new doctors more regularly. The excruciating reminders came less frequently as healing continued to happen, and I tried to incorporate better habits into my new lifestyle. 

I'm still taking it easy-- lifting as little as possible, practicing only in short spurts, using heat and ice, sleeping with splints, and still praying. The pain no longer bothers me, and most of the therapy is over (although I have said that for months). There might be more help I can get, and it will take a long time to regain the strength I had, but I am doing well, and mostly I consider it a thing of the past. 

Whether it was the 'would-you-rather' question game or simply empathizing with my heroes, as a child I had forced myself to imagine how I might live were I to go blind, deaf, or even loose my legs. And I had come to terms with each situation. I could live a happy life in any of those situations. For some reason, I never even imagined a situation where I might loose my arms. I didn't think that could happen. My arms symbolized everything God had given me-- the ability to touch, nurture, write a note, compose a song, make music, act, bless, decorate, help and create beauty. 

To give up the thing with which God specifically blessed you is part of my story. Moriah, the sacred place upon which Abraham promised to give up his biggest blessing. And where he, in beginning to enact that promise, was finally able to fully receive that blessing. I promised God a long time ago that I would sacrifice and dedicate all I had to His kingdom. But promising that in my heart was different than actually enacting that promise. But part of that promise was put to the test, or enacted upon me, to a small degree these past 7 months. And as I continue to re-deserve, relearn and regain strength, I now have renewed desire to thank God for my gifts, to treasure all I am given, and to sacrifice to receive the blessings of Heaven.

Proud to be American. European.

While turning towards whatever has the most red white and blue in the room, we chanted the pledge of allegiance, to the flag of the United States of America for 7 years when we lived in Europe.  I was definitely American, from America, with parents from America, in the American section of the school, and speaking American at home.

It wasn't until we moved to America that I no longer felt American.  Leaving Europe / coming to America was hard on all of us.  I remember walking around town one last time, lingering at church for the last time, riding my bike around the streets one last time, walking through every room in the house one last time, and staring up at such a deep blue clear sky the day I left my heart there and flew away.  I have returned to Europe about once a year since then, and each time that I leave, I feel that familiar pang in my heart.

The difference is that the world here (in Europe) is generally built around centuries of history-- a history without modern conveniences. Their whole lives don't circulate completely around technology.  Streets were built for walking and riding -- not always planned for cars (this is why their cars are normal sized-- tiny to Americans!).  Theaters and opera houses were their primary form of entertainment.  Their lives centered around their church services and their outdoor market.  Because of this, large squares/plaza/platz/places, parks, churches, and opera houses are at the heart of towns.  The field workers in the feudal systems lived on the outskirts of each town, allowing beautiful fields to frame each town even nowadays.  Every community was self-sufficient enough to have their own baker for bread everyday, fisherman, butcher... Most often, with stores taking only the bottom floor of the living quarters.  The stores fit in around their lives. Oh, I could probably go on for some time-- do you get the point?  Somehow, this life seems more simple.

Most of the US was really shaped after the industrial revolution, with efficiency in mind.  Land zoned for housing is completely apart from commercial land which is completely apart from farming land.  Full blocks of commercial buildings are points of interests and destinations instead of a part of life.  So much of the layout of the land is for the sake of efficiency.  It costs so much to erect a performance center in specific zoning from scratch, that making ends meet seems more difficult.  Everyone is trying to get something bigger and better, faster and more immediate, more convenient, and prove themselves-- as if they have something to make up for! The cars, the roads, the buildings, the houses, the portion sizes (!), the TVs, the cities, and metropolises... Sometimes these things are so overwhelming and overstimulating.  Of course I am speaking generally.

But generally, you do shop once at a super market for food to last several weeks.  Because of this, you need a larger fridge.  We drive everywhere (Palo Alto excluded), so destination shopping is no problem, we only have to carry bags to our cars.  Once you hit farming fields, they seem to go on and on, assembly-line-like, and crops even start looking all the same. Bigger, better, better tasting, so we don't need much more variety.  We have big fridges, washers and dryers, stores, AC units... and it's quite comfortable.

So many in our culture would opt for the efficiency, the grand scale, the driving everywhere.  But so much of me longs for the former, the l'Etang la Ville, the public transportation, simple, smaller life.  Sigh.  Of course I'm very proud to be an American.  But I'm always struggling with this duality.  And I'll probably go back and forth my whole life.

... so incase you happen to be a suitor... you may or may not need to reconsider ;)

Filled

Filled with Carols, both felt and sung
Filled with twinkling of the candles & stars
Filled with smells of spices and Warmth
Filled with feasts of Words and of bread
Filled with favorite stories of renewal and good will
Filled with the Joy of human's love
Filled with the Spirit so palpable, I cry

Filled with a heart swelling as great as this world
Filled with Love from the dear ones nearby
Filled with Thanks for comforts and rest
Filled with admiration for Joseph, now 206!
Filled with inspiration to do better and be more--
Filled with Song.  Hope, and Joy.
Filled with family's laughter and Trust
Filled with surprises & anticipation for what's next
Filled with memories to make any lifetime content
Filled with traditions, both old and the new
Filled with newness, lists and goals
Filled with empathy for those feeling remorse
Filled with courage to start again, persevere
Filled with Giving, sharing, partaking
Filled with a mind, open for increase
Filled with thoughts I could ponder for years
Filled with Charity. Serenity, Peace.
Filled with fresh Vision from the True guide
Filled with recognition of what's given and required
Filled with humility for particular gifts of Light
Filled with Faith and engendered confidence
Filled with Desires so deeply rooted in my core
Filled with Emotion, Christ-like and human
Filled with Wonder, awe and cheers
Filled with Gloria's, praising God above
Filled with Rejoicing for goodness imparted to me
Filled with astonishment at how far these feelings reach...

Memories and traditions from the past, Love and serenity in the moment, and awaiting the brightest future... This is how I feel today.

Merry,  Merry,   Merry Christmas.

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.

Stress Relievers I experienced this week

Viewing a play
Playing the violin

Momentary deafness while riding a bike
Momentary stillness in a campus crowd

A compliment, sincerely given
A text, interrupting a study

Song à haute voix in a house to myself
Song à haute voix in a room full of friends

Colorful fall leaves crunching under feet
Crimson wild flowers catching in my hand

Hearing trusted friends while in fervent prayer
Hearing a flawless, fearless performance

The south edge of campus, overlooking the lights
The south edge of mountains, stained pink at sunset

Creeping into bed while rain taps on the window
Cozing in a sweater with friends by the fire

Gospel Principles
Goals to be Better

Consistency

There are a lot of endings in my life. I am a mover. There are also a lot of beginnings.

I have said goodbye so many times, leaving a camp, a ward, a state, a school, a country, and even a continent. I have made so many friends all over the world. And I've had to said goodbye to the most.

One of the greatest surprises of leaving Jerusalem as well as France was returning to a place where I had dear, close, real friends. I was disheartened at my departure from both places, but returned back to places where I re-found (retrouvé) so many quality people with whom I shared great discussion communities. I rediscovered places that I loved, programs and teachers that I had loved, and people that I loved.

and I was, in fact, loved!

This was so starkly different than the moves of my childhood when I left church, history, friends, school, landscape and country to start completely anew. Every start was filled with both excitement and a sense of dread. Hopes were fulfilled, hopes were crushed. I never knew what I would meet in the newest adventure. Loving and being loved could take a long time.

But it always was an adventure.

Every other summer growing up, my Hilton family would have a reunion in Heber, UT. Regardless what country we were living in at the time, we would meet up with our wonderful family. That little part of Heber with the family was one thing that was ... consistent.

I have come to appreciate consistency. The friends that will always be your friends, the places that will always hold comfort, the gospel of unchanging truths, the stories and myths that will always enchant, the parents who love unconditionally, the covenants that I have made--these constants bring such relief.

fears

I used to think that I didn't fear anything.

later, I realized that I do fear for the safety and protection of my family, especially my younger sisters.  

Yesterday, I thought that I would go exploring after work.  So, I took a long bike ride (just a little longer & hillier than expected) and parked over in Stanford campus to go exploring on foot.  It was a beautiful time to reflect and think (despite a heavy backpack on) and the trails, flowers, bridges were beautiful.  I need to make an arrangement of my Heavenly Father loves me.  On my way back, the pathway was quite deserted.  I don't really know why I wanted to do this, but I really wanted to climb a tree.  I have not climbed a tree in many many years, and have an irrational fear of climbing on them.   

[ok, Peter, my little brother, just threw a banana peel across the room towards mallory through a half shut door]

so, I found a tree that followed the slope of a hill so the fall was never more than 6 feet and forced myself to climb it.  yes, it was a frightening, and yes, I left my laptop and backpack at the bottom, and yes, I got poked by miniature thorny branches, and yes, I got stuck once.  but the whole point is, I felt so good after conquering a mini-fear.  

I remember being afraid of heights when I was a little girl.  Unfortunately, as sight seeing was a huge part of my childhood, I climbed many turrets, cathedral bell towers, fortress ramparts, and mountains.  I remember making a very conscious decision while climbing a precariously steep staircase on the edge of a tower that I would not be afraid of heights.  It was done with tongue-biting and no looking down for a year, but since then, I have not been afraid of heights.  

I just want to find more fears and conquer them.  or maybe also increase in faith.

Down By the Salley Gardens

down by the salley gardens, my love and I did meet.

she passed the salley gardens with little snow-white feet.

she bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the trees.

but I, being young and foolish, with her did not agree.

in a field down by the river, my love and I did stand

and on my leaning shoulder, she placed her snow-white hand.

she bid me take life easy, as the grass grows on the weirs.

but I was young and foolish, and now am full of tears.