Twenty Years Ago

This post is actually about a month late, and probably should be a bit sentimental, but I'm not sure it will be.

Twenty years ago, the week after Memorial Day, was my high school graduation. It was very momentous at the time. My friends and I planned for weeks--senior sluff day, awards and accolades, graduation night, scheming to pray at graduation in spite of 1993 being that year when a line was drawn. I spoke at graduation that night (strictly a try-out job; nothing to do with grades). It had rained for days, finally clearing that afternoon so that we could hold the event outside in our spacious stadium instead of the auditorium. My best friend, Katie, later reported that there was a rainbow behind me as I spoke . . . a good omen for all of us looking forward.

I think I have looked forward. I have tried very hard not to be one of those glory-days people. Not because it wasn't wonderful; in many ways it was, but I think I've always been pretty realistic about how you really can't return to that time. And how, if you really think about it, you wouldn't want to anyway. Near the end of that chilly graduation evening, my old 5-7 grade crowd all caught up with each other in the same place at the same time. We weren't a group that really splintered, more drifted into other interests and still saw each other with fondness. There we were, seven expectant faces in a circle of friendship. One of the girls/women/graduates in the group said with enthusiasm, "It will always be like this!" Katie and I smiled, but also shared a knowing glance across the circle. We didn't have a lot of wisdom then, but we knew enough to know that it would never be like that again.

Katie became Kate and got a beautiful tatoo of an iris on chest before that year was out. College wasn't quite the perfect fit for all of us and many dreams were dashed before our first reunion. A boy that one of us loved was maimed for life in horrible accident before spring again turned to summer. The boys who we loved as friends or otherwise all went on missions; for some of them is was their last hurrah in the Church. Within five years two of us would be married and divorced. Some would still be hoping for marriage in the aftermath of heartache. Drift took us miles, even countries apart. I think most of us gathered in that circle again at our five-year reunion; we've maybe all been together only once since.

There was a second peer group that I was closer to in those last two years of high school that scattered to the wind before the summer even ended. 

I am finding that some of my high school acquaintances have drifted more to the forefront with the passing years. Because I have been away from that community for so many years, those to which I've become close are those who like Facebook as a medium for friendship. I would gladly argue with anybody who says the virtual friendships cannot be real. A few of these re-connections have meant more to me than I can possibly say, and we ask all the time, "Why weren't we better friends in high school?"

The answer might be as simple as circumstances that didn't put us in the way of each other more often, but it might be more complicated too. We are all different people now. Our personalities, always friendly to one another and compatible, have taken on more depth through those dreaded building experiences we have all been through. Time has demonstrated who we really are, pushed-to-the-wall circumstances have revealed our true characters.

The timing for my 20th year reunion is bad. The same week last year would have been perfect, but after three trips to see family (Utah/Colorado) in 12 months, we decided early this year that we would NOT be in Utah this summer. As it turns out, Utah is coming to us, about two weeks before the reunion and we have a great staycation planned with my family. My mother is also coming out the last week in August to watch my kids so that I can go back to work the week before they do.

In March, when reunion dates were bandied about on Facebook and I planned for my own college graduation, it seemed that I would have to make a choice--to go to Utah State to be officially hooded, or enjoy the company of some really fantastic people (in person, not in cyberspace). I chose to walk at graduation, with nobody but my own parents there this time. There were some accolades, but mostly I was just one of a thousand candidates for hooding. It was a victory that was much more personal than public. The rainbow was in my heart instead of in the sky.

I like to think that my choice was about looking forward instead of looking back. But I do have some wisdom and I know that this choice is also about other things. It is about wanting to lose ten pounds. It is about not wanting to go alone; I was always alone then and would desperately like some kind of proof of Plantboy's existence. (He is really so good-looking. How awesome to have that kind of arm candy with me to give me courage.) It is about not having that book published yet. It is about just barely getting the master's degree that part of me feels should have been earned ten years ago. It is about years out of the work force as a wife and mother.

Wanting to forget is warring in my heart with wanting to remember. I want to forget that feeling of never quite belonging to a group. I want to forget the embarrassment I once felt at being the most well-read person in the room with the ridiculous vocabulary. A few awful dates. I want to forget the insecurity I hid with snark and premature bitterness. I want to forget the way every boy would look at the other girls in the crowd first. I want to forget some of those horrible dances. "Friends" who really weren't. The feeling of again falling short of making office or a coveted part in the play. The angst. The drama. The wanting to feel comfortable in my own skin.

I'm just not that girl anymore. And I'm so terrified to be--for even one night. I know I'm way over-thinking this (hey, it is my signature move), and those of you who have done this before will probably say I will regret it if I don't go. Maybe you are right. 

Because there are other things I want to remember. My delightfully smart friends. February in London. A healthy rivalry that made me a better student. The thrill of acing a test or getting a trophy. The teachers--especially Glen Prisk's AP biology class or Nancy Reed's early morning AP English. Decorating a Christmas tree that still had a root ball. Lighting the W. Bungee jumping. All the clubs--especially the fake ones! The pride in a school and a community. Some of those delightful dances. A few lovely dates. Sting at ParkWest with TWO boys and Midnight Oil at Saltair with two DIFFERENT boys. The green room before a show . . . even a show in which your part is almost nil. The feeling of possibility that you might become anything.

I don't know if I'll be there in person in six weeks' time; but it is safe to say that I'll be there in spirit. Whatever else I have become, that place I am from was foundational. You maybe can't go home, but I think we take home with us whether we intend to or not.

My Joy Is Fuller

After my temple experience I was working hard to just go with the flow. To trust ourselves to God's care. These thoughts were very full with me when I went to Church on Sunday. Full thoughts + Fast Sunday = mouth overflowing. I bore my testimony and blubbered a bit and said some stuff about being a missionary (always; I can't seem to help it). Anyway, I was really feeling so happy and it was the easiest fast I've had in months.

I taught a couple of classes Sunday and while I was gathering up my things one of the young women came to find me. She was baptized while I was her leader. I have sometimes worried about her sticking power because her sweet family tends to run a little bit hot and cold with attendance. As with many 14 year-olds that get baptized, there was a cute boy involved and lots of initial fellowship. In the years since, the cute boy and his family have distanced themselves from the Church, and the fellowshipping has given way accepting  her as one of themselves.

As she approached me I found it odd that she would seek me out, and for a moment wondered if she was going to unburden deep concerns. Instead she shyly thanked me for my testimony, telling me it was an answer to prayers she has had lately about going on a mission. She said, "I just realized today how important it will be for me to have those kinds of experiences to look back on." Wow. Just wow. We cried and hugged. I remembered that years ago our YW secretary, though rather elderly and not in the best health, decided to go on a mission with her husband. Because, she told me, that she had listened to my experiences and was convinced that she wasn't too old to make new memories. Later that day a friend called to tell me that her son (in my Sunday School class) loves hearing my mission stories. 

I feel so humbled and blessed by these admissions; I feel so grateful for the gift God has given me to open my mouth. The gift to remember and tell. The gift to help others feel the influence of the Holy Ghost. My patriarchal blessing tells me to prepare for teaching and service. I am feeling the blessing of this preparation more and more with each passing year. 

After Sunday's high, I prayed for peace and sang hymns to calm my nerves and my stomach. I waited for the phone to ring. . and Tuesday night it did.

I have been offered the ideal job. My prayers have been answered. I will be working at the local high school, whose schedule runs more or less the same as the one my children are on. Students are on an A/B day schedule. I will be teaching all of A day, but only one class on B day. I have the majority of every other day off. My husband can put my kids on the bus each morning, and they will only have to do after school club every other day, and only for an hour on those days. I only have one prep.

For months Plantboy and I have prayed that I would find a job that brought me joy, supplemented our income and allowed me to still be the kind of mother I wanted to be. I don't know why we have been so smiled upon when lots of others are still enduring trials. I am not unaware of the awesome intersection of providence and preparation whenever I have needed a job. Notice that I did not say luck. My regular readers know how I feel about luck, but please don't mistake that to mean that I believe this is all on me either. I see God's hand in our lives so powerfully this week that I feel to rejoice. We will take our season of joy now and store up against future trials.

Temple

I think our Father in Heaven communicates with each of us in somewhat different ways. It makes sense; each person is unique in the way they learn. We are each a combination of our history, natural ability, the way we process information and our willingness to learn. Therefore, it stands to reason, that if loving Heavenly Parents are omniscient and know us the best, then they would seek out ways to give us guidance that best suit us. 

From the very first time I attended the temple, I learned that my Father in Heaven has great capacity to reach me when I am there. It is one of very few places that I'm still and not busy. I realize this is not the case for everyone, and my intention here today is not to tell you that you are duty bound to be there THIS WEEK. I only wish to express gratitude for my experience there last night.

Usually our temple attendance takes some long term organization and planning, because it is about 7 hour round trip when we go, but last might was more thrown together on a whim late Thursday. I had just interviewed for a job (the second in the week) and thought I was in need of some direction and help making a decision. Both interviews went well and I had every confidence that I would make it through to the next round for both.

Within 15 minutes of leaving on Friday, I got a call from one of the principals at an interviewing school. It was a rejection, but it was the strangest rejection ever. She seemed legitimately sad to be not choosing me, saying that she just saw me in a high school position. That comment was strange, considering most of my experience has been in middle school. Her tone and other words were equally strange. I think she is really hopeful that I get the high school job I applied for . . . her own students feed into the other school. Anyway, it was just weird. And yes, rather disappointing. My next thought was then to go to the temple with fervent prayers that the other job would work out.

Fast-forward four hours later to the temple session. I felt really happy there--probably more attentive and reverent than I normally am. And I felt fine about the rejection, but with no need to pray about the other.  I didn't really have a strong impression that it will happen for me, necessarily. Instead I mostly felt very impressed that whatever happens we are in God's hands. There was a gentle reminder that He knows both our needs and wants and that He has never let us down yet. For some shining moments last night I knew that God recognizes our consecrated efforts to His Church and our family, and He will not let us down.

I am not without wonder and some anxiety about what happens next for us; it is my nature to be this way. But I'm not without faith, and I know that we have prepared both spiritually and temporally for whatever the Lord has in store for us next. Things may not unfold in the coming weeks how I want them too, but I believe today that they will transpire how they are meant to.