ryan didn't start this fire

Sirens and flashing lights are a commonplace occurrence here in the city. They are even more common, in my neighborhood. So common in fact, that I usually sleep right through them. However, visitors do not and that is probably a good thing.

Recently my close childhood friend, Cheri, came to visit. One night, after a very long day, I lay sleeping in my room which faces the street. Cheri slept down the hall in the living room and was suddenly woken by some yelling. Sound carries well in the building so it sounded as if it was right outside the door. Unfortunately, she wasn't able to make out what they were saying...multi-lingual building.

Then as she continued to lay there, she started to smell smoke, closely followed by raging sirens which happened to stop right in front of the building. Now a little more alert, she sat up, looked down the hall and saw the flicker of red light. It was at this point that she decided to wake her unresponsive host.

She flipped on the light, explained the situation, and we both hopped on my bed to look out the window. Down below were two fire trucks, a fire marshall, three cop cars and a whole bunch of men in uniform teeming around the street. Not knowing what to do we walked to the front door to see if we could see anything. Remembering the fire safety training of my elementary years, I decided to put my hand near the door to see if it was hot before I slowly opened the door. We didn't see anything, but the smoke was definitely permeating the building and it reeked of burning.

We ran back to the bedroom and peered out the window yet again and noticed that the firemen really weren't doing anything. They did, however, keep looking up in our direction. It was at that moment that I wished everyone knew ASL so that I communicate with them without having to open my window, yell down to the street, and look completely pathetic. After much debate, Cheri and I decided that it would be best if we called 911 to see whether or not they were just having a party or if we needed to evacuate.

I called 911 and they transferred me to the fire department. I explained the situation and told them that we just wanted to know whether or not people were leaving the building and we hadn't received the memo. I was told that they were going to send someone up. I told them that it wasn't necessary and that we just need to know the status of the building. Apparently they didn't understand me because they told me that they were sending someone over.

About 1 minute later, we heard another firetruck pull up, sirens blaring and everything. We decided we had better make ourselves somewhat presentable if we were going to have company.

Two minutes later, there was a knock on our door...then it turned into pounding. I hurried to answer the door and five firemen spilled into my doorway. Did they run?

Completely embarrassed at this point, I explained, yet again, the situation and asked if we had anything to worry about. The spokesman of the group proceeded to tell me that someone on the second floor had burned their dinner. Who cooks dinner at 2:00am??? That's what I want to know. One of the other fireman volunteered to come in and open my windows for me. I told him that I was fine, but almost felt bad because he looked a little deflated upon my response. Oh well.

So in the end, we were safe, but the night did not prove to be restful. The smell of smoke eventually drifted away and all we were left with was a fun memory of firemen and firetrucks. Sad thing is, neither of us can even remember if the fireman were cute! So many women's fantasies and niether of us can really remember. Boo.

true devotion

Amidst the thousands of reasons that I love the Fall, General Conference is among them. Finding myself in a place that I've never before been, I approached this round of Saturday sessions with questions and hope for answers. I could comment endlessly on the things that were shared, that which I heard and felt--but instead I wanted to comment on Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin's message. Whether he was cognizant of this or not, the power of Elder Wirthlin's message came not only through his words, but also his actions. While his prepared message of Charity and "what defines us" as members was something I needed to hear, what I found most profound was his delivery.

These last few years I have eagerly awaited his Conference addresses. He always seems to address topics that are of particular interest to me. He has this fabulously dry sense of humor which makes me laugh. And more than that, I adore it when he laughs at his own jokes or pauses for the congregation to catch on. I love this man. So as he began to share with us the feelings of his heart, those watching closely noticed a subtle shaking overcome his aging frame. As he continued to share his message of love, the shaking continued and got progressively worse. I, along with every member, I'm sure, began to worry for his immediate health. I wanted to reach out and steady him and wondered if he would need to sit down. Elder Nelson, at this point, came up from behind him and put his hand on his arm. I wasn't sure if he was trying to convince him to sit down or rather, he was simply steadying him.

The shaking continued. Elder Nelson stood by. The anxiety of those watching was tangible. And yet Elder Wirthlin continued. Gripping the sides of the podium and with intense focus, he read his talk, never skipping a beat. Despite uncontrollable shaking and labored breath, Elder Wirthlin finished his message of hope, bore his testimony of love and of the gospel, and resisted the all-to-easy option of just sitting down.

As I watched this beloved apostle struggle to make it to the end of his message I was struck by his devotion to his calling, to the gospel, and to God. He was not going to sit down without finishing what he was called to do. In my mind, in that moment, and even now, there was not a greater example of true discipleship or of how we should conduct our lives.

I'll be the first to admit that I have been wallowing lately. Not proud of it. Not done with it. That's just where I am. But Elder Wirthlin demonstrated today that life is not about "sitting down" even when things are extremely difficult. The inclination to do so is easy and almost natural. Instead what we should be doing is standing, gripping the sides of the podium, holding on with all our might to things that are true and things that steady us, and finish our assigned task--that which we call life.

I do not know what the future holds. I anticipate the journey to be arduous, but it's nice to know and it's good to see examples of faith and true devotion like what I saw today.

could it be worse?

"When you try your best, but you don't succeed
When you get what you want, but not what you need
When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse."

"When the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone, but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?"

Penned by Coldplay these depressing words seem to speak to me. Intense and emotional by nature, I find meaning in life through relationships. Money, prestige, power, career, opportunity--everything the world deems as important seems to pale in comparison with an intimate attachment to another person. In my mind's eye, nothing is more important than a friend or a family member, another human being. Loyalty, even before self-preservation.

But life has taught me that few people share this. The natural instinct to take the easy road or to bail when things are tough usually overpowers any inclination to make a continued effort--to make a sacrifice. Holding others to this same standard could be thought of as impractical or a little rigid. Many make that argument. But for me, when push comes to shove, when it is time to hit the pavement, I will not deviate. A promise is a promise and nothing will cause me to go back on my word. I do not understand the other option.

And so these words caught hold of me. Losing those I love is one of the greatest challenges that I will ever face in this lifetime. It is crippling. But I cannot think of a greater "hell on earth" than having someone you love choose to leave, choose to walk away, choose to break promise upon promise. Loving someone--not necessarily romantically (but those relationships would absolutely qualify)--and having them throw it back in your face is devastating. Love completely wasted. History, experiences, and feelings disregarded. Disposed, just like that. Selective selfishness over sacrifice. I ask you, could anything be worse? My answer? NO.

Fix You
http://youtube.com/watch?v=r259kFx3l7g

so long summer

Finally, the city has blessed us with Fall. I cannot even begin to explain the personal gratification I feel from saying goodbye to hot and humid in exchange for cool and crisp. But before our three weeks of Fall disappear, I thought it only appropriate to recap the summer...well, at least part of it.

Jared Dahl--an icon in New York City for the last four years left us this summer to move onto "greener pastures" in Southern California. Jared really deserves his own blog of a tribute, but we will settle for a portion of one. Jared was an integral part of the whole "system" out here. Making "statements" left and right, preventing the ward from collapsing upon itself, and philosophizing about life in all its complexities were some of his greatest talents. Additionally, Jared was and is a true friend to all who knew him. Serving and sacrificing behind the scenes, Jared enriched the lives of those around him. Needless to say, we missed him when he left and we are still missing him even now. (Jared is the one in the 2nd row in the middle.) And as this sounds similar to that of a eulogy, let me just clarify that he is alive and well...last time I heard from him at least.

Sometimes, I just love my job!

One of the perks about non-profits is that they are usually generous with their vacation days. As has been tradition since I moved here, I go home every July for a good chunk of time. While there, I went to a luau that my brother and sister performed at. Oh, how I miss the Polynesian culture. New York city is basically devoid of all things Polynesian. Why am I here again?

Here are more pictures of the visit home. I love my family. (1) Me and Kat (2) James taking after my dad and practicing the fire knife dance. He's pretty good. (3) Me and mom at dinner (4) Grandma and me in Vernal (5/6) My cousin Greg's family....part of them anyway (7) a picture of my Grandpa when he was a little boy.

Sarah Swensen--Just as the beginning of summer started with an icon leaving, so will the summer end. Sarah Swensen, another vital organ to the city's makeup will be leaving us on Monday for adventures unmeasured. Starting in Senegal then moving onto Mali, Sarah will be spending the remainder of the year in Africa. A love of adventure and a desire for a change prompted the overseas move. As with many, she will begin her new chapter of life in Northern California. Sarah is one of the kindest, most generous people I have ever met. She is one of the reasons I love this city as much as I do. I will sorely miss her laugh, her stories, her laughing at her own stories, her willingness to just hang out or experience a new adventure, her compassion, and simply her zest for life. She has become one of my dearest friends and I am truly sad to see her leave. We maximized the summer by walking the Brooklyn Bridge, watching the US Open at Madison Square Park, going to movies, having dinner, and just spending time together. I will miss my Malia and Sarah time desperately. Love you lots!

As indicated earlier in my blog, my family experienced a great tragedy. My cousin, his wife, and his youngest daughter were killed in a car accident leaving their 8-year-old daughter behind. I was fortunate enough to be able to fly home to be with the family. It's all still very surreal and our family is obviously left with a huge void. We are lucky, however, to have the knowledge that we do have of eternal families. But still, we miss them very much.

A little New York lovin'...

U.S. Open--Miss Livi first introduced me to the possibility of the US Open here in the city. I don't know why this is the first time that I have done this my entire four years of living here. It was so awesome. My dear friend Livi is a hoot and a holler and makes everything, and I mean everything, fun. We saw Serena Williams and Mr. Roger Federer (dreamy!) and even John McEnroe--someone I remember watching with my dad when I was little. As you can see, he is smiling for my picture. Isn't that nice? Needless to say, I had a blast and love tennis even more than I did before.

So that was my summer in all its glory. Here's to Fall!

1/2 + 1/2 = 1

The other day a kid came into my office to ask me for help with his homework. “Sure!” I said enthusiastically as he sauntered over to my desk. He put his backpack down and pulled out his math workbook. He opened it and there it was staring back at me—“Adding and Subtracting Fractions”. I looked over the worksheet, reading the instructions and searching frantically for a sample problem. But alas, there wasn’t any. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember how to do this simple math problem. I remember something about having to find the lowest common denominator, but even then, I couldn’t remember how to do it! Remembering that tutors don’t necessarily have to know the subject matter, I pulled out some “tutoring strategies” that I teach my mentors. I asked, “So, tell me about this problem. What are you supposed to do?” “I don’t know,” he responded. “Ok, well, what do you remember your teacher telling you about these kinds of problems? Do you remember anything that she wrote on the board?” “Nope.” Feeling desperate now, I asked, “Well, what do YOU think you are supposed to do?” “I don’t know, that’s why I came to you,” was his innocent reply.

It was at that point that I was grateful I was in front of a computer. We looked up “Adding and Subtracting Fractions” and figured out how to do the problems together and he went on his way. But there I was, a working professional with a Master’s degree, and I couldn’t do simple 6th grade math. I was mortified. Later that week I went to the store to buy a 6th grade math workbook. I’m proud to say that I can knock those babies off without much thought now.

Just in case any of you would like a little practice, here are two helpful websites:

Fact Monster
Scholastic