When I Remembered the True Meaning of Christmas

The week of November 25th-December 1st was a very rough week.

I don't mean that in an I-had-two-tests-and-it-was-kinda-hard way.  It was more of an I-was-so-busy-and-stressed-that-I-only-had-time-to-eat-three-real-meals-and-the-rest-of-my-sustenance-consisted-of-carefully-rationed-Andes-mints-and-ginger-cookies way.  True story.  I did not eat enough that week.

The week of death was scheduled to end with a dress rehearsal Thursday night and three performances Friday through Saturday of "Celebration of Christmas"--the annual Christmas concert of the four auditioned choirs at BYU (BYU Singers, Concert Choir, Men's Chorus, and Women's Chorus).

On top of the stress, the shortage of time, and the lack of any real kind of nourishment, it was a very rough week emotionally.  I had been deeply hurt that week--not intentionally.  No one had deliberately done anything that could or should have hurt me, but I was hurting, and I was struggling.  ...More than I would ever like to admit.  It was one of the few times in my life that I have seriously doubted my self confidence and my knowledge that I am a daughter of a Heavenly Father who would always love me.

I worked very hard to finish my schoolwork early in order to spend what energy I had left on the rehearsals and performances.  Even so, I was struggling to pay attention, and I had not yet found any meaning in the music to convey the audience.  (Sister Applonie encourages us each to make it our priority to uplift and convey messages of the Spirit to those in the audience.)  I just couldn't do it.  I wasn't feeling the Spirit to begin with, and the words I was singing had no meaning for me.  The feelings I had were not feelings of love, comfort, and joy--they were feelings of tiredness, loneliness, and an overwhelming sadness.  Those certainly weren't things I was supposed to share with the audience.

I didn't find the answer to my problem until the very last performance on Saturday night.

That day had been particularly hard.  I don't think I cracked a smile the whole day, and I was having a difficult time finding the strength to do what I was supposed to.  When I got to the HFAC  for the final performance, I--still unsmiling--went through the motions of warming up, and last-minute polishing of our pieces.

Right before we went on, Sister Applonie gave each of us an assignment.  She said:

"If you haven't yet found a meaning for this music or performance, let me suggest this:

What you need, give."

It struck a chord within me.

Women's Chorus was ushered onstage.  I stood, looking out at the audience, still unsure what to think or do or ask for.  We finished "Ding Dong Merrily on High" without a hitch, and I was waiting to start the second piece when a flood of thoughts hit me like a tsunami:

What I need is forgiveness.

I also need to find it within my heart to forgive.

I need to feel loved.

I also need to love those around me--even those that hurt me.

I need to know that I am not alone.

I also need to help others see that they are never alone.

As I sang and sang, tears streamed down my face.  I finally found what I needed to share with the audience and what I needed for myself.  I finally sang with an open heart.  As we sang the last verse, a feeling of deep love and reverence came over me.

What can I give Him?

Poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb.

If I were a wise man, I would do my part.

Yet, what I can I give Him;

Give my heart.

I thought of the baby whose birth we celebrate at Christmas time, and as I did I thought of something I hadn't before.  Yes, it is wonderful that He came to the earth, just as it is with every child who does.  However, the greatest miracle is in why He came.  He came to teach us, to lift us up, and most of all He came to redeem us.  He is the Savior, my Savior--the Prince of Peace.

Because of Him, I can find the strength and comfort to cope with every trial.  When I was trying very hard, but still couldn't find it within myself to completely forgive, He filled my deficit.  I can be, do, and become so much more because of Him.

At that moment, a great weight was lifted from me.  I was so grateful I could almost feel the comfort hugging me.  I was not only reminded of the Savior, Jesus Christ, and who he is, I was reminded who I was--a daughter of God.

The rest of the concert was swell except for the final song.  It was glorious.  As we all sang "The First Noel," I imagined what it would have been like to be in the chorus of angels that sang the real first noel.  What would it have been like to participate in that heavenly choir and see the glorious event of the Savior's birth?  In my little, mortal mind, I can't even begin to imagine, but I'm sure it was wondrous.

So, in the true spirit of the season, I would like to wish you all a very, very merry Christmas.  May we always remember the true reason for our celebration, and may we keep it in our hearts and minds all year--especially during times of hardship, trial, and doubt--for He is the source of the comfort and strength to get through such times.

For those of you who would like to watch the performance, here is a streaming of it:
(Women's Chorus starts at 16:00-ish, and the First Noel is 1:21:00-ish.  Come, Thou Long Expected Jesus (45:00) is also wonderful.)

When It's Nice Out

On Saturday, it was nice out.  I don't just mean it was sunny, so I wouldn't have to wear my boots--it was really nice out.  This was following two weeks of cold-ish/wet-ish/pretty-but-I-should-have-worn-a-coat-today weather.  It even hailed last week.

SO it's understandable that I was stir-crazy on Saturday.  I was sitting inside thinking about all I was supposed to do, but I couldn't stop fidgeting.  And then I did what any cabin-fevered, remotely athletic, self-respecting person would do.

I told my siblings I was going to play tennis, and they should come along.

Sam, bless his dear heart, was the only one who agreed, so we went and played.  And it was oh so wonderful.

BUT.

Sam had to be home approximately an hour after we started playing.

And that amount of physical exertion didn't quite satiate the need I was feeling.  So I did what any other human being would do when I got home.  I went on a bike ride.

And after biking, I still wasn't done.  So I asked Hannah if she wanted to go play soccer for a while.

And when we were done with that, I still wasn't done.  So we played catch with my frisbee for a while.

And when we came in from that, I looked at the contents of my duffle bag that were strewn all over my bed and I realized that I had used every bit of sporting equipment I had ever brought to college.  All in one day...

Cleats and soccerball?  -Check!
Frisbee?  -Check!
Bike, jersey, heart-rate monitor, helmet, Camelback, gloves, etc?  -Check!
Tennis racket and basketball shoes?  -Check!

And then I saw it.  There, in the bottom of my duffle bag was my baseball mitt.

I was on a roll!  I couldn't just let it be the only thing I neglected!  However, to my horror, I found I had not a baseball to catch with it.  There was only one thing to be done.

Hannah and I ran around our apartment complex in desperation trying to find someone--anyone--who had a baseball or softball to be caught.  We must have knocked on 5 doors until we finally found our man!  We took his baseball, tossed it a few times, and then went home happy.

Abi could finally say that she brought all that stuff to college for a reason.

The Computer: And other sad stories

Actually, I'm only going to bore your mind with one sad story in this post, BUT rest assured.  After the explanation of my neglecting you all for so long, I shall indeed post many a tale.  I promise.  BUT first things first...

Once upon a time there was a little girl.  For the sake of this story, we shall call her A. Christensen-- no--Abigail C.  This bright, radiant, and delightful girl possesses the misfortune of making mistakes.  So many mistakes.  So many expensive mistakes.  The kind of mistakes that you think may happen, but don't really believe will happen to you.  Those kind of mistakes.

This particular mistake happened to her computer.  And water.  And we all know that electronics and water Do. Not. Mix.  Right? Right.

'Twas one jolly night when said girl needed to clean herself up after a mountain bike ride.  One obstacle stood in her way between sweaty and aimless wandering and squeaky-clean sleep.

The light in the bathroom had gone out.

Oh well! she thought, I'll just play music on my computer, and that will be enough light.  But what if something bad happens to your computer?  You only got it last Christmas! . . .  Oh posh!  That won't happen to me!


I should have knocked on wood.

I showered.  I brushed my teeth.  I combed my hair and went to bed. And when I woke up the next morning, my computer screen would not turn on.  And through a succession of reparative action, 'twas decided that it was not worth it to fix the computer.

So, here I sit with a Macbook Pro hooked up to a monitor that my very kind, caring, and understanding father was generous enough to lend me.  'Tis a grand solution, and I'm glad I didn't lose all my stuff.  I'll just have to pay for it later.  Again.

Ugh.  Sometimes, I'm sooooo.... unsmart.

An Ode My Father

Today, I have spent a good deal of time thinking about Daddy.

He is a wonderful man.  He taught me how to hike, camp, raft, backpack, learn, and love life.  He is definitely one of the biggest blessings in my life.  I would like to tell you a little story about him.

Last summer, I was employed by my dad.  He runs a cabinet/carpentry business and a granite business. I was employed full time to work in the granite shop.  Start to finish, I cut the stone, rodded it, glued it, edged it, polished it, installed it, the works.  I can make a granite countertop, my friends.  I can.

Dad taught me how.  He taught me everything I know.  As I worked, there came a time when I had made enough counter tops and understood the work well enough that we developed a really nice system.  He would draw the plans, explain to me what needed to happen, and then I would get to work and come ask questions as needed.

One day, we went through this process, and I went back into the shop to start cutting out the stone.  About 1/3 of the way through my cuts, I looked again at the plans and realized that what I was doing was not in line with the way it was supposed to turn out.  I had cut out the stone completely wrong.

Now, had I not gone to college or understood just how much a slab of that particular granite cost, I probably would have reacted differently.  As I had gone to college, the worth of a dollar had taken on an entirely new meaning for me.  I stepped back, looked at my handiwork, and realized that in approximately ten minutes, I had completely ruined something that was a monetary equivalent to a semester's worth of tuition at BYU.  I was beyond mortified.  I had a complete meltdown.  I stared at my work mentally beating myself up.  How could I have made a mistake that bad???

It took me about ten minutes to work up the courage to go tell Dad what I had done.  I was afraid.  I was afraid we would have to scrap it, and he would have to eat the cost of my mistake.  I was afraid we weren't going to make our deadline.  Most of all, I was afraid he would be disappointed in me.

I walked to his office a complete basket-case.  I told him, and he came back with me to the table. ...and he reacted.

There was no anger, frustration, or disappointment to be found.  He didn't send me home so I wouldn't ruin anything else.  He asked me a few questions so he could figure out where the misunderstanding had been.  He measured a few things, and then told me exactly what to do to get the rest of the countertop to fit.  He told me how to fix it, and he made sure that I could see that everything was still alright.  He put his arm around me and told me that I didn't have to cry over it.  Then, he went to his office and left me-- trusting that I could do what he had asked.

I learned a tremendous lesson in that moment.  I learned how I should react in such situations.  I learned a great deal about my father's patience, and I saw just how much he loved me.  That day was one of the worst and best days of the summer.  It was a day when I realized, once again, how wonderful Dad is.

I don't know what I did to be blessed with the wonderful parents I have, but I am very grateful for them.  They are such a blessing in my life.  Together, they have shown me what is most important, and they have shown me how to love.

I love my parents, and especially my dad.  He's a wonderful man.  And I love him.

Update on the morning in the HFAC

This is an update to this post.

This morning I was reading some talks online at lds.org when I thought I should see if Mary Ellen Edmunds had given any talks.  She had, and I read a few.  My favorite article was this one.  She has so many stories to tell about her mission experiences.  It was a wonderful article!

If you want to read anything else she wrote, go here.  There are lots of little treasures there. :)

This one is also pretty great. :)

"As an instrument in the Lord's hands, I could comfort others when they are faint, I could take time to hear their soul's complaint, wipe away their tears, calm their troubled hearts, and love them to the end, just as the hymn tells us that the Savior does these things for us.  But he needs my participation, he needs my willingness to serve, to be an instrument in his hands.  He wants me to stop and help others.  He wants all of us to stop and help those in need; to be good Samaritans."

A Great Discovery!

Friends!  Romans!  Countrymen!  Lend me your ears.... so I can tell you about a wonderful thing I've re-discovered.  I've been reading it over today, and I've been laughing.  Hard.  Out loud.  And I've read most of them before.  Here it is:

This blog.

The author has been my neighbor for the past 8 months.

Read it.  It's sooooo fabulous.

:D

Lord, I Would Follow Thee

Tomorrow, Women's Chorus is singing at Brigham Young University's graduation.  Elder Oaks is speaking too, and I'm so excited.  Because we're singing tomorrow, we had a practice this morning.  Vocal warmup and song practice at 10:00 A.M.

What a lovely way to start a morning-- a small group of women in the Madsen singing hymns together.  It was a happy time for me, so I thought I would share the words below.  Enjoy the two verses written especially for the BYU Nursing Program.

Savior, may I learn to love Thee,

Walk the path that Thou hast shown,

Pause to help and lift another, 

Finding strength beyond my own.

Savior, may I learn to love Thee--

Lord, I would follow Thee.

I would be my brother's keeper, 

I would learn the healers art.

To the wounded and the weary,

I would show a gentle heart.

I would be my brother's keeper--

Lord, I would follow Thee.

Stir my heart with love's compassion

When, in weakness, I withhold.

I would heal as Thou hast healed me,

Comfort, strengthen, and enfold.

Stir my heart with love's compassion--

Lord, I would follow Thee.

Precious, fleeting, is my time here

Whisper wisdom to my mind

Courage when my heart is aching

Faith when fear is all I find.

Precious, fleeting, is my time here--

Lord, I would follow Thee.

--"Lord, I Would Follow Thee" by Susan Evans McCloud

Friday Morning in the HFAC

I was blogging.  I was sitting at the wooden desks that surround the stairs.  Women's Chorus had performed a beautiful arrangement of Lord, I Would Follow Thee for the School of Nursing's 60th birthday.  It was relatively quiet until everyone at the conference came out of the De Jong for a break and some snacks.  A little lady came and sat down on the bench beside me.

We didn't talk until she turned to me, and said:
Lady:  Are you going to be here for a little while?
Me:  Yeah, what do you need?
Lady:  I'll be right back, but I need someone to watch my bag for me.  Would you do that?
Me (smiling): I sure can.
Lady:  Thank you very much! ...(with a twinkle in her eye) When I come back, the code is "Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah."

And she was off!  I laughed at how cute she was and kept blogging.  A little while later, she came back and whispered "Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah" before taking her seat again.  We laughed for a little while.  She shook my hand and asked me my name and where I was from.  She wondered how my semester was going and wanted to know about my major.  She shared some stories and I shared others.

She asked me what my favorite part of General Conference was, and we talked about President Uchtdorf's advice to "stop it," and about how parents were advised to let their children make guided decisions.  We had a lovely discussion about some life experiences that proved what we learned from General Conference.  She told me stories of her life, and she was a tip-top story-teller too!

Shortly thereafter, the ushers ushered everyone back into the De Jong for more of the conference, and she shook my hand and said goodbye.  I went smiling back to my blogging, but about three minutes later, she came back, sat by me excitedly, and asked:

Lady: Can I tell you an early Easter joke?
Me:  Haha!  Sure!
Lady:  Did you hear about the pregnant Easter bunny?
Me:  Nope
Lady:  (smiling) She had an in-grown hare!

Hahaha! :D We both cracked up laughing before she left to go to the conference for reals.

She was the kindest, sweetest lady.  I was so happy she sat down to visit with me!  I took note of her name-tag because I didn't want to forget who she was.  Her name was Mary Ellen Edmunds.  Little did I know that she's done a jillion missions and health missions, is popular LDS speaker and author, and was a member of the General Relief Society Board for 11 years.  Someday, I'm going to brighten other peoples' days like she did mine.

I'd better get practicing! :)

Ooohhh, Tom...

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about Tom.

Tommy right before leaving to the MTC!

Tommy and I have been a swell pair for as long as I can remember.  He's a handsome man, a fabulous cousin, a swell chap, a smart son, and a grrrreat missionary, and as I've been missing him and reminiscing this week I've been laughing at the fun and the funny times we've spent together.

__________________________

I remember when we were both in Mrs. Carson's and Mrs. Turner's first grade class.  We were oh so grown up and ready for this thing called school, but that didn't mean Tom was above being mollycoddled.  Everyday, when story-time came, the class would gather around the piano while Mrs. Carson would sit on the bench and read to us.  More often than not, Thomas would sit by me.  He'd lean over, put his head on my knee and quietly say, "Abi, pretend like you're cutting my hair."

Haha! At that age, I didn't think it was an odd request, and I was happy to take care of little Tom.  I would sit there pulling sections of his hair up between my left middle and index fingers and gently "snip off" the ends with the same fingers on my right hand. :]

__________________________

I remember when his oldest brother graduated from high school.  We were about 10-11 years old, and Ben was graduating as valedictorian of his class.  I don't think I knew what that meant before this time, but I could tell it was something important.  In our eyes, Ben had done something amazing, and he deserved to be honored.  Well, the two of us did honor him... in the form of a friendly competition.  From that time, Thomas and I decided we were going to not only do our school work well, we were going to do it competitively.  One of the two of us was going to be valedictorian at our graduation.  And I couldn't let it be Thomas.  I just couldn't!  I wouldn't let it happen!

This was our attitude when it started, but it soon became something we enjoyed.  While working hard in school and trying to do our best on our own, Tommy and I soon discovered that we would both get further (and beat out the rest of our competition) if we helped each other.  Tom was very good at math (which I could only do with a lot of work and struggle), and I was fabulous at English.  As we went through Jr. High and high school, we often studied together.  Thomas would tutor me in Algebra, Trig, and Calculus while I would proofread his papers and help him understand grammatical concepts.  It was a great system.

When the time came to graduate, we both had a 3.99 GPA.  (We both got Bs in second-semester Trigonometry.)  However, due to his meritorious accomplishments in various other areas and a lot of other analyzing stuff that I wasn't a part of and didn't understand, Thomas was valedictorian.  I wasn't sad.  By that age, I realized I didn't want to speak in front of everyone.  In my eyes, Thomas had more than earned it.  He could have done swell in English without my help, but I never would have passed Trig (or Calculus) without him.  I beamed at him while he imparted of his wisdom to all of the graduates.  I was so proud! :D

_____________________________

When we were in 8th grade, the Jr. High school decided to start an intramural program, and Thomas wanted to win the volleyball championship.  He put together a rockin' team of sharp, skilled, and savvy boys, BUT alas!  While anxious to play and win, none knew how the game of volleyball was to be played.  So Thomas came to me.  I played on the girls team in 7th grade, but decided not to play in 8th grade.  Thus, I was the best tutor for these athletic boys.

I taught, and we all played--me, the lone girl among this team of boys.  Did we follow the rules?  Mmm...kinda.  There really was only one team that followed them strictly, so it didn't really matter.  Were we good?  Oooohhh yeeeaaahh.  In fact, we made it to the championships.  There we were in our intramural face-off: Thomas's team of boys + me, versus.... the 8th grade volleyball team.  I felt a little like a mercenary.  I had deserted my original sisterhood to play with these rule-breaking boys.  We played; they played.  We were playing for fun (and breaking a lot of rules); they were playing aggressively and by the book.  The ref didn't call our "mistakes," so we kept making them.  The girls complained, and the ref didn't care.

In the end, we won.  We schooled them by at least 10 points.  We laughed and smiled because it felt good to win, but we didn't care.  The girls team, however, were angry at being beat by a rag-tag team.  It took a while to get on good terms again, but I didn't care.  To be honest, I was just happy that Thomas asked me to play.

______________________________

Then the time came to leave for BYU.  I, eager to make sure I was in the classes I needed, was awake until midnight to register.  Thomas didn't even know what day he could register or which classes he could take or when or who from.  He came over that night and, confused about what to do, ended up registering for a few of the same classes I was in.  I thought he would change it later, but he didn't.  (Which made me happy.)  Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays we spent all morning together (until he stopped going to PS100).  ;)

Music 101 followed where we sat together again.  This was great for me because the Madsen was cold in the mornings.  I made him put his arm next to mine on the armrest because that kept me warm enough to think and take notes.  If he moved his arm and forgot to put it back, I would get after him.  He would look at me--laughing, but apologetic--and put it back to keep me warm.  Haha!  He's such a good cousin to me!

Now, I've definitely had my full share of blessings in my life, but Thomas really is one of the biggest ones.  I sure am lucky to have a cousin like him! :)

A Summary

Sometimes, I look at the pictures on my computer.  And sometimes I remember how wonderful my life is.  And other times, I realize how many things I haven't told you.  So!  I'm gonna let you know now.  :]  Are you ready?  Here we go...

2011 in pictures:

January:

The last time the three of us were together...

Tommy-Boy went to the MTC!

Off to Guam!

Concert Choir performed in the Tanner Building!

Liza is now Concert Choir President.  (And she's gorgeous.)

Megan, Sam, and I went to see her.  First row seats! Yeah! ;)

February:

I went to Seattle with these fellows. :D

 Baptisms in the Seattle Temple! :)

 We saw the sights...

 ...And had a bonfire on a sandy, Washington beach.  With a view of the Seattle skyline.

 It was veeeeery cold. And Eric took good care of us.

 We took Caprisun and Funfetti cake to Elder Craig Darrington.
Marie: "...he's kind of like...our dog."  Hahaha :D

 Washington is B-E-A-Utiful.

 ...and so's Alissa.

 ...and Eric. ;)

March:  it happened.  

And this happened in it.  Yes, that is a message-line from one building to another.

As did April...

Which brought General Conference...

 ...and Jr. Miss.  Yay Madi! :D

May: 

Found me here...

 ...workin' at the granite shop with Pa. :)

 And havin' fun with the cousins.

  Mother's Day

June:

Saw these boys off:
Tyler Dan to Panama City...
(My cousins give me what they call "Monkey Hugs.")  The weirdies.

And Benny-Man to Quezon City...

June also took me here:

 And to Oceanside...

 To a bonfire on a California beach with a view of the San Diego skyline. :)

 ...and to San Elijo.

And here...

With these champions.

And then it took me here...

And over the course of the summer (June, July, and August) these things happened:

 Chicago Ball with the cousins!!! :)

 Harry Potter Premier!

Fall (August, September, and October) brought BYU, Autumn, and this...

 Dancesport!

 Fall colors!

And Women's Chorus (for me) and Concert Choir (for Liza)! :)

November:

Mike and I took Eric to the MTC!

 Handshake! ;)

 ...and I mailed him a pie. :)

And December brought:

The Second Annual Christensen Christmas Ball!

 And almost constant power-outages. We're awesome.

 See? Told ya so. ;)

And last but not least, the biggest event of 2012 thus far.....

Liza's engaged to Mr. Morgan!  Huzzah!  They're great.

The end.