MTC Week One

Hello, hello, everybody!

I am emailing from the laundry room under the main hall. SO MANY WASHERS.

I don't even know where to start. I entered the MTC on Wednesday and just... whoa. I think of the MTC like a roller coaster. Normally, we go through life and we have our ups and downs, but on a mission it's all compressed so you go from the highest high to the lowest low in all of two seconds. I'll be smiling and excited one minute and the next I just want to crawl under my desk and cry.

So, yeah, it's great.

My companion, Sister Kent, is wonderful. When I first saw her, I inwardly freaked out and wanted to run away because I didn't know ANYTHING about her and I was being all loud and insecure, and she was being all quiet and insecure-- and it was terrifying. But I got over my terror by the end of the day and now I think she's just the best thing. If you need any proof, I played with my watch too much and ended up snapping it in half, so she bought me another one. She's great. :) (For other reasons too.)

I guess the next things to talk about are my teachers. They are just lovely. One of my teachers, Sister Reeves, is mind-blowing. There was this moment when she was teaching, and the Spirit was just so thick in the room, and it suddenly hit me that she is a missionary to missionaries. She will teach something, then stop and say, "That is not what God wants me to be teaching right now," and then take the lesson an entirely different direction. That's what she did last night in our talk about STRESS MANAGEMENT and class ended late with half the district crying all over the place. She got us to open up so the Spirit could clean us out and we could get back to work with Christ in the center of our lives. It was wonderful.

We walked to the temple on Sunday, then went again for a session this morning. It was raining something frightful this morning. My nice, lacy, memory-foam-soled shoes quickly became very uncomfortable. I may have also broken my umbrella. It was wonderful, though. As one of the older temples, the Provo temple has a beautiful, unique look that made me feel more at home than the Bountiful temple I went to last week. 

Life as a missionary is HARD, but I love it. Also, Sister Kent and I just went through a headache trying to find her whites somewhere in this maze of washers and dryers, so I don't have the mental faculties left to finish this. I'll try to write something better next week.

Much love,

Sister Hudson

District photo--minus our sisters' trio, who missed the memo and didn't make it on the trip

Sister Kent is from Ogden. She's headed to Billings, MT. So we're both getting ready to freeze our little toesies.She loves Brandon Sanderson, and Dr Who.

2 Nephi 4:34  O Lord, I have trusted in thee, and I will trust in thee forever. I will not put my trust in the arm of flesh; for I know that cursed is he that putteth his trust in the arm of flesh. Yea, cursed is he that putteth his trust in man or maketh flesh his arm.  

So I Got My Mission Call...

For those of you who only stopped in to see where I'm going, I have been called to the Canada Winnipeg Mission and will report to the MTC on March 16 (read: crazy soon!). Now go do your homework, rescue your screaming toddler from her crib, or lie on your couch and contemplate the effort it would take to stand up. I understand. You have more important things to do. (Seriously, Sariah, do your homework. I can wait.)

For the rest of you, I have a longer story. I'll try to keep it short but everyone knows I'm a little narcissistic and a little more longwinded... so no promises. 

I started working on my papers back in August but stalled out several times for MANY REASONS I won't go into. I finally had my interview with the stake president on December first and the wait ensued. It was promptly halted because of past promblems with depression and anxiety and I was sent to meet with LDS Family Services so that my capacity to serve as a missionary could be assessed, then left to wait until we heard back from them. 

SCARIEST MONTH OF MY LIFE.

Although I know that the problems I mentioned in my mission papers are long gone, I was terrified that I would be declared unfit to serve. On January 4th, the bishop told me that my results had come back and that everything was now in the stake president's hands. As we had already had our interview, didn't think the stake president would need to meet with me again.

So when I got a call on the morning of January 11th saying that the stake president wanted to meet with me, I was scared. The number one reason I could think of was that he wanted to break it to me gently that I was not going to be allowed to go. My mind was a warzone all through sacrament meeting as I fought with myself over the issue. But by the end of the meeting I had finally managed to place my mission on the altar and determine that if I wasn't allowed to go I could accept that the Lord had other plans for me and just be the best member missionary ever. 

I went into the interview pretty convinced that I was waving goodbye to my mission. (Cynical Proverb of the Day: Always believe the worst. That way you won't be disappointed. <--BAD ADVICE I LIVE BY TOO OFTEN) The stake president asked me a few questions he hadn't before, like how I would deal with the ups and downs of a mission. He also asked what I would do if I was called to the Canada Winnipeg Mission. (Important note for all non-Southern Albertans: Winnipeg is the mission all Albertans hold up as the primary specimen of Worst Mission Ever. It's right next door, but even colder.) I told him my plan to pray and open my mission call by myself so that -- wherever I went -- I would be able to take the time to know that the call came from God. 

Obviously, I passed the test. He sent my recommendation in later that week and the wait began for the second time. But this time was a lot brighter. Certain elements of stress I had been dealing with in December were gone. Life was generally sweet. Nervousness about the call disappeared and I was purely excited. 

Because I know that a watched pot never boils I figured that a persistently checked mailbox would only deliver bills and flyers and decided not to go for the mail until a week after the call had been issued. (It normally takes a week and a half for mission calls to reach Lethbridge area.) So I didn't check until Monday. It was empty, as expected. (Empty of anything important, that is. We never check the mail so the contents of the mailbox virtually exploded out when I unlocked the door.) I wasn't terribly excited to check the mail the next day because I didn't want to go home empty handed again, but Mom convinced me to check it just before I ran off to go to the temple and drop my siblings off at their play practice. 

When I found a white, rolled up envelope hiding behind amidst all the bills I did a double take. Checked twice to make sure that it really was from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to Sister Margaret Anne Hudson. Maybe somebody else would be sending me a large white envelope? I basically started hyperventilating then and there, then skipped out to the car as quickly as I could with my injured knee. My instinct was to drive straight home and hole up in my bedroom to open it, but there were people at home who would all talk in hushed voices and make the air buzz with anticipation. And ... well ... my room is a disaster zone right now. (Things have been crazy and I can't bend my knee enough to reach the floor easily, so cleaning has been tricky.)

I drove to the fishpond instead. There's a certain spot out on the trails there where I once went to pray and decide whether or not this really is God's church. (The answer was yes, btw.) The sentimentality of opening my call in the same place got to me. Unfortunately my skirt and light jacket didn't do much to keep me warm and it was freaking cold out there, so I only made it a quarter of the way out to my destination before I retreated to the warmth of my car. I was so agitated all through the walk that I kept pacing in circles, moving to open the letter right there on the trail, and then changing my mind. What if it's, like, Winnipeg? I thought, Or, (sorry, Lisa!), Minnesota? Carrying that envelope felt like handling a live grenade, and I didn't want to open it before I was ready.

Back in the car, I finally said a prayer and opened it. Although I tried not to skip ahead, none of the words really registered in my brain until I reached Canada Winnipeg Mission. I did a double take. And then I busted up laughing. Exactly the place that I chosen as my example of THE WORST place. I had spent months thinking about where I would go and saying things like: "Russia is cold, but at least it's cold and foreign, not like Winnipeg," or "Utah wouldn't be anything new and exciting, but it's warmer than Winnipeg."

My laughing quickly turned to bawling all over the place as the Spirit testified to me that this was where I was meant to go and that the Lord was mindful of me. It was just too much of a coincidence to be a coincidence; it was the Lord saying that He was looking out for all my needs and concerns. I really want to travel to foreign places, but I don't want my mission to be one of those missions that's treated like an extended vacation. Do you know what I'm talking about? I've always been one of those people who wants to know all about the cool places people served their missions and pities the people who get called stateside. Yeah, they act like they wouldn't rather be called someplace cool, but they're just delusional. 

Now I understand that missions are just different, not better or worse. The Lord sends us where He needs us and where we need to be. I know that I will grow so much more in Winnipeg than I would in Italy, much as I would love to serve in Italy. But I can go to Italy another time. I will go another time. (This is me making a commitment to all of you. Hold me to it.) My brother was so sorry for me when he heard where I was going because he knew how much I would love to serve someplace foreign, but I am not sorry for myself. Winnipeg is my mission. I used to think the name sounded weird but now I just think it's so pretty. Just say it. It's so soft and fluttery. And I'm excited to be serving in what must be one of the largest missions in the world. It takes up Saskatchewan, Manitoba, a substantial chunk of Ontario, and even tiny bits of Alberta and Minnesota. 

I have so much left to say but this post is way too long already. Suffice it to say that I love my mission, and I love my Heavenly Father, and I am so glad to have this opportunity dedicate 18 months of my life to bringing others to Christ.

I will post again soon. Hold me to it. 

(P.S. I am leaving in SIX WEEKS, people! Crazy amounts of preparation must be done and I want to see everybody as much as possible before I leave. I must find times to hang out with all of you, whether it be in person or over Skype. I love you all SO MUCH.)

Week of Patriotism

Personally, I think it's sort of hilarious that Canada Day and Independence Day are just three days apart. It makes for a very fun week in this mixed Canadian/American home. We went hiking in Waterton for Canada Day, just like last year, but I didn't take any pictures this time. I was a little busy hiking. And avoiding the dirt Sam was making fireworks with. (Note to all young boys: Dirt is NOT good for fireworks. Just wait until your water bottle is covered in dirt. Or, actually, don't. Just trust me and don't try it.)

I did take pictures at the parade in Raymond, though. Josh got a call the night before and ended up riding his dirt bike for said parade, so we went to watch him. In the rain. But, honestly, rain is better than sun if you're going to be sitting on the side of the street for an hour. 

And then today, for Independence Day, I made cupcakes. It was mostly to make up for July 1st, when I made cupcakes but never got around to icing them because we didn't get back from Waterton until way past my bedtime. I was a little worried about how the icing would turn out because it was a new recipe, but it turned out. A little soft, yes, but silky and beautiful. 

Anyway, the puppies are getting bigger and bigger. They eat up enough of my time that I've started thinking about how puppies are an excellent preparation for babies. Feed them, take them outside to pee, don't let the owls carry them off, keep an eye on them while they're sleeping... It's a lot of work. I will post pictures soon. Hopefully.

Birthdays-- AND PUPPIES!

It seems that I always end up posting on here for Sam's birthday. That was last week and he was a real champ about it. You know that little kid attitude of 'today is my birthday so everybody should be my personal slave'? Well, this year, he finally dropped it. He went around sowing peace and expressing gratitude. I'm so proud of my baby brother.

The Boy...

...and the cake.
I was pressed for time and so it didn't turn out quite nearly as well as it should have, but he loved it anyway.

In other news, our dog had puppies last month! Dad was away in BC at the time and didn't get back until last night. We have all fallen madly in love with the two puppies, and it probably adds to our love of them that we almost lost them several times over. They've been through a trying first month, but they're good and healthy now. We have yet to name them, but I'm calling them Truffle and Champion for the time being. 

Truffle

Champion

He's winking at us! 

A Little Victorian Tea Party...

Monday was Victoria Day. This is pretty much how it went in our house (Please excuse the cross-dresser. It was that or suffer death at the hands of the scalawag in white. Again.):

I'm glad Dad wasn't home or the craziness might have given him a heart attack. The house survived, though, and I guess that's all that matters.

Oh, I'm home, by the way.

Papers, Blessings and Art Galleries

So, this week has been pretty fantastic, which is funny because it is midterm week so it ought to have been terrible. I am just going to start at the beginning:

I had some eye-openers last Sunday. It started with some insights at church and then a not-so-gentle admonition that I was going to spend the rest of my life doing nothing but work if I didn't change something. I made the decision to stop worrying so much, put some more trust in the Lord, and live my life now the way that I want to be living in the future.

As previously mentioned, it was midterm week and so seemed to be a rather bad time to make such a choice. I spent all of the Saturday before on a course excursion to the National Art Gallery in Washington, D.C., so I had a bit of catching up to do on homework. In particular, I was worried about a research paper that I had barely found time to think about, let alone to work on.

This week has been filled with the most fantastic blessings in regard to that silly paper. First, my professor said that the papers could be turned in at class on Friday rather than Wednesday. Then I was given the rest of the week off on my shop hours because I had been so reliable in showing up. On Wednesday, the time for the papers to be due was extended to any time on Friday. Thursday, classes were cancelled because of the snow. Finally, on Friday, the professor said that we just had to have the papers in before he came to get them on Saturday morning.

All of these little things combined into a miracle that just blew my mind. I am quite sure that it was God's way of telling me not to worry because He had everything in hand and would take care of me if I did whatever I needed to do. I've spent the semester bogged down with all sorts of weights, and I'm feeling them lifting now as I turn them over into the hands of the Lord and only take back the part that He wants me to carry at this time. I am so, so glad.

One thing I'm planning to do now is keep in better touch with friends and family, so this blog ought to be seeing a bit more of me for the next little while. We'll see.

P.S. I didn't have much any extra time for photography in the National Gallery (in the five hours we spent there, I only managed to cover one floor of one wing), but here are a few pictures I snapped. Just to show you I was there. It was absolutely gorgeous. I must go back sometime.

Madame du Barry - 1770 - by Francois-Hubert Drouais

I loved this painting because she just looks so nice. The painting was very soft, pale and pretty. It doesn't come across right in the picture, but she just looked like the type of person you would want to know.

A Gentleman of the Zorzi Family - 1570/1580 - Alessandro Vittoria

I fell in love with this guy. The statue, not the artist. It probably helps that he's wearing armor. I've always had a soft spot for any guy in a uniform. It's the set of his jaw, I think; very determined, but carrying a hint of ideology...

Aquamanile in the Form of a Horseman - 13th Century - Probably English or Scandinavian

Guys, this is a pitcher. Not everybody gets that, so they don't appreciate its awesomeness. 

Please appreciate the awesome.

I failed here and didn't actually find out what she was called. Venus Washing, or something of the like. This is a fountain and the water -- wait for it! -- drips out of her hair. *mind blown* Also, it spews out of the mouth of the fish beside her. That is significantly more freaky and less cool.

Disjointed Dump of Seriousness

(Note: This wasn't ACTUALLY published until 2016, when I found the fully completed draft hiding out among all the published posts. I had finished it and completely forgotten to post. As a favor to the Meg of 2014, I decided to remedy that.)

I am ashamed. I said I would post more often, and I haven't posted in more than a month. In my defense, we had midterms in the middle of October and I just needed to give myself a break from HARD THINGS. Also, I spent the last few Sundays talking to people here or at home, which is rather more important than blogging. Right now, I ought to write in my journal, but I don't think I can do it with the guilt of this neglected blog riding on my conscience.

A few weeks ago, Dad asked me to rate my experience here at SVU on a scale of 1 to 10, and I placed it at 10. (I think. I don't actually remember what I said, but the sentiment was that of 10.) Have there been some things that haven't lived up to my expectations? Yes. The food is first on the list, but I can forgive that because I like to think that I wouldn't have reason to complain about it if I wasn't a paranoid vegetarian. As it is, many meals are slightly traumatic as I determine to turn a blind eye to the fact that someone just dropped a chunk of beef in the beans, etc. But the staff really tries to provide us vegetarians with food we can eat, and I appreciate the thought.

As I was preparing to come here, a lot of people asked me why I'm going so far away to school and the only answer I had to give them was that this is the only school I wanted to go to. That fact remains the same. I miss Canada. I was lying in bed last night and it suddenly occurred to me that if I go to school here, I'm probably going to marry an American and end up living in the US. The idea is painful, in a way. A lot of kids talk about how they didn't realize how much they loved their families until they left, but I always knew that my family was the most important thing to me. The place where I hold all my regrets is in my appreciation for my country and my tiny little Magrath. The USA was the one who fought the revolution, who has all the cool places and the hustle of a bustling nation, but there is a distinct tranquility about Canada that I really miss. Canada: the 'invisible' nation. Where 'everybody's nice' and the world just looks clean.

Even with all of that, I want to come back to this school. I recognize that I am insanely blessed in that I love all of my teachers. Homework and classes can pile up at times and make my life go crazy, but I still savor every opportunity to sit in class and soak up whatever the teacher has to tell me. I feel like I have the world at my fingertips, and it shows. My life is changing. I started NaNoWriMo yesterday, and everything that I have learned in Tyranny & Totalitarianism came spilling out as my main character was learning how to bring down a country. I have some sort of crazy dream about working at NASA now. Dad is going to be so happy when I come home and know how to use a drill and build a wooden flat. Over the past few years, I've felt like I just didn't like to learn, but I do now. I'm excited for life now.

As you may know, I spent the last year wishing to die. It got better in March, but I still didn't really have any idea of what my life would be like if I lived to old age. On the one hand, I had a sort of hazy idea about getting married and having kids, but I couldn't picture it anymore. The other option, the one where I spent my days doing things I didn't really care about and then came home to a place that was cold and dark and empty, was seeming far more likely. Both ideas scared me, but they don't anymore. It's funny because during those months of depression, I chose the second option in my head. It wasn't the one that I wanted, but it was the one I could see. Now, as my life has opened up, I can see myself being happy whatever happens. The idea of marrying somebody doesn't seem alien to me anymore, but I think I could be happy if it was my lot to live alone. I've learned to love life again, and that makes me happy.

Sorry for the disjointed dump of seriousness. It just sort of came out, but I think I'll keep it. If all the testimonies given in sacrament today give an accurate depiction, this last week has been pretty hard on everybody, but I'm feeling at peace now. I've decided to do NaNoWriMo this year, if you missed the reference above. It is going to require writing 2,000 words a day (besides homework), and I'm still not quite sure how I'm going to do it, but I feel like I need to get this story out of my head before I can move on with life. (And yesterday's writing was pretty stinking fun.)

Good luck with your lives. I love you all.