In the Saturday afternoon session of the Fall 2011 General Conference, Ian S. Arden of the Quorum of the 70 gave a talk that hit home for me. He spoke on the the importance of managing your time wisely. I have recently just been thrust into the adult world and for the first time in my life, I am living completely on my own without parents, or really, with anyone in higher command. Of course there is the residence assistant in my hall, but I am actually older than she is (which makes it difficult to take her seriously), and she doesn't get after us for basically anything. My life and responsibilities and COMPLETELY my responsibility now. I don't have mommy or daddy to remind me to get things accomplished, how my life turns out is determined solely by me. With being on my own, no one is there to tell me how much time I can spend with media. This is difficult for me because the media (such as the internet and texting) is a big temptation for me.
Some quotes that I took note of during his talk are:
-each day everyone is given the same amount of minutes
-in family relationships, love is spelled T-I-M-E
-we cannot allow media to push aside the most important things
-let us be as quick to kneel as we are to text
-we have to be the master of technology, don't allow it to be the master of us
-what are we doing with our time to help us prepare to meet God?
Two of my greatest passions in the world are soccer and Africa. It's not enough for me to just say that I "love" these things, they truly are my passions. I am a very intense soccer player, and still play even now that I am out of high school. My senior year of high school I was the number one goalie in the state of Indiana. It's not just a sport for me, but it's a time to get away. It is an oasis. Additionally, I have a passion for Africa. Ever sense I was in the 7th grade, and did a very expansive project on the country of Kenya, have I had this feeling of connection with it. Most people I tell that to don't understand why and look at me as if I have some odd infatuation. But in reality, it's more than that- I can feel the Spirit touch me whenever I think of Africa, hear tribal music, or anything related to the continent. I've always been puzzled about why that particular location, but Heavenly Father knows why and that's enough for me. I know that my career, or one of the big aspects of my life, has to do with Africa; there's no way that I can feel this way and not be destined to be involved with it.
For this reason, I decided if I wanted to be interested in my paper and motived to continue to write about a research topic, I needed to include those two elements. Therefore, I my research topic is, "How televised soccer has affected African people, politics, and economy."
“It’s a clear violation of church and state.” To say that my high school, Lebanon High School (LHS), was slightly socially liberal would be the understatement of the century.The school seemed to be plagued with one controversy after another.The controversies have been so high-profile that they have even appeared as the feature story of shows such as The Tyra Banks Show and The Tonight Show with Jay Leno.I found myself in the midst of the latest controversy during my senior year of high school.
Since the founding of my school, holding an invocation during graduation had been a celebrated tradition. However, in more recent years, public prayer was completely and utterly banned from the school. For my entire high school career I was voted as class president, and I had the privilege of being the representative of my class as a collective unit.
Let’s not be mistaken, Lebanon was a fantastic place to grow up.It was one of those suburbs that you could walk down the street at night by yourself and feel comfortable, leave your front door unlocked, and everyone you came in contact with at the supermarket asked not only you were doing, but you entire family as well- regardless whether you knew them or not.After all, we weren’t known as “The Friendly City” for nothing.Not only did I adore Lebanon, but I loved the school even though I did not agree with their political/social standings. The people at the school weren’t bad people by any means, in my opinion, they were just a little misdirected.LHS had one fear and that one fear was lawsuit.They took every preventative measure possible to avoid such a dreaded occurrence.They were like scared little children cowering in the corner waiting for some make-believe father to come and lash them with his make-believe belt.
As President of my senior class one, I was in charge of graduation.Because of the school’s extreme terror, anyone who went against the school’s wishes would be in a world of trouble (and in my situation, possibly have my diploma revoked). Yet, here I was having to represent myself, my class, …and my God.So, here I was faced with the decision: to pray or not to pray, that was the question.
“Guys…I want to have a prayer at Graduation, “ I announced to my class counsel members.“We’re right behind you, so do we,” they replied.We knew that we were going to have to be sneaky about the whole process because legally, no teacher was allowed to know of our intentions.The counsel and I came up with a plan; we knew that we were okay with the prayer, but we wanted to make sure that the rest of our class of 300 was as well.We constructed a list of the names of people from out class that we new were the openly against religion.It took awhile, but like private investigators we individually pulled each person on the list aside and asked them how they felt.To our surprise, most were pleasantly receptive to the idea, with one exception…Diana. I was the lucky person to have pleasure of speaking with Diana who seemed alright with the matter…at the time.
“Amanda, I need to talk to you,” came the booming voice of the teacher who was senior class advisor and stood an intimidating 6’2 feet tall and weighed probably five times more than me.He went on, “I was told that a young woman in your class came confronted the administration.She voiced her concern about a prayer that is apparently to be held during graduation.She told administration that if this is true she is going to stand up right in the middle of commencement and walk-out.I assured her that there is not a benediction on the schedule, but there is a Class President’s message.”THAT WAS IT!That was my ticket!“Hmm yeah…that’s odd,” I just managed to stammer out as I pretended to get distracted by something shiny and run off in the opposite direction.
The counsel and I got in a huddle later that day and decided what we should do about Diana.“It’s 299 against 1.I’m sorry, but she’s going to have to deal and understand that the rest of the class wants this.We’re just offering a prayer, we’re not grabbing her and forcing her to be baptized,” said one of the class counsel members.Upon that statement, we decided to proceed.
Practice, practice, practice.It’s been a tradition from the start of our school that during graduation we hold a candelabrum ceremony.Each class counsel member receives a taper (seven total) that is supposed to embody a characteristic that can be found within each member of our class.The ceremony is taken EXTREMELY seriously, and we are required to memorize and recite material from the early 1900’s.As we ran through the whole graduation ceremony in its entirety (leaving out our secret surprise of course) members of the administration watched like hawks waiting for a fresh kill.Absolutely no mistakes.If we messed up we had to start all the way over, even our strides lengths had to be the same as we practiced entering the gymnasium.Little did they know that what they were seeing was not exactly what they were going to get.
Finally, the day my class and I had been waiting for was here- Graduation!As I thought about all of my responsibilities, my life ahead of me, and what I was about to do I began to be overwhelmed.The life I once knew so well would be in my past and an uncertain future lay ahead.My family from all over the country flew into town because they knew that I was going to be giving a speech (or so they thought).Before the ceremony my family decided to go to a local Chinese restaurant.The waiter set the steaming plate in front of me and the smell of sweet orange chicken wafted to my nose…I wanted to get sick.How was I expected to eat at a time like this?I finally managed to sip some water before I rushed out the door to the school.
I arrived at the school and the rest was a blur.I was so nervous and I could have blacked out, but the next thing I knew I was sitting on a stage in front of thousands of people staring down on my.The counsel and I rose and begin the Candelabrum Ceremony which we finished without any problems.In the flash the valedictorian and salutatorian had been given their speeches and diplomas were handed out.There was a dead silence, I was up.This was it; it was now or never.My heart raced like a freight train and my palms were seeping a liquid amount comparable to that of Lake Michigan.However, suddenly I was beginning to gain confidence.This is my duty, I thought.I slowly rose from the chair and strode to the microphone.
“Please join me in a moment of silence to reflect on our experiences tonight and throughout high school.Following the moment of silence, I will be offering a prayer if you would be willing to participate.”The moment of silence seemed like it lasted literally a moment.“Now, if you would, please bow with me.”I wasn’t sure what to address in my benediction, but Heavenly Father knew what he wanted me to say.It felt as if the Spirit were literally speaking for me; my vocal chords were producing the sound, but they were not my words.I muttered an “amen”, and lifted my head to see what damage I had just created, and to view the madhouse of people that would assuredly start throwing stones at me.I was shocked when the entire gymnasium broke out in ear-splitting applause, some even rose to their feet.My eyes began to water as I croaked out closing sentiment to my class.I walked, terrified, back to my seat on the stand which ironically happened to be RIGHT next to the Super Intendant.Sure that he was going to take my diploma and kick me out of the building, I readied myself.I turned my head ever so slightly to look at him.He was starring right into my soul, I was done for.Then to my surprise a slight smile began to form in the corner of his mouth and he nodded reassuringly.
My favorite talk during Conference this year was given by Elaine S. Dalton. I had the privilege of being in attendance at the session where she spoke. Sister Dalton's was on being a great father. This talk touched me because of the pathos in invoked in me. My respect and love my father very much, and being away from him has made me realize even more how much I care for him. Hearing her talk about fathers caused me to reflect on my own experiences with my father, and the type of father I want my future husband to be to my children. I feel that Sister Dalton effectively reached the hearts of many because she used words and concepts that we are passionate about. Some such remarks were, "Women want their fathers to be there when they go to the Temple", "Men must eliminate anything that is not in accordance with the Priesthood", "If all men were like unto Moroni." It was very smart of her to include the Temple, the Priesthood, and Moroni (a man who many other men look up to). These are things that are fundamental to our Church and our eternal salvation.
Utah is very different from Indiana, in many many ways. First off, not everyone and their brother (no pun intended) is a member of the Church. Right now however, I'm noticing a very distinct difference- the weather. Back in Indiana, there was humidity, so the moisture stayed in the air. If it was a hot day, it was not dry heat, but a muggy nasty wetness that would literally make your clothes stick to your body. And what's worse, there was NO WAY to escape the heat. Since humidity is actually in the air itself, if it was a hot day and you sought a refugee from the heat, forget trying to go under a tree. The shade did nothing, because the air was the hot part, not the rays.
Utah is totally different in that fact. If it's a hot day here, one must only find a location that is shaded and you suddenly have found an ailment from the heat. It's the sun's rays themselves that make it hot, not the air. Also in Utah, there seems to virtually be no fall season. The leaves turn red so quickly, it's like the golds and yellows were completely skipped over. But more than that, fall weather lacks the perfect intermediate temperature. The air doesn't have the quality to let it be cold outside (without the rays), but still a comfortable warm. It feels as if it goes from summer straight to winter. Furthermore, that summer to winter process can happen in virtually a day. Sometimes I wake up in the morning and it is BONE CHILLING outside, so I dress in heavy clothes (complete with a coat) to brace myself for the cold all day, however, it doesn't stay. As the day goes on it can change from extremely cold to extremely hot. All the sudden the "warm clothes" are warm for another reason- they're too hot against your body.
For my rhetorical analysis, I wrote on a talk given by Chimamanda Adichie. She is an African woman who wrote The Dangers of a Single Story. Adichie is from Nigeria, so she has a lot of credibility when she pleads with her U.S. audience so beware of African stereotypes. She knows from first-hand experience how detrimental it is for the receptor of the "single story" (the concept of hearing only part of a person/culture's story and accepting that as your sole source for information), and the person that the single story victimizes. Adichie speaks about how a lot of people assume and think that all Africans are uneducated, unrefined people who live in mud huts. The same day that I turned in my rhetorical analysis I got a dose of what the single story can really do to people. We were instructed to write down the topic of our research paper so that it could be analyzed by classmates. My question was, "How has televised futbol affected African people, economy, and politics?" I passed my paper past my head so that the boy behind me could comment on my question. To my dismay, this is what I received back, "Do people in Africa even have TV's?" ...and THAT is the danger of a single story.
Being a member of the Church, I've read the Proclamation to the World numerous times. However, this time something stuck out to me that I had never noticed before. It is contained in the last paragraph which emphasizes the importance of strengthening the family. However, the First Presidency is not just referring to "troubled families", but rather, any family in existence. Any family unit can be strengthened, and the members should continually strive for a more cohesive family. Every family unit has room for growth.
