From Siri to Sunsets

Thank you for the recap of the class, it was very helpful.

I.               Inner Struggle

The hairs around my face were doing their post-run, post-shower “I want to be the lion king” thing as I raced down the stairs of my apartment complex to my car. This was the first time I’d ever be at his home, his real house not his apartment. ‘Stop, you’re just friends,’ I reminded myself, ‘you’re only going because he won’t bring your bowl back.’

The bowl was white pottery from Portugal that I always baked with; I’d taken him homemade whipped cream and peaches a few weeks ago.

My arms were shaking as I gripped the wheel, eager to see his house but nervous about what it meant that he’d finally invited me there. Bess, my car, climbed the mountain slowly. There weren’t any other cars around that night, which I appreciated because Siri was two streets behind and I kept missing turns.

I got to the final hill when I heard the Spirit in my mind: “Don’t go.”

It took a moment to process this.

“I want my bowl,” I said out loud.

“Turn around,” was the mental reply.

This unsettled me. What would happen if I went? Why couldn’t I go? I had already told him I was on my way and it would be really weird if I bailed.

My phone buzzed.

“Text me when you’re here.”

I made my choice.

II.             Scripture, Personal and Powerful

The summer before I moved to Utah to attend college, I was a teacher in the adult women’s session of our church classes. I felt very out of place because I was a naïve 18-year-old trying to teach lessons to grown women. I had no children, no husband, and no sense of what Relief Society, as the class and organization are called, even is.

Ashley, the president of the class, called me one day and asked me to come with her to visit her best friend Rachel’s house. She said she would bake treats and asked me to come with something that would brighten her friend’s day.

We entered Rachel’s house together and I was greeted by a darling little brown-eyed boy who attached himself to my leg and then peeked out from behind the kitchen wall during our visit. Her house was modest: a college apartment at the University of Illinois with minimal furniture and a lot of loose toys.

I was awed by the sense of love this woman showed me and everyone in her home. Her children adored her, and Ashley admitted in the car after that she came to Rachel both to deliver the treats and to be uplifted by her warmth.

I’d forgotten this experience until I was reading last spring in my favorite book in the Bible, 1 John, when I came across this scripture in chapter four:

“And we have known and believed the love that God hath to us. God is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him.” -1 John 4:16

I felt God in Rachel’s house, and I felt God in Rachel.

III.           Wilderness Experience

"Where are you going?" he asked one night when we were studying in our office.

"I need to see the sunset," I said.

"Why?"

"It's my thing, I'll be right back."

I look at the sunset every day. If I'm buried in the bowels of the library, I google what time I need to take a break and go outside. If I'm on a date, I do my best to encourage a walk outside as one of the evening's activities. If I have free time, I drive up to my secret spot behind the Provo temple or hike the Y to get the best view. Sunsets are one of my love languages with Heavenly Father. While I know they're not meant just for me, every time I see one I am reminded of His infinite love for each of us.

Finding Purpose in Sprinkles

Physical Experience:

-Cupping an egg in my hand to warm it so the dough would have the right consistency.

-Sending all of my pots, cookie sheets and cooking spray bottles clattering to the tile when I tried to find my rolling pin.

-Feeling a gritty clump of butter/flour/sugar hit my face when my demon mixer overexerted itself.

-Wearing my late grandmother’s apron with purple flowers and having the strings in the back get stuck on the drawers of my kitchen island.

-Dancing around the kitchen barefoot to big band swing. I loved the way my curly hair would bounce around when I spun.

-Checking my phone and getting flour fingerprints all over the screen to see if he’d texted me.

Scenes

This moment was during the two-week period when I was alone in my apartment over the summer. Knowing I wouldn’t be interrupted made the baking process much more relaxed. I didn’t immediately wash the bowls or worry if my mixer was keeping someone awake. When sprinkles made the great leap from countertop to the floor and got stuck in between my toes I laughed instead of rushing for the broom.  I kneaded the dough, licked the spoon, and didn’t care how much of the baking process wound up on my body and apron.

Speech

I was alone for all of this, so I didn’t speak to anyone. However, I sang while the cookies were in the oven. Not in a pretty, Giselle in “Enchanted” way; in a crying, Taylor Swift-approved heartbreak therapy style. I had the reckless abandon of someone who, while roommate-less, completely forgot she had neighbors one floor below.

When I turned the music off and stopped singing around eleven, I was mostly quiet. However, there were moments when I’d talk to myself. I said all of the words I wanted to say to him but that never found their way to my mouth when he was actually there.

Emotion in the Moment

Nostalgia/Comfort: Baking will forever be tied to my mother. She preferred me to not help when I was growing up (I was messy and took too long) but she let me sit at the island while she worked. If I had a bad day at school or I was worried about something, she would find something to bake and I would talk while she cracked the eggs or dusted the brownies with powdered sugar.

Guilt/Shame/Awareness: At this point I started to feel a lot of guilt over how much of my friends’ time I had taken talking about this man for the past year and a half. His texts, the sometimes-horrible things he did and said, and my feelings for him were all I ever talked about. It was probably really annoying and disheartening to my friends to see me stay so unhappy and not listen to their suggestions to be done with him. I expected them to comfort me after he hurt me over and over again as we went through cycles of an unhealthy relationship, and they always would. I was so ashamed when I realized what I’d put them through, and how blind I had been by my own obsession and misery. Cookies couldn’t possibly repay them for their kindness and friendship, but I thought it was a concrete thing I could do to show them I appreciated them.

Pain: This baking moment came after I told him I was done for good. We’d had that conversation three other times, but I was determined that this was the real deal. It had been a week since that night and I ached.

People of Consequence:

Morgan: Best friend, first person I took cookies to. She has long brown hair, bright blue eyes, pale skin and a smile that will knock you out. She had been my roommate when I met him, and we both were so excited at what a wonderful guy he was. She saw us cycle from Easter brunch with his family to ignoring me for a month to reconnecting and saying he was so sorry to me finding out he was talking to four other girls after we’d talked about marriage. She knew about everything.

Morgan always looked at me when I talked about him with sadness in her eyes. She never made me feel bad for how I was feeling, which is why I trusted her and went to her for comfort. She made her frustration and annoyance at him (and sometimes at me) known, but she always did it in a loving way. Most of our talks about him happened in her black Honda Civic while driving to Café Rio or picking her husband up at the airport after med school interviews.  

Mom: She has brown hair and brown (sometimes green, depending on her contacts) eyes. Gives the best hugs and is the only person I've ever felt totally myself around. Loves me more than anyone and always wants what’s best for me. She knew most of the story (I omitted some parts because there are some things you don’t tell your mother). She was at the point where she wouldn’t let me talk about him with her because it made her so angry. I interpreted that as her being mad at me and I stopped talking to her as much.

Him: Guy I’d been in an off-again, on-again relationship with for a year and a half. He has brown hair, dark brown eyes that could either be really inviting or really cold, and an athletic build. I thought I was in love with him at this moment. He wouldn't talk about our relationship and denied it when one of our mutual friends asked him about it.