Music is one of the most versatile art forms in my opinion, taking the shape of the mind that creates it and evoking a visceral reaction in both the producer and consumer of the sound. Think about it - Rock and Roll, Opera, Reggaeton, and Blues all stemmed from a human brain, that mass of 60% fat, 40% water, protein, carbohydrates, and salt.  What do I get when I combine fat, water, protein, carbohydrates, and salt? An exquisite dinner of steak and potatoes. Certainly not Beehtoven’s 5th symphony. Yet that brain, that beautiful organ, is capable of mixing vibrations together in certain ways to augment sound, thus augmenting reality itself. 

I marvel at the power of music, but I am completely dumbfounded at the way us humans have been able to harness such power. Take, for example: a choir. We’ll make it a small choir, 34 people. Assuming they all have both eyes, that’s 68 eyes. The eyes are composed of the sclera, cornea, conjunctiva, aqueous humour, lens, ciliary body, iris, pupil, vitreous humour, retina, optic nerve, choroid, fovea, and macula, all working together to capture light and convert it into images. And onto what are each one of those hundreds of individual components riveted? A singular person: the conductor. This conductor controls all 34 singers, their lungs, their lips, their jaws, their tongues, with what? Mind control? No. Puppet strings? No. With their body movements. A flick of the hand, a raise of the brow, an inhale through an open mouth. Utter insanity, if you ask me. Yet, after many years of choral singing, following a conductor is as natural to me as tying my shoes every morning. 

I went to Guadalupe a few weeks ago; a French island nestled in the Caribbean. It’s a cutie little place; it looks like someone cut out a random French countryside with those zigzag scissors from elementary school and pasted it onto a Caribbean landscape with some runny Elmer’s Glue. It looks French, speaks French, and smells French, but everything is a little crooked around the edges and the Latin American essence has joyfully begun to seep through. The purpose of this particular trip: an interfaith outreach concert with the Gospel Celebration Singers, a gospel choir from the Seventh Day Adventist denomination. Our first and only rehearsal before the concert was on the same night we landed, and I blearily walked into the small, humid, LDS chapel, completely unaware of the magic that was about to unfold before my eyes. 

Before we get into the magic, let me explain my preconceived notions of how choral singing works. My previous experience is thus: I receive a sheet of music, filled with little black lines and circles dictating my every move. I hold onto that sheet of paper like a lifeline, looking up only when I am comfortable enough to doggy paddle my way through the music. I watch the conductor’s hands like a hawk, fitting my own notes into the larger beats that he/she is giving me.

Now, allow me to introduce a stark contrast to this mechanical and analytical approach to music: Monique. I never needed to learn her last name, her first name does her justice. She is the conductor of Celebration Gospel Singers, a small woman with short, curly black hair and chunky black glasses that she takes off whenever she gets particularly excited about a section of music. 

There I was, sweating in the chapel, ready to rehearse our song together, and as soon as she raised her arms to begin the piece, I was captivated. As I glanced at my music to remind myself of the notes and rhythms, I noticed that the gospel singers next to me didn’t have any sheet music. All they had were lyrics, and yet they knew exactly what was going on. We reached the end of the first run-through, and I was surprised to see that Monique went completely off script; she changed the rhythms and notes and added an entire additional ending. My music was soon forgotten, having been rendered useless. I watched Monique, and without any verbal communication, she told me exactly what I needed to sing. I knew, even before I opened my mouth, what was going to come next. 

Monique didn’t speak English very well, yet our brains were able to communicate on a level I’ve never experienced. She and the Gospel Celebration Singers showed me what it means to sing with not only your brain and your eyes, but  your heart and your soul. Our mouths struggled to speak the same language, yet our hearts effortlessly sang the same song: that of redeeming love. 

Which of these two methods is correct? Which is better? My director shaping our sound with his hands, delicately crafting each syllable, or Monique pointing at me and somehow communicating to me with one finger that I needed to repeat the last line of the previous verse? May I propose that both are incredible, each producing a distinct sound and praising our Savior in their own unique ways. Sometimes, we get stuck in a rut of what our reality should be. We are so used to singing classical motets that we deny the validity of a really great headbanger. 

May I extend an invitation to you? Fly to Guadalupe, sit in that plastic chair, sweat a little bit, and see what happens when you get outside of your own head and begin to live with reckless abandon. Give your brain and your eyes a little break, put your sheet music down, and belt out your truth unapologetically and with passion. Perhaps you may be apprehensive. Perhaps your voice may crack. Perhaps, you will find that there is more color and joy and laughter in this world than anything you could ever conceive. When you’re finished with the song and the applause dies down, go back to your house, go back to your own routine, but don’t you ever get rid of that rainbow of color that stuck to you as you sat in a chapel in Guadalupe, singing from your soul. 

Hello lovelies.

Been a minute :)

I woke up at 3:30 am this morning (about 45 minutes ago), not sure why. I’ve been praying and trying to figure out what the Lord wants me to do with my extra time this morning, and the thought came to transcribe and post a poem I’ve recently written.

Maybe one of you needs it right now, I don’t know. Whenever you read this, I hope you know how loved you are, by both me and by God. He’s proud of you. He’s thinking of you. :)

That’s all. Let’s get right into it, shall we? This one was inspired by Jacob 5. The Lord taught me a ton of incredible truths from that chapter this time around, and this poem was just one of the beautiful discoveries that came out of my study a few weeks ago. Pls text me sometime about Jacob 5 and I’ll invite you over so we can nerd out about how it’s the best chapter in all of the standard works that’s all.

I’m running.
Wet hair from the shower,
No time to dry it.
Breakfast forgone,
No time to make anything.
I’m pulling my backpack on and trying not to slip on my untied shoelaces,
No time to look put together.

I was supposed to meet with the Lord today,
but I slept through all four of my alarms.
Missed the bus.
Missed my chance.
I will be too late.

My mind races, faster than my feet:
”You’re so dumb.”
”Why can’t you just do one thing right for once.”
”You’re going to miss it.”
Give up. Go home. Hide under the covers.
You won’t fit in with him anyway.
He’ll know you’re just a fraud.

I stumble into the line,
Dead last.
So incredibly late.

The line is too long.
He’ll run out of time before He gets to me.

I look down at my untied shoelaces, gasping for breath and trying in vain to keep the tears from falling.
Until.

“Thank you so much for being here. I’m so glad you made it.”

I know who’s speaking before I even look up.
Tears flow freely now as I look into the loving eyes of my Savior, corners crinkling up as he beams at me.

. . .

What do you think the Savior meant when he said that the last shall be first and the first shall be last?
That he was condemning the rich and prideful?
Maybe.
But can I tell you what He taught me today?

I think that the Lord will begin at the end of the line, because He knows that those who came late might just need Him the most.
He won’t penalize you,
He won’t mark you tardy,
He’ll just smile at you with his crinkle eyes and love you and thank you for coming.
Then He’ll move up the line, thanking everyone for their hard work.

And you know what I think He’ll do once He gets to the front?
I think He’ll come right back down the line, giving everyone one last hug, just to make sure He gets any stragglers that might be at the end.

Come to Christ, even if you slept through your alarms.
Come to Christ, even if you’re the last in line.
Come to Christ, even if your shoelaces are untied and your hair is wet.

You did not miss your chance.
You are not going to be too late.
No matter how delayed you think you might be,
He will rejoice at your arrival.

Love you all, please never forget that.

live laugh love.

Anj

Sup babes.

Love you.

This poem is different from my usual style, it actually has a form!!! See if you can spot the pattern (Hint: it has to do with the last word of a line). If you get stuck you can look up the structure, it’s called a sestina. Pretty cool. Challenged me in good ways and pushed me out of my comfort zone.

It came to me while I was walking outside and complaining about how freaking cold and sad and gray everything was. We do that in our lives sometimes too, don’t we? It’s easy to recognize God in the “summer months” of our spiritual journey but harder to recognize Him in the cold and desolate months.

So yeah, think about that as you read this sweetie lil poem. Enjoy!

WINTER

Breath escapes my mouth, a nimble cloud in the frosty air.
The Sky is especially sad today—she shivers as her face turns gray.
I haven’t the sun for a while. Where did you go, Sun? 
I wonder if his light still shines.
Maybe the Sky misses him, misses his light,
Misses his dappled caresses turning her gray skies blue.

On the underbelly of the world, the sky is blue. 
Carefree joy stumbles like a tipsy teenager through the air.
The summer reeks of warm light.
Everyone has forgotten that drab word: gray.
He, unapologetically and unobstructed, shines.
And by he, I mean the Sun.

What does he dress like, the Sun? 
Does he wear a European cut suit, baby blue? 
Yes, I bet he loves to dress elegantly, and his confidence shines.
His feet dance on their own, spinning exuberantly through the air.
He would never be caught dead in any fabric of gray.
Maybe that’s why the Sky couldn’t stay away from his light.

She always loved that about him, his yellow light.
She created novels in her mind, grand romances of The Sky and The Sun. 
Now she sits, cowering behind clouds, eternally gray. 
Never again will she dance with that suit, so elegant and blue.
Snowflakes tumble down faster and faster through the air.
And she wonders if his light for her ever did shine. 

Her own hair has long since lost its shine. 
Her heart has ceased to be light. 
The heavy storm clouds stifle her, cutting off her air.
What does the Sky dress like, to forget the Sun? 
She throws away her dress of blue.
Trades it for gray.

I look up at the Sky and smile at her expanse of gray. 
In her own way, she still sweetly shines.
Ice sparkles on top of a lake, a bright brilliant blue. 
She does not know it, but he never stopped giving his light.
She cannot see him, but he’s there. (The Sun)
He is trapped under the belly of the world, longing to spin her through the air. 

Though we may not be able to feel Him in the chilly air, the Son
Will never cease to shine. 
Even when the blue sky turns grey, we thank you, God, for your light. 

Love you dearly, my dears.

Remember that He is with you, even in your winters.

Live laugh love

Anj

Hello babes!!!!

It’s been a minute. Sorry. I’m taking a creative writing class and learning so much! I’ve been writing lots of stuff, but not all of it is explicitly Jesus Poetry™ so I feel like it doesn’t work with the vibes of this page.

The hilarious thing, though, is that most of it actually does tie back to the gospel in some way, so maybe I’ll share more. We’ll see. I did recently write this one though and loved it so I want to share it with you!

Enjoy :)

SYNTAX

My dad is succinct.
Simple sentences.
Good day today.
Did lots of good chores.
You’re doing great.
I’m proud of you.
The Lord is proud of you.
Goofy car today?
Goofy daughter?
A bowl of popcorn says
as much as
a whole essay.

My mom favors stream of consciousness, complete with flowery, long, complex sentences. I’m so grateful for you all!!! The Lord has blessed me with such a beautiful family. It’s hard not being with you all but in my scripture study today I learned that the gospel is JOY!!!!!!!!!!! Lots of exclamation points. Lots and LOTS of love. Big paragraphs full of tangents and anecdotes and various heart emojis. She gets us - she’s meandered with us through the mazes of our minds and she knows exactly what to say to soothe our sunburned souls.
Hurrah for Israel!!!

What sentence structure does my Savior prefer?
What syntax does he use to communicate his love?
He uses the crinkly smile eyes of a stranger
or a street full of green lights.
The dimpled pink petals of a glass cherry blossom act as a conjunction,
joining the dappled sunlight to the carpet beneath my feet.
Telling me with each glimmer that I am seen by Him.
My heart beats with a million exclamation points
each time I sing His song of redeeming love.
He whispers in my ear, soft and sweet,
with verses written long ago.

Each word, whether sung or unsung,
simple or compound,
carries the connotation:
“You are mine”

Love you. Let me know if you need anything. Seriously.

Live laugh love

Anj

Hey boss babes, besties, and everyone in between,
Love you, first of all.
Second of all, this poem was actually inspired by Exodus 15:13, which reads:

Great stuff. It’s part of the song of Moses sung by the children of Israel as a tribute to Jehovah, thanking Him for delivering them from the armies of Pharoah. Excellent chapter. Excited for them to teach it to me when I get to heaven :).

Isn’t it interesting though? Many major storylines in our scriptures deal with a journey, completely directed by the Lord. The Jaredites, Israelites, and Nephites, to name a few. They each had to put their trust in their God, hoping that He would direct them to the promised land.

Learning about Nephi’s family in Come Follow Me this week reminded me of this poem, one that gives me strength when I feel I am in the middle of my own wilderness. My favorite thing about God, though, is that He’s not just waiting for me at the Promised Land, He’s right in the thick of it with me. And he’s with you too, no matter what your wilderness looks like. Enjoy :)

It surprises me how quick to forget we can be as humans. 
Think about it.

Laman and Lemuel had seen an angel,
Lot’s wife had been warned, led, and even pushed by heavenly messengers, 
The children of Isreal had watched the Red Sea part and had walked through on dry ground. 

What's the similarity?
They all kept their minds in the past.

Laman and Lemuel lamented their riches left behind,
Lots wife looked back, wanting to return, 
And the Israelites longed for life in Egypt, dark and desperate as it was.
As Nephi says, "They knew not the dealings of the God who created them."

God is a God of the future.
Faith looks to that future.
Hope helps us press on toward that future.
And as we press on, putting our trust completely in the very God who created us, who gave us life, who has known us before we even knew ourselves,

He will go before us.
He will provide for us.
He will lead us. 

And what He's leading us towards?
Is so much better than whatever we left behind 

Love you all, besties. xoxo

Live Laugh Love.

Anj

Hello dears! Happy beginning of the semester to those who celebrate. At first glance, this week’s poem may seem like a Christmas poem, but do not be deceived!!! It was inspired by Elder Gong’s talk "Room in the Inn" from the April 2021 conference.

Read it I dare you. It’s a slay.

The parable of the Good Samaritan is beautifully diverse and adaptable - I’ve seen it interpreted in many different ways and have learned incredible lessons from each interpretation. In Elder Gong’s talk he compares the parable with the plan of salvation, citing this article by John W. Welch, an incredible scholar and editor-in-chief of BYU Studies. He also is a law professor here at BYU I believe??? The moral of this particular tangent is that you should also read the Ensign article. Great stuff. Message me individually if you want the whole 67-page BYU studies article.

Anyway, I was deeply moved by the talk, so naturally I wrote a poem about it. It’s a sweetie little dual storyline and emphasizes our roles as the innkeeper in this particular interpretation. Enjoy.

A lone traveler looks out over a long, dusty road, anxious about the perilous journey ahead.
In another time and another place, a husband and wife hold hands at the edge of a garden, terrified at the barren world before them. 

Both the traveler and the pair take one last shaky breath, and with trepidations determination, they take the first step down. 
The Jew to Jericho, and Adam and Eve to a dark and fallen world.

Trepidatious determination quickly turns to terror as robbers and thorns and sickness and despair and injustice overwhelm these desperate pilgrims.

The journey is too difficult. 
The danger is too great. 
The decisions made were reckless and now are worthless. 

In two different places and two different times, these three travelers lay broken and defeated, accepting the fact that they will never return home.

Until
A stranger approaches, kindness in His eyes and healing in His hands.
He binds up their wounds, seen and unseen, and brings them to an inn, trusting the innkeeper to nurture them until He returns.

I can relate to these travelers.
Broken. Defeated. Hopeless.
But today, I'm going to imagine I am the innkeeper. 

I open my door late one night, surprised to see the Savior on my doorstep with a wounded traveler in His arms.
He looks at me with those kind eyes and asks me to care for her in His absence.

I have cleverly hidden some of my own wounds and they throb as I consider the cost of such a responsibility, yet my immediate reply is a reverent "Of course, Lord.”

Day after day, the work is tireless as I fight to keep my new friend alive. 
We cry together, laugh together, and pray together.
She starts to improve, little by little, and a beautiful friendship blooms.

The Savior returns, and I smile from the doorway as my friend runs to Him and falls into His embrace, thanking her Lord for His compassion.

As I watch the scene with tears beginning to pool in my eyes, I notice that my wounds, the ones I had carefully tucked into the deepest corners of my soul, are no longer aching.
I am whole.

You, my friend, are Christ's innkeeper.
Maybe you have wounds you've never shown to anyone.

But remember another time. another place.
A lone man, kneeling in a garden.
In His lowest moment, the Savior himself felt broken and defeated.

From the depths of His own suffering, His hand reaches through eternity to all places and all times, touching the Jew, touching Adam and Eve, and touching you and me.

A hand proudly bearing its own wound.

Take care of those He brings to you.
Help them return home.
Then, when it is your turn to fall into the Savior's embrace, you will find yourself healed as well.

I love you all so sweetly! Find someone to take care of this week, no matter how busy you think you are. I promise you won’t regret it.

xoxo live laugh love.

Anj

Hello dears! Merry Christmas!

This holiday season has been weird for me - the first in two years where I haven’t been a missionary and actively focused on others 24/7. I’ve wrestled with a few difficult questions and some new mental hurdles, thus this poem was born about a week ago during a particularly poignant personal study. I sat near our Christmas tree, feeling generally scatterbrained and inadequate. As I was pondering the Christmas story, however, this poem came to me and brought me an immense sense of peace.

Hopefully it brings you some comfort if your Christmas season is yielding new and unwanted feelings. :) I’m here for you, as is Jesus Christ.

LONELY AT CHRISTMAS

If you’re feeling burnt out this Christmas,
Think of the Shepherds.
Working late into the night shift, completely unaware of a surrounding chorus of angels warming up their heavenly hallelujahs and preparing to appear.
Wondering if they’ll ever be worthy of a miracle, humble as they are.

If you’re feeling anxious this Christmas,
Think of the Wise Men.
Setting out for a journey that could last years, with only a star guiding their way.
Perhaps wondering if all this work would lead to empty dreams and bitter disappointment at the end of the road.

If you’re feeling lonely this Christmas,
Think of Mary.
Going through one of the most excruciating physical experiences of her life, practically alone and far away from home, in a stable.
Wondering if she really can do this.

So, if you’re feeling burnt out, anxious, or lonely this Christmas,
You’re in good company.

Wait a little longer, and you will hear a heavenly chorus.
Trust in the star that’s guiding you, and one day, though distant, you will see Christ.
Keep pushing, and you will understand that you are worthy and capable of the task put before you.

And then, come to the Christ Child.
See the king, so tiny and humble,
Lying in a manger.
Fall to your knees and thank Him for descending so low, for loving so deeply.
Give Him your best gift, your heart
And trust that one day, you’ll never feel burnt out, anxious, or lonely again.

Because of Him.

Love you all. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

Live laugh love.

Anj

P.S Here are two of the most FIRE Christmas talks I’ve ever heard - give them a listen/read if you want a little more to do :)

Elder Gong's sweetie Christmas Carol analogy (WITH PROPS!)

An Ensign article by Elder Christofferson for my overworked/anxious boss babes (yes, you! read it!)

Hello my dear friends :)

It has been so long! And for that, I profusely apologize!! Allow me to supply you with homemade banana bread and/or forehead kisses as a sincere form of my deepest apologies. My bad. Literally no excuses. Just accountability.

This poem has been on my mind for the past few weeks and I’ve received multiple impressions that I need to share. I figured I should stop procrastinating, so here. Enjoy :) You may have had some hard weeks, just like me, so I hope that this brings you a little peace today.

I was 22 minutes late to church today.
I rushed in, feeling sweaty, chaotic, and flustered, praying that I hadn’t missed the sacrament - the pillar of my week.

My heart sank with the realization that they were already halfway through, but I sat down and tried to feel grateful for being able to participate in at least part of the ordinance.

My head bowed as the second prayer was uttered, pleading for grace after a particularly rough week.
My own prayer continued even after the water was blessed, taking on a life of its own.

I was so caught up in myself that I barely noticed a deacon enter the foyer, look at me, and promptly exit.
I did not register the implications of his actions until he returned, holding not only the tray of water, but the tray of bread as well and offering both to me.

I stared at those two trays, astounded at the blatant physical manifestation of God’s individualized love carried in the hands of an unknown twelve-year-old angel, and tears began to fill my eyes.

•••

We all will be “22 minutes late” many times in our lives.

You may feel that you have missed out on certain blessings, that you, through your own actions or the actions of others, received the short end of the stick and cannot turn back time, through you desperately try.

And yet.
Christ. Will. Provide.

Come to Jesus, even if you’re running late.
Come to Jesus, as sweaty, chaotic, and flustered as you may feel, and I promise,

I promise,
He will give you infinitely more than anything you were hoping for.

Love you all. Keep moving forward. Everything will be ok.

Live Laugh Love

Love,
Anj

Hello my dears! I love you!

I’ve been feeling gleeful this week, it’s simply been so sweetie. Today I got to visit my grandparents and I was reminded of why I love them so much. There’s something to be said about the class of conversations one has with their grandparents - their outlook on life is unique and they help you get your head on straight. Great stuff. Go visit your grandparents sometime soon, they’re the best.

But yeah, they reminded me of this poem and what I love so much about the concept of a legacy. Something I think about often. Good stuff. Anyways. Here’s the poem.

LEGACY.
A word so small, yet with eternal significance. 
As a Disciple of Christ,
As a Member of His church, 
As a Daughter of God, the Eternal Father, 
As a descendent of Edwin Whiting, Alvin Stewart and Maren Andersdatter, 

I bear their legacy. 
Their example, their names, their faith, and their eternal identity, flow through my blood and infuse my soul with divine purpose. 
I am not alone in this life. 

And neither are you. 
Eternities stretch behind us, and millions cheer us on from the heavens, ecstatic that we are carrying on their legacy. 

I feel their trust. 
I feel their love. 
I feel their support. 
And I hope you do too :)

Now, let's flip the narrative. 
We are the beginning of a new generation. 
We are at the central point of our eternal destiny. 
Eternities stretch before us, with limitless possibilities. 

Possibilities for good or for evil. 
Every action made, 
Every prayer offered, 
Every word uttered, 
affects those eternities stretching beyond me. 

The same is the case with you :)
What are you doing to live up to your legacy?
And what are you doing to make your legacy worth living up to?

You already know it - I hope and pray that you have the best week and know that I care about you.

Live laugh love.

Anj

Hello my sweet friends! Hope you’ve had a GLORIOUS week! Mine was simply lovely - I’ve started doing my yoga and scripture study every morning at 6 and I feel like a fitness queen that’s all. I also went to institute (a bible study group for young adults) and it was SO FUN. WITH FREE FOOD LIKE WHAT. If any of you aren’t going to institute text me and I will pick you up and sit so gleefully next to you.

Anyways. Enough about me. I rediscovered this poem today during church and remembered that it’s one of my ALL TIME FAVORITES! Seriously, one of the best I’ve done in my opinion. So without further ado, here’s my lil study on how the Lord feels about our meager offerings. :) Enjoy, and give yourself grace this week.

The Off-Key Choir of Angels

It's 10:00 a.m. on a Saturday morning, and a few scraggly members walk into the chapel, still bleary-eyed and tired from the activities the night before.

They have a Christmas concert tomorrow, one they've been preparing for for 7 weeks now.
They start to rehearse, and after just a few minutes they know that it will not be sufficient. 

The choir is too small. 
The pieces are too hard.

Even with 7 weeks of practice,
The melody has not been learned, 
The words have not been memorized, 
And the tenor doesn't even know what song they're on.

They will never be good enough.
The Lord deserves the best, doesn't he? A concert as beautiful and awe-inspiring as Solomon's Temple, one to be remembered through the ages.

It's better not to hold the concert. 
We have to cancel. 

I sit and watch the exchange from the piano bench, trying my best to just get through the pieces I've been assigned.
As my clumsy fingers stumble through the notes, the Lord begins to teach me an important lesson. 

Not all temples have to be like Solomon's.

Nephi and the brother of Jared communed with God on a mountaintop. 
For the Israelites, a tent was sufficient to link them to the great Jehovah. 
I think of the Kirtland temple, made of broken china and wood yet imbued with the faith, sacrifice, and dedication of the early saints. 

I'm sure it wasn't that pretty.
And what did the Lord think of it?

"Let the hearts of all that people rejoice, who have, with their might, built this house to my name. For behold, I have accepted this house. And my name shall be here, and I will manifest myself to my people in Mercy In This House."  (D&C 110:6-7)

The Lord accepted Solomon's Temple. 
The Lord accepted a mountaintop. 
The Lord accepted a tent. 
And the Lord accepted a temple made of broken plates, and wood, and dreams.
For, as we well know, the Lord looketh not on the outward appearance, but on the heart.

I am pulled for my musings as the members, still bleary-eyed and now dejected and discouraged, say a prayer and try and decide to try one more time to save this concert. 

They open their mouths to sing,
and it's still off-key. 

And yet, tears fill my eyes, blurring the notes on my page as we all feel, deep within our hearts that the Lord has accepted this choir- scraggly and uncoordinated as it may be. 

The crescendos soar along with our hearts as we sing imperfect praises to our perfect Savior and Redeemer, the great I AM. 
So when you feel a little off-tune, out of shape, or chipped up, know that the Lord rejoices in your offering,

Whatever it looks like.
You are never singing alone. 
The Lord is cheering you on in the wings.
Let your heart rejoice, allow him to manifest his power through you, and the standing ovation that awaits in heaven will be remembered by you through the ages. 

We'll sing and we'll shout with the armies of heaven, Hosanna! Hosanna! to God and the lamb 

I love you, my dear friends. Thank you for the light you bring into my life :).

Live laugh love.

Anj

Hello my dears. Happy fall. I hope you are filled to the brim with peace and pumpkin spice and pretty fall leaves and pNo stress about midterms.

Ha. Alliteration. Get it.

Anyways, service has been on my mind often as of late. In the last few weeks, I have been the recipient of pure Christlike service, which has inspired me to examine how I can serve others. With my perfectionist tendencies, “serving” translated in my brain to “being everything for everyone all the time”.

Which, I can sweetly say out of personal experience, is NOT the move.
Sustainable: Nope
Enjoyable: Absolutely not
A slay: Not particularly

This led me to a question, should I even try to serve if I feel like I don’t have anything to give in the first place?

This poem came to mind, teaching me a lot of things that I had learned earlier in Nauvoo. What deepened my understanding of service, however, was this scripture in 1 Thessalonians 2:8:

What did I learn from this? Paul was SO good at loving. He served those he taught, not because he trusted in his own ability, rather he trust in the Lord’s ability to heal and help those he loved. All he had to do was give them his love, as imperfect as it was. And I can do the same. After all, it was never about me in the first place, huh? We can serve, we can take care of ourselves, all because we know what role Jesus Christ plays in all of it.

So here you go. Enjoy :).

There is something to be said about the sacred nature of observing one who is in dire need of assistance selflessly serving another. 

Picture this:
A missionary, struggling with shin splints so bad he can hardly get out of bed in the mornings, 
Rubbing the feet of another. 

The one who has every right to bemoan his state, complain about his trial, grumble and gripe, 
Serving. Serving simply and selflessly

And another:
A dear sister, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she massages her companion’s feet late into the night. 

Exhausted from the day, yet still she serves. 
Simply and selflessly. 

And perhaps, the best of all:
Jesus the Christ, the Savior of Mankind, stooping down,
Gently and lovingly cleaning the feet of His disciples.

The very being who molded the earth and painted the stars, 
Serving. 
Serving simply and selflessly. 
For after all, when we are in the service of our fellow beings, we are in the service of our God. 

So, continue to rub those feet even as you rub the sleep out of your own eyes.
Continue to smile at that stranger. 
Continue to love those you can’t imagine you’ll ever be able to forgive. 
Continue, even when no recognition is given whatsoever. 

And God, who sees that simple, selfless service in secret, will reward you. 
Openly.

Love you all. Take care of yourselves this week, and help the Lord take care of those you love.

Live laugh love.

Love always,

Anj

Hello boss babes and besties!

I just realized that I didn’t post anything yesterday and I’m bored in my computer science class so what better to do than post a sweet lil poem to start off your week!!

It’s midterm season here at BYU, and I am grateful that my schedule is packed, allowing no time for existential crises because if I had more than 30 minutes free in one day I would probably drop out of college due to the stress.

Needless to say, this semester I’ve had plenty of opportunities to fail which have been taken and utilized gloriously.
By me.
It is I, Angela the walking mess.

BUT something cool the Lord has taught me this semester is that FAILURE IS GOOD!!! FAILURE IS HEALTHY!!! And that reminded me of a lil poem I wrote towards the beginning of my mission in Ecuador. Here it is, enjoy, and remember to give yourself grace today. You’re learning, and the Lord is SO proud of you. As am I. :)

We all know the classic 1 Nephi 4:6 - Nephi was “guided by the spirit, not knowing beforehand the things that [He] should do.” But today, I was impressed by the first line in the verse following:
“Nevertheless I went forth”

Nephi had no clue what He was going to do.
He had tried two times before to fulfill his father’s wish- had acted in faith - and in both instances was gloriously unsuccessful.
He was probably tired. He was probably scared. His brothers -older brothers- were critical and wanting to go home.

He had absolutely no clue what he was going to do - one final, desperate attempt to go and do what the Lord had commanded.
So, he trusted the Spirit to be his guide, and went forth.

I can relate to Nephi right now.
Tired and scared, with several glorious failures under my belt.

Am I willing to go forth?
Am I willing to keep walking, keep trying, keep failing?

The solution Nephi received was anything but typical.
But, true to his character, Nephi obeyed.

And because of his diligence, because of his patience, because of his faith,
An entire nation was blessed.
For generations.

If Nephi had not “gone forth”, it’s very likely that most everything in the Book of Mormon would not have happened.

So I, too, will go forth.
In the face of failure, in the face of uncertainty, in the face of affliction,
I will press forward.

And I know, I know,
That I will be blessed, for I know in whom I have trusted

My God is a God of miracles.
And He’ll provide a way.

Love you all my dears. Go out and slay this week.

Live laugh love.

Anj

I’m writing this post as I sit in the midst of another one of our weekly Dessert Nights™ - every Sunday all of our friends get together and enjoy each other’s company, desserts included on occasion. As I look around, I am struck with a sense of gratitude for each and every one of the people present. I have learned that I come to know Christ through the people around me - they teach me something new about Him with every interaction.

As they joke about future podcast ideas and Kadin’s adventures as a teenager, I am reminded of a poem I wrote back in October 2022, inspired by the story of the paralytic and his four friends. FUN FACT: James W McConkie III gave a talk about the very same subject a few weeks later in general conference! Here’s the link - he explains it all a lot better than I ever could.

https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/study/general-conference/2022/10/26mcconkie?lang=eng

But yeah. Here’s this week’s poem. Enjoy.

A sick man. 
Four desperate friends. 
A crowded house. 

Outside - Chaos. Bodies pressing in. Ears straining to hear even a snippet of the Master's wisdom. 
Inside - Healing. Peace. Hope.
How can we get him in? There is no way. 

A fiery debate ensues among the Four, attempting to find any solution, any way to save their beloved friend. 
A spark of an idea pops and begins to glow - the only way in is down, through the roof.

It's backbreaking work, getting him up the stairs. 
Sweat stings their eyes, 
Muscles scream at the strain they have endured all day.
And yet, they continue on, his Four faithful friends, because they know what's inside. 

Healing. Peace. Hope. 
As they lower him down, praying with all their might for Jesus of Nazareth to do something, anything, Christ, the Redeemer of the World, sees their faith.

He sees their sweat-streaked faces
He sees their trembling muscles 
He sees their eyes, filled with worry and love for their friend, 

And He smiles. 
Six simple words,
"Son, thy sins be forgiven thee"

And their friend is whole again.
They glorify God and run home to celebrate, four turned five, his now unused bed bouncing between them

What do I learn from this? 
Let me respond with a question. 

What am I willing to do for my friends, because of my faith in the Master Healer? 
And another: 
If I was sick of palsy, would my friends be willing to let me down through the roof?
I pray that we all search for the Four and that we strive to be one of the Four ourselves. 

Bring your friend to Christ. 
Let Him heal them.
Then, as miraculous as it may seem, I promise you will find yourself healed as well. 

Love you all dearly, my sweet ladies and gents.

Have a great week. Don’t procrastinate your homework.

Live laugh love.

Angie

Hello my beautiful friends! Sorry this is getting out late this week, hopefully this is a beautiful sweetie tender little good morning message that helps you all know that God is mindful of you. :)

I won’t wax long as far as exposition goes - this poem speaks for itself. It was inspired by 2 Nephi 26:7 :

Enjoy besties :) And I hope your general conference this weekend is everything you hope it to be and more. The Lord is anxious to answer your questions. All you have to do is ask.

Nephi foresaw the destruction and annihilation of his people. He saw their pain, their trials, and their anguish. 
He could have easily railed at God, calling Him uncaring, unkind, and uninterested. 
But, with courage and unwavering faith so typical of Nephi, he boldly declared: “Thy ways are just.”

Not: “Thy ways are easy.”
Not: “Thy ways are painless.”
“Thy ways are just.”

Among the many marvelous traits of our Savior, He is just. 
And that can bring us peace, knowing that all that is unfair about life will be made right in the end through His atonement.

He is the Great Mediator, the ultimate judge, and our advocate. 
And he is just. 
His ways are just. 

So when I am in the throes of infuriating unfairness
When I think that God has abandoned me, 
I must declare right beside Nephi:

“Thy ways are just”

I love you, each and every one of you. But know that Christ loves you a lot more than I ever could. Trust in that.

Have a beautiful week :)

Live Laugh Love.

Anj

Happy Sunday my lovelies!

This week’s poem is inspired by a popular Hymn: #270, “I’ll Go Where You Want Me To Go”. It’s a stirring piece that has always been so poignant and special to me.

I remember singing it in church one week in Nauvoo and the phrase “I’ll answer dear Lord with my hand in thine: / I’ll go where you want me to go” hit me like a ton of bricks. I couldn’t even finish singing the hymn, I took out my notebook and this poem was finished by the time the song had run its course.

It is one I refer back to often, especially in this phase of my life where I feel like my life is a never-ending series of roads diverging in a narrow wood (to borrow the language of Robert Frost). Anyone else feel that way?

Like, seriously. We make a choice, travel a scant half mile down said road of choice, and another fork in the road appears before us. We choose, travel, and encounter another fork, again and again and again and again and again.

Someone should really talk to God about the infrastructure of the covenant path.

Aaaaanyways, the point I’m making here is that I believe God happens to like taking strolls in a narrow wood right alongside us. So when you arrive at your 123185th fork in the road, take comfort in the fact that you’ve got an excellent walking buddy.

We’ve got this, my friends. God’s got this. Go sing hymn #270 if you ever need a reminder. :)

"I'll answer dear Lord with my hand in thine:
I'll go where you want me to go."

with my hand in thine.

God is not going to send us where He needs us to go without any help.
He will be holding our hand the entire time, buoying us up and leading the way.

So why are we afraid to simply follow Him?
Why do we dig our heels in and say it is too hard, too scary, too easy, or that we're not good enough?

Jesus Christ, my savior, my brother, and my friend, is holding my hand,
and I know He won't be the one to let go.

God's got me.
And that?
That's the only thing that matters.

Love you all. Text me if you need anything.

Live Laugh Love.

Angie

Hello lovelies!! Getting the poem out early this week!! Wanted to cater to all of you who actually have good sleeping habits instead of the night owls hehe.

I stumbled across this week’s poem as I was reading in Ether for my personal study. I had randomly linked it to Ether 2:24 forever ago and then promptly forgot that it existed, so finding it again was like reconnecting with an old friend. Very tender, very poignant, and the message was much needed by me this week so I hope it helps you in some small way. Remember that the God of the universe is on your side, and He knows your name. He loves you. He’s so proud of you. He’s taking care of you, don’t you fret. :)

The Lord brought the Jaredites through the desert,
Made them wait for four years.
Had them build boats,
Made them figure out their own solution for light.
He is always teaching - in this case: Faith, Diligence, Patience, Independence, Faith.

I love Ether 2:7 - The Lord isn’t going to suffer that I’m going to stop “beyond the sea in the wilderness.”
Maybe I’ll wait there for a few years, but He’s got a land of promise prepared for me.
He will help me build my barge, He will help me find a solution for air, but it’s my job to figure out the light.

And to get to the promised land?
I’ve got to cross the waters.
With the storms, with the tempests, with the trials.

But.
I have a promise from the Lord.
“Nevertheless, I will bring you up again out of the depths of the sea.”

Each time I’m buried in my ocean of doubt and disbelief,
Each time I’m swallowed by the raging waters of life,
He will bring me up again.

Like Peter, raised from the waves.
Like Lazarus, raised from the dead.
Like the lame, healed of their infirmities, raised to walk, to run, to dance once again.

Christ was raised too.
On that fateful day in Calvary, He was raised up on the cross.

He suffered,
Bled,
And died,

For me.
For you.
For the Brother of Jared, for Peter, for Lazarus, for all who had lived and would yet live upon the earth.

So when you’re in your tiny barge,
Buried in what seems to be an insurmountable wave of debilitating despair,
Look up.

Let He who was raised up for you raise you up.
Let Him take your hand.
Let Him bring you up again.

And live.

“And He lifted up the brazen serpent in the wilderness, even so shall He be lifted up who should come. And as many as should look upon that serpent should live, even so as many as should look upon the Son of God with faith, having a contrite spirit, might live, even that life which is eternal.”
-Helaman 8:14-15

Have a lovely week my dears :)

Live Laugh Love.

Angie

This week’s poem is incredibly poignant for me, but I don’t have much exposition to give you all. I’d rather let her speak for herself.
Hehe. Sorry not sorry. It’s a sweetie poem I promise. It was inspired by Romans 5:3:

“3 And not only so, but we glory in tribulations also: knowing that tribulation worketh patience;”

Enjoy! And happy first week of classes to all those who celebrate!

We glory in tribulations.
There's power in that phrase.  
How do we take control of our tribulations?

We give up control.
And we give that control to God.
We trust in the faith that we have, knowing that God always fulfills His promises.

And then, in the midst of that very trial,
The music begins. 

Slow,
soft,
melancholy at first. 

But as we recognize the melody, that song of redeeming love, 
It fills our souls. 
And in the middle of the tempest, standing in the pouring rain, 

We smile. 
We laugh. 
And we begin to dance. 

The rain continues to fall harder and harder, the lightning flashes and the thunder roars, but we are too busy glorifying God to notice.

We are free.
We are filled with Him.
And forevermore, we will glory, we will rejoice, and we will thank our Savior and our Redeemer for our afflictions.

"Yea, the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens with ease, and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord." -Mosiah 24:15

Love you all, my dear friends. Have a beautiful week.

Live Laugh Love.

Angie

Welcome back babes and gentlemen! Another Sunday in the books! I just moved back to BYU and am THRILLED to be starting the semester and getting back into the swing of things.

So excited. My heart takes off at 100 mph and I get a lil out of breath and my hands kind of go numb every time I think about it which could be due to my sheer anticipation, my social anxiety, or both lol. Interpret from that what you wish.

A poem came to mind while processing all these emotions, written in October 2021, another transitional phase of my life. It was inspired by 1 Nephi 2:4:

“4 And it came to pass that [Lehi] departed into the wilderness. And he left his house, and the land of his inheritance, and his gold, and his silver, and his precious things, and took nothing with him, save it were his family, and provisions, and tents, and departed into the wilderness.

It’s a short poem this week, but I hope it brings you comfort if your heart is racing and your breath is short and your hands are numb like mine are sometimes :).

We’ve got this, my friends. God’s got this.

"[He] Took Nothing With Him" 

 Lehi was a man of great means. He had everything he would ever need in Jerusalem.
And yet, he left - and took nothing with him.
All because of his faith in the Lord.

Do I have that faith?
Am I willing to leave absolutely everything behind for my Savior?
My habits, my doubts,

Everything.

Why did Lehi leave?
Because he knew that there was something even better waiting for him than what he was leaving behind.

Across the desert,
beyond the sea,
was the promised land.
A land prepared by God for him and his family.

As I sit stubbornly in the doorway of my comfortable home in Jerusalem, I fail to see the mansion waiting for me.
Waiting,
Across the desert.
Beyond the sea.

I’d say pack your bags, but you don’t need any.
All you need for this journey of a lifetime?

Take the first step.

Have a blessed week my besties. Love you all.

Live laugh love.

Angie

As I am reading through Romans for Come Follow Me this month, I am AMAZED at Paul’s skill and tenacity and audacity and love and passion and his experience with grace and understanding of who Jesus Christ is and just literally everything about him. I am now Paul’s #1 fan. T-shirt designs for the club will be forthcoming, message me if you want to join lol.

Anyways, this verse in Romans 5 stuck out to me:

7 For scarcely for a righteous man will one die: yet peradventure for a good man some would even dare to die.

8 But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.

It brought to mind a poem I wrote in the first month of my mission in Ecuador, sitting in the back courtyard area of my first apartment. As I read my scriptures among the squawking of the chickens, the story of Peter walking on the water in Matthew 14 hit me like a ton of bricks.

Thus, this poem was born. I feel that it perfectly encapsulates what Paul is trying to say here - that CHRIST DID NOT WAIT FOR YOU TO REPENT BEFORE HE DECIDED TO SAVE YOU!!!!! THAT’S ALREADY TAKEN CARE OF!!! JUST TAKE HIS HAND BRO I PROMISE HE WILL HELP YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wow sorry for shouting. I just feel very passionate about this subject. So pls enjoy!!!!

Peter. Doing the impossible - walking on water.
The Savior. Beckoning. Helping Peter do the impossible through His faith.

The wind. Shrieking. Shouting. Ravenous.
The waves. Tossing about. Boisterous. Deadly.

For a moment - a tiny moment - Peter takes his eyes off his Savior.
Fear creeps in, doubt takes hold.

“Does Christ really have the power to sustain me in the midst of this?”
“Is He really going to be able to support me despite these winds and waves?”
“I’m not worthy to be able to do this.”
"I’m not good enough.”
“The storm is too big.”

Peter sinks.
The waves take hold, the water begins to pull him down.

A desperate plea, a final act of faith:
“Lord, save me.”
What happens next?

Immediately the Lord of all stretches forth His hand.
Catches Peter.
Lifts him, lovingly and firmly, from certain death.

Immediately.

The Lord did not wait until Peter had perfect faith to reach out.
The Lord did not wait until Peter had repented to reach out.
The Lord did not wait to save Peter!
Period!
The Lord saved Peter in the midst of his doubt.

He does the same for me, too.
Each time I take my gaze off the Savior,
Each time I being to sink into my sea of fear and despair,
I cry out, just as the water closes over top of my head, and immediately,

Immediately,

He stretches forth His hand.
He catches me.
And He lifts me,
Lovingly,
Firmly,
Into His warm embrace.

And I am safe.
The winds cease,
The waves are calm.
And I am redeemed.

“Oh thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?”

Love you all. Have a blessed week and happy Sunday :)

Live Laugh Love.

Anj

I was reminded of this poem while studying Come Follow Me this week and learning about Paul’s stunning explanation of the grace we receive through Christ’s atonement. It was written at the beginning of my home MTC experience, while I was lying on the tramp sulking about how I wasn’t still at Nauvoo and how Spanish was hard and how my back hurt from sitting in a chair all day and how my district sucked and how I’m probably not even good enough for a full-time mission and never will be and how online MTC sucked and how it probably wasn’t even that hot in Nauvoo right now and

Anyways.

You get the gist.

I’ve struggled with perfectionism my whole life, and writing this poem was honestly a revelatory experience for me - a moment when God began to teach me what it is to truly be “perfected in Christ” (See Moroni 10:32, emphasis added). Now after what I’ve learned about Christ, I like to also think of it as being “perfected with Christ” in the sense that He is with us in every step of our mortal journey, giving us His own strength as we strive to become more like Him. This quote from D. Todd Christofferson really stood out to me this week so I’ll share it and then we can get on to the poem haha. I have so much more to say but this is my poem blog, not my doctrinal analysis blog lol so lmk if you want to discuss this in-depth and I will gleefully give you a call with alacrity.

“This personal persistence in the path of obedience is something different than achieving perfection in mortality. Perfection is not, as some suppose, a prerequisite for justification and sanctification. It is just the opposite: justification (being pardoned) and sanctification (being purified) are the prerequisites for perfection. We only become perfect “in Christ” (see Moro. 10:32), not independently of Him. Thus, what is required of us in order to obtain mercy in the day of judgment is simple diligence.”

Elder D. Todd Christofferson, Justification and Sanctification, June 2001

All that is required of us is diligence!!!! Do we actually understand that??? Is it actually part of who we are as disciples of Jesus Christ?? Hopefully, some thoughts I wrote on a trampoline in September 2021 can help you understand this concept just a little better. :) enjoy.

RADICAL GENEROSITY

Many times, I wonder:
"Why?"
"Why would God trust me with this?"

I'm imperfect. I'm flawed. Surely there must be someone better equipped for this work than I.

I look in the mirror and see an excruciatingly large gap between the woman I am and the woman I know I can and should be.
What does He see in that gap - that chasm of weakness and pride, selfishness and sin?

He sees everything.

The lonely, dark places of my soul, yes, but, more importantly, He sees the beautiful, powerful spirit that has always existed, the soul that has the capacity and ability to change the world.

He sees my successes and failures, my strengths and weaknesses, everything.

And He thinks I'm beautiful.
He thinks I'm worth it.
He thinks I'm capable.

Each and every day, I am astounded by His radical generosity, by the grace that continues to be extended to me regardless of whether or not I do anything to deserve it.

We're a good team, God and I.
Together, one tiny shovelful of dirt at a time, we begin to fill that chasm.
Each day, I try to accept that radical generosity and show just how grateful I am for it.

It's a slow process.
It may even take an eternity to fill that chasm.
But, each day, I pick up my shovel.
Each day, I get to work.

And Jesus Christ, the Messiah, the Creator of All Things, works right beside me.

"My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me." 
-2 Corinthians 12:9-11