on January 4th I overstuffed my station wagon with luggage, beach bags, and five amazing girls, and headed for the port in Galveston, TX, where our cruise ship, the Carnival Ecstasy, was waiting to sail us off on a five-day Mexican adventure...
Our ship
The main deck, where we ate A LOT of food. All you can eat, any time of day. Basically, it was hazerdous to our health...
Larissa, me and Flor, living the life!
The top deck, which included a track with a spectacular view I ran on one morning. Craziest feeling running circles on a moving ship!
View from our cabin window
Sunset, taken through our cabin window Me, gazing out the window at some gorgeous scenery
Gorgeous scenery I was gazing at :)
Blurry, I know, but the best shot I have to show the "fanciness" of the theaters and lounges on the ship.
Posing with "Timmy" Pierce, talented vocal artist and performer - and our ship's heartthrob!
Flor, Larissa, Michelle, me and Tamara, decked out for the Capitan's formal dining night on the ship
These ladies were so fun to cruise with!
Our daily dinner dining spot
First stop: Chichen Itza, the ancient Mayan ruins on the Yucatan Peninsula
Next stop: Cozumel, Mexico
The port in Cozumel (you can see our ship in the background)
Pinatas, just hanging around
One of the hundreds of Kiosks
Boat ride from the port to Punta Sur, our shore excursion
Flor and I on Punta Sur's Crystal Beach
Hello Beautiful! Flor's toes in the sand
Snorkling - my first time ever, and what a place to start!
My alarm clock buzzed at 6am, and my eyes shot open. I was staring at a chipped cement ceiling, and my pajama shirt clung to my skin like plastic wrap, soaked with humidity and sweat. My mind was wracked with confusion: Where was I? Who's house was this? And how did I get here? I froze as I heard someone rustle on the bunk bed below me, and then clarity came as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes: I was a missionary. I was in Argentina.
An involuntary groan escaped my lips as I sat up, literally peeling my body off the mattress. It had been one day. One day since I stepped of the plane from the comfort of the Missionary Training Center in America and stepped foot into that dusty hot jungle of foreign words and faces. My mind was exhausted from trying to make sense of the sounds and commotion of life around me, and every inch of my body ached from hours of proselyting and running from stray dogs in the street. My companion climbed out of bed and knelt on the cement floor to say her morning prayers, and as I maneuvered off the top bunk to do the same, I winced as my blistered feet made contact with the floor. I breathed in deeply, re-steadied myself and knelt beside my companion with my head bowed in prayer, wondering how I could possibly do this, every day, for the next 16 months. "Padre," I prayed, "Te necesito..."
I pulled myself off my knees and headed for the dresser, hobbling on the sides of my feet so I wouldn't pop my blisters. I opened the top drawer and stifled a scream: there, racing across my clean white underwear, was an enormous, dirty brown cockroach. He froze when the light hit him and stood there atop my silky slip, his antennas twitching and feeling, seeming to lick the air around him. I stood staring at the little beast as he stared at me, trying to decide what to do: I wanted to throw something at him, really hard; I wanted to crawl back in bed and pull the sheet over my head; I wanted to scream for my companion, who was in the shower; and mostly, I wanted to cry.
Then, of all the random things that could flash through my mind in that instant, came a story I had read years earlier, about a husband and wife who had returned late from a trip, and too tired to unpack had gone to bed, leaving several of their personal items in their car parked in the driveway. The next morning they discovered the car had been stolen. As they stood in their now-empty driveway with the wife in tears, the husband suddenly started to chuckle. The wife stared at him in unbelief, and the husband said something along these lines: "We can have a stolen car and cry about it, or we can have a stolen car and laugh about it. Either way, we have a stolen car."
I stood there in the 100 degree heat in that cement apartment in Argentina, nursing my blisters and staring at Mr. Cockroach, when it dawned at me: I could have a cockroach in my underwear drawer and cry about it, or I could have a cockroach in my underwear drawer and laugh about it. Either way, there was a cockroach in my underwear drawer. The corners of my mouth twitched a little, and in that moment I made a pivotal decision: I would laugh.
Now, that didn't change everything. I still had a cockroach in my underwear drawer, and, both literally and figuratively speaking, he would most likely be there every single one of the 455 days that lay ahead of me. It would take six more weeks before I learned to look into the faces of the Argentine people instead of down at the dusty road ahead of me as I walked. Three more months before my blisters popped and became callouses. And nine more months before I learned to roll my "R"s and actually carry on a fluent conversation. But what that experience taught me was optimism. I chose to find humor when my apartment flooded each time it rained, and when my shoes wore so thin I had to stuff the lining with cotton balls and duct tape them together. I chuckled when the Bishop's wife chased a chicken out of her house with a broom, and even attempted to smile when she served me morsilla and mondongo for dinner. (Translation: blood sausage and rubbery cow stomach).
Heavenly Father did answer my prayer that morning some five years ago, when I pleaded to him on my knees in my broken Spanish. He helped me turn my outlook from simply enduring 16 months in a foreign land, to working and serving and learning to love a people and culture and country so incredibly much. Cockroaches and all...*
*well, almost. I still want to throw up, or throw something really hard every time I see a cockroach here in Texas :)
For those of you who do not like my wordiness, you may skip to the end of the post where the pictures and video are :) For everyone else, here goes...
Last Thursday, several of my patients in the hospital where I work spent every waking moment between IV pokes and surgeries in the playroom. Some of them did not like our interior decorating job, and decided to take matters into their own hands by decorating every one-inch square of the wall and floor with various shades of paint. Others, on our younger taste-testing toddler committee, wanted to ensure that the aquamarine and brick red crayons really did taste like aquamarine and, well, red brick. They did. This conclusion was made, of course, by mouthing every crayon in the playroom. Still others, in our animal rights activist group, freed our plastic animals by dumping every one that we owned (along with the dinosaurs, Little People, and action figures) onto the floor.
Due to infection control, and the swine flu epidemic sweeping across Austin (check out the link here: http://www.cbsnews.com/video/watch/?id=5331186n&tag=contentMain;contentBody), this required that every one of those square inches touched by little fingers and every Lego, crayon, lion, tiger and bear in the playroom be wiped down (individually) with disinfectant wipes. Oh my.
Thursday evenings I am the only child life specialist who covers the hospital, (besides the ER specialist whose hands are tied juggling procedures and entertaining 350 swine-flu infected kids and family members in the waiting room). Because I am usually caught up in procedures and inpatient needs, the task of closing the playroom at night typically falls onto our extremely hard working child life assistant. Last Thursday night however things were slow as far as procedures went, and as I peered into the war zone - er, playroom - at 8pm, I knew immediately where I would be spending the remaining hour of my shift...
As I rinsed off a paint brush and she wiped off a tyrannosaurus Rex, our new child life assistant (I'll call her Jane) and I began chatting to get to know each other better. Jane asked me if I had family in the area, and when I explained that my closest family lived in Boise, Jane guessed how hard that must be, and how terribly I must miss them. I explained to her that while I grew up Miss Independent (thank you, Kelly Clarkson) and loved to move and live far away from home, when my nieces and nephew were born, it changed everything. When I took the job in Austin at Dell Children's Medical Center, thousands of miles from my family, I took it with the decision that I would fly home four times a year to be near them and watch my nieces and nephew grow up.
Jane guessed again (correctly) that round trip tickets from Austin to Boise were not cheap and wanted to know how I did it. I explained that I had evaluated my financial situation and created a budget that would allow it. Yes, this means coupon clipping while grocery shopping, buying clothes at TJ Max and thrift stores, and driving a station wagon instead of my dream Jeep Cherokee...but it's worth it when I step off the plane and my five-year-old niece Cora runs into my arms, wrapping her arms and legs tightly around me, as her 3-year-old sister Claire scampers close behind, screaming "Desi! Desi!" with a ginormous lollipop-sticky smile covering her face.
Jane smiled big at this description, wiping down piece 279 of the 500-piece puzzle she was cleaning, and stated she was impressed that someone as young as I had figured out my priorities. She said the majority of humanity figures out what's most important to them when tragedy strikes or they have a brush with death. This was true, I agreed, and discussed with her the saying that nobody on their death bed ever wishes they had spent more time at the office... Jane then explained that only in the last couple years had she truly figured out her priorities. She said she regretted not having spent enough time with her daughter as she grew up, and though she could not change the past, she was determined to live fully and give fully in the present. In fact, she explained she just left the full time work force to take on this part time child life assistant job, because her daughter and grandchild live nearby, and she wants to be able to spend more time with them. With her priorities.
As Jane and I sat there wiping off elephants and tea sets, our knees touching our chests as we squished into pre-school sized chairs, I hoped she was right about me. I hope that the people I love and the values I live remain my priorities - and stay what matters most in my life.
A few of my priorities, in no particular order...
My nephew Soren
My nieces Cora and Claire
My sister Cho and Soren
My sister Michelle, torturing me
Cora and Claire as purple things for Halloween
My brother Michael and my sisters Michelle, Cho, and Amber at Easter
In September 2008 I was looking for a little change in my life. It had been six months since I'd moved to Austin, and my pattern had previously been to move every 4-six months: Boise for a few months after the mission. Then school at BYU-Idaho. Then Dallas for a practicum, and back to BYU-Idaho. Then Boise again, St. Louis for a summer internship, Boise for six months, then Austin... Needless to say, I was feeling antsy, and was itching for a change. Knowing I loved my job, roommate, and Austin, I wasn't going anywhere. So instead, I chopped my hair off. Pixy short, with millions of layers that stuck up crazy with a palm full of gel. My sister Amber told me I looked cute, like a soccer mom. Not exactly what I was going for... Anyway, within weeks I changed my mind and decided to let it grow out again. It has been a week shy of a year, and in that time I have only cut it twice to reshape it (I was feeling a mullet coming on...). Looking at the pictures below, I can not believe how much it has grown. Seriously, you would have thought I'd mixed a little Miracle Grow with my cereal each morning!
September 2008 (with my neices Cora and Claire)
August 2009 (with my sisters Cho and Amber)
(And don't worry - I just moved to a new apartment last month, so I've had my change for this half of the year. My hair is not going anywhere any time soon!)
April showers typically bring May flowers, but this year even my May started out in a downpour! Feeling overly stressed with work projects, church assignments, personal matters, and apartment and roommate hunting, I found myself clinging to the thread shards on the end of my rope. I felt so overwhelmed that like a light bulb, I knew I would either burn out, or shatter (more like explode!) in a million pieces .
One late evening at work, as I sat with my head on my desk, trying to gather the energy to make one last round on my patients, I looked at my office mate and said, "It's official. I'm running away." She somehow knew I wasn't kidding, and scooted her chair over as I Googled vacation packages to Thailand and Tierra de Fuego. Together we priced tickets to destinations all around the world, trying to find me an escape route to Anywhere, Planet Earth.
In the midst of my determined spontaneity (is that possible?), I remembered my Uncle Doug in California, who had invited me several times to his home in Rancho Palos Verdes. With my jaw set towards the West and my time off request in hand, I figured it was about time I took him up on his offer! One week later, I was squishing sand between my toes at Redondo Beach, soaking up sunshine in my Uncle Doug and Aunt Rosie's magnificent backyard garden, and playing hide and seek with my cousins after a boat ride and day at the pier. It was the perfect, peaceful weekend away that I needed, and I came home feeling so refreshed and ready to face life again. Turns out, May did bring her flowers after all...
The view on the drive to my Uncle's house. Love the palm trees!
The cliffs at Palos Verdes Estate.
My uncle's backyard where I spent the majority of my time reading and getting sun.
The sail on our boat, on our spontaneous boat tour off Ports o'Call in San Pedro.
A baby seal we spotted
My Uncle Doug and Aunt Rosie
Me, in front of one of the cargo ships. Those things are HUGE!
My cousin Andrew checking out a lone sailboat on the Redondo Beach pier.
This cute band, playing right on the water's edge, added the perfect soundtrack to my day.
Some really large birds we spotted on the pier.
Random kids playing soccer on Redondo beach.
My cousin Andrew wrote my name in the sand, to prove I was really there!
30 years young, and so many more to enjoy! A degree from BYU-Idaho, a year in New York as a nanny, 18 months in Argentina as a missionary for the LDS church, and 3 years in Austin,TX as a child life specialist. And still, so much more I dream of! Currently you can find me working as a child life specialist at St. Jude Children's Research Hospital in Memphis, TN. I love exploring cities I live in (musicals in the park, tubing the river, finding the best mom-and-pop restaurants), dancing, reading, laughing with my friends, and setting and achieving goals. I have moved 22 times in the past ten years, living in 11 different cities and traveling from the Golden Gate Bridge to Barcelona, Spain. However, despite my many stops and travels, my favorite place to be is at home with my family. I love them incredibly! I also love the Gospel - it means everything to me, and has become ingrained in every aspect of my life. I am happy - and life is beautiful…
Our ship
The main deck, where we ate A LOT of food. All you can eat, any time of day. Basically, it was hazerdous to our health...
Larissa, me and Flor, living the life!
The top deck, which included a track with a spectacular view I ran on one morning. Craziest feeling running circles on a moving ship!
View from our cabin window
Sunset, taken through our cabin window
Me, gazing out the window at some gorgeous scenery
Gorgeous scenery I was gazing at :)
Blurry, I know, but the best shot I have to show the "fanciness" of the theaters and lounges on the ship.
Posing with "Timmy" Pierce, talented vocal artist and performer - and our ship's heartthrob!
Flor, Larissa, Michelle, me and Tamara, decked out for the Capitan's formal dining night on the ship
These ladies were so fun to cruise with!
Our daily dinner dining spot
First stop: Chichen Itza, the ancient Mayan ruins on the Yucatan Peninsula
The port in Cozumel (you can see our ship in the background)
Pinatas, just hanging around
One of the hundreds of Kiosks
Boat ride from the port to Punta Sur, our shore excursion
Flor and I on Punta Sur's Crystal Beach
Hello Beautiful! 
Snorkling - my first time ever, and what a place to start!
No words neccessary...
...but I may just have discovered paradise...
One final sunset...
...and perfect ending.
The cliffs at Palos Verdes Estate.
My uncle's backyard where I spent the majority of my time reading and getting sun.
