Week 45: One Baptism, One Birthday, and Two Celebrity Appearances
Dear Loved Ones,
Russian playwright Anton Chekhov said that if a gun is onstage in the first act, it must go off in the second act. So in theater and other media studies, the term Chekhov's gun refers to something in the background that becomes important later. My mom sent me this birthday package full of Chekhov's guns. (A birthday and a baptism in the same weekend! What a life!) I asked for a baptismal bracelet for Saydi (she sent five) and a towel because I've been using the same one every shower for the past ten months. She sent a fluffy white one. And a box of brownies. On the day of the baptism, Saydi ended up leaving the baptism bag I'd helped her pack just the night before at home. But I had a towel on hand! And the brownies kept her family entertained before the baptism.
I was so excited about witnessing a baptism like a beacon of feminine progress that I almost forgot there are actual responsibilities associated with that. My companion and I drilled ourselves on baptismal procedures the morning of. When the actual baptism happened, I was so focused on making sure that the baptizer got the words right that I completely missed Saydi's hand staying above water. But Sister Moritz called it like a referee. After the third try, her baptism was a success!
We met her in the bathroom afterwards to help her dry her hair. Four female converts and this is the first time I have done that. It was calming. This was my first baptism without any major drama. Just the two of us brushing a little girl's hair.
Now, visitors' center stories! When I was barred from serving, LDSFS and a bad bishop convinced me that I was the one at fault. I thought I needed therapy to turn me into someone good enough to go on a mission. I drained a lot of money that way. The last therapist was May 2017. He kept interrupting me to tell stories about his own life. When I told him that I wanted to do actual therapy, since I was paying for it, he said, "Young lady, I am a damn good therapist."
I told him not to swear at me.
He sneered, "you're just looking for anything to complain about." He kept telling me that I was going to leave his office, that he could see it in my body language, but I held my ground and tried to turn the conversation back to therapy again and again so I could get what I paid for. But the longer he ranted against me, the harder it was to be there. When I eventually got up, he chased me out of his office, through the lobby, down a hallway, and out the building. At one point I was standing in a doorway and I turned back to talk to him, and he slammed the door on me. I had to move fast to avoid getting my foot shut in the door.
I filed a complaint with the Utah Psychological Board. Nothing happened. He's still practicing. I think that moment was the day I became an adult. Adulthood isn't simply having hard things. It's coming to the realization that you can't turn to other people to solve your problems. I realized that I wouldn't get succor from anyone, paid or unpaid, and that if I got on a mission it would be entirely by my own willpower and the grace of God.
The day after I was chased by the psycho therapist, I went to a writers' conference, which should have been something happy, but I was still shaky and scared. And then Jennifer Neilsen, author of The False Prince trilogy, gave this inspiring keynote about writers writing their way out of pain. She had an audience of 700 writers on their feet in a standing ovation. That was over two years ago, but I remember how that talk made me feel. It was the balm I needed. It has a way of lingering in my mind and I was thinking back to it just earlier this week.
Fast forward to Wednesday when Jennifer Neilsen walks into the visitors' center. I wasn't the one to tour her, but I was able to fangirl and tell her how much her speech meant to me. She then launched into another pep talk about how she and I would be on the same side of the book signing table someday and it was okay that I'm not writing right now because I'm doing the most important work. I whispered to her that my "study journal" is not actually anything of the sort, and she switched gears and gave me a new pep talk about how a writer can't not write. And then she turned to every single sister in the lobby and insta-catered a pep talk to whatever they wanted to do in life.
"What's your thing, Sister Barajas?"
"I kind of want my own car shop."
"You will be the best female car mechanic! You shall triumph over gender norms!"
I want to be that. Empowering to everyone I meet no matter what they want to do. She was just as enthusiastic about me being a missionary who writes as she was about me being a missionary who neglects writing. Seeing Jennifer as a missionary was a full circle moment.
We had another celebrity guest star at the VC this week: Henry J. Eyring, who looks like a clone of his father. I got to take him on a tour, unlike Jennifer. Though we did nothing special and he got a trimmed-down version since he had a meeting to get to, he was completely engrossed and said it "changed my life." He looks exactly like his dad. It's kind of eerie. He spoke at length during drake conference about how he felt overshadowed by his dad and grandpa and didn't want to follow in his footsteps, but now he sees their relationship like Elisha and Eliiah.
Stake conference also gave me a chance to run into Madison. I gave her a big hug and a pep talk. She goes up against LDSFS again soon. I believe in her. She can make it.
This was a thrilling, healing, full circle week. My heart is full. Sometimes it is heavy with the problems of the people I teach and meet here, but I am ever grateful to finally be on a mission. When I turned nineteen, I thought it was the last birthday I would see at home for two years. I ended up celebrating my twentieth, twenty-first, and twenty-second birthday at home.
And now I'm finally here.
Sincerely,
Sister Smith
Russian playwright Anton Chekhov said that if a gun is onstage in the first act, it must go off in the second act. So in theater and other media studies, the term Chekhov's gun refers to something in the background that becomes important later. My mom sent me this birthday package full of Chekhov's guns. (A birthday and a baptism in the same weekend! What a life!) I asked for a baptismal bracelet for Saydi (she sent five) and a towel because I've been using the same one every shower for the past ten months. She sent a fluffy white one. And a box of brownies. On the day of the baptism, Saydi ended up leaving the baptism bag I'd helped her pack just the night before at home. But I had a towel on hand! And the brownies kept her family entertained before the baptism. 
I was so excited about witnessing a baptism like a beacon of feminine progress that I almost forgot there are actual responsibilities associated with that. My companion and I drilled ourselves on baptismal procedures the morning of. When the actual baptism happened, I was so focused on making sure that the baptizer got the words right that I completely missed Saydi's hand staying above water. But Sister Moritz called it like a referee. After the third try, her baptism was a success!We met her in the bathroom afterwards to help her dry her hair. Four female converts and this is the first time I have done that. It was calming. This was my first baptism without any major drama. Just the two of us brushing a little girl's hair.
Now, visitors' center stories! When I was barred from serving, LDSFS and a bad bishop convinced me that I was the one at fault. I thought I needed therapy to turn me into someone good enough to go on a mission. I drained a lot of money that way. The last therapist was May 2017. He kept interrupting me to tell stories about his own life. When I told him that I wanted to do actual therapy, since I was paying for it, he said, "Young lady, I am a damn good therapist."
I told him not to swear at me.
He sneered, "you're just looking for anything to complain about." He kept telling me that I was going to leave his office, that he could see it in my body language, but I held my ground and tried to turn the conversation back to therapy again and again so I could get what I paid for. But the longer he ranted against me, the harder it was to be there. When I eventually got up, he chased me out of his office, through the lobby, down a hallway, and out the building. At one point I was standing in a doorway and I turned back to talk to him, and he slammed the door on me. I had to move fast to avoid getting my foot shut in the door.
I filed a complaint with the Utah Psychological Board. Nothing happened. He's still practicing. I think that moment was the day I became an adult. Adulthood isn't simply having hard things. It's coming to the realization that you can't turn to other people to solve your problems. I realized that I wouldn't get succor from anyone, paid or unpaid, and that if I got on a mission it would be entirely by my own willpower and the grace of God.
The day after I was chased by the psycho therapist, I went to a writers' conference, which should have been something happy, but I was still shaky and scared. And then Jennifer Neilsen, author of The False Prince trilogy, gave this inspiring keynote about writers writing their way out of pain. She had an audience of 700 writers on their feet in a standing ovation. That was over two years ago, but I remember how that talk made me feel. It was the balm I needed. It has a way of lingering in my mind and I was thinking back to it just earlier this week.
Fast forward to Wednesday when Jennifer Neilsen walks into the visitors' center. I wasn't the one to tour her, but I was able to fangirl and tell her how much her speech meant to me. She then launched into another pep talk about how she and I would be on the same side of the book signing table someday and it was okay that I'm not writing right now because I'm doing the most important work. I whispered to her that my "study journal" is not actually anything of the sort, and she switched gears and gave me a new pep talk about how a writer can't not write. And then she turned to every single sister in the lobby and insta-catered a pep talk to whatever they wanted to do in life.
"What's your thing, Sister Barajas?"
"I kind of want my own car shop."
"You will be the best female car mechanic! You shall triumph over gender norms!"
I want to be that. Empowering to everyone I meet no matter what they want to do. She was just as enthusiastic about me being a missionary who writes as she was about me being a missionary who neglects writing. Seeing Jennifer as a missionary was a full circle moment.
We had another celebrity guest star at the VC this week: Henry J. Eyring, who looks like a clone of his father. I got to take him on a tour, unlike Jennifer. Though we did nothing special and he got a trimmed-down version since he had a meeting to get to, he was completely engrossed and said it "changed my life." He looks exactly like his dad. It's kind of eerie. He spoke at length during drake conference about how he felt overshadowed by his dad and grandpa and didn't want to follow in his footsteps, but now he sees their relationship like Elisha and Eliiah.Stake conference also gave me a chance to run into Madison. I gave her a big hug and a pep talk. She goes up against LDSFS again soon. I believe in her. She can make it.
This was a thrilling, healing, full circle week. My heart is full. Sometimes it is heavy with the problems of the people I teach and meet here, but I am ever grateful to finally be on a mission. When I turned nineteen, I thought it was the last birthday I would see at home for two years. I ended up celebrating my twentieth, twenty-first, and twenty-second birthday at home.
And now I'm finally here.
Sincerely,
Sister Smith
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