Roy in 60 seconds

My not-so-great weekend ended Sunday night when I got pulled over in Refugio for a burnt out headlight. At the time, I was, ironically, listening to a podcast about motorists being stopped by the Border Patrol.* I was not stopped by the Border Patrol, however, and did not find my violation worthy of a stop by the Refugio Police either. For once in my life, I was not speeding. After searching my registration and docs and finding no other violation whatsoever, the cop gave up and asked what I did.

"I'm an attorney." This elicited an immediate, "oohh....I'm just going to give you a warning ma'am."
That's right.

Anyway, my not-so-great weekend left me not-so-thrilled about starting my Monday, but it had to be done. As I opened my hotel room door in Corpus this morning, I looked down the hallway to find a tall, dark man staring back at me. Here we go. My week had begun. This man held my gaze a little longer than necessary before I turned toward my bags and he disappeared around the corner. We met up at the elevator.

And this is how the next sixty seconds or less played out.

"Is that your natural hair color?"

"No"

"I like it. It looks good on you."

"Thanks."

I step on the elevator, followed by my new friend.

"I'm Roy."

"Hi. Nice to meet you."

Elevator door closes.

Roy unabashedly moves his head to get a good look at both my hands. Amused by his complete lack of discreet, I flash him my left hand.

"No ring."

Roy's eyebrows raise and a slight grin crosses his face.

"Can I get your digits?"

"I don't know...I don't live here."

"I can travel."

I give him a look like, I don't think so bud.

"Just to talk....just small talk..."

Elevator door opens.

"I don't think so, but it was nice to meet you."

I walk to the front desk. Roy takes one long look at me and then disappears down the hallway.

And that was Roy. The start of my week.

True, Roy may have been straddling the line between forward and creepy, but you got to hand it to the man. I've never seen someone be so proactive in the short amount of time it takes to travel from the second floor down to the first. He saw what he wanted, knew he had just a few seconds to get it, and he seized the day. So it didn't work out for him, but he definitely gets an A for effort.

And that's all it takes folks. 60 seconds or less to go after that dream man or woman you see on the elevator, in the grocery store, at the gym. Learn from Roy. Seize the day. And may you have better luck than he did.

*Podcast was from This American Life. The most popular podcast this week turns out to be Serial and I'm addicted. Check it out, but you must start with Episode 1. Thanks to Irena for getting me hooked and making my drive that much more tolerable.

Client Reminders

Every now and then I have clients that teach me something. Their stories remain with me long after I've forgotten their names.

Like the woman who suffered severely from anxiety due to a traumatic past, but showed up with her loving husband in their Sunday best. Her anxiety was so great she panicked like a child the moment she entered the hearing room and could only be consoled by the presence of her faithful, hard-working husband. The sincere love and concern this man had for his wife and his watchful care over her despite her debilitating condition and inability to give equally in their marriage continues to impress me.

Then there was the middle-aged man whose income most years exceeded mine but because of his line of work and a leave of absence to take care of a terminally ill father was left without any medical coverage in his time of need. He was a former athlete, who at one point even ran the Pikes Peak Marathon (!), and was now struck with terminal cancer and drowning in medical debt. This once strong and very capable man broke down in sobs after his hearing and paid no attention to my outstretched hand as he enveloped me in the strongest hug I have yet to receive from a client.

This week I had another such story. I was returning from a short vacation and ready to dive into a day packed with hearings. I was feeling the post-vacation blues and, for some reason, a bit of the "woe is me"s and I was happy to be "anxiously engaged" and mentally occupied.

My client was a young man in his early twenties but due to several serious medical conditions he was left with a body that was underweight and mangled and in excruciating pain. I had to physically assist him into the hearing room. Little testimony was taken as his poor body spoke volumes. As I helped this man back to his loved ones, I was struck with the very timely lessons that are sometimes given to us. The stark reminders that while life is never perfect, there are certainly things to be grateful for. I felt a bit of the love our Savior must have for these tender souls with their disfigured bodies. I was reminded that while on the Earth, He blessed and healed bodies like my client's and at times even wept. Though my body is strong and capable, I was reminded that, while not physically on the Earth, He still has power to heal my heart.

Immediately following this hearing, I had another client, a one year old, who due to incidents at birth was left with a similarly mangled body. Although unable to effectively use his right side, he was free from pain, and was all smiles. He was able to show us his disfigured high five and, though only one, legitimately winked at me several times throughout the hearing. The ladies better watch out when he grows up. His smiles despite his physical limitations continued to teach me the lesson I needed this week.

So today, I am grateful. I am grateful to have a working, functioning body that allows me to get up everyday and earn a living. I'm grateful to have a job with medical coverage, flexibility, and the opportunity to travel. I am grateful for a family legacy of education, healthy living, independence, hard work, and Christian values. I am grateful to know there is a Savior of the world who atoned for our sorrows, heartaches, loneliness, and physical ailments. I am grateful to know that through His atonement we can all be made whole, whether in this life or in the next, physically as well as emotionally. I am grateful to know that we have a loving Heavenly Father who knows us and who blesses us with timely reminders and lessons tailored specifically to our needs in our time of need. And I am grateful to my clients, for teaching me so powerfully.

Angel Agents

Fine. Lesson learned. When forced to make a decision between driving to Monroe, Louisiana or flying with a connection, I will now drive. Always.

My flight from Houston to Monroe had me stopping at DFW for a quick one hour layover. When it was announced our flight out of Houston would be delayed an hour, I thought, well there goes my connection. I spoke with the agent in Houston who didn't seem to think it would be much of a problem as we would probably make up some time in the air. Ok, I thought, I'll pray for a miracle then. Sure enough our plane lingered on the runway and when we landed at DFW my flight to Monroe had already left. Cool. Not really.

I was now forced to make a decision. There were no more flights to small town Monroe that night and there were none early enough in the morning for me to make it to my hearings. Do I now drive the four hours to Monroe? I had a hotel waiting there and my clients had been waiting three months for their hearing date. Or do I forget the whole thing, I tried after all, call my clients, and find a hotel in Dallas for the night? I opted for the path of least resistance and decided to suck it up and drive to Monroe. It was going to be a late night.

This brings me to my first angel agent.

John

I'm not sure if the United agent at DFW that helped me was in fact named John, but, given the other two agents in this story, it had to have been.

I explained to John in a pleasant but fatigued and isn't-tonight-going-to-be-fun sort of way about my predicament.  Because there were no other flights to choose from, he kindly processed a refund for the flight I had missed. In addition, he decided to take pity on a lonely, destitute female who would now have to make her way to a "foreign" land in the dead of night and gave me, wait for it, a $100 voucher to be used on any United flight within the next year! I'll take it!

John was a saint and I'm not sure I adequately thanked him enough for going above and beyond.

Peter

Yes, the rental car agent was in fact named Peter. I'm not sure he was really an angel agent. More like a tempter agent, but we'll call him an angel for getting me a one-way car rental and for keeping me awake my first hour of driving. I'll explain.

Pete was a great listener. He heard my sad little tale along with the over sharings that usually come out of my mouth in times of stress. Something I over shared must have elicited the following comment.

"I don't understand why women think, if they're not all done up, they're ugly." He slowly shook his head. Was this an indirect compliment or just a reflection on my gender as a whole? I couldn't tell.

But then, knowing I was headed through Shreveport, he offered, "If it was the weekend, I'd take you to the casino."

Now we're talking. If this were a movie, we would now cut to visions of me and Petey headed east in a rented convertible, my hair and scarf flapping in the wind, hands high in the air, shades on, red lips smiling, and both of us gleefully anticipating drowning in coins and poker chips with our new found love interest. But it wasn't the weekend, it was a Wednesday. And my health and safety remained in tact.

But it was these visions (and a chocolate shake, phone call, and music) that kept me awake as I started my four hour drive at 10:00 at night.

James

So yes, my angel agents were Peter, James and well, maybe John.

I did safely arrive into Monroe and made it to my hearings the next morning. For some reason I was booked on a late afternoon return flight. When it was announced that the flight out of Monroe was delayed an hour and that once again I would miss my connection in Dallas, I tried my best to hold it together. But after only four hours of sleep, I was deteriorating fast.

This is when the stars aligned and I met James. Sweet, blessed James. James did the impossible. He transferred my American Airlines ticket to a United flight. The United flight boarded in just twenty minutes. It was a direct flight into Houston. I would arrive three hours ahead of schedule. I got a window seat and an aisle seat. I got to land in Terminal B. I, therefore, got to restock on a much needed supply of chocolate covered gummy bears for a friend and I. I got to go to bed early. This was a miracle.

John was generous. Pete was fun. But James, you did the impossible. You have my heart.

Dallas Detour

Sometimes I have work schedules that don't make sense. Like why, for example, would I have hearings scheduled in Ardmore, Oklahoma when there are two very capable attorneys stationed in Dallas and one in Oklahoma City? Ardmore doesn't even have an airport! But such is the case sometimes.

Because Ardmore was still about a 2 hour drive from the nearest airport and flying (commuting to the airport, waiting for flight, etc.) would eat up almost as much time as driving to the nearest airport, I opted to take my trusty corolla instead and make my own schedule.

My schedule couldn't have been more perfectly planned, for on the way home I got to make a detour to this beautiful place.

Latter-day Saints, or Mormons, believe worship in holy temples to be a great source of strength and peace. While there is an LDS temple located in Houston, it was temporarily closed for the month of September.  I was overjoyed that my work travels had, in a round about way, sent me here.

I mentioned before that some stories cannot be shared. Another such story occurred this weekend that broke my heart, but more importantly the hearts of those I love. My heartache is nothing compared to theirs, I'll be the first to admit. Despite this, I saw very clearly the grief, evil, and misfortune that at times seems to combat us on all sides. I knew that, for myself at least, I needed to seek some sort of refuge from the storm. And it is here where I found it. Even as I entered the parking lot, I could feel my shoulders relax and peace flood my heart.

As I evaluated the proceeding weekend, I realized that if darkness can exist, so then must light. Otherwise how would we know what darkness is if we had nothing to compare it to. So I began to look for goodness and for small slivers of hope breaking through what at times seems an impenetrable wall of resistance. And this is what I found:

• I found a man who had just reclaimed his Saturday mornings only to offer one more up for the sake of helping someone else by delivering Meals on Wheels. 
• I found a friend drop everything in an instant to be with a loved one in need.
• I found a family invite a lonely woman to lunch. 
• I found a man who chose to live worthily so he could be called upon in a moment's notice to give a priesthood blessing to someone in despair.
• I found a friend asking after a man he's never met but cares for anyway.
• I found a mini van full of kids eager to help find somebody to love. 
• I found smiles, hugs, selflessness, and a whole lot of love. 

I suppose darkness is all around us if that's what we choose to see. But again, if there is darkness, there must be light. If there is evil, there must be good. If there is despair, there must be hope. If there is confusion, there must be certainty. If there are falsehoods, there must be truth. Sometimes these things are hard to see. Light and truth aren't nearly as captivating or intriguing as their opposites. They aren't nearly so loud or as demanding. But goodness, light, and truth are all there, if we choose to see it. 

And for those that may be too burdened by grief to see it now, there is hope and there are good things to come. Just hang on! Perhaps our detours don't seem to make much sense when they are forced upon us, but perhaps, maybe in due time?, they too will lead us to a place, somewhere, that offers peace, comfort, and refuge from the storm. 

What goodness have you found this week?

For more on: The Infinite Power of Hope

For more on: LDS Temples

Things Said (and Unsaid)

It's been three months, almost to the date, since my last post.
Life got pretty exciting.
So exciting that I didn't have time to write.
So exciting that even if I did have the time, I wouldn't have been able to focus.

Sometimes we have stories we can share. Sometimes we have stories we can't. (And often times, let's be honest, we have stories we shouldn't share but do anyway).

Some stories cannot be shared because when we are in the middle of them they consume us. They hit every emotion possible and the intensity at which we feel those emotions leaves our head spinning. All we can do is hold on and see how it will all unfold.

Some stories cannot be shared even after they have ended because they are too dear, too personal, too full of love, too full of pain.

And sometimes, stories cannot be shared because there is the hope that, despite reaching a climax and conclusion, there is more to the story. There is the hope that even though the story's end appears to be well-written and finalized, perhaps it's really just a beginning, a beginning to a much longer and even greater story.

The story of the past three months cannot be shared for all of the above reasons. I have other stories to tell though (if anyone still wants to read them), but I'm struggling to find the strength to speak.

Until I find my voice again, I thought I'd let someone else do the talking...

Judge:  Are we on the record?
Hearing monitor:  Yes
Judge: [to no one in particular] There's an attorney from Dallas that I see and I never know what hair color she is going to have when I see her. Sometimes it's red, sometimes it's blonde, sometime's it's brown....but with Becki, she's consistent, I always know it's going to be red. I just thought I'd get that on the record.


Niece, age 3: [at Thanksgiving Dinner] This turkey is dead. But it used to be alive right?
Us: Yes
Niece: Did the lawyer kill it?


Judge: What do you do all day?
Claimant: Nothin'....Sir, I'm a crackhead.


Judge: Good morning counselor. It's always a pleasure to see you. I see you got the pink shirt memo.


Client: [to Security Guard] I found my attorney in the parking lot, isn't that great? And wouldn't you know, I got the prettiest attorney in the parking lot.


Unknown Man in Lobby: If you were stuck with a tiger, lion, and camel and had a gun with one shot, which would you shoot?
Unsuspecting Victim in Lobby: [shrugs shoulders]
Unknown Man: I'd shoot the tiger, erase the "line" and smoke the camel.


Security Guard: You're just a baby attorney, aren't ya?


Unknown Man in Lobby: [as I walk by] You need a wedding band.


Judge: Is this some kind of joke?
Me: Uh....
Judge: Jerrilyn and Becki Lyn?
Client: It's pronounced Jerr-Lyn, no i.
Judge: Ok. Then for the remainder of the hearing you will be Beck-Lyn.
*Client's name changed above.


Conclusions that can be drawn from the above statements:

Judges like consistency.
Lawyers kill birds.
Crackheads are honest.
Female judges pay attention to your wardrobe while male judges stick to hair color
Older clients are flirty.
Older men in small towns think they're funny.
I apparently look like a baby (again).
I need to get married.
And certain judges like to tease female baby attorneys with red hair and double first names by refusing to call them by their last name which is proper protocol.

Hawaii Part I: Oahu

Back in October, my good friend Suzanne and I realized we both had enough reward miles to fly to Hawaii virtually free. To prevent life from getting in the way, we booked our tickets six months in advance. We were headed to paradise for a whopping seven dollars and fifty cents.

Friday, May 2

After a good four hours of sleep (salsa dancing with a latin man kept me out a little longer than planned) Suzanne and I make it to the airport where we wait an extra 2 hours for our delayed nine hour flight to Honolulu. Once on board we find a wide selection of movies and TV shows to keep us occupied for free and at our leisure. I watch two before I succumb to sleep and realize we still have hours to go.

I can't contain my excitement as we land. I was in paradise! It had been over 10 years since I found myself on a tropical island and I was going to enjoy every minute of this trip. I was so overcome by the majestic green cliffs that guided us north, I couldn't help but take a photo as I drove on by. (No accidents or honking occurred while taking this photo.)

Following the recommendation of our Hawaiian friend, we decided to stay in a condo on the North Shore. As we drove along the coast we saw several signs stating, "Keep the Country Country." I eventually learned that the "country" was referring to the North Shore and efforts were in place to prevent it from becoming another Waikiki. After spending a week in the country, I whole heartedly support these efforts.

Four hours of sleep and a five hour time difference began to take it's toll after an hour of driving and a half hour of being "lost." What we would soon find out is that Hawaii roads are not always clearly marked. If they are marked, the street name will invariably start with the letter K. M or P are other popular choices. This first letter will be followed by string of vowels. Such as the Kamahameha Highway. For a haole like myself, these names became impossible to pronounce and distinguish. Navigating our way around the island proved interesting. We were always grateful for an English road name we could recognize like Campbell, even if it was less authentic.

After finding our condo and ditching our stuff, we grabbed a quick dinner in Laie (pronounced la-ee-ey) at Seven Brothers, picked up some groceries at Food Land, and took a quick tour of the LDS temple's visitor center where we learned Laie was settled primarily by Latter-day Saints or Mormons.
We then went home and crashed.

Saturday, May 3

First thing we do is head for the Wal-mart in Mililani. I know, what a horrible start to a vacation in paradise. But we needed beach towels and sunscreen. And our first bag of Mauna Loa milk chocolate toffee macadamia nuts. From there, it's straight to the beach. It takes awhile to find a parking spot at Waimea Bay on a Saturday morning, but after 10 minutes of waiting, some locals leave and we grab their spot.

Waimea Bay has a great jumping rock. Signs warn against jumping but no one pays attention to it. After being reassured by three Hawaiian girls that it's totally safe and all good, I take the plunge. I can't help but let out a scream after free falling and finding I still have not touched the water. Fifteen feet or so below the surface my feet touch sand and I shoot back up. A Hawaiian girl in the water says, "see, it wasn't that bad." It wasn't - quite the rush. But once is enough for now.

At lunch time, tropical rain looks imminent and we leave to find some local grub. We stop at Ted's Bakery where I order fish and the famous chocolate - haupia (coconut) cream pie.

 

 

 

After lunch we head to Turtle Beach to look for sea turtles. We find an obvious one.

 



 

We are not allowed in the water at this beach, but we do see another sea turtle swimming. He occasionally pops his head up to catch his breath. We sit and watch enamored.

 

For our third beach of the day we look for Three Tables, my dad's proclaimed favorite. Most of the North Shore beaches do not have identifying signs to let you know you've arrived at your destination. One has to use context clues or really detailed guide books (at least we did). We find the area that we think might be Three Tables and walk to the sand. Sitting down we look out into the water and see three large, flat rock formations: Three Tables! We had arrived. Three Tables is a great place for snorkeling and I enjoy rolling in the waves with my brightly colored fish friends. This beach is also a great place to watch the sunset. (No filter used.)

 

At the end of our trip I sat on this beach to write on a postcard that photographed a place called Alligator Rock. I thought, oh we never found this spot. Then I look up to see it was right in front me the entire time, I had just never recognized it. (You can see the first of three tables to the right of this photo.)

After a long day in the sun and sand, we decide to just order pizza for dinner. I call Pizza Hut and order Hawaiian. We're being lame but at least we're sticking with a theme. I am then told by a woman in a rather condescending voice, "We don't have a Hawaiian. We just have ham and pineapple." True, that's what they call it in Hawaii. We'll take it. This was a favorite quote of the trip as my friend kept searching for Hawaiian Shaved Ice. "We don't have Hawaiian. We just have shaved ice."

 

Sunday, May 4

 

Even though we were on vacation, we decided to make the first hour of church in Laie. The hour was full of Alohas and Talofas (Samoan greeting). Prior to church we explored Turtle Bay (as opposed to Turtle Beach). I find a great place to get married. 

 

 

 

But the place I really want to get married, we explored after church. The LDS Laie temple.

 

 

And here's the view from the top. You can see the ocean in the distance.

 

 

BYU Hawaii was just down the street.

 

 

Next stop was the Dole Plantation where we took the Pineapple Express and learned all about James Dole and bringing pineapple to the Hawaiian Islands.

 

 

Then into Honolulu to hike Manoa Falls. According to my brother, this waterfall is shown in the TV show Lost. The hike reminded me a lot of my days in the Dominican Republic.

 

 

And Hawaii really is the Garden of Eden.

 

 

On Sundays, everything in Laie shuts down, so on the way back to the North Shore we stop in Haleiwa for dinner at Haleiwa Joe's.

 

Monday, May 5

 

I can't get enough of the water, so Monday morning we head to Sunset Beach where we find the weather has produced some pretty good sized waves.

 

 

Surfers of all ages are out and we are mesmerized. The ocean isn't very forgiving though.

 

 

For lunch we stop at the Kahuku Grill just outside of Laie.

 

 

This restaurant is owned by the same seven brothers that own the hamburger joint Seven Brothers and is known for its world famous coconut shrimp. And dude, was it amazing. Best shrimp I've ever had.

 

 

For dessert we ordered Peggy's chocolate banana coconut bread served with vanilla ice-cream and coconut shavings. Again, amazing. On our last night in Oahu, we came back to the Kahuku Grill to try out their home fries and we run into Peggy's mom. We thank her for passing down such a wonderful recipe.

 

After lunch, we head to the Polynesian Culture Center in Laie. Sometimes referred to as the PCC, the center offers visitors a look into the culture, dance, and lifestyles of Polynesian countries including Hawaii, New Zealand, Tonga, Tahiti, Samoa, and Fiji. We saw the Haka dance (don't mess with them), saw a Samoan rip open a coconut like it was no big deal (it is), tried our hand at starting a fire (I failed), tasted poi (rather bland by itself), learned the hula (!!), watched a canoe parade (fun, but hot!), saw an IMAX video (in which I saw my friend's dad), and ate at a traditional Luau.

 

 

After the luau was the performance Ha-Breath of Life. Complete with dancing and fire twirling, I was all smiles throughout the show. This was one of my favorite days on the island!

 

Tuesday, May 6

 

We had spent three whole days on Oahu and still had not ventured in to see the typical Honolulu tourist attractions. Today would be that day.

 

First stop, Pearl Harbor. Boat rides out to the remains of the USS Arizona were bought ahead of time to secure a spot. We arrive early and take the audio tour of the museums while we wait for our boat. I find that although Pearl Harbor is a hallowed spot, I'm not the biggest military history buff. I know that must make me sound horribly unpatriotic, but it's true. I do enjoy the display of Sadako's cranes (see Golden Crane for more on this) and the display on Japanese Americans.

 

Prior to the boat ride, visitors watch a brief video of the events leading up to the attack on December 7, 1941. Visitors are then asked to discontinue use of cell phones as we board the boat and take a short ride out to the memorial. This is the final resting place for many that died that day. Oil from the sunken battleship can still be seen floating to the surface.

 

After paying our respects to those that served our country so honorably, we head to Diamond Head.

Unlike our hike to Manoa Falls, this hike is hot and dry with no shade. (A word to the fair: don't forget sunscreen on the back of your legs!) The hike isn't long and our tour guide book did warn us about the tunnel and the 99 steps we'd have to take to get to the top. The view is spectacular!

 

Honolulu & Waikiki
 

To cool off after our hike we finally make our way to Waikiki. This is where most tourists stay and after four days we were finally making our way there. We found we weren't missing much. Waikiki is a city beach complete with homeless guests and rough, coral sea bottoms. Within walking distance, however, is a whole host of shops and restaurants with an ABC store every fourth door. This is where we buy most of our souvenirs to take home. After spending a day in the city we are happy to retreat back to the country.

 

Wednesday, May 7

 

This is our last day on Oahu and it's starting to feel like home. We are getting sad to leave.

 

For breakfast we head to Hukilau Café in Laie known for it's delicious banana pancakes. This restaurant was also inspiration for the café in the movie 50 First Dates. It is hard to find as it is located inside a neighborhood and there is only one small sign directing you from the main road. It's also closed Sundays & Mondays and not open for dinner. Inside the café are photos and autographs of local Hawaiian athletes who made it big. Most are football players, some of whom play in the NFL.

 

We designated our last day as a beach-only day and after breakfast we head to Sunset to work on our tans.

A few days before, a friend had told us we needed to try a place called Ono Yo in Kahuku as it had the most amazing frozen yogurt she had ever tasted. For lunch we head there.

I order the recommended fruit bowl: passion fruit Greek yogurt topped with fresh kiwi, strawberries, and pineapple, covered in passion fruit juice. One word: O-no!! (Hawaiian for delicious).

For the afternoon, we return to Three Tables where I am mistaken for a local. Not a native, but a local. It was a proud moment. Hawaii and I were destined to be together.

 

We head to Sunset for the sunset and back to Ono Yo where I try out the almond joy. It's good, but the fruit bowl is still the best. And then finally, Kahuku Grill and home.

 

Our time in Oahu is over. And it was heavenly.

 

Mahalo! A hui hou!

 



Guest Post: Earthquake in Japan

Today, I'm lucky enough to have a guest post by my awesome cousin Lauren who was living in Japan when the 2011 earthquake hit. This is her OTR story.

Lauren also just published a book: What is Hidden? I've read it, love it, and can't wait for the sequel. (And no, I wasn't paid to say that. I honestly feel that way. :) ) Check out her story below and her book at Barnes and Noble or Amazon.com.

I lived in Japan for a year teaching English, so I have a lot of stories from on the road, the craziest one being from March 2011. I lived in a city called Hitachi, in Ibaraki Prefecture, which was about an hour and a half Northeast of Tokyo by train, and right along the shore. It was about the size of an American suburb, and I had a tiny studio apartment that I loved.

Well, as you probably remember, Japan was hit by its largest earthquake ever, and the fifth strongest in recorded history on March 11, 2011. I was in the teacher's room, reading, and I can remember just about everything that happened. We were hit with a smaller one first - but still strong enough to knock books off of my neighbor's desk. It was long, too, at least a minute of constant shaking. One teacher turned on the TV, but the power was knocked out almost immediately. When it finally stopped, teachers started returning from other parts of the school to help clean up, but then the big one hit hard. It was like we were on a boat that had just been rammed. Immediately we were told to go outside, like in a fire drill, and I remember feeling weird about going outside with my indoor shoes still on. I was also translating for another English teacher who didn't speak any Japanese.

We waited outside with the students for maybe an hour or so while the aftershocks kept coming, and I chatted with the students to keep them calm. I wasn't supposed to speak Japanese in the classroom, so a lot of them had no idea I knew it. They were instantly distracted and asked me things like my favorite food, hobbies, and if I had a boyfriend (these were staples of what students wanted to know about me).

Eventually I was sent home, where everything was a mess and there was no power or water. The next day, I waited in line to get inside a supermarket where employees sold everything by hand. (Japan was still a cash-heavy country, so thankfully I had money.) There was someone handing out newspapers outside and it was only then that I realized what had happened, and how big the quake had been. It was about a 6.8 where I was, I think. Our city was mostly on a cliff, so the tsunami didn't hurt Hitachi as much as it did Sendai and other cities further north.

It's interesting the details that stay with you. I still remember how sticky the floor was from the shattered bottles at the neighborhood import store when I went to get more foot. (They had my hook-up for chips and salsa.) I remember using the 3G on my Kindle to send an email to my family, since my internet was out. I remember one of my friends back in the US posted a missing person report for me since she couldn't get a hold of me. When I did post on Twitter, other people asked me for updates about the area since information was so hard to get without power. We limited our time outside for fear of radiation poisoning - there was a nuclear plant not that far from us, and we were close enough to Fukushima that it was also a slight concern.

After a couple more days without running water, some other teachers and I headed to Tokyo. I spent a week there in hostels, and - aside from the constant aftershocks - it was almost like nothing had happened. Then, after a week there, my teaching contract was up and I headed back to Hitachi to pack up and return to the States.

Given all of this, you'd think I'd write a dystopian novel. I still might, but that's not what this one is. However, the main character Evie does have her life changed in a way she never imagined. I never thought I would be in an enormous earthquake - I grew up mostly in Kansas! I knew about tornados, not earthquakes. I learned a lot about how I react in high-stress situations, and Evie does, too, though her situation is much more personal and intense than mine was. Luckily for me, for most of the time I wasn't alone like she is, and the people I encountered were all very kind and helpful.

Building #3

Two years ago this month I moved into my cozy little apartment with a home office ready to take on the legal world. When I'm not on the road, I can be found here, plugging away on my computer and trying to keep my dog from barking while I'm on the phone with clients. I'm usually hunkered down for most of the day, the majority of nights and an occasional weekend.

Perhaps I would be more productive if I was not distracted by getting my laundry done, or cleaning my kitchen, or oh wait, my dog really needs a walk right now, and dang it I must run to the grocery store pronto. Or perhaps if I kept my suit on for the remainder of the day, instead of changing into jeans and flip flops the second I got home. Either way, I get the job done eventually. 

Although sometimes I need extra motivation.

But working from home proves interesting in other areas as well. I'm starting to become more intimate with the happenings in Building #3 and the complex as a whole.

The most intimate happening would be the relations between Back Wall Neighbor and myself. I'm going to spare the details for now (I know, the juiciest part and I'm not spilling it). Let's just say that after two years of bumping into each other, while walking our dogs mostly, I finally took the commandment to "love thy neighbor" to heart. We went out. Saw each other a few more times after that. It was great. Really great actually. But for now (again I'm sparing a lot of details here) we are trying to go back to just being neighbors. Which we all know will not work and makes this unique situation that much harder. Especially when you can't help but hope that any moment he'll walk by. (Confession: I may or may not be sitting on my newly furnished patio as I type this - but hey the weather is beautiful this evening).

If Back Wall Neighbor doesn't come to his senses, I might have a chance with Across the Hall Neighbor. He appears to be a newly divorced, nice, middle-aged man. He's lived across the hall from me since August but aside from distant waves we had never spoken until last week. I was walking towards my apartment and he was getting out of his car. I picked up my pace as it was night and I live alone and I don't like to open my apartment door when there are people walking behind me. He apparently was picking up his pace too because he wanted to talk to me. He caught up with me at our landing, gave me his name, and shook my hand. This past Sunday as I'm trying to get my dog to pee! pee! pee! as I was late for church, I hear a "Good Morning Becki" with the pungent smell of cigar smoke wafting down from the balcony above me. Oh no, I think. But hey, at least I may have options.

But then, there's always the pilot who lives in the back of the complex. The one that drunkenly tells me he hasn't seen me in awhile and has been thinking about me. The one that soberly makes his friend slow down the car so he can roll down the window and chat with me for a bit.

Anyway.

Today, as I continue to struggle with the whole love your neighbor battle, I make a quick run to the grocery store. As I leave my apartment I run into a former student of mine. I taught 7th grade but this man is definitely not 13. He is not only taller and bigger than me, he is now a functioning adult living on his own. Gee, I feel old. And gee, isn't this awkward. I try to avoid eye contact (we've almost run into each other before) as I try to console myself that he won't recognize me. My policy with former students has always been: if they acknowledge you, acknowledge them, but if they don't, let them be.

Last year, I had a former student of mine living next door. These were different circumstances as our brothers were friends and we belonged to the same church. While I still felt old, it was fun having a neighbor I knew so well and one I could count on to pick up my mail when I was gone for a week. Don't worry, I took her shotgun shooting in return.

After making my quick run to the store (and after a mishap with the orange display - it wasn't me! they just collectively decided to take a dive - all 10 of them), I return to my complex to find more romance awaits in Building #3. Only it doesn't involve me. Humph.

There is a lovers' quarrel in Spanish. I pretend I don't understand, but their Spanish is really clear and I actually do get bits and phrases. They aren't happy with each other - that's clear. They were arguing when I left.

The other couple is lingering in the parking lot saying a slow and affectionate goodbye before I lose them behind an SUV. They're probably smooching. Then the man walks wistfully up the stairs.

It must be spring.

So here I sit and here I've sat for the past hour on a patio in Building #3. No neighborly sightings of any kind. Well, except for the German Shepherd and his married owner (who suspiciously looks like he goes to my church, hmm). Perhaps that's it for the daily digest of As the Complex Turns. But then, there's always that nightly walk just before bedtime when my dog has to go out one last time....until then....that's all from Building #3.

P.S. For fans of Mr. Hotel Clerk:

I have seen Mr. HC twice since my post about him but unfortunately thoughts of Back Wall Neighbor kept me from pursuing anything further with him. Well, that and the fact that I couldn't get over our age gap. I'm pretty sure he came to the same conclusion I did. Sorry to disappoint, but thanks for the support.

Liberty Jail





When I was in Kansas City in February, I made a stop at a place called Liberty Jail. An ironic name for a jail I know. This jail is an important part of early Mormon history, but perhaps not for reasons you might think.

 

 

It was at this jail, in the brutal winter of 1838-39, that the first president of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and Mormon Prophet, Joseph Smith, was unjustly incarcerated for four months. He, and the other early church leaders that were arrested with him, suffered harsh cold, hunger, and sickness in their cramped quarters with a ceiling height of just six feet. Their suffering was made worse with the knowledge that their families and other Saints were being driven from their homes under Missouri Governor Lilburn Bogg's mandate that "the Mormons...must be exterminated or driven from the state."

 



 

This was one of the darkest times in Joseph's Smith's short life. Five years after this incident, he would be found in yet another jail under unjust charges and would lose his life at the hands of a mob.

 

Despite the evil and awfulness that occurred at Liberty Jail, Mormons or Latter-day Saints choose to remember it for the beautiful lessons that were taught there. This is why the jail is now restored and protected by the Visitor's Center you see below.

 



I arrived on a Thursday evening and found with delight that I would have my own personal tour. I had been here several years before but wanted to revisit it in hopes that I might remember a few things. A lovely sister missionary from the state of Washington was my tour guide.

As I learned about the events leading up to Joseph Smith's incarceration here and the trial of his faith as he endured the conditions, I was reminded that all is not lost in times of despair however brutally painful our despair may be. Of course, no one wants to hear that, myself included. Joseph Smith even cried out in his agony, "O God, where art thou?...How long shall thy hand be stayed..?"

I'm sure we have all thought this at some point in our lives. I've always known that there is a God. I've always known that He is near and will not abandon me. But I have not always agreed with His timing or what He may allow to happen in my life. There have been times when I too have asked, "Can't I be done yet? Haven't I learned enough by now?" Apparently, I still have a ways to go.

While I have never doubted the existence of God and His love for me in times of trial, I do often forget to turn to Him for strength. After all, I'm an independent go-getter, I can fix things on my own. But by forgetting or refusing to turn to Him, I miss out on His support and the lessons He would have me learn.

Joseph Smith turned to God in his despair and was given, among other lessons, this one that is often quoted by Latter-day Saints.

If thou art called to pass through tribulation...if thou art in perils among robbers; if thou art in perils by land or by sea...If thou art accused with all manner of false accusations; if thine enemies fall upon thee; And if thou shouldst be cast into the pit, or into the hands of murderers, and the sentence of death passed upon thee; if thou be cast into the deep; if the billowing surge conspire against thee; if fierce winds become thine enemy; if the heavens gather blackness, and all the elements combine to hedge up the way; and above all, if the very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after thee, know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good.

 The Son of Man hath descended below them all. Art thou greater than he?

 Therefore, hold on thy way...

These words may not be very comforting in times of despair. Who cares about experience when you're drowning in sorrow? But the part I do find comforting is that Christ "descended below them all." As a Christian, I believe that Christ not only died for us (every single one of us) but that he atoned for us (every single one of us) in the Garden of Gethsemane. This means that He not only suffered for our sins but for our heartaches and sorrows, our longings and injustices. He, who was perfect, suffered all that He might "succor those in need." He knows what we are going through because He has been there. He has felt what we feel. The grace that comes through this atonement is an enabling power that offers divine strength and love. In times of despair, if we turn to God instead of away from Him, we can feel of this strength, this love, and somehow, day by day, we can make it through even the toughest of times.

I have had an opportunity this month to reflect on the atonement of Jesus Christ as I've taught this topic to my 15 and 16 year olds in Sunday school class. I try not to wax religious on my blog but found it hard not to given my stop in Kansas City and the approaching Easter holiday.

While I would really, really appreciate an easier way - perhaps a Get Out of Jail Free card, I am grateful to know that through the atonement of Jesus Christ I can find peace and comfort and strength to face the heartaches and challenges of my day. It may require constant prayer and constant searching, but I can make it step by step as I walk with my Savior and become ever closer to Him. The power of the atonement is real. Of that I testify.

For more on Lessons from Liberty Jail

For more on Jesus Christ

Speaking Out

Rough Start

Growing up a shy introvert, speaking out has always been hard for me. In high school, our English classes would have book discussions where our grade was determined by our participatory comments. Each student was usually required to make at least two comments. I loathed these discussions. I was perfectly willing to take a zero rather than make a silly comment just to get a check mark. I distinctly remember one day in Junior AP English class when we had one of these dreaded book discussions. I was the only one left in the class who had not received two check marks. The teacher knew this and indirectly called me out on it. The classmate sitting next to me was BJ Symons. (He would go on to play QB for Texas Tech with a brief stint at the Houston Texans.) He was trying to help me out and told me to "Just say something!" I refused.

While I have come a long way since high school, speaking out is still not natural for me. I feel it is a challenge that continues to confront me with increasing difficulty, but a challenge I feel I am supposed to continue to overcome. In law school I had to stare down this fear of speaking out every day in classes where professors are not always forgiving and do not always ask easy questions. It is the same today. I face judges who like to argue and call you out on your shortcomings. Again, while I have come a long way, I feel more challenges await that will continue to test my ability and courage to speak out.



Religious Freedom

When I was in Kansas City a few weeks ago for a legal conference, there was a panel discussion on religious freedom. In the past several years we have seen an erosion of religious liberties and expression. The panel discussion referenced the Hobby Lobby case (a suit against the federal government mandate to provide contraceptives, including abortifacient drugs, in employee insurance plans - arguments to be heard by the US Supreme Court later this month) and the NM Photography case (a suit against a photographer who declined to photograph a commitment ceremony between a same-sex couple as it violated her religious beliefs - NM courts said she must pay a fine for refusing). 

During the course of the discussion, one panelist focused on the need to speak out. He said those that are chipping away at religious freedom and expression are not afraid to speak. They do so loudly and employ all manner of social media. They call supporters of religious freedom bigots and use intimidation. After all this, he says, what do we hear from the other side? Nothing but crickets chirping. No one wants to be called a bigot but we must speak up. He referenced a case in his home state of Kansas. He said that state legislators look to social media to see what is being discussed and consider it when making their decisions. He said if we are not talking, our cause will not be heard.

I tried my hand at speaking out via Facebook after the 2012 presidential election. As a single, educated woman I was tired of being lumped together in the same category as other similarly situated women that I did not agree with and who did not represent me. I debated on stating my beliefs so publicly. I'm not sure what kind of a reaction I was expecting or fearing. And despite the fact that my statement was posted on the internet as opposed to given in a public speech, I still worried. Needlessly, however, as nothing happened but a show of support from friends.*

The panelist at the conference suggested we first become informed about religious freedom. We befriend those of other faiths who have similar concerns. Then we start talking. On social media, on blogs, and in our communities.

Throughout the panel discussion the quote from Edmund Burke kept echoing in my head.

"The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men [and women] to do nothing."

Malala's Example

I am currently reading the book I am Malala: The Girl Who Stood Up for Education and Was Shot by the Taliban by Malala Yousafzai. At age 11, Malala was speaking out for girl's education at the risk of her own life. In addition, she was blogging anonymously through the BBC about going to school in Taliban-controlled Pakistan. She was meeting with ambassadors demanding they help in the fight for girl's education. She was interviewed by journalists on a regular basis. Because she was willing to speak out against the Taliban, unlike many in her valley, she was hunted down and shot in the head. At age 16, the Taliban have been unable to silence her and she continues to speak out. She has been nominated twice for the Nobel Peace Prize.

On Friday, speaking to a group of youth in London, she said, "I could either not speak and die, or speak and then die. I chose the second one." **

As I read her story, there is no doubt in my mind that one young woman can change the world.



Keep Talking

I heard once that in order for those who are soft spoken to know they are speaking at the correct volume, they need to feel like they are shouting. Perhaps the same applies to speaking out. For introverts to know they are saying enough, they need to feel like they have said too much.

 

Wherever you may be, for whatever cause you may be fighting, join the conversation and "just say something!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

For more on religious freedom:

- Like FB Group Support Religious Freedom

-Visit Becket Fund & American Religious Freedom

-For those in California, visit Pacific Justice Institute 

 

 

 

* My FB comment:

I am a single, educated woman with an advanced degree. There's been lots of talk about my demographic in the past few weeks and I just wanted to be clear on a few things.

I believe in God. I believe in life. I believe that marriage is a divine institution between one man and one woman. I believe in chastity before marriage and fidelity after. And even though I may be a practicing attorney, I can think of no job I want more than to be a stay-at-home mom.

If these “social issues” in which I believe mark me with the additional labels of ignorant, backwards, stuck in the 1950s, etc., then so be it. In this ever-changing world in which we live, I still believe there are truths and constants that remain, however unpopular they may be.

November 9, 2012 

Mr. Hotel Clerk

 

A few weeks ago I was checking out of my hotel in Nacogdoches. The man behind the counter was cute. He had a great smile and a Texas accent. He even spoke Spanish. We had a good, albeit quick, conversation and I did my best to bat my eyes and show my dimples.

I didn't think much of this encounter as I walked out the hotel door except for the fact that he was really cute. As I backed out of my parking space on the side parking lot and before I drove away, instincts told me to look left. I did. There was Mr. Hotel Clerk staring out the window at me. This was the nudge I needed to start my mind spinning.

Why had I been in such a hurry? Why did I not talk to him longer? How could I make this work? What excuse could I find to get me back in the hotel after my hearing? After consulting my schedule and realizing I was being ridiculous, I decided to hold off a few weeks until I would be back in town at the same hotel.

I returned to Nac last week and arrived at the hotel mid-afternoon. As I parked, I reviewed my game plan. (This story helps to illustrate just how infrequent I run into cute, single men - key word single.) As I walk into the hotel I see three people at the counter including him. He looks up and flashes his big, endearing smile. Yep, he's cute. I was still a little unsure as to how this would work with two other people involved and I resigned myself to the idea that it probably wouldn't.

Another male hotel clerk began checking me in. Darn. Despite this I try to make conversation with Mr. HC. The maid stops in to say something to him in Spanish and he responds. I try to make some lame comment about this. Last visit he said he had graduated with a Spanish major and I had remarked that at one point I had known Spanish as well.

I'm all checked in and I ask the clerk helping me if there are any local restaurants he recommends. A fair and sincere question - I really did not want to eat fast food yet again. He tells me I look like an Auntie Pastas kind of girl and begins giving me directions. This is when Mr. HC chimes in.

HC: Oh I'm going there tonight!

Other clerk: Ok, so did you follow those directions?

Me: I think so. If I forget, I'll just come down and ask again. Thanks.

I start walking away not really sure what to do at this point. HC helps me out.

HC: Hey, if you really decide to go...let me know...

Me: Well, I'm going...

HC: [jokingly] Ha, okay, how 'bout I'll drive and you pay?

Me: Okay.

He looks at me like, are you serious?

Me: [shrugging my shoulders] I need the company.

HC: [looking a little flabbergasted] Uh, ok what time?  Do you want to meet me here at 7:30?

Me: Sounds good.

I walk away. Up the elevator and down the hall I think, did that really just happen?  I giggle to myself and immediately call my sisters. They seem a little worried that I will be getting in a car with a  complete stranger. Understandably good cause for concern, but for some reason I'm not. What I am concerned about is my pounding head. I figure my sniffles will ward off any unwanted advances.

Because I can no longer ignore the fact that my cold has taken a turn for the worse, I find a local doctor and get a prescription for antibiotics for what has now become a sinus infection. As I wait for my prescription to be filled at the Walmart pharmacy, I peruse the toy aisle. I come across the Magic 8 Ball and ask it if the night will turn out well - Outlook Good. I send the good news to my sisters.

When I return to the hotel, Mr. HC is no longer there so I ask the other clerk what my soon-to-be date's name is and if he's a good guy. He tells me his name, assures me that he is and that he'll have me laughing in no time. He also informs me that HC said he would be there at 7:00. This reassures me that 1. our conversation actually did take place and 2. that HC was not only going to be punctual, he was going to be early. Impressive.

At 7:30 I head down to the lobby. I'm on the second floor and there is a second floor balcony overlooking the lobby. Anyone sitting at the front desk could easily hear the elevator open. As I exit, I hear guitar music. Sure enough, Mr. HC is sitting behind the front desk strumming on his guitar. No big deal. This is when I also see he is wearing cowboy boots. Oh no, I think. I have a serious, well-documented weakness for cowboys.

Mr. HC and I finally and officially introduce ourselves and I make sure to get his last name as well in case there's any funny business. Mr. HC is a complete gentleman and opens the car door for me. Later in the night he let's it slip that he got his car cleaned before picking me up. Again, impressive.

Auntie Pastas is an Italian restaurant housed in an old railroad building. I'm told the building rattles when a train goes by. As this was a small town in East Texas, I wasn't expecting much but found myself pleasantly surprised. The food was amazing and not just for Nac standards. HC lets me order first. I get the Mediterranean mahi mahi and HC orders the seafood fettuccine. Both dishes come with a little Texas flare that includes crawfish.

The other hotel clerk was right. Mr. HC knows how to make you laugh. He's quite the talker and has plenty of stories to share. HC was raised Church of Christ and still attends church on Sundays. He cycles and loves to travel. He also just graduated from college in December. (What is it with me and younger men?) He tries to do the math as well by asking about law school and how long I've been practicing. It's clear I'm older than him, but I try to narrow the gap by neglecting to mention the years I spent teaching. Doh. But did I mention he has a great smile?

I somehow make it through dinner without the use of a Kleenex even though my constant smile is not helping my sinus infection. When the waitress asks if we want dessert I decline. HC asks if I'm suuurre? I am, but that doesn't stop us from talking.

Me: So do you do this often?

HC: Take out guests from the hotel?  Nope, this is a first.

Me: Ok, because I never do this.

When the waitress comes with the bill, I reach for my wallet. HC assures me that he had been joking earlier and that he's got it covered. We continue to talk until we notice it's closing time and the restaurant is starting to shut down. Closing time comes early in small towns.

He drives me back to the hotel as we listen to the original song of a cover I like and have never heard. He parks too close to a pole and realizes I'll have difficulty getting out as a result so he repositions the car to avoid it.  The song ends and then...

he wraps his strong arms around me for a romantic embrace and a passionate kiss goodnight....

no

he tells me what a wonderful evening he's had, how he's looking forward to my next visit, and in the meantime can he get my phone number to keep in touch...

no

he says he has the morning shift tomorrow and he'll see me then (along with some flower, treat, or guitar serenade no doubt)

no, instead

I open my car door and he awkwardly opens his.  He decides against whatever he was planning, stays in his seat and says,

HC: I'll see you soon.

Me: What? Like tomorrow?

HC: No, I'm not working tomorrow.

Me: Oh ok. Well, thanks for dinner.

And that was that. Besides the hotel clerk smirking at me as I walk in, that is the end of this little tale. No note left for me at the front desk the next morning. No illegal stalking of hotel guest information to get my number and call me. No words passed on by other hotel clerks.

Sorry to disappoint with such an anti-climatic ending.  But in a few short weeks, I'll be back. In the same town at the same hotel with perhaps the same hotel clerks. Maybe I'll have more to tell then. Maybe not. Either way it was a fun night - sinus infection and all - and sure beat sitting in a hotel room all alone.



So what's your take...how young is too young to date?