The Micro-Adventures of Jorden Hinrichsen

The Tantrum

2010-08-23T19:18:00.000-07:00

Things are getting real. I leave in two weeks to enter the MTC and there's a whole barrage of things to do in between now and then.
Today, I was having a disagreement with my sister, Hannah, and I got to the point where I didn't want to look at her or I would shout obscenities. I locked myself in the bathroom for about 15 minutes. I cried a little, and felt like there was nothing I could do for myself or for anyone. I wasn't mad at her; I was just mad, for no good reason. I feel so inadequate and imperfect. My mind is plagued with doubts like I've never known or experienced in my entire life. There are doubts that would crumble the foundation of my life and values and beliefs. Why now?
Because.
Because I'm going on a mission. I'm going to be helping guide people to the greatest thing in their lives. And no matter how much doubt fills up my few free mind bubbles, I am clean and God lives. "As he died to make men holy, let [me] live to make men free."

My Brother's Keeper

2010-08-10T09:39:00.000-07:00

Sundays are the hardest with my dad gone. My brother decided to do an "experiment" where he doesn't go to church for a while. All it did was make my mom stressed, which really upsets my internal balance.
I should mention that church is the center of my life. It isn't that I have no other interests or hobbies or that I'm brain-washed. I am a very independent thinker; you'd be grossed out by all the stuff that happens inside my brain. In fact, it all connects with one simple fact about me: I love knowing things and piecing what I know together. My faith and education always complement each other, even if I argue against my beliefs. I'm sure few people in this world know how to argue with themselves as objectively as I do. It isn't necessarily something I'm proud of. It is hard for me to accept that maybe I'm more of a thinker than a doer. I love people who do things.
Well, this Sunday we had an especially rough time. There were tears, even. On my part, it could have been just hormones; even so, my hormones only magnify feelings that are already there.
I called my dad at the end of the day because he always has answers.
I need to have more faith, can you believe it? Here I am preparing to walk around for a year and a half telling people that the church is true, and I realize that I am lacking in faith.
My brother will be okay, I know this. But I forget it so easily because I understand him so little. Why must men bottle up everything? It drives me nuts, and I'm sure it's like that with most women as well.
Anyway, back to work.

The Temple

2010-08-06T06:33:00.000-07:00

I took my first real temple preparation class yesterday.
As I've gotten closer to leaving, little hints of what happens in the temple have been given to me. It has been weird. I am trying very hard to be ready for when it comes, so I don't freak out like some people do.
All in all, I felt excited and loved when I was at the Kaufeds' house, learning about the temple and listening to mission stories. Tyson and Levi, who are taking the class with me, are fun young men. They made it a little more easy to be there, with people I'd never really met before, although the Kaufeds really were nice, hospitable people. They all but shoved food down our throats and forced a tissue in my hands when I kept sniffling--I have sinus problems, you see.
I'm beginning to get excited.

The X-Box

2010-07-26T12:27:00.000-07:00

My brother does little more than play X-Box all day, all night, every day and eat what little junk food we have in the house. He plays for hours and hours before he takes a break, and plays into the wee hours; sleeping in usually til about noonish and staying up late with "insomnia." There's a difference between insomnia and poor sleep habits.
More than once, I've considered putting that stupid machine under the tire of our van and crunching it down, or picking it up and hurling it as high and hard as my puny arms can manage.

The Painted Lense

2010-07-18T14:26:00.000-07:00

I'm leaving soon. I feel like I'm looking at my life through colored glasses, though not rose-colored; like watching a film without sound. The bad things are a dull, uncompelling pain; while the good things feel good til exactly the moment they end. No sensation seems to last; and the people in my life feel like ghosts, as though when they're not immediately in front of me, they weren't really ever there. It's a feeling of emotional almost numbness, like when your foot falls asleep. Even my confusion is a shallow endeavor.
And I wonder if it means anything, though I don't wonder too hard.
I don't feel like I'm preparing to go on a mission; I feel like I'm preparing to be dead, which is morbid. It doesn't make sense because I know that I am going on a mission in a month and a half and I won't be expiring in even the distant near future.
Am I missing something?

The Call

2010-06-28T13:25:00.000-07:00

Last week was spent sleeping in till10 or 11; eating scarcely, especially anything healthy; and incessantly checking the mail. It was possibly the most unproductive week I've had in a long time. Finally, after almost a full week of waiting, it came.
My mission call letter.
I made an odd combination of skipping and hurtling to the front door, closed it a little too excitedly, threw the other envelopes unceremoniously aside, and called my mom into the room. We called my sister on speaker phone.
I read aloud, covering the lines I wasn't reading with my hand, as I often do when I'm reading something and I don't want to spoil a surprise by glimpsing the next line pre-maturely: "Dear Sister Hinrichsen:
"You are hereby called to serve as a missionary of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. You are assigned to labor in the Utah Provo Mission..."
The rest of the letter had to wait as we all began bubbling up giddy laughter. After a spell, I read through the letter and tore through the rest of the packet I had received, noting things that need to be done before I go.
I told friends who showed curiosity about the call.
Since then, I've heard many things about the Provo Mission and the people the First Presidency chooses to send there. But I don't care. I am worthy and I am serving because I have faith in Jesus Christ and faith must be acted on. Because there is a living, loving Heavenly Father and we-YOU!-are important to him; and I feel responsible for this knowledge that I have been blessed with. I've been told many times that I would be a great missionary, and I believed it until recently. I know now it's not about me being great at all; what I need is to be humble. But you can't consciously be humble. So I do the things I know to be good and push thoughts of myself away as often as I remember.
I'll know what kind of mission it is when I get there.

The Addition

2010-06-04T16:34:00.000-07:00

Emily, my very first niece, was born today. She is beautiful, as if you didn't know. It's --------- to think that this little being that will grow up to be a woman who looks like 2 people I love and admire. Tomorrow morning we are heading West to go see her and her parents. I don't know if this is normal, but I'm actually quite anxious. I feel irritable even though I know I'm happy about it all. I guess it's just all so new to me. I can't imagine how Brittany and Jason feel. Ah well, most of my feelings don't make sense or matter--anxiety and irritability least of all.