Rant of the Single Girl

I know, it dangerous putting a title like that at the top, but aren’t I entitled to some ranting – I mean how many people read this thing anyways – so I’m going to take so liberties. :) Always a dangerous decision.

This is what I realized. In writing my glowing year in review letter, I suddenly felt like I had to defend myself for being single – tell people how many dates I’d been on, my “serious” boyfriend stint and that men are just falling at my feet. (yes, that was an exaggeration they aren’t exactly falling). Confession – I avoid going to mission reunions because I’m single and I feel like whether or not I’m dating someone will be the first question I get asked (not what am I studying or where have I traveled).

But I can’t help but wonder, where is all this pressure (mostly self-imposed) coming from and why should I feel like my identity must be shaped by a man in my life!

Is it the fact that my Dad is commiserating on the old age of his youngest daughter and her ever- present singleness . . . or is it the way he asks me if I’ve figured out how to get married yet. No, I haven’t figured out the solution, though – my skin is getting thicker as my sense of humor expands.

Maybe it’s the reality of being 28 and realizing in my 16-year-old life plan I should have been married six years ago. But I don’t regret turning down silly and serious proposals – why settle right? And I can’t help but think that I like who I am now, and I’m not sure I would be the same person if I was married at 22. So why the paranoia?

My peers complain about pressure of LDS culture to get married – and though I agree marriage and family is the focus, somehow I don’t feel pressured in my little single’s branch where most people are just happy for me to show up!

Ok, so its true, though, that as Young Single Adult Rep I live in a constant atmosphere of dating scrutiny in our stake. Everyone notices when you talk to someone for longer than five minutes, but I’ve learned my star-gazing lessons and I’m very careful . . .

Maybe it’s the well-intended advice of married friends on my dating life that brings frustration as they give comfort to the single girl. (In reality sometimes I wonder if each of is secretly a little envious of the other and the freedoms that go with our separate lives). Not even that I really mind that.

No in the end, I think what I feel frustrated with is somehow or another I feel like I’ve come up lacking because I’m single. Maybe people communicate that inadvertently in their eagerness to pass on what they see is the next step for me. Just one more thing I need to fix and then I can move on, be grown up, be really living life . . . But it’s a little scary to admit that being single, or other people’s commentary on my singleness bothers me - because it could bring advice, pity, validation . . . judgment, and I don’t really think I want any of those –

My life is good. So why in the world do I feel like I have to prove it?

Un blog especial por mis queridos chilenos

No puedo creer que ya ha pasado un ano adicional, pero al pensar en este ano pasado veo que mi vida esta llena de gente y aventureas increibles. Este blog es dedicado a mi familia y todos mi amigos quienes son los que me hacen feliz!

Me encanta la vida! Como soltera tengo grandes oportunidades a contribuir! Soy la representante por adultos solteros en mi estaca y trabajo mucho para involucrar a todos. Entre cosechando tallos de maiz para decorar por un baile, organizando paseos y bailando como una gringa loca, disfruto mi llamamiento! Constatmente estoy asombrada por la fuerza y alta calidad de los hombres y mujeres que me rodean en la universisdad y en mi region.

Estudiando es un disafio para mi este ano, el segundo y ultimo de mi maestria. Estoy escribiendo mi tesis y paraece que nunca terminare! Pero tengo una tema y datos entonces ahora estoy escribinedo y escribiendo y escribiendo. Bleh! Mis estudios me facinan pero lo mas importante es que terminare en Mayo!

A pesar de estar una estudiante he podido viajar a visitar amigos y familia. Entre un paseo largo en auto a traves de los Estados y Canada, mi visita anual a Texas para estar con mi companera favorita de la mision y tiempo con familia y amigos en Utah, Idaho, Nueva York y Washington D.C. mis viajes han sido llenos de aventuras. He visto el arbol de Navidad de mi pais, sali corriendo (en auto) de un tornado, via a las Cataratas del Niagara, acaricie mis sobrinos, aprid el himno nacional de Canada en Ontario, senti la pas del bosque sagrado en Palmyra y disfrute todo la espontaneidad y buena conversacion de muchas paseos y viajes.

El mejor parte de mi ano, sin embargo, ha sido el tiempo que podria estar con mi familia. Tres nuevas sobrinas unio a nuestra familia este ano pasado y son la adicion perfecta. Una de mis sobrinas y su familia (3 sobrinos y mi hermana y cunado) recientemente se trasladaron a Washington D.C. pocas horas de mis casa. Me encanta todo el tiempo que tengo ahora como tia. Mi otra hermana y su familia se sellaron a mi dos sobrinas nuevas que fueron adoptadas en Octubre. Estoy tan agradecida que estuve un parte de esta dia especial y me hace recordar todas las bendiciones del templo y familias eternas.

No puedo pensar de un mejor manera de pasar un ano tan feliz. Les deseo lo mismo! Gracias por ser un maravilloso parte de mi vida!

Con mucho carino,
Tu gringa loca

Family Week

I spent this week with my family in Utah and remembered what family feels like again. The way the chaos of little kids with running commentary is so familiar, and little arms always around your neck, and rubbing their little noses into your shoulder passes on colds and love all at the same time.
My niece is snuggling up to me now as I write, telling me everything. Really its been a miracle week for her, and for her little family - They were just sealed, and she was just adopted into our family. Her ability to be calm and at peace in the temple was a miracle we were all praying for.
Family time is full implications for me - like my dad's random commentary on my perpetual state of singleness . . . I can't help but smile. Besides inheriting colds from children, there are in-depth analysis of life with my sisters and therapy sessions about how to survive graduate programs and a quick jaunt to temple square. I feel irrationally proud of my sisters, I'm not quite sure how to describe it, but each of them are strong women who can make things happen, I like to think I can be a part of that.
This week I spent some time with my Mom going through an old chest of my grandma's who passed away last October. It was full of random nick-nacks, and part of her doll collection with little names and notes pinned to many of the dolls. I wondered why grandma had chosen to save the things that she did, one special little perfume bottle or a bunch of bobbins, but they reminded me of her, and most especially for my mom they were some part of her mother.
I inherited a harmonica from that chest and a small book, I think from the 1970s on how to play it. Learning how to play the harmonica just went on my bucket list.
I can't think of any other way that I'd rather spend a vacation.

Remembering Veterans Day

This morning on my way home from working out I listened to a clip on NPR about veterans from Vietnam who worked in the mortuary sending home the bodies of soldiers who had been killed. I was reminded of the weight that so many veterans bear. With the increasing coverage of vets who commit suicide, I felt grateful that it wasn't me who had to encounter so many brutalities of war . . . and then felt a little selfish for it.
http://www.npr.org/2010/11/11/131251081/vets-of-army-s-mortuary-unit-bear-unique-burden
In writing today I found my self trying to express gratitude without sermonizing on the pros and cons of wars previous and current. And because I don't really think today is a sermon day I won't.
Instead I remember Veterans Day growing up in Missouri- we had a parade for our local veterans and our marching band marched. As a kid, I liked the idea of getting out of school and going to the parade, and in Jr. High and High School I marched in the band. There was a fascination of the veterans who marched in that parade with us, for one day celebrities recognized for sacrifice in their own right. I'm not sure if many, or any, had thrilling experiences like the romanticized war hero. Making a sacrifice has never been a thrilling experience for me.
But somehow on veterans day I think back to our polyester band suits and Veterans marching together and feel pride to have been able to show appreciation in some small way for people who have kept my life relatively normal while their is often changed forever.

Just the kind of help I need

Its amazing how stress can make you feel a little crazy. I think yesterday was a high point in my craziness. After an early morning and long day of working on projects and presentations I finally made some headway. But thing that made all the difference? My roommate cleaned my room for me. You know people ask what they can do to help, but its kind of strange to ask someone to make your bed, or fold your laundry, but she did and I didn't even ask her. And ironically even though my to-do list isn't much shorter I feel so much better. Its these days that realize what my research on social support networks is all about - and think just how blessed I am to have so many people that will do the little things for me that make all the difference!

Letting Go

Letting go is something people say we should learn how to do. And for a lot of my life I think I've considered myself all to good at letting go. I've lived in 10 different cities in the past 10 years, 8 different states, and 3 different countries, some for a short time and some for a long time. Somehow in the middle of all that moving I've learned to really live for the moment, to take advantage of the present that I'm in, but when I move, to move on. My life has felt full of wonderful people and places and I have great memories. Still, I love looking to the future and the excitement of change.
Learning the transitions of letting go isn't easy, my mom described the way she moved on from her release from a calling . . . a transition of allow someone to take over, and not worrying, letting all the responsibility shift from her shoulders to another. Its not always easy when you've spent so much of your life and time invested in something and then the next day its not your job any more. I think the sensation is a lot like moving to a new place, a sense of sadness for what you're leaving behind in some ways, while excited about the prospect of more time or more people. Mom said for the first two weeks she spent a lot of time helping and training the new primary president but now . . . "When we pass in the hall I just hug her." What a nice way to move on in your life - support and hug. If only all transitions were that easy.
I'd like to think that somehow I've found the balance of moving on in a healthy way. New friends and old friends and great memories all blended up in my life. I work on letting go of stress, and pain and things people have done to offend me . . . and talk about the blessings of the atonement in healing. But sometimes I realize, like tonight that my ability to "let go" isn't strong as I would like.
Tonight I did something stupid . . . really bugged someone and made them mad, and now I'm regretting it. And despite my apology I'm having a hard time letting go. It seems ironic in a way, sometimes I can let go of the good things in my life so quickly - but my mind replays all the dumb things I've done in my life over and over again. That somehow this self-inflicted pain is going to help. I wish there was a way to stop the rewind, or even better just rewrite. But I can't.
I do what I can to remedy. Apologize, feel guilty and then get ready to let go . . . but here I am a few hours later still bothered and blogging. But then, I think about all of the times I have let go in the past, of relationships of hopes or of stress and I remember the healing process takes time and faith. And I feel just a bit hypocritical of all the times that I tell other people to be gentle on themselves and realize how hard that is. Maybe that's the function of this blog . . . a bit of self advice on letting go and somehow in the process I feel just a little bit better, taking my own advice.

Growing Old

"Live with enthusiasm. Nobody grows old by deserting their ideals. Years wrinkle the skin but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul. You're as young as your faith as old as your doubt. As young as your self-confidence as old as your fear. As young as your hope as old as your despair." - General Douglas McArthur

Have you ever received one of those things people intend as a compliment and it comes out all funny. Well this weekend was my prime for them. From 2oish-year-old guy: "You couldn't be 27 - you look really good for your age!" And of course, the "Andrea I would have never guessed how old you are!" :) Maybe that was why when my friend Matt (19) came up to me at the dance and said, "Andrea how do you survive these YSA conferences" I could smile so aptly and say - "A really great sense of humor!"

Its only about a month until my 28th birthday and to some that might mean I'm growing old. But taking the advice of Mary Ellen Edmunds I've just decided to grow . . . wise, kind or even better adorable.

Ok, ok so that might be a stretch but I feel like now more than ever I am settling in to who I am, or who I really want to be. I express more of what I think more readily, and have more confidence in listening and risking then I used to. Do I have things figured out? No way, but I am more confident that most other people don't either. That helps me relax a little more.

There's a woman in my parent's ward that inspires me to grow old- she's interesting and graceful and intelligent and incredibly kind. I think there is something beautiful about that kind of growing old. And I'd like to imitate it. My grandmother was one of those kinds of women. I didn't really know her well, but I remember little things about her that I loved, like how rosy her cheeks were, the way she wrote faithful letters to my mom because that was the easiest way for her to communicate, and the way that she was so quick give me those strong grandma pats (wacks really) and tell me how grown up and beautiful I was. Yes I can can be old. I'm ready to be more like that.

Blog Browsing

I've been blog browsing again, putting off more thesis writing and instead perusing other people's lives that seem much more exciting than my own. One of my friends wrote that she thought blogging relatively selfish, we write and post pictures expecting other people to be as interested in the minutia of our lives as we are of writing about it. And perhaps that true - but honestly its about me anyways, more for my own personal satisfaction then then need of a response.
Despite my own personal satisfaction in writing, I do enjoy reading about other people's lives, though and their personal thoughts. Sometimes its a recipe from a friend like apple pie - and I remember eating an apple pie late at night in a Ronald McDonald house with her . . . we forgot the salt but the ice cream sandwich with it was a saving grace.
I read another friends blog today who had pictures of her two amazing children and I wondered what a person could do to get a life like that. Simple and beautiful and happy. But I couldn't think of any one who deserved it more.
There's another blog I read - that I just came across through a friend, of a man who struggle with same gender attractions, among other life challenges. He works on balancing his life through the gospel. Sometimes its then that I realize the minutia of my blog . . . Despite his honesty, or perhaps because of it, I'm encouraged by the way he consistently is open about challenges while learning. Its an important life lesson for me. I go back and forth about being honest with my challenges and keep things light and simple. I'm not always sure of the balance or how to communicate what I really feel. Perhaps this blog, more than anything, for me is an exercise is consistency. (Something that I appreciate in life and am still figuring out).

Rosie Action

Its seven thirty on a Friday morning and I should be getting on with my life - but I'm happily delaying it, or maybe simply trying to jump ahead to a relaxing weekend by ignoring the long list of things I need to do and writing on my blog. Its been awhile. I've been wondering what to write about, though its not for a lack of subjects from an interesting weekend in D.C. with friends and family to my new resolve to balance my life with P90X (which by the way is definitely resulting in sore muscles) to my excitement over my Rosie the Riveter costume.

On Wednesday, I went out with the sisters for the afternoon, and when our appointment canceled we went to see Priscilla. Its been several months since I've visited her, but she's still writing away on her life story. It just so happens that she was working on a part during WWII where she describes her life as a Rosie the Riveter. I was excited. Give me my red bandanna and blue coveralls, I'm ready. Rosie represents a symbol of many things for people, but for me perhaps my Rosie theme this week is simply I can do it. Priscilla said one of the most satisfying things about working in the factory for her was a feeling that she could contribute, that what she was doing was important. That, she and her daughter Anne philosophized, was what so many people are missing in the world today.

Despite this lack of direction, I think my life is full of Rosies who roll up their sleeves just the same, no factory job needed and get things done. I see it in my sister who balances her new State Department job, family life and her own needs, while making sure my roommate and I have a great weekend in D.C. I see it in my classmate who never stops challenging, bringing up new ideas and pushing for change in teacher training. I feel it in the small card that I got out of the blue this week from a woman in my parents ward, writing to tell me that she admires me and is thinking about me. I see Rosies all around me that do . . . and I like being a part of all that action.

Dealing with Messes

Its been a horrible Monday, and its Tuesday. I was sitting on my bed in my own little pity party looking at the piles of mess in my room thinking about all that I need to do, feeling sick and all- around discouraged for numerous reasons. I decided to get online and read for a little while, and for some reason, I decided to read old blog entries.

You know its funny, I was wishing someone could come and cheer me up, tell me how great I am but ironically in the mood I've been in today I'm not sure I would have believed them. (I know, better for everyone else that they don't have to deal with me!)

Instead I started to read what I'd written about my trip to Utah and loving my family, about learning how to heal after break ups and being funkless and somehow it was looking at myself, remembering that part of me that brought me back to who I was. Helped me to look beyond the mess of my room (and for today what feels like the mess of my life).

And today I'm grateful that several months ago I decided to blog. Because I was just what I needed.

My patriarchal blessing talks about recording my life experiences and the meaning I learn from them, and as I result how I, and my posterity will be blessed. And though I'm still an inconsistent journal writer, I couldn't help but think today that I am seeing an example of that blessing.

"And now, O my son Helaman, behold, thou art in thy youth, and therefore, I beseech of thee that thou wilt hear my words and learn of me; for I do know that whosoever shall put their trust in God shall be supported in their trials, and their troubles, and their afflictions, and shall be lifted up at the last day." Alma 36:3

My first month: December 1982

Dec 1982
Jenny and Elizabeth were so happy to come with Dad to pick you and me up from the hospital. They rubbed your head so softly and so long.

Jozanne and Naomi ran out of our house as soon as Dad and I and you pulled in the driveway. They took turns holding you until bedtime.

After everyone was in bed Jed took some time by himself to rock you and get to know you.

Mack helped Elizabeth hold you on her lap. He prayed in our family prayer that you and I would do well.

Jenny said as she laid down with you and also she put you on her lap, "Wouldn't Daddy like to take a picture?"

You often slept through all your brothers and sisters' cuddling throughout the day.

Jozanne responded quickly and happily when I told her she'd be able to have a turn with you when her work was done.

Elizabeth laid by you a lot, for a long time.

One time when Elizabeth was wanting to lay by you, you were in a box. She climbed right in. I helped her see that there wasn't enough room.

Jed spent extra time with you one evening letting you lay on his chest.

Elizabeth would get extra happy when I'd lay you on her lap. She always wanted to take off your socks and see your toes.

After our family enjoyed each one opening his/her Christmas gifts, everyone noticed your lack of presents. Mack then said, "she is a present herself."

You responded to our love, with listening to us with your whole body.

Jenny held you quite a while in sacrament meeting for her first time. She was so contented and quite.

I love you.
- Mom

One-line emails

My mother has pages and pages of journal, I'm not sure where she keeps them. I remember when we moved there were a lot of boxes marked "Marcia's," and most of them heavy with papers. Maybe because she is still alive, or perhaps because she'd like to do some edits - we kids don't have full perusal rights. But sometime in the past year she's started sharing little one-liners that she has written about us through the years.

I just started getting these little one-line emails this year and I love them. They come once or twice a week interspersed with her other encouraging messages and some how they communicate to me what it was like to be a part of my family as baby, memories of my brothers that I didn't grow up with . . . She can remember what I can't. Today I got a line

Oct. 1983
Elizabeth and you were under Jozanne's bed, squealing to your hearts' delight.
I love you.
Mom

Who knew I was such an exciting baby? Or that I made so much noise.
In so many ways its reflection of my mother, what she saw in us and the things she extracts from those daily histories that she chooses to tell me.
In organizational communication they say the stories you tell about your organization shape a person's perspectives. In the same way - the book The Intentional Family encourages intentional story telling of family history to shape family values.

Looking back through my emails I can't help but see all the love coming through those little one-liners.

No reason, just happy

Today was one of those day where I felt inexplicably happy. There was really no good reason, and perhaps that's the best reason of all. There is something settling about the days, normal ones, where I go to class do homework, clean the kitchen and make fried zucchini . . . and nothing major happens, but yet I can tell my life is good. Its like I know my happiness isn't dependent on one person or thing - and that makes me more confident than just about anything.
Breakups usually leave me feeling in a funk, sometimes for longer than I want - and it was nice today to recognize that I am officially funkless. One of those tender mercies about moving on and healing happily. Maybe its the start of a new school year or just remembering all the reasons I like being me. But somehow I know everything is going to be alright.

Jeremiah G and back to school.

I have a crush on Jeremiah G. He's a boy in my family literacy class . . . man really, but there's something about a guy who's getting a Phd in adult ed, teaches at correctional facility and then he tells me he's spent the summer on a 10,000 mile road trip with his three legged dog. You know he had me at the three legged-dog. He with his quirky stories makes my Family Literacy class that much more interesting, not that it wasn't great before, but Wednesday afternoons have a whole new flavor now.
Being back in school is a familiar reassurance for me. I can do this classroom thing. The loose schedule of summer and the endless idea of writing and writing make me want to go a little unhinged, but suddenly three days and two classes into the semester I feel the structure of an 8-5 day creeping back in my life, along with the excitement of a random guy who has a three legged-dog. How could this not be a good semester?

Roadtrip History

I don't know when Katie and I started chronicling our road trip with times and brief events but maybe it started with the absurdity of taking pictures at the Rexburg temple at 1:00 a.m. now how do you explain that. But then again, much of our road trip was more than a little unexplainable . . .
Monday
12:30 a.m. taking pictures outside the Idaho Falls temple
1:15 Rexburg temple
2:00 strange gas station . . . strange people
3:00 enter Yellowstone park beginning the adventure after an unknown wrong turn!
3:30 come to a roadblock that won't open until 8 am - decide to sleep in the car
4:00 Katie can't sleep decides to drive the other way through the park!
for the next five hours Katie proceeds to drive, Andrea wakes up "every half-hour" when Katie slows down to take a picture of the sunrise, the moose, the elk, the people . . .
9:00 left the park
1:00 after not finding the excitement we were hoping for at a random museum in Montana we found the Spotted Eagle Lake
Car danced like crazy
2:00 Kissed a life-sized dinosaur
3:00 Ice cream break
3:30 Andrea gets creamed trying to dump the rest of Katie's ice cream out the window entering North Dakota
Dickison Dinosaur Museum . . . we didn't go in, but the gift shop was pretty great
5:00 Decided to eat real food at JDs BBQ
6:00 thought the car had a major malfunction - sounded like a train
"Can we camp here tonight?"
"Sure" says the girl at the both, "but I'm going home," those were just tornado sirens.
6:30 out running tornado
Radio - "Winds are moving at the speed of 40 miles an hour"
Katie - "Well we're going about 80 so we should be just fine."
7:00 Stop in the booming metropolis of Hebron, ND population ?? Stayed at the one and only motel (6 rooms) got the last one. Gracie, the owner gave us a Hebron Brick - her family owns the factory in town
7:30 Meet Bill, a man with a million degrees, a wife in Jersey and who loves Katie. He gives us some great advice about sites in ND.
Toured the town
Went to Bed.
Tuesday
2:oo a.m. Huge thunderstorm - Katie wakes up . . . Andrea sleeps
8:00 a.m. slept through alarm
9:30 arrive in Bismark ND to meet the General & Mrs. Custer: the man who wears the velvet suit. Then Lance who doesn't like the French, and toured the Mandan/Nu'eta Indian dwellings
12:30 Bismark temple
1:30 Saw largest hill . . . found out it was a crane
1:50 Saw largest Bull in Jamestown, drove right by. Katie sights mystical white buffalo. . .
3:30 Eat with Aliens, where besides the decor the best thing about the restaurant is the sauces.
4:30 Katie begins epic back-road-drive - Andrea sleeps through everything!
9:00 p.m. Entered Canada, or tried to after our long garbled explanation about where we had come from and where we were going and how we knew each other.
9:30 Passports stamped!
Katie continues epic drive
We spend the night in the car at a gas station outside Thunder Bay. . . oh yes we are adventurous and more to come! :)

Blogging Again

So after a long hiatus from blogging, I've returned! Thanks to the encouragement of some supportive friends and the advent of leisure time in the Salt Lake Airport, I'm typing away and enjoying the feeling of spilling out my thoughts without restraint. No one to look sleepy or bored that I'm talking too much. Oh no. Here I am about to dominate the conversation with all my mostly unimportant thoughts and loves.
I've been in Utah visiting family, I still am, really. Today I had boogers, blood and tears smeared across my front in big stains when my nephew fell off the swing and I got to be the rescuer. Its wonderful to get to play that role, so simple. As I was holding him I remember the talk I had with a friend and mentor a few days before.
I asked her if she could have done anything differently in her life, what she would change. "I would have spent more time with my kids." I was surprised, I thought she was wonderful mother, and though now has a demanding career, still has a strong relationship with her kids. My time here has made me think, maybe, its not so much about not having enough, but simply being able to enjoy and maximize those experiences because of their fleeting nature.
There are so many things in life that are fleeting. Though my family is a constant in my life, our dynamics are constantly changing, I love it, but miss sometimes, the experiences of the past that made us close. It seems like families require consistent new experiences to keep us close. That's why I'm in Utah.
I needed to rescue my nephew. I needed to hold my brand new baby niece Perri and spend and hour doing nothing but making her smile with my mom. I have loved the feel of my new little foster niece's silky hair when I braid it in the morning and the way she grins up at me through her glasses, as she scrambles to maneuver herself on my lap or as close to me as possible. There is security for me in the dating advice of my older sisters and all their expert opinions whether or not I listen to them its a vote of confidence that I'm not completely crazy . . . or at least they help me recognize my craziness and laugh at it.
So many times I dream of the ideal, but I'll be honest, ideal is not my life. I don't think I'd know what to do if it was. But I love it and all the people in it that make me realize how vulnerable and am in all the fleetingness of experiences . . . and just how much I need them.

Frozen peas

Tonight I'm eating frozen peas while I blog. I only know of one other person that eats frozen peas . . . well that was until she and I converted as many people as possible to the trend. I can't really remember when it started, sometime in my childhood, but tonight I was rummaging around for a snack, and regretfully, because I have put off going to the store I had nothing exciting. But don't worry I have frozen peas!

There's an art to eating frozen peas. You can't eat them straight out of the freezer - they really are too frozen and almost crunchy. You have to let the bag sit a little bit, or you can hold a few in your hand to soften them up, just enough so that they're still cold but no longer crunchy or coated with ice. When I ran cross country in high school I used to use them to ice my knees, after about twenty minutes on my leg they were perfect consistency.

Sitting here, I wonder how it is that I love vegetables, it really makes life so much easier when you do. :) But I think the gift of being able to eat frozen peas is like so many others that I learned from my parents unintentionally. There were no lectures on frozen peas, or for that matter on how to listen, what to do in a crisis or how to relate to people different than myself. Yet somehow, inadvertently, just like eating frozen peas, I learned how.

But its not until I realize other people didn't get that same experience that I appreciate loving frozen peas.

There's just two things that money can't buy . . .

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=etuszlplwpg&feature=related

Tonight I ate a huge juicy red tomato, I bought at an Amish market today. Juice and seeds squirted out and dripped down my arm and I remembered how I used to spend the summer eating garden tomatoes and reading Little Women. Life was good, and it still is.
After an icky restless night last night because of a day of things not turning out quite how I had hoped , and feeling a little disillusioned things in general, I woke up to summer and Amish markets, farmers tans and home grown tomatoes. And something about all of it, made me realized how lucky I am. "There's just two things that money can't buy and that's true love and home grown tomatoes." Eating my home grown tomato, I thought of all the people I love and that love me . . . and I figure life is pretty good.

Just say no

Tonight I had a conversation with a close friend about settling. Settling in relationships, in goals, in things we want most. Sometimes in the process of trying to get what you want its tempting for me to settle, reconciling something close to what I want instead of that waiting that can sometimes feel like never getting what I want.
Sometimes I'm even afraid to admit that what I want - wonder if its unachievable, or someone tells me I'm just too picky. I feel a little crazy waiting and waiting for the ship to come in.
Despite that fact, I don't think I'm crazy and so I'm digging in my heels and when someone asks me to settle . . . well they had better be prepared for an emphatic NO!
Somehow, not getting that dream now, is better than realizing that I gave up trying.

My Coffee Table on the Couch

Being out of school feels a little bit like being unemployed to me. I have so many things I should be doing and just don't feel like it. Without a schedule or structure, I forget about the discipline that gets me out of bed early and keeps me following my to-do list. Its not that I don't have things to do, somehow it just seems easier to put them off. Today I read a whole book in between cleaning the bathroom and vacuuming the living room. I left the coffee table perched on the couch, where I'd moved it on the way to vacuum, and sprawled out on the floor.

I had intentions to spend a couple of hours writing and researching this afternoon, but somehow I had lost all motivation. Instead I read a book about a woman who discovers herself and a new life in the middle of making bread . . . sounds wonderfully simple. I think its the obligations of research and logic that make me want to go back to the simple things like scrubbing out the sink and kneading bread. Somehow I keep flipflopping between those two worlds of academic and, well, I'm not quite sure what the other is.

I don't necessarily believe they need to be isolated, but unintentionally I have segregated my life into "productive" and "unproductive" times, giving myself permission to shirk academia, even leave the coffee table on the couch in an acknowledgment that things and obligations can be displaced temporarily making space for indulgence. At the same time, knowing full well my functional life requires to-do lists, schedules and coffee tables in their proper place on the floor.

Priscilla

At first glance you might not think Priscilla is miracle, but she was for me. Priscilla, 86, lives in a house just outside of State College. She's a writer, the sisters told me as we knocked on the door of a house taken over by nondescript vines. We went to visit her, because our last appointment fell through. Priscilla is writing her life story, and as she let us in, and we weaved through boxes of books, papers and other stacks she explained that she'd been sorting . . . for ten years really. After chatting for a few minutes, she wanted to read us something that she'd been working on, her life story. And then despite all the clutter she pulled out neatly handwritten and rewritten pages that had been tucked away on a pile next to her. She read us her preface and excerpt about her mother. It was good, really good. I wanted her to keep reading.

It was then I had the thought that I could help her - offer to type up her life story, and selfishly I could keep reading. I had the feeling there was something I could learn from her. And there is.
Exchanging phone numbers, she looked down at my name LUND. "I knew a Lund once," she said, I smiled, most people have, but usually I don't know them, "Grant Lund." That's my father!

I was thrilled, so was she. She had taken an art class from my Dad and remembered one day how he stood up for her "mediocre art" told her not to sell herself short. She knew my mom as a young mother and primary president, and was my oldest brother's primary teacher and told me stories about him being Superman. She knew my family in ways that I didn't - and because she did, she could also help me see them in a way I've never seen them before. A gift, a miracle for me. Priscilla.

Young Single Adults

So this weekend was full of adventures, from taking the scenic route to and from Palmyra thanks to a mixed up GPS called Velma, late night singing around the camp fire, lectures on marriage and single life to make us all squirm and incredible experiences in Palmyra. Its a singles conference: fun, awkward and spiritual experiences on very little sleep.

I'm my stake's YSA rep, and I couldn't help this weekend, as I looked at our very small turnout, to wonder why we have them. From four stakes in the area 25 people came. What are we doing, or not doing? What is it that people like me really need?

According to the lds singles blogging experts our activities are to have social and spiritual experiences . . . with a hopeful side effect of marriage. Now sometimes the marriage message is more blatant than others. D&C 131 seems to be the favorite scripture for these events, and yet somehow I keep coming out single :)

Despite my well developed sense of humor, and perhaps slightly calloused attitude towards the whole thing, I can't help but feel concerned for what seems to me to be the greater need. People my age who just stop believing and belonging. I'm not sure I'm convinced that we all need campfires or marriage lectures, but we all need to believe and belong. In my stake, there 300 YSA and yet barely 50 attend church or an activity regularly. What can I do for my other 250? How can I help them believe and belong.

Its a challenge I haven't figure out yet, sometimes it seems I can't even do that for the people who are closest to me. Despite that, I haven't given up.

Morning Reflections

I'm off to Palmyra, NY this weekend and have been thinking about how much I'm looking forward to it. But since I won't be around the internet I wanted to share something from a talk I read this morning for today's post.

"You are one of the noblest of God’s creations. His intent is that your life be gloriously beautiful regardless of your circumstances. As you are grateful and obedient, you can become all that God intends you to be."

"Sadness, disappointment, and severe challenge are events in life, not life itself."

"Your joy in life depends upon your trust in Heavenly Father and His holy Son, your conviction that their plan of happiness truly can bring you joy. Pondering their doctrine will let you enjoy the beauties of this earth and enrich your relationships with others. It will lead you to the comforting, strengthening experiences that flow from prayer to Father in Heaven and the answers He gives in return."

"Your agency, the right to make choices, is not given so that you can get what you want. This divine gift is provided so that you will choose what your Father in Heaven wants for you. That way He can lead you to become all that He intends you to be. That path leads to glorious joy and happiness."

"Find the compensatory blessings in your life when, in the wisdom of the Lord, He deprives you of something you very much want. You will discover compensatory blessings when you willingly accept the will of the Lord and exercise faith in Him."

Richard G. Scott, “Finding Joy in Life,” Ensign, May 1996, 24

Just Good Things

So I had a friend write me an email the other day, one that I hadn't heard from in a long time, and I asked her to tell me all about her life. She said, "Do you want to know everything, or just the good things" . . . It made me stop and think.

First I wondered, what makes a person ask a question like that? Why not talk about the bad things, and especially why would a person need permission for it? And then, I thought about the millions of times that people have asked me "Are you always happy? - You never seem to get mad." More often than not, they're people who haven't seen me on a bad day but . . . I can't help but wonder sometimes if my lack of communicating bad things makes others think they don't exist.

I thought about writing all about the sad or bad things on my blog tonight just to prove I do have bad days and sad things - but I couldn't, because today wasn't a bad one, and I'm not really sure it would solve anything.

Really, more often than not I do choose not to focus on the bad things - not that I don't have a good venting session or cry - those definitely have a regular occurrence, but after than its seems easier to refocus, or find something that makes me happy, it takes too much energy to be sad all the time. But I'm never quite sure whether its an act of denial or faith.

Chocolate Milk

Have you ever listened to the This I Believe series on NPR. If you haven't, basically they're broadcasts of short essays about values or concepts that people believe in. I love them. I always think that when I teach again I'll have my students write a This I Believe essay. Sometimes while I'm listening I write them in my head, I've written on everything from family to making a to-do list.
Tonight I watched a chic flick with my roommate and dreamed of handsome men that have the perfect characteristics of charm and wit. As an alternative, I made myself a glass of chocolate milk. Chocolate milk is perfect after a chic flick when you're single. Its almost as satisfying as the real thing. :) And mentally, I began creating an essay about chocolate milk. I had a friend whose mother used it as her fix every day . . . a little bit of chocolate syrup can go a long way.
Tonight I'm drinking a glass while I blog and was thinking about how great it is. Its like getting a treat without a lot of the complications. Milk is good for you!
Perhaps my essay would have some deeper symbolism about simple pleasures, or that fact that its ok to treat yourself or . . . I don't know, I feel like its a common message in my blog, finding satisfaction in life, but maybe that is the theme of my life. But its true. More often than not, life for me, is valuing each glass of chocolate milk. After all . . . it does a body good!

Rain

I'm all out of inspiration to write anything on my blog . . . I skipped a day yesterday hoping to get creative, but instead I found myself waiting until the very last minute tonight hoping for some sort or inspiration. Instead, I'm typing about my lack of it.
Perhaps in some ways its a blessing to have such an ordinary life. Its raining outside now - and I love the sound - soothing. I have a bunch of beads spread across my bed, I've celebrating my new found free time making jewelry and writing to do lists so that I can actually be busy tomorrow. Its a great life. In the meantime its amazing how things really do take care of themselves . . .

Mother Hearts

Today in church, one woman talked about all of the women who have influenced her . . . and their mother hearts. I loved that idea, and so I thought today I wanted to put up pictures of just of a few women with mother hearts that have influenced me. My mother first and then so many others . . . Thank you for teaching me how to have a mother heart!

"Every girl and woman who makes and keeps sacred covenants can have a mother heart. There is no limit to what a woman with a mother heart can accomplish. Righteous women have changed the course of history and will continue to do so, and their influence will spread and grow exponentially throughout the eternities." Julie B. Beck

Cowboy Boots and Simple Talents

So I've had several guy friends tell me that the "problem" with lds girls is that they often lack passion about something, instead just being moderately good at a few things and biding their time . . . Well I don't know much about biding my time, and though I am passionate I think these boys were hoping for a super star of something. :)

Now I'm no super star, but a simple pleasure today made me think about talents and passion. I've decided I'm passionate about being happy. That means when my roommate gives me her old pair of cowboy boots I put them on and dance . . . and when my friend comes over you know I have to show them off again. And let me tell you I can pack a lot of passion into enjoying those boots.

Sometimes I think its easy to overlook the small gifts in comparison to "major" talent. I know people with major talents - fast runners, great piano players, incredible teachers, nuclear physicists, life changers etc. etc. You name it - they have it. And say - have at 'em boys. I like a talented woman who's passionate about what she does.

At the same time though, despite all of this major talent I can't help but feel quietly satisfied with an ability to get so much joy out of a pair of hand-be-down cowboy boots. Its gets me through at times when major talents don't apply.

Vignettes

So I have been slacking on my blog writing this past week: my new debate is whether to try to make up for it by writing a novel today, or just forget about it and keep writing.

I've concluded . . . because that what I do best, is that I'll try to hit the highlights of this past week or so of frantically writing papers, letting my room pile up into a disaster area, a long drive to D.C. running all over town, late night talks with friends and new realizations about myself and my inadequacies. Its been productive . . . somehow it just hasn't translated into a blog.

I have a million little snippets of life that I want to write about that I value.

Sometimes I feel so lucky to be me, I spent some time with a friend that has a rare quality of listening, asking questions and responding to whatever I say without making me feel judged silly or stupid. And we had a ridiculous amount of fun together. Its amazing how one person like that in your life can really make life satisfying. I wish everyone had a friend like that. Or multiple friends. Why limit yourself right?

Walking through D.C., for some reason I started to cough, now that's a normal thing to do, but as I was coughing in the middle of jaywalking, this crossing guard flagged me down. I had this sinking sensation that I was about to be lectured and I felt a little like a kid about to be lectured by a teacher. Instead he gave me a cough drop. :) I keep it in my purse and look at it because it makes me happy.

Did you know that there is man out there that puts whipped topping in mashed potatoes and spaghetti, oh yes . . . I happened to have met him though I never tasted his spaghetti, but he thinks its like whipping cream - what the difference right? Laughing at the idea of eating spaghetti with whipped topping kept me awake for quite a while on Sunday night. My friend who did eat wisely promised she only mocked him slightly.

If you ever go out to Mt. Vernon, there's a little restaurant by the lds chapel. They have a great salad there called Summer on Plate. And it is. And the day I went it was a perfect summer day. Who knew life could be that good. We ended up walking along the trail by the Potomac, sticking our feet in the water and talking about life. Its been a long time since I felt so relaxed. My friend, told me that he always wished he carried plastic bags in his pocket to pick up all the trash, but we found a bag on the side and started picking up trash anyways. I had to laugh inside to think what the bikers thought. We must have seemed like an odd pair. I was in a dress to go to the temple and he with his big bag of trash just ambling along this bike trail.

I listened to a Holocaust survivor talk about his experiences in a concentration camp during WWII and though many of his experiences were moving, it was what happened after the war that struck me most. He said he was released from the camp, and so happy to be free, but then he realized, he had no one. He had lost all ties with his family, was almost sure they were dead and somehow had to get back to Poland from Germany. On a day when he should have been happy for freedom, he said it was the loneliest day of his life. I couldn't help but think of that. Times of freedom, sometimes getting out of a bad situation, but realizing you are still alone can be incredibly lonely. It made me want to make people transitions in life easier. Happily, after it was all over he pointed to wife, his kids, had them stand up and he was pleased they were there. You could see all over his face, he wasn't lonely anymore.

Life compensates for what we might not have and really want.

Its worth it

Tonight I went to a dinner appointment with the sister missionaries and a relatively new convert in our branch. He's making decisions about going on a mission, and the couple we ate dinner with were both first generation members of the church. They understood what its like not to have family support. I'm pretty sure the sisters planned that one on purpose - why they invited me I wasn't quite sure, but I'm glad I went.

I don't know quite how to explain what it is to watch a person change because of the gospel, but sitting there tonight, talking to this couple, talking to my friend who just joined the church in October, thats when I know its worth it. Not just for them - even though tonight that couple talked about all the blessing they had, and my friend shared his experience with change. But its worth it for me, though my change may not be as dramatic.

Its worth it to get up a little earlier, to wear my shorts a little longer, to spend three hours of my Sunday in church and more hours during the week. Its worth it to wait to until marriage . . . to not attend every social event, even to be thought of as naive.

Its true. I saw it in their eyes and know it in my heart. Its worth it.

The formula for understanding women (as explained by a man)

So my roommate recently sent me this picture with this caption:

"And thus, dear students we have arrived at the formula for understanding women."

Well . . . I think that explains a lot :)