S'not pretty

Yesterday was one of those days . . . where everything that I normally try to hold in came out in one big snot running blubber in the middle of Relief Society.  Let me tell you that was inconvenient!  The first time I made a mad dash for the bathroom composed myself, sat on the toilette, blew my nose twice, put a wet cold paper towel over my red nose and pretended that no one would notice.  I'm not sure what really triggered the blubbering - I've been feeling a little bit emotional as of late, wanting to do and be everything and feeling like I'm achieving nothing, no real progress on my thesis, a temp job that pays too little and perpetually messy house and thank you cards that still haven't been sent from our wedding four months ago.  Not to mention I didn't do my visiting teaching last month! 
Maybe that was what set me off, the lesson was on visiting teaching and suddenly a flood of guilt was overwhelming - I usually can shut myself up, at worse sniffle a little and then go have a good private cry later and write in my journal.  But this was no such moment. 
I had returned from my first trip to the bathroom to sit down when our branch president's wife started talking about how even many active strong women have their own private trials . . . that was when I moved to the hiccuping cry.  (There is a reason I try to be a private cryer, it really is literally messy, I need a roll of toilet paper an ice pack and some ib profen to get through).  My second mad dash for the bathroom was definitely more noticeable.  No hiding the mixture of snot and tears running down my face.
Now really, perfectly rational this morning I can tell you that I am making slow but persistent progress on my thesis, I got a dollar raise for my job a month ago and that my husband is a sweet heart who doesn't mind a messy house, or quickly helps me to clean if I ask.  As for the thank you cards and visiting teaching . . . I am simply human. 
However, that's the problem, I don't want to be human, I want to be perfect (or at least in public have some semblance of holding it together, or some major reason like a death in the family, for falling apart).  I want to be the woman who does her visiting teaching every month, reads her scriptures faithfully every day, exercises at least four times a week, prepares balanced meals, finishes her thesis on time . . . etc. 
Instead I'm hiding out in the bathroom blubbering about all the things I'm not; my charade of holding it together was long over.  So I sat there and contemplated when Relief Society would get out and if I could slink off quickly and get my scriptures without anyone noticing.  Or at least if the red puffiness of my nose would go down enough that my husband wouldn't get too alarmed.  He was teaching a lesson on loving your wife in Elders Quorum and the last thing I wanted to do was interupt that lesson sobbing. 
I wish there were some reason for feeling so emotionally overwhelmed (being pregnant would be a great excuse).  But there I was with no good reason except my own expectations and I wonder why I do this to myself?  I'm not sure that other people expect that of me . . . if they do they don't voice it.  Instead, Bobby clears the women out of the bathroom, my branch president's wife guards the door, and he pulls me out of the stall like a small sad child and tells me that he loves me.  Feeling more than a little folish for my breakdown, and wondering if I'm a basketcase, I wonder why it is I even started crying.  But I know really.  Some how in all the mix of everything, I just kept feeling like I don't quite measure up, and that's the funny thing.  Me with a wonderful life, great husband, great family, job, cute house and enough to meet my needsstill I have a nagging feeling of inadequacy.
So I went home, snuggled with Bobby on the couch, read ensign articles about dealing with guilt - and started again making a mental to-do list of what I needed to get done in the next week and how to do it all . . . or not.  But in the back of my mind I keep thinking about the what one of our branch members said in his testimony, that we're all a little broken.  I identify with the feeling.  Broken as in incapable of doing it all, and especially doing it all myself.  
Snuggled up to my husband I realized that being broken doesn't mean being unloved or unuseful (as evidenced by the mass outpooring of love that came through notes, emails, and muffins after my blubbering) but instead simply human.  And I, as a human, can live with that.    

The abundant life

This week I've been reading and thinking about what it means to have an abundant life - our Sunday school lesson is in the New Testament in John and I've always loved the scripture "I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly." Beyond the concept that I know Christ brought eternal life, I can't help but think of all the simple ways my life is abundant.
In the middle of trying to stretch a small budget even farther, hoping to make ends meet, and even save a little until I find a job the thought of an abundant life seems ironic. Yet now, more than many other times in my life I feel incredibly blessed with abundance, an abundance of confidence, peace, happiness and faith. I made some wonderful discoveries about what makes my life abundant and the idea that surprised and delighted me was how important the concept of creativity was in an abundant life. Though abundance comes from saving and serving in the middle of all of that is the importance of actively participating in the creation process,creating a person who lives abundantly, who is motivated by things that she loves and who has the strength to take responsibility for her own well-being .

Perhaps what I really want to say is that I found some amazing quotes that I want to define my abundant life!

President Monson - In Quest of the Abundant Life:

"The spirit of exploration whether it be of the surface of the earth, the vastness of space, or the principles of living greatly, include developing the capacity to face trouble with courage, disappointment with cheerfulness; and triumph with humility."

"God gives man the challenge of raw materials, not the ease of finished things."

"To measure the goodness of life by its delights, and pleasures and safety is to apply a false standard."

"In our science oriented age, we conquer space but cannot control self; hence we forfeit peace."

Joseph B. Wirthlin
"Fully understood and embraced the gospel of Jesus Christ heals broken hearts, infuses meaning into lives, binds loved ones together with ties that transcend mortality, and brings to life a sublime joy."

"It is not a gospel of chains but a gospel of wings."

"In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer." Albert Camus

Contented rambling

I just ate the last of my box of strawberries that I bought a few days ago for our Easter dinner fruit salad. I'm practicing the art of taking time out to relax tonight . . . I was thinking about the movie Eat Pray Love where the Italian man is explaining how Americans don't really know how to relax - just be entertained - and I'm out to prove him wrong. I'm listening to a little Etta James, blogging and day dreaming . . . just a little.
There is something really rich in the satisfaction of relaxing - funny how writing the blog is a relax time - I think I'd see that pattern if I looked back to read them (all Andrea's rambling philosophizing that I'd be a little embarrassed for anyone to read except the people that love me already). I don't know if its the fact that I'm two papers away from taking my last class of my master's degree or the warm evening and April rain that make me feel like I want to slow down and enjoy, but somehow I feel incredibly grateful tonight. I picked up my roommate's book men are from Mars and women are from Venus . . . and yet somehow I didn't feel the need to analyze my relationship, myself or my boyfriend - instead I felt incredibly content with it all. My mom sent me a little email today saying how my dad had commented on how happy I seemed - and its true, I am happy. I'm not quite sure why and how I get this blessing now, but I am so grateful for it!
A worried me would analyze the risks, look for guarantees and securities . . . but tonight Etta James and I aren't analyzing - we're just relaxing and enjoying a Sunday kind of love.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nfNLspDL3ns

Kitchen Memories

I'm sitting in my favorite place in our apartment, perched on top of our chest freezer, with my back up against the wall and a great view of the sink. I'm not quite sure why I love it here so much, but I think a lot about how much time I spent in the kitchen when I was little and maybe that's the attraction. I love food . . . but that's not really what its all about.
In our kitchen we had brown and yellow and orange linoleum flooring - sixties style. Sometimes it was my job to scrub it and I can remember how the years of dirt never seemed to scrub out of that paisley square pattern. Yet somehow, I ended up in the kitchen, often sitting on the floor or climbing the counter tops.
When I was kindergarten, my mom would pull out one of the lower drawers, moving the measuring cups and rolling pin, and make into a little table where she would serve me lunch so I could be with her while she worked. (Our big table was in our dining room).
But my favorite place was the big square of sunlight that came in from the large old-fashioned windows and would warm up our yellow and orange linoleum. I would sit there in the mornings, before our old house had heated up, like a cat soaking up the sun. I don't remember whether I talked to my mom, or just sat . . . but I find it interesting that here I am again, in the kitchen.
I chatter to my roommate while she's doing dishes, or smile at my boyfriend as he's making me dinner (I know, isn't he wonderful!) but somehow the kitchen always seems to be a gathering place. And I think I've found my favorite spot again, perched up here on top of the chest freezer, writing away on my blog.
Its funny, I haven't written for awhile because of the hubbub of my life, adjusting to a new relationship and trying to make life plans post graduation - somehow that all seemed to confusing to put on a blog. Yet here I am again - a comment from a friend, a request from my mom, and I'm writing. But not about that big life, ironically, instead what I remember sitting here is the simplicity of kitchens, warm memories and feeling safe. Perhaps this is why I blog.

I'm not just happily hoping . . .

Have you ever spent so much of your life wanting something to happen and then it does . . . and you have to pinch yourself to believe that you're really in it? That's a little of what my life feels like right now. In the middle of all the jumble and hustle of trying to write a thesis, get my course work done and live my life, its there. Part of me wants to write all the details of my happy life on my blog and spill it all out, but mostly I just want to sit here quietly and enjoy how sometimes in life I don't need to hope - because good things really do come true.
I think I spend so much of my life looking to the future and planning for it, but days like today I can live just in the moment and enjoy it all. The sunny skies, laughing and playing, good conversation, good food and most of all the sweet together time.
I'm still stressed about how to get my thesis written by the deadline, find a job, know where to move, and shape my career, but despite all of that I can't help but acknowledge life is good - better than I expected.

Reflections on a Good Life

Its been a long day, the middle of the first week back at school and I feel tired! I committed to helping the missionaries today and in the middle of driving back and forth across town I wondered at the wisdom of taking out so much time for chauffeuring, lessons and dinner, when comps are looming over my head, and my to-do list already seems longer than I can manage. (Granted everything feels dramatic on Wednesdays when the weekend is still 3 days away) but I couldn't help but think, why again did I say yes to this? But on my drive home tonight I remembered.
Shelly, my new friend from China is taking the lessons with the missionaries and came to institute with me. As we talked about my feelings about institute and the church on the way home she said. "I read the things Sister Nien gave me to read and I know that there is truth to them. I felt touched in my heart."
I was quiet. I was touched. Her faith was so simple in the truth of words she didn't completely understand, and it put my feelings of being overwhelmed with normally daily things back into perspective. I remembered why I take time, to remember what is I believe and know and what is important. Shelly gave me a gift tonight, when I was concentrating on the "great" sacrifice and service I provided, her simple faith gave me the boost to remind of what I know. That the Lord loves me, His words are true and everything will be alright.
How could I not feel grateful for my life tonight?

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?