Day 4: Better My Heart

If we are going to talk about things that have filled my life with every good thing, we might as well get right to the big one here: 

I can't even tell you what having this little bear in my world has done to me. I have read other people write about people they love and thought, "Oh, man! They know! They've felt it! Thank goodness!"

Because, maaaaaaaaannn, I do NOT want to be the first one to try and talk about it. It is almost impossible to grasp the weight of it all in words, and sometimes when I try to give it a go, it comes out sounding a lot more gooey or kooky than what it is. It is the weirdest and best thing. It is like having your heart ripped in half while it simultaneously doubles in size.  

And then she goes off, that part of my heart, walking around and exploring the world in her squishy boots and bear suit. She doesn't even know how she is killing me and giving me a whole new life at the same time. She doesn't know how her existence alone has changed and bettered my life. Nothing has taught me more about the love God must have for me and for you than loving my little daughter.  

Day 3: Carpe Carp

When one of my good friends was at a crossroads in her life, she shared with me this piece of advice she had been given:

"Make the choice you won't regret."

For my friend, either choice meant a lot of hard work, bravery, and sacrifice. Lucky for her, she already is very strong and brave and wise, so she didn't have to learn those things, too; but armed with that sage counsel, she was able to find conviction in her choice and move forward.

I am at a season in my life where it would be easy for me to hide in my hermit shell with my two favorite crabs. I gotta say, too, that shell is cozy. It feels much safer than sticking my neck out in the whole wide world where their are seagulls and all other kinds of dangerous--- beaks. 

But thinking about my buddy helps me to climb on out of my armor every so often to try to do what is kind and true and courageous.   

thanks, buddy.

I recently read a message from Dieter F. Uchtdorf (a.k.a. mein homeboy), and then I read it again, and again, because it helps me to feel braver. He quotes from an old proverb, "The best time to plant a tree is twenty years ago," it says. "The second-best time is now."

President Uchtdorf further explains that if you have some good you want to bring into your life, you should go for it. Don't worry about failing or waiting for some imagined starting line or being perfect every step of the way. He says that even if we fall short, "just continuing the journey will make us greater than we were before."

So let's go do some go good in this world y'all! Pish posh to beaks! Let's go plant some trees, and be brave, and carpe all the diems. Or kairos, if we want to be more true (which we doooo). Perhaps, if you are a fisherman, you can carpe all the carp? Live your dreams, sailor. 

Whatever you choose to carpe, I hope you have a weekend full of un-regretted choices and many a metaphorical planted tree. God bless you all. 

See you Montag. 

P.S. On a serious note, if you already have made the choice, and you do regret it, remember that is what the Atonement is for. There is always hope. Always, always.   

Day 2: Hope Bubbles

“When you feel that there is only a thin thread of hope, it is really not a thread but a massive connecting link, like a life preserver to strengthen and lift you. It will provide comfort so you can cease to fear. Strive to live worthily and place your trust in the Lord.”

—Richard G. Scott

In the past, I have thought about hope like big, shiny bubbles on the surface of the ocean, and pictured myself balancing on them one after another before they would pop.

“I hope it will be a nice day today. ” *pop* *jump!*

“Well, I hope Tracey will come over and visit anyway.”

           

I think that image mostly comes from how we speak of hope in our everyday language:

            “I hope you can come!”

            “We are hoping for the best.”

            “I hope I get a hula hoop for Christmas! Ahh!”

That kind of hoping is practice hoping. It is fragile and uncertain because you don’t really know deep down in your gullet whether or not the weather is going to be good or if Tracey can come over (Tracey come over! I miss you too much!).

When we read of hope in the scriptures, though, it is firm and sure. Ether and Hebrews both speak of hope as an “anchor for the soul.” Moroni teaches that that kind of hope comes through the Atonement of Jesus Christ: when we pray to Him or when we seek forgiveness from sins, our faith in Him grows, as does our hope that we can be “raised unto life eternal.” Hope is trusting that what God says is true and that in due time He will keep all His promises. It is not wavery bubbles, but Christ’s feet firmly planted in the sea as He stretches His hand to us.

Erica chose this song for Josh’s funeral and it makes me feel so hopeful. Not bubble hope, sure hope that Christ conquered death and we can be reunited with the people we love best someday. I feel that is true. Deep down through my gullet.

What's your porpoise?

Hey, stranger! It's great to see you again!

We have been thinking about this blog and what we want it to be because we are just not ready to say goodbye to that solid url. The thing is-- I was feeling a little hazy about what my purpose for blogging was. To journal? To keep in touch with people? To uplift and inspire the Internets with things that made me giggle? To share sumptuous recipes of treats that made me jiggle?

I was never feeling too sure of what I was doing, so from time to time, when I would come back and start tickling my qwerty keys again, I would quit because I had no point, like a dorsal-finless porpoise.

I have been thinking for months about the purpose of EVERYTHING, though (like, why are you here little sand in my eye? Hey, toenails. I've never really given you your due. What are you doing here by the way? What is life?!), and it has caused me to re-evaluate my Internet usage (among other things). It even had me renaming my blog. Twice!

I think the Internet can be a place of hope and beauty, where truths are discusses and hilarious GIFs are shared. Obvs, it can be the opposite of that, too. I, for one, have fallen prey to many a mediocre GIF. But you have to admit, there are good things on this web. There is a lot of hope to be shared.

I was reading my scriptures yesterday, and got hung up on Moroni 7. "In Christ there should come every good thing," verse 7 told me.

"All things that are good come from Christ," verse 24 repeated.

And I was feeling grateful for the many good things that have come my way from Christ since I last saw you. It brought to mind a Primary song I particularly enjoy that lists off all kinds of simple but miraculous phenomena that we get to enjoy from day to day and all those things are a testament of Heavenly Father's love for each of us:

Whenever I hear the song of a bird 

Or look at the blue, blue sky,

Whenever I feel the rain on my face

Or the wind as it rushes by,

Whenever I touch a velvet rose

Or walk by our lilac tree,

I'm glad that I live in this beautiful world

Heavenly Father created for me

He gave me my eyes that I might see 

the color of butterfly wings.

He gave me my ears that I might hear

the magical sound of things.

He gave me my life, my mind, my heart:

I thank Him reverently

For all His creations of which I'm a part

Yes, I know Heavenly Father loves me.

If you are related to me, you know from experience the many delicate kindnesses have come over the last couple weeks since Josh passed away. Here's the understatement of 2014: we miss Josh. 

...

That ellipsis was me crying for five minutes. I am back again. And what I was trying to say is that with all the pain that comes from living in a fallen world, there have been many times when I have felt like those good people of Jared, who after days upon days of being tossed around on the sea, came out on solid ground and "did shed tears of joy before the Lord, because of the multitude of his tender mercies over them" (Ether 6:12).

I want this blog to be a place where I can share things that have helped my faith to grow and inspired me to me more hopeful, charitable, kind, prayerful, brave. So, get ready, Internet friends, because for the next thirty days, I hope to be filling up your blog list with every good thing.

Love to you.

Journey to the Paaaaaast!

My sister, Heather, has frequently urged me to bring this site up to date, and her encouragement at last got me weeding through files of pictures from the last year, bringing back so many pleasant memories. Here are some highlights: 

 In July, I captured my favorite picture from last summer. Ah! There is too much to love about it.

Later that month, Jason conquered beautiful Maryland .

  We roamed the stately halls of the National Cathedral by the end of the month.

In August, we rushed off to NYC. 

There I am in NYC! They totally get me here.

By the end of August, we had made the big move to Amman, Jordan.

We welcomed in September with a float in the Dead Sea. 

Here I am rambling around Jerash when it was still hot, hot, hot in Jordan.

In October, we clambered up beautiful waterfalls in Wadi Mujib. 

My caravan and I crossed the desert in Wadi Rum in November. 

Jason and his baby camel trotted along behind us. 

After a bittersweet goodbye to Amman and a quick trip to Israel, we headed back to Maryland at the end of December.

We partied for the rest of 2011.

After of course overcoming the jet lag.  

We bowled. Then, we made the cross country drive back to Utah. 

New Year's Eve brought my cute niece Kaitlynn over for a visit. 

 And we rang in the New Year in Christmas colors. 

In January, these fellows and their parents were so helpful in setting us up in our new apartment. 

Here's Kyle decorating. 

 Where is Kyle's cuteness in this picture you ask?

 Oh, he was being the cutest over here. 

 And the most lethal. 

 Well, the second most lethal. 

(Don't worry, that's a toy.) 

In February, we fondued. We fondid. And it was deloicious.   

In March, we reacted with glee at the news that we are having a baby girl! 

Whaaa? There's me at 20 weeks!  

Don't even get me started on April yet! I will have to cover that in my next post. In about a year from now. 

Royal Berry Punch, Anyone?

So I may have a tiny bit of a habit--if you can even call it a habit because it is not that habitual-- just a slight tendency of recommending some things that people may not enjoy. If I watch a really stupid movie, I don't know that you'll think it's stupid and I want your opinion on it. If I smell something disgusting, aren't you curious just how disgusting it is? If I have a really gross Starburst, I want you to taste it, too, because maybe you'll like it, or may be you won't and we can talk about how gross it is, especially in comparison to all their other delicious flavors. That being said, watch this music video because it is really . . . good.

***Update***

The video was removed, so you missed your chance. I will find something else supremely mediocre to put on here.

Garth brooks - the red strokes

Ten Thousand Spoons

This morning I woke up with Alanis Morrisette's "Ironic" buzzing in my head, which I thought was odd since Alanis and I have rarely crossed paths since she traded her long flowing locks in favor of the cropped mom look. We have been out here in Jordan now for just over two weeks and are settling into the swing of things slowly and surely. I love this beginning time when you come to a new place--things are just new enough to really take note of them making simple joys like showering into suddenly new and unfamiliar adventures. I flipped on the hot water switch and slept a few more minutes while I waited for the hot water heater to spring to action. Last night I was haunted by what I am sure is now the fattest mosquito in the world. Despite his inevitable corpulence, he eluded me all evening and I looked forward to soaking my swollen arms and legs this morning. But that was just a silly dream--while the cold water can shoot out quite powerfully from our hand held shower head, the warm water is another story. It trickles out like someone's faltering urine stream preventing you from ever feeling completely wet without using copious amounts of water--a risk we just can't take. As I lifted the shower to wash my hair, I noticed about a dozen different shower settings on its face. The small rivulet of water running down my arm could supposedly magically morph to spray, sprinkle, karate chop massage. Drying off with my spaghetti sauce stained skirt and equally dirty beach towel, music came again to my mind. Well played, Alanis. Well played.