Just who are you in the presence of?

Who did you talk to today?
Who crossed your path?
Who are those little ones sleeping snuggly in a bed in your house?
Who did you make breakfast for, pick up after, kneel in prayer with, today?
Who did you kiss "good night" tonight?

I was asked to speak at a Stake "Standards Night" about 2 months ago. I responded with a polite "no" and a "but I have other people you can ask." I had sworn off speaking to combined groups 4 years ago. Young women aren't the same when young men are in the room. And frankly, young men made me nervous when I was 15 and as far as I was concerned, they still did.

But, the requester was very persistant. She had heard me speak somewhere and really wanted that particular message for these youth. I tried to tell her all the reasons it wasn't a good idea. I know my strengths and I am WELL AWARE of my weaknesses. I thought I was doing her a favor by saying "no". "I'm really not good with young men. I don't relate to them at all. I don't have anything to say to them." She insisted.

And so, this past Sunday morning I found myself with some very strong impressions about what the message should be that night....some of it I've said before...some of it was totally new for me...a new way of looking at obedience, for example.

To be honest, it kind of irritated me. I was nervous enough going into this and the last thing I needed was to be giving a message with pages of notes, that I wasn't totally familiar with. But, I knew I needed to do it and so I said a little prayer and worked on it.

Something happened to me as soon as I walked into that chapel. I again really did realize that all the old views of myself really were gone and that I was ready to step up to the challenge. I knew the Lord was helping me and I can't remember ever being more grateful for that knowledge.

Right before the meeting started, as the last few youth and parents were filing in, I noticed a young man...about 17...walking in. He had on the traditional white shirt, tie and khakis. Cute and tan. Hair to his shoulders...a little "dread-locky"...didn't particularly look happy to be there. He was JUST the sort of teenage boy that would have intimidated me back when I was 15...AND now.

But, I was struck by him.
Something about him just beamed goodness and power.
I mean, to be honest, he looked like he'd be the "cool kid" that would sit in the back of Sunday School class, leaning back in his chair, with his arms folded, saying, "you're a dork and you can't teach me anything."
But, I knew that's not who he was.
I knew there was something really different...and truly great...about him.

I kept looking at him while I was speaking, expecting to see his head down, slumped over. But, he sat there, fairly engaged. I was surprised by that.

Towards the end of my message, I shared my favorite C.S. Lewis quote: "It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship...There are no 'ordinary' people. You have never talked to a mere mortal."

Then, out of my mouth came something like this: "I have no doubt that in this room are those who the Lord has been preparing for great things ahead." And then I felt compelled to say, "One of you young men, for example, when you walked in tonight, was just beaming goodness. I don't think you know it yet but I bet the Lord can't wait to get you on a mission. He's going to use you if you'll let Him." I felt a bit emotional when I said it. It was one of those rare times I knew I was SUPPOSED to say something that specific.

I didn't talk to the young man when the meeting ended. He left before I could say anything (and I'm not sure I would have had the guts to anyway).

This week I received an email from the woman who invited me to come. She told me the message was exactly what they've been stressing with the youth this year (I was glad I had actually listened Sunday morning). And then she asked if I would tell her who the young man was I referred to. She described him, down to the tan and the hair and asked if that was him.

I replied back that it was and that I've only had that experience one other time...where I specifically knew I was in the presence of a truly great young woman.

She then shared the story of this young man. I don't think it's appropriate to share it because those of you in the Salt Lake are would know the story from the news. But, suffice it to say, this young man has had a difficult year, losing his mother and several siblings in a tragic accident. This woman said, "He's struggling now but I've known him for years and you are right. He is a truly great spirit."

I got his name & address so I could share with him the specifics of my experience. I knew he needed to know...deserved to know...that the Lord was THAT aware of him.

I don't know who this young man REALLY is. I don't know how the Lord is going to use him. It would have been easy for me to discount him as the "punk kid" in the room. But, I would have been wrong. He is no "mere mortal".

Do you really know who you are in the presence of?

You who are parents, do you know who your kids are? Maybe you've caught glimpses of it here or there, but you don't know WHO they are going to be in the kingdom of God. And that is not a criticism at all...I don't think any of us REALLY know.

You who are married, do you really know who the person is you share a bed with? Do you know who God created them to be? Do you know who you are "lucky" enough to be connected to?

Any of us...do we know who we are in the midst of? There are anything-but-ordinary people all around us. Children of the Creator of the Universe. Souls poised for greatness. Individuals who very well could be the means of helping to save us in some way at some future day.

All to often, I forget this.
I just don't think about who I'm in the presence of enough.
Would I react or act differently if I did?

Because there is goodness and greatness out there...the kind of greatness we would be "tempted to worship" if we could really see it.
I have no doubt all of you fall into that category.

You are NOT mere mortals.
None of us are.

TTA: Hometown Favorites

It's Tuesday Tell All again.
Here are some of my favorite local places to:

Grab lunch: I do not have a shortage of places I love to go for lunch. I pride myself on having been to most places in Salt Lake (Indian, Thai, Korean food notwithstanding). Some of my real favorites are: Ruth's Diner, Em's Restaurant, Faustina...yeah, I kind of like "non-chain" places.

Grab fancy schmancy dinner: Tuscany (my dad is delaying retirement to save the sheckels (sp?) for my wedding dinner here...It's very cute the way he tries to act like that's not why he's still working...very cute.)

Go for Date night: Outside of the previous favorite places? Anywhere the great single guy wants to take me.

Pick up some creative goodies: So Cupcake. I just discovered this place and I am in love. I have yet to try one but they look so great and the storefront is fantastic. (I get to try one May 1 so I'll let you know how I like it).
Okay, funny side note. You can't say "goodies" and have me not think TREATS. But, in looking at the original TTA post, that's not what they meant at all. THAT'S FUNNY!)

Keep the kids busy: ColorMeMine(Hey, it was on the list. Work with me people...I've been known to kidnap a kid or two and take them.)

Get wet: The fountain at the Gateway. It makes me feel like I'm 9 years old. And I loved being 9.

Buy a treat: Paradise Bakery (and really, their fire roasted tomato soup is a treat too!)

Shop for fun: Tar-je. I heart that store. Cash only. That's my rule.

Get some fresh air: Park City, Heber, Midway. I love it up there.

Splurge: At different times, any of these favorite spots are a splurge.

Drive for a weekend away: Moab. I discovered it (well okay, I didn't actually discover it...it was there all along...I just finally went!) a few years ago and fell in love. Specifically with the Cali Cochitta B&B. It's a divine piece of heaven on earth. And the hike to the mother of all arches was one of the most incredible things I've ever done. You MUST experience Moab with all it's amazing arches before you die.

Just a few favorites. I forgot how much I love living here.

Shout out to my "2nd family"

I love that I even have one.
And I was reminded how much I love them tonight...

I don't remember when it started or became "official". There were no adoption proceedings or anything. But, about 10 years ago, when I got my first job at Deseret Book (making $12 an hour...part time...no benefits), my mom's sister, Carol, graciously let me move in (to my cousin Joey's "Star Wars" wallpaper front bedroom). I was there for nearly a year. It was SUCH a blessing, for so many reasons.

The first blessing was being around to watch my cousin Stephanie finish up high school. Over the years, Steph became like a little sister I never got to have. I adore that girl. And nothing was more fun, last year, than watching her go for elation to heartbreak to elation when she dated, broke up with, then got engaged and married to Scott (I just knew it, too. I KNEW her story would end up that happy!). Scott's the kind of guy you always hope you'll end up with. That girl got a catch and a half. And since she's like my sister, that makes this catch and a half like my brother-in-law. I heart Scott.

The second blessing was getting another brother. Joey was like the "cool kid" in school that could intimidate the heck out of you just because he's so cool. But, in addition to being cool, he has this ridiculously big & good heart and I knew that we'd eventually be good friends. But I couldn't imagine then that he'd ever be "smart" enough to get the girl he really deserved to be with and one that I would like so much. He found that girl in Rhonda. Sometimes I secretly go to their house for dinner (and a good Wii tennis game...sorry, Michelle & Steph, our secret is out. Oh, alright. We've only done it once.). They are one of those couples that make you wish you were a couple.

The third blessing was getting a 2nd set of parents. Really. Carol has, on more than one occasion, been a surrogate mother. She's cried with me and laughed with me and gotten excited with me. She is good. And Joe always treats me like a daughter, complete with the "welcome hug & kiss". He makes me feel like it's a great thing for me to be with the family. I'm invited for every holiday (even when I can't always make it) and included in all the family stuff. I'm so blessed by them.

And the extra blessing is Michelle & family. She's the mother of Kenzie and there is a reason Kenzie is so good. Michelle & Jimmy seem to have the perfect marriage. I know they don't (or DO they) because there really isn't any such thing (or IS there?) but they are best friends and I love watching them. Jimmy is a good egg...one of the highest compliments I can ever pay an individual. I always wanted to be friends with Michelle (she was one of the "older cousins", though not much older than me!) and now I love feeling like she is my sister.

My 2nd family has a dog too.
I don't much like big housedogs.
It's no secret.
But, if I DID like dogs, I'd be grateful to know Lady too. (grin)

BTW, I spoke tonight at a "Standards Night" for young men & young women. I haven't spoken to a group that included YM for 4 years. It was during one of the lowest points of my life and it was a DISASTER (I'm sure those two things were connected). I swore I'd never speak to a combined group again.
I did tonight.
I loved the experience.
That old voice? Yeah, if it was gone tonight, it's gone forever.

LYFSGUD.
Really really really good.

Lessons from court--It's amazing to me

Yes, it's true.
I kind of forgot about my little "appointment" with Officer Lees.
I've been forgetting a lot of things lately.

And so I missed my chance to just write a check to pay my fine and call it even. I had to actually appear in court. My appointment to plead guilty for the charge of "five over" was at 9:00 a.m. sharp. Little did I know I wasn't the only one.

Also appearing for their "I'm guilty" plea were the usual suspects:
11 teenage boys (never a good thing when you are in the same category as teenage boys)
2 biker dudes (with the braided beards...I kid you not! and they weren't together. They had braided their beards independently of one another)
3 "20-something" girls who probably drive those souped-up civics
3 "30-something" guys who thought they were really cool
1 woman who was clearly annoyed and late for work (no, I'm not talking about ME)

And some a little less-usual:
2 women at least in their 70's...one of them had REALLY big hair that you could tell she had done so she'd look pretty for the judge
1 man who totally could have been the Bishop of the group...in a suit and everything
2 grandpas who seemed ever so sweet
4 young moms (with kids in toe)

As we sat there behind the railing, listening to the prosecutor tell us about our options, I couldn't help but stand back and just kind of take it all in. My mind started to wander, as it is prone to do at times.

I think the thing that most struck me was how every possible type of person was represented in that motley crew. No particular category of people had escaped making the mistake and needing to take responsibility for it. And though some were there a bit more repentant than others, everyone needed to come to make things right. Everyone needed to pay a fine.

You know, this was not a major infraction.
It's not even close to the worst thing I've done.
And yet, I had to take the time to appear and confess my guilt.
I even had to make a commitment that I wouldn't commit another offense within 6 months (I had to sign a little paper. I asked for clarification from the cute & single prosecutor...."am I just committing not to get a ticket in Draper again?" to which he said, "it wouldn't matter where you get the ticket, even in New York." to which I said, "how did you know I wanted to go to New York?" to which he said, "but you won't get a ticket, right? you're not going to do this again, right?" to which I said, "um, sure." to which he said, "you're funny". to which I said, "here's my number."...but I digress...). And I have to say that the hassle of going to court actually might make me slow down...or at least think twice before I speed again.

What if we had to appear in court everytime we made a mistake?
What if, every time I was unkind
or cut someone off in traffic
or rolled my eyes in response to a co-worker
or spoke quickly when I should have taken time to think
or a myriad of other things I do EVERYDAY, some much bigger than any of these...
What if, every time I messed up, I had to take the time out of my "busy schedule" to appear in a court and take responsibility, confess my guilt, make things right, commit to be better next time?
Maybe if I had to, I would think twice before doing it again.

It's amazing to me that we have a God who let's us come to Him on OUR schedule.
OUR schedule.
Not His.
He, the Creator of the Universe, the Father of all things, who is SURELY more busy than any of us can imagine, takes time whenever WE are ready.
AND then, He patiently lets us confess and try to make things right.
And He doesn't require a signature.
And the fine was already paid.
He knows we'll do better next time.
And then when we don't...

It's amazing to me.

Oh, and I'm committed to no more tickets...at least for 6 months.

Gotta run...this is a post I haven't earned yet today.
(Oh, and Happy Birthday, topher!)

Happy Birthday Eve, "Poopsie"

I know...it kind of creeps me out too.
But that's what my mom calls my dad.
For as long as I can remember, Dad has called mom "Toots" in whatever card he was giving her. And Mom has called Dad "Poopsie".
I just thought it was time for the world to know that.

(I can't even type that without giggling.)

SO, April 23 is my dear-old-dad's birthday. He's turning 66.
I adore him and here are some of the reasons you would too...

1.) Though he is nearly 6'7", he's completely unathletic. There is something about that that is very cool to me.

2.) His term of endearment for women that he loves (his wife & his daughters) is "dumb broad". He actually said that to me once, fairly loudly, in an airport. I thought the woman next to me was going to haul off and hit him! For some reason, it's totally okay when my dad says the ultimate sexist remark.

3.) He's a cute speller. And by "cute", I mean "not very good". But, he takes it in stride. Sometimes, we'll give him little spelling quizzes, asking him to spell words like "UPS" or "KFC" or "LDS". 9 times out of 10, he can totally get it right!

4.) He sings really loud in church. He was often up on the stand when I was growing up and it was oddly comforting to hear his loud bellowing tenor voice during the hymns. I think he sings loud because he can't hear very well. He claims it's out of devotion. Oh, okay...

5.) When he's thoroughly enjoying a great piece of music, he sits with his eyes closed. Whether it was listening to my sister Heather play something on the piano or his old LP of "Pilgrim's Chorus" (which, btw, the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sang on Sunday during the Music & the Spoken Word and I broke down crying thinking of my dad listening to that song when I was growing up), if my dad's eyes are closed, he is loving the music.

6.) He knows EVERYTHING (you do, right Dad?). And the few things he doesn't know, he makes up.

7.) He was the reason I got in a major argument in 3rd grade during reading group. Someone started talking about their dad swearing and I said, "My dad never swears." One of the kids said there was no way that was true and I defended him fiercely. And it's true to this day...I've never heard him say a "bad" or even "close to bad" word in my life (except the one time he said, "no comma hell no comma" but in fairness to him, he was quoting me).

8.) He actually uses the phrase "your mother wears army boots".
Enough said.

9.) Sometimes when I call him at work, I'll make up a voice and pretend I'm an unhappy client. He kind of thinks it's me but he's too afraid to take the risk so he'll go along with my silly accent and my questions and my frustrations until I finally break. Then, when I start to giggle, he'll say, "you dumb broad!" and we'll laugh. I love that.

10.) He hid behind a cigarette vending machine (yes, they used to have those) at the Ontario California airport the day I flew in to start my mission. Without me seeing him, he took pictures of me getting off the plane, me meeting my president, me taking my suitcase to the mission van. I got the pictures in the mail a week later. My obedient dad also visited me twice on my mission, leaving me roses at my apartment. He never once tried to distract me and see me. He just wanted me to know he was there. I still cry when I think about that.

11.) He was my "buddy" at Six Flags during Youth Conference in 1986. That's right...my buddy. For some reason, I had gotten in a fight with my friends and when we got off the bus for our day at Six Flags, I found myself totally alone. And I was too embarrassed to even tell my dad I didn't have anyone to hang out with. Dad didn't miss a beat. He just acted like the plan all along was for us to spend the day together. Yeah, that one makes me cry too.

12.) He has no idea the influence he has on me...how much I long for his approval...how much I love when he tells me I "did good"...how much I look forward to the day when he can tell me I'm "the most beautiful girl in the world", just like I heard him tell my sister Heather on her wedding day. He doesn't AT ALL understand why I care about his opinion so much but even with all that power and with all that influence, he is careful with my heart. I love him for that.

I could go on and on and on and on. I really could.
Those of you who know my dad know how a girl like me could love and adore a man like him.
Those of you who don't know him, now you likely wish you did.

Happy Birthday, Dad.
I'm glad you're still here.
The Lord knows how much I desperately still need my Daddy...
...and Mom needs her "Poopsie".

I'm glad my roommate was home last night

I got home late last night from a trip and I was so grateful to have a roommate waiting for me. If I didn't have one, I would have felt alone.

A few years ago I was teaching the almost 8-year olds in primary. I was trying to help them understand the signficance of having the "constant companionship" of the Holy Ghost. We opened the book of John and read how Jesus promised his followers that the Holy Ghost would be with them, even when He was not.

We talked about how you know when the Holy Ghost is with you...how you feel...how you can recognize his influence.

Then, as most lessons go, one of the children asked a completely unrelated question.

"Sister C, are you married?"
"Not yet."
"But do you have a husband?"
"Um, no."
"So, who do you live with then?"
"I live by myself."
"By yourself? You're all alone?" (this was asked with a little bit of concern).

I started to say "yes" and then the spirit prompted me that I had a chance to get us back on track with our lesson.

"Well, I'm actually not alone. I have a roommate."
"You do? Who is it?"
"The Holy Ghost. He is my constant companion."

Nevermind the fact that for weeks after that, unbeknownst to me, the kids were asking their parents if they could come to my house so they could meet the Holy Ghost...ooops.

But, for some reason that memory came back to me last night as I arrived home, late, from the airport, after a really long week and an even longer event weekend.

I opened the door and it was dark and I was kind of wishing there was someone there waiting for me.
And then I realized there was.
What I told those kids a few years ago really was true.
I wasn't alone.
I'm never alone.

I love knowing that.

The new voice inside my head

This isn't a mental illness.
I think it's just life.

And I think some of you will know what I'm talking about...

But first, let's establish a little understanding between us, okay?
You know, how sometimes you learn things in life that you think might help other people? And so, since you think it might help, you feel this need to share what you've learned? This is one of those times.

But, sometimes there is a fine line between sharing enough information to be helpful and sharing just past "enough" information which makes some people uncomfortable. Because, sometimes what is helpful for one is too much information for another.

And so, because I get that that could be the case, I'm warning you ahead of time. Some of you won't "get" this. If you don't, you might be tempted to think something is wrong with me. I'm sharing it anyway.

I don't know when it started or exactly how it happened. I have a few strong memories that stick out in my mind that could be connected. Frankly, I think it just happened over time. Rather than one moment or one event, it was more like a series of unfortunate events, as it were.

I was one cute & confident girl growing up.
Until about the age of 10.

And even then, I still had my confidence and even moments of cuteness but for the most part, I started to turn into an awkward, calic-headed, overweight girl. Funny thing, since my confidence didn't change initially, I didn't know that anything about my cuteness was changing. I was still as popular as a "tween" girl could be, even the captain of the Shamrock cheerleaders (I know, that still makes me giggle...and I still have the uniform and the pom-poms. True story.).

Over time, however, the "not knowing" is what changed.

I won't share the entire history of my insecurities or how things about my true nature got mixed up a little in my head. But, let's just say that over time, a little voice developed in my head.

The voice wasn't mine initially. Rather, it was a combination of voices, almost like little recordings of things that were said to me over the years.

It's hard to be a girl who has to deal with things like acne or braces or bad perms (not your fault, Mom) or weight. But add all of them together, and...well...not the best combination.
It was hard.
And I have some memories that would probably make you cry if I shared them.
But, I won't share them...and I don't share them.
Ever.

In my most vulnerable & insecure moments, I would replay in my mind things that had been said to me in other vulnerable & insecure moments. Some of these things were just not even worth the air they took to speak. But some of them were deeply painful...and some were even spoken by people who should have known better.

I have a memory of someone in my life who said something that has haunted me for years. He is no longer living. And in my heart, I hope somehow he has been spared the knowledge of what those words did to me...the pain they caused...the way they shaped my very young opinion of myself (whoever said "sticks and stones can break my bones but names will never hurt me" was a big fat liar. That's all there is too it.).

Eventually, the voices of others turned into my own. Those unkind words somehow turned into my own beliefs about who I was...how people saw me...and sadly, how I saw myself.

Flash forward--

I've spent much of my time the past few years sharing a message about our TRUE nature...our divine nature...with young women...all the while struggling a bit with my own. And trust me, the irony is not lost on this girl.

But here's the thing. I believe DEEPLY every word I speak when I'm talking to those girls. I believe it to my core. I believe it so much that there are moments when I am sharing those truths, that I am moved deeply by what I am hearing myself say...even though they are words I've said dozens and dozens of times...it's like there is a part of me hearing those truths for the first time.

They are the truths I need to hear over and over and over again.
I think many of us do.
And that makes it anything but ironic.

So, why share this now?

That old voice inside my head?
It's gone.
IT'S GONE.

And I say what I said when I began, with one very important change:
I don't know when it started or exactly how it happened. I have a few strong memories that stick out in my mind that could be connected. Frankly, I think it just happened over time. Rather than one moment or one event, it was more like a series of VERY fortunate events, as it were.

I didn't even realize it had happened until an experience I had last week. I was in a situation that ordinarily would have nearly paralyzed me because of insecurity...well, I would have NEVER been able to even get through it with that old voice. Never. And as some point during the experience, I realized I was finally free.

Over the past few years, I have been experiencing quite a metamorphis. It's taken a lot of physical and spiritual work that has intensified the last year or so. And though I have some work still left to do, not much about me is the same as it was 18 months ago.

I have this completely different view of myself.
I'm not the girl I've been.
I'm the girl I've wanted to be.
Finally I believe it.

I believed it on my date last weekend.
I believed it during the photo shoot on Wednesday.
I believed it when the cute guy on the airport shuttle started up a conversation with me Thursday afternoon.
I believed it this morning when I was trying to help one of my girls at church believe it about herself too.

And I didn't realize that I've been believing it for a while.
I noticed this past week that all I hear now is a new voice.
It's a voice that has finally overtaken that old voice inside my head.

Several people have helped me create this new voice.
But, it's interesting to me that what I noticed this past week sounded a lot like my friend Tammy.
She's believed it all along.
Thanks, Flicka. You've been there every step trying so hard to be a louder voice.
It finally worked.

I hear it.
Loud & clear.
I owe you, my friend.

BTW, the few lessons for anyone who might benefit:
1.) People see what you see.
2.) If you have a daughter, tell her she is pretty...every day.
3.) Don't ever say anything that would give someone a different belief about their identity. You can't take those words back.
4.) Life's too short to spend one more day believing anything about yourself that is less than who you really are.

TTA: Livin' on the edge

I missed the last Tuesday Tell All so I'm doing it a week late. (I don't know if there are rules for these things but this one appealed to me more than the current subject and this is my blog, so I make the rules, right?!)

If you could do something dangerous, just once with no risk, what would you do?

SKYDIVE. I'm doing it for my 37th birthday. I'm just hoping that it will be one of those "no risk" kinds of things.

ADMIT LOVE...FIRST. That's dangerous, right? It's one thing to admit it after you have sure knowledge the feelings are reciprocated; quite another to do it first. I hope I'll take the risk next time, if need be, and admit it first.

RUN A MARATHON. Yes, if I knew I could finish it without dying and without losing any toenails. For some reason, it's the "losing toenails" that really gets me (yes, even worse than dying). Well, the toenails and the fact that I can't yet run that many miles.

What does all this reveal about me? I have no need to do anything truly risky...just kind of risky. I don't have any need to do all the crazy things that might be on some lists. I really am fairly simple in my need for risk-taking.

What would YOU do?

And, by the way, I've gotten some flack from some of you about blogging when I said I wouldn't blog. BUT, that's not what I said...I just had to work in a little "motivation" for myself and earn the right to blog. It's pathetic, I know.

I really was a "different" kid

("Different", but cute, eh? That butterfly dress went all the way to the floor, by the way, I LOVED that dress.)

While other kids were watching Casper the Friendly Ghost, I was watching the news.

While other kids were pretending to be school teachers, I was pretending to be Donahue (I was the guest, the audience and the "caller are you there?" host all at the same time...same topic every show...I was a 17-year old who's father tragically died in a car accident...don't ask me why...I really have no idea).

While other kids were spending time with each other, I was spending time with Galobaset.

While other kids were playing house, I was playing Sacrament Meeting (I gave great talks out of Inspiring Stories for Young Latter-day Saints and only occassionally inappropriately prepared and took the sacrament).

But, you just had to love this "different" little girl.
I was dramatic...I still am.
I was emotional...I still can be.
I was funny...albeit not as funny as I am now (grin).
I was a seeker of attention....no comment.
I didn't like it when my mom left me alone...I still don't.
I easily loved...I still do.
I needed hugs and outward signs of affection (much to the frustration of my dad who just could never hug me enough)...yeah...still do.
I had a wild imagination...what? me?

I was thinking about this little girl this morning when I woke up. I was trying to remember what she thought life would be like when she got older.

I don't remember the particulars (though I am certain they weren't this particular life) but I have to say, I couldn't have imagined life would be this good. Because dating and work stress and adult-responsibilities-figuring-out-how-to-change-the-lightbulb-at-the-top-of-my-landing and finding time for everything, aside...yea verily, maybe even a little bit because of all that,
LYFSGUD.

(and lest one of my favorite people mocks me for posting yet again after saying I'm not posting, I won't be posting anymore this week...well except for "Tuesday's Tell All", well, because I wrote that last week on a day when I earned it. Just so you know.)

I'm sticking with my type

I definitely have a "type".

One of my friends pointed the "type" out to me last night, when I expressed a faint interest in a particular guy. He was very funny and just had this look about him. He had a mannerism and a charisma that was just really attractive to me. And I knew I could totally like him.

Then, I found out he was married (why do married men not wear rings anymore?!? Hear me now, believe me later, the lucky guy who ends up with me will have his ring surgically attached to his finger!) and that was the end of that.

But, we thought about the few men (and there have only been a few) I have really truly loved and realized she was really on to something. I really do have a type. If you stood them side by side..if you looked at them, watched them, listened to them...you'd see it almost instantly (and if you threw in the other 2 crushes I've had along the way, you'd see it freakishly again).

It's uncanny, really.

My type is really pretty incredible...smart, funny (and thinks I am funny), talented, good looking, cultured, a great appreciater of music & literature, incredibly charismatic, "gets it" when it comes to the gospel...and lots of other things I totally appreciate. Even their looks are interestingly similar.

But, since it has yet to work out with my type, in my mind I've been thinking I just need to find a different type. Makes sense, doesn't it?

But I'm not sure how that's going to work out either.

I went on my "date sick" date tonight. Bless his introverted heart. He was kind of the antithesis of "my type". And, yeah, that didn't work so well. I've never talked so much in my life (and I'm a talker!). And funny? Oh, boy was I funny. But, it's not enough for just me to be funny. It was a long 2+ hours and when it was done, I was done! All I wanted was to get back to that favorite old sweatshirt. Happily, that's just what I did.

I was thinking on the way home tonight that there is likely a reason I have a "type". And I think it's because my spirit knows the type I will end up with and my spirit recognizes that type when my life path crosses his. As hokey, cheesy, "Saturday's Warrior" as that may sound, I believe it's true.

So, I'm sticking with my type.
I'm holding out for that guy who, loves me to be sure, but who I adore.
Because, really, I totally adore my type.
As hard as I've tried not to, I do.

(BTW, I did earn this post today too. Amazing what a girl can do when she's motivated!)

Grandpa, his podiatrist, and my wedding

Trust me.
It will make sense.

So, as it turns out, when you are trying to finish a master's program and be successful in your job and have relationships with people you love and help one of your Laurel's find the perfect necklace to wear with her prom dress this Saturday and get yourself healthy on a treadmill and fill your spirit with the scriptures (and prayers that last longer than 90 seconds)...yeah...as it turns out, there really is little time for much else.

BUT, I'm finding time for this.

I had my only free night of the week tonight and so when I found out my 96-year old Grandpa wanted to go to his 99 year-old brother Harold's viewing, I just knew I had a free night for a reason.

We got dressed up and went downtown.

Little side note, I haven't seen Harold since the last real birthday party for my Great Aunt Jean. I don't remember the year. But, I think it was her 95th (yes, I have genes in my family that let people live for a REALLY long time) birthday. Regardless, it was quite the party and it was about 4 or 5 years ago. I was standing with my cousin Alee (who really is very pretty) and Harold came up to us. Said, Harold to Alee, "My, aren't you just the prettiest girl I've ever seen." (I'm standing right next to her, mind you.) Alee said, "well, thank you." Harold said, "Really, you are just so pretty." (And yes, I was still standing there.) Harold then turns to me and says, "Well, don't you look just like your father!" Yeah, nice. Have you people seen my dad? I mean, he's handsome, but he's not really what you would think of when you picture a really cute girl...though, in fairness to Harold, it was 4 or 5 years ago and those weren't my cutest years...BUT STILL! So, it was nice when my grandpa told me I looked pretty tonight. You just can never hear that too much when you spent too much time in the "not cute" years.
But, I digress...

We walked, arm in arm, into the mortuary. As we approached the casket, I almost stopped breathing. There in the casket, dressed all in white, was my grandpa. I mean, it was Harold, but for a few brief moments I saw my grandpa (he and Harold could have been twins) and I started to cry.

I'm not ready for that to be him.

Grandpa had a great time seeing family and old friends. He spoke Danish with a nephew who also served in Denmark on his mission. He told two 70+ year old twins about their aunt who grandpa and his friend Walt Sontagg used to play "piggly wiggly" with (and ironically enough, Grandpa had just been telling me about that family of girls..."old maids"...one of the girls was 25...actually, he and Walt didn't have any money to go out much and so they would go to different houses on the weekends to hang out with girls who didn't have dates...yes, I learned tonight my grandpa was a "hanger outer"!). He told Harold's great-grandchildren stories of Harold's childhood. I loved watching him and listening to him.

There weren't many there. And as Grandpa and I walked out and got into the car, I said to him, "I'm not ready for that to be you yet, Grandpa." He reminded me he IS 96. I then said, "But, when it happens, do you have any idea how many people will be there? Do you realize how many love you? Do you see how many lives you've blessed and impacted?" (no disrespect to Harold, of course.)

Grandpa was quiet. I wondered if he knew what I said was true. I wondered if he was imagining how many would come to pay their respects when it's his time.

After a few moments of silence, Grandpa said, "I'm pretty sure my podiatrist and his wife would come. They really seem to like me. You know, they just can't seem to say enough good about me!"

I laughed out loud.
Hard.
Grandpa laughed too.

I get busy and even though he only lives 5 miles from my house, I don't see Grandpa nearly as much as I should. I don't call as much as I should. But, after seeing "him" in that casket tonight, I just can't not take advantage of every minute. I need to be better.

As I was leaving him at his house, I gave him a hug, told him I loved him, and told him I'd call him again, sooner rather than later.
And as I walked back to my car, Grandpa called out, "Laurel?"
"Yeah, Grandpa?"
"We're going to find you a husband. We just have to."
I told him I was trying. He said he was praying.

You see, Grandpa and I have a little "joke" that he won't leave this life until I'm married. He's not always sure he can hold out. I've never intentionally tried to drag it out. And the man could easily live to be 100, so I still have some time...

But, it's nice to know Grandpa hasn't given up.
And that he's holding out for me...
He's still praying.
And I'm still trying.

And when it happens, Grandpa is going to be there.
And I'm even inviting the podiatrist...and his wife too!

No more blogging this month...

You read that right. NO MORE BLOGGING THIS MONTH...

I've become oddly addicted to this little blog. I'm enjoying the process of writing and thinking about things. I'm loving knowing that I'm connecting to people that I adore. Some that I haven't talked to in forever...It's fun to get an email from BYU Ward Dallin because of the blog. Or to hear from one of my favorite used-to-be-YW, Jill (shout out to you, Jill). Or to find out today I've even got a reader in Hong Kong (one of the classiest women I know...you know who you are). My family and I have been making much-needed connections through posts (my brother/sister-in-law and sister are all blogging and my cute parents have even learned to comment!) and I've been so grateful for that. It's been a great addition to my life for so many reasons...an example of technology being used for good FOR SURE.

BUT, I also really am busy and I seem to never find time to do all the things I really do need to be doing. And yet, I find 10 minutes to post and another 20 minutes reading other blogs. 30 minutes.

30 precious minutes that I don't always have.

Today, as I was in the Conference Center listening to some really significant spiritual instruction (and thoroughly enjoying the SUPERB sounds of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir), I got a little pricked in my heart. I was like early Christians who, after hearing Peter preach the Gospel on the day of Pentecost, "were pricked in their heart, and said...'what shall we do?'" (Acts 2:37). Today was my own mini day of Pentecost.

Except, I didn't even have to ask the question.

It was one of those moments when I did not need to strain to hear the voice of the Spirit. (I complain when I have to strain to hear the voice, but the nice thing about straining is that you can delay necessary change if you're not feeling up to the challenge. You can always say, "oh, if I had heard that invitation more clearly, I would have acted immediately"...but when you hear it and you know it and HE knows you know it, well...end of discussion. And in the long run, OF COURSE that really is so much better.) I didn't have to exert any effort to hear it. The voice was loud & clear.

I have a tendency to let fundamental things slip. And life really is about the fundamental things. I don't want those things to slip. I know that if I am going to be and do all I was meant to be and do, I need to put more time into the fundamental things...more meaningful time.

So, I'm making a little commitment to myself (and since I seem to do better when I know I have multiple witnesses, I'm making it to you too), that I am not allowed to blog for the rest of the month...

UNLESS...

I've already spent my pre-determined time on my treadmill and a serious commitment of time in meaningful prayer (we all knew what Elder Bednar meant today, didn't we?) & scripture study. If I can find that time and STILL have some time left over, then I can blog. Is it pathetic that I have to give myself that motivation? And, yes, I realize this impacts me WAY more than it impacts you...

Now, lest you are tempted to judge me on the days I don't blog, it might just be that, as it turns out, after an hour+ on the fundamental, I don't have time for the extra (which I suspect will often be the case). But, my posting will be my confirmation that I'm putting more meaningful time towards the fundamental.

Chat with you soon, though maybe not as soon as I would like.
But, I'll be back...

That favorite old sweatshirt in your closet

Do you have one?
Think about it for a minute...
Why is it your favorite? Why do you love it so much?
Why is it the thing you want to come home and change into after a rough day?

It's comfortable, right?
It's familiar...and sometimes it's just the perfect fit.
Maybe it's been with you through lots of things...good times, bad times.
It gets "broken in" through time, and better through time too.
It seems to know you.

I LOVE the feeling of putting on that favorite old sweatshirt, especially if it's been a while since I've worn it.
No pretenses. I'm totally me.
There's just something about "totally me" that I totally appreciate.

Clothes come and go. Trends change.
But, that favorite old sweatshirt?
It will never go out of style. You can put it on and just relax...
Which is probably why I love it so much.

Brilliant!

One of the best April Fools Day jokes ever in the history of ever.

Nice work, Gmail!
But, I'm too smart for you...
(though I can't say the same for some people in my office!)