Not Home for Christmas

Two years ago in school they told us to enjoy our Christmas breaks cause once we were done with school they would become something we will miss. Now that I am here in Arizona and not home in Texas I am trying to re-define the definition of "home" into a term that feels right. This time last year I was home with everyone which turned out to be a little more complicated than we had anticipated but still wonderful. "Home forChristmas" pulls up images of a delightfully ecliptic tree covered in 28 years of mismatched ornaments, Parker Square decked out in lights and a giant 3.5 story tree, the driveway lined with a string of mostly intact not-yet-run-over lights, constant bickering over whose turn it was to play on the piano, Muppet's Christmas Carol, and 8 of my most favorite people on the planet gathered around the fireplace laughing at something simple and ridiculous.

Still, if I'm being strictly honest I have to say that Texas is no longer home in the strictest sense of the word, namely, that I don't live there and I probably won't be living there for at the very least a few years. I also can't say my entire family is there as I have so much extended family here, plus several siblings and a nephew in Utah. But until Arizona feels like Texas use to, I will continue to be a Texan. This means that at least this year I will have a wonderful and magical Christmas with all kinds of family members here in the world of decorated cacti, but I will not be home for Christmas.

I use to think that being away for the holidays would make me hopelessly homesick and lonely, and as I call home and talk to my sisters and brother and parents and hear the sounds of home filtering through the line I have to admit I do feel nostalgic and more than a little envious, but really, I am alright. I am surrounded by people who I love and who love me. I am busy with work and church and the delight that comes with being alive in this amazing world. I'm not home for Christmas but I'm happy and healthy and excited to spend Christmas here where I am. I may be home for Christmas in my dreams, but in reality I am here, and it is a pretty good gig too.

For unto us comes good tidings of great joy--Christ was born. He really came. How amazing is it that through the power of perfect love and obedience Jesus Christ was able save all of creation that would accept his matchless gift? The battle against sin and evil must have been as good as won as soon as he was born for the heavens to pour out and celebrate the victory of all of salvation. I'd like to think that on that night when the shepherds suddenly overwhelmed by numerous concourses of angles that the gates of heaven somehow could not hold back the joy and anticipation and triumph that ruled the pre-mortal realm that day. How amazing is it that a loving God would grant such a present as his own Son on that first of all Christmases to someone so weak and faulty as me? The promise of the whole human race was held in young Mary's arms that night as she too spent that first Christmas far from home. It truly is wonderful that He should die for me and you and all of us. Merry Christmas. No matter where you spend it, what an amazing holiday to celebrate the most amazing of all gifts ever given to anyone anywhere.

Yay for bodies!

I have been blessed with a body. Sure I have frizzy hair that has a frightening resemblance to a dishwater-colored bush, skin that somehow manages to be both oily and dry, short stubby legs, a rather unfortunate mole right on my chin, scrawny stick arms, and hind-quarters that are awkwardly out of proportion to the rest of my body, but still I am grateful for my body. I love the way it moves--the perfect symmetry of ambulation, the glide of tendons and skin over swollen knuckles, and the continuous swell and deflation of lungs 8 to 20 times per minute of every day. I love the tension of a stretch and the ache of a workout. I love the freedom to get from one place to another without setup or facilitation, the confidence of balance and stability that I don't have to even think about. I love the feeling of the world passing on either side as I run or swim or dance or walk or skip or spin toward my future. The healthy human heart pumps nearly 700,000 gallons of blood per year, the average kidney filters 45 gallons a day, the average 80 year old has walked a total of 108,131 miles--that's equal to walking around the equator 4.3 times. Those are amazing numbers! The human body really is an amazing gift and while I don't always treasure or even appreciate mine, I am certainly grateful for it. 

I work every day with people whose bodies don't work quite like mine. They don't have the ability to pump 700,000 gallons of blood a year or walk with symmetry and safety, they lack the freedom to move their body smoothly and easily from one place to another and often lack the confidence to try. I work with people in constant pain and with limited abilities, people who have to work much harder and still have less success to do the same things I do. When surrounded by a background like this how can I be anything but grateful and awed by God's gift of a mortal body and even more grateful for the impending resurrection when we will all walk and move and succeed together? I think too, as part of being grateful and as part of being cautions that I can maintain my freedom, symmetry, and safety I will continue to move--to dance and play and work and run and smile and stretch and contract. I want to get every one of my 108,131 miles in after all.

Grateful

As always, order is more of a stream of conscious and is in no way indicative of my level of gratitude for said whatever. Also, just because something is not here doesn't mean I am not grateful for it, it merely means I didn't think of it before I hit 100.

1 - The gospel of Jesus Christ
2 - My testimony of the gospel
3 - My parents
4 - My siblings
5 - Dark chocolate
6 - The atonement
7 - My grandparents--both sides; who knew that 2 families so very different would both set such amazing examples in following the gospel
8 - My aunts and uncles and cousins
9 - the piano and all the lessons mom and dad paid for
10- the temple
11- my mission
12- my amazing missionary companions and mission presidents
13- my job at the rehab facility
14- my job with the kids--I love those little guys!
15- the scriptures
16- Seminary
17- Institute
18- tulips
19- the smells of Christmas: cinnamon, pine, and sugar cookies
20- french toast with boysenberry syrup
21- fresh towels out of the dryer
22- playing the viola
23- my AMAZING Spokane friends--I miss them almost daily
24- my car--she still has "lots of life in her" according to the professionals
25- watching football
26- running in the early evening when the families and kids and the sun are all still out
27- chocolate oatmeal caramel cookies--my favorite favorite
28- dryer sheets
29- CDs with the words printed on the inside so you can sing along
30- Blue jeans--bestest most comfortable pants there are
31- hugs. I LOVE a good hug
32- singing in the shower where the acoustics are the best
33- Spirit airline that lets me fly home for super cheap
34- my mom's obsession for frugality that I also inherited
35- blankets
36- wind, especially when it carries the smell of rain
37- my PB
38- the prophet
39- slipper socks--best foot cover there ever was
40- mint-chocolate flavored lip gloss
41- Joseph Smith and his courage
42- Open-faced extra-crunchy-low-fat-peanut-butter and honey sandwiches
43- Relief Society
44- my brand new perfect baby nephew
45- country music
46- Texas--my home
47- Tex the dog
48- Texas the pseudo-nation
49- skunk smell--one of my favorites
50- running barefoot in fresh cut grass
51- general conference
52- colors--especially purple
53- a body that can do what I need it to do
54- my bishopric and stake president
55- rainstorms
56- that we don't have to wear nylons anymore
57- that I grew up in a family where the gospel was the center
58- growing up protected from the influences of the world
59- computers
60- cell phones
61- my education and all the amazing people who helped me get here
62- high heels
63- cantalope
64- washing machines
65- electricity
66- Music
67- Jane Austen
68- laughing
69- smiling
70- brownies
72- easy-to-fix curly hair
73- medium rare steak
74- good vision so that I don't have to wear glasses
75- the smell of eggs cooking
76- Reading good books
77- Having a church I can go to every week
78- Happiness
79- agency
80- cold water--sooo refreshing!
81- Hope
82- prayer
83- springtime
84- the Holy Ghost
85- the woods in Vancouver
86- sleeping
87- chick flicks teehee
88- dancing like a wild woman when no one is watching
89- all the wonderful people I met during my travels last year
90- the sacrament
91- mascara because without it I look like a man
92- service
93- the sound of a child laughing
94- my parent's eternal marriage
95- sweet snap peas
96- Christmas music
97- clavicle--my favorite bone
98- fuzzy sweatshirts in the winter time
99- the sound of rain hitting my window
100-The grace of God that allows me to do things I never otherwise could dream of.

I am so blessed! Truly really, what a wonderful world God has given us, and what a wonderful life mine is.

Resilient

Some things shatter when they pretzel,
but Gumby ends up alright;
others stain in murky refuse
but ducks stay clean and white.
And darkness blinds and frightens others
while owls can see at night.

Rubber bands bounce back in place
where tendons strain and snap
and green wood wickers when you want
where bones will bend and crack.
For seasons, fads, and lies return
but some things won’t come back.

Maim me I mar, bend me I break
I’m more fragile than I show.
There’s a limit to what I can take
as I have come to know.
Still transformation where much’s at stake
will resilient me as I grow.

So till my shatter in sheer array
I'll bend and bend again
to live at least one glorious day
the lithe life learned by man.

Why I am still Single

While it is an established truth that few things are more irritating than being asked "Why are you still single?" This is something I have recently had reason to reflect on briefly and I officially have made a decision. For the record, I strongly believe that I am NOT single because a loving Heavenly Father wants me to be single.

I agree that there are many lessons I have to learn and that God has the wonderful ability to make any situation a wonderful one that will help me to learn the things He wants me to learn. However, I do not believe that He is purposely keeping me single until I learn those lessons. I also do not believe that He has one specific person for me to marry that He is waiting to "introduce me to", I don't believe He has some master blue-print that requires that I remain single until 32 years and 5 months in order to match evenly with some quota, and I do not believe He levies singlehood as a punishment for some misdeed.

I am mostly likely single because of a combination of circumstance, personality quirks, decisions I made, and decisions of those around me. Because Heavenly Father loves me He has been able to make my life something wonderful and exciting. He accomplished this not by manipulating my life such that I stay single, but by working with the life that I have and sending me more blessings than I will ever deserve. He loves me, and I love Him and He will not give up on me. Still I hold strong to the belief that while God is the reason I am happy while I am single, He is not the reason I am single while I am happy.

But... I still love chocolate...

I am a dark chocolate lover--the darker the better. I eat all the dark chocolate mini's that everyone else avoids, my chocolate milk usually looks more like coffee, and I rarely to eat ice cream unless it has some sort of rich chocolate flavor. At the risk of being repetitive, I am a dark chocolate lover.

That doesn't mean I hate all things vanilla, cause I don't. I wouldn't turn down vanilla ice cream on a chocolate brownie (though I'd still prefer the chocolate) and I do like a little bit of vanilla squirted into my root beer when I visit the fountain drink, but I can't think of anything vanilla flavored I prefer over its chocolate counterpart except... nope, there isn't anything.

But here's the rub--sometimes, vanilla is just better for you. Sometimes it's easier to come by. Why does it seem like vanilla is always available... always the one that picks me while I dream longingly of chocolate? I do know that too much of a good thing is just that--too much. I once nibbled on a corner of a 99% cocoa chocolate bar and it was awful--even as I write this sentence my face is crinkling at the memory I wish I could forget. Somehow even after that I still choose chocolate over vanilla every singly time. Maybe though, it's time for my taste to mature. They say that your tastes can change with age, and maybe it's time to find the virtue in vanilla. After all, vanilla is sweet and smooth and pleasant. It's just not exciting. I grew up on chocolate and peanut butter and almond brickle and fireworks, so vanilla is just a little bit of a let down. I grew up with flying dinner rolls, green eggs and ham, family dances complete with air guitar tennis rackets, water fights, and the perfect concentration of dark chocolate. These treasured memories don't make vanilla wrong, they just make it... vanilla.

And no matter what I try and do, it seems I can't give up my dreams of chocolate, even in the face of high-quality vanilla that is both readily available and eager to be tasted.

What can I do? I am in love with chocolate.

New Job

I recently started a new job in a rehab center/nursing home facility. I love my job. Obviously there are days that I feel like will never end and there are people I would just as soon not work with some days (for example the naked 300+ pound man I walked in on the other day. Not great), but all in all, work is wonderful.

There is something magic about watching people get stronger, watching their face when the turn and see how far they walked for the first time in weeks or longer. I love the feeling of watching someone stand up when they thought they couldn't, or the look of surprise when they were able to safely transition from their chair to their bed without a mechanical lift. Empowerment is a majestic virtue.

I also find that I enjoy the feeling that, to my surprise, more often than not I do know what I'm doing. Although I still feel like some days I have to make it up as I go along, for the most part I feel capable and in control. I have had lots of training, and if I stay smart and don't hurt myself I can enjoy this profession for many years to come.

Best of all though, I love working with the elderly population. For them, words like "hard work", "honor", and "independence" mean something that perhaps my own generation has not yet grasped. To listen to their experiences and to learn from their examples is a valuable training by itself, but to watch them work through constant pain and aches that I cannot even begin to conceptualize or understand is inspiring. I can be a better person. I can work harder, run longer, figure out more of my own problems, and appreciate better the good things in my life because the people I am suppose to be helping are teaching me to do so. What an amazing profession!

Birthdays

I am watching the clock as I write this late post and the last few minutes of my 26th year draw to a close. It has been a great year, really. I finally graduated from school, I got my first real person job, I learned to crochet and rock climb (though I haven't yet learned to do the two simultaneously) and I have at long last settled into a ward where I can stay for more than a few weeks--they even gave me a calling. And now, in a few hours, I will officially be 27 years old.

I'm not sure when it is that I am suppose to start feeling like I am getting old. When we are kids we delight in squealing out our age complete with stubby finger visuals to anyone who will ask us and many who don't (though of course they want to know, we reason). When we hit middle school and high school we suddenly want to act and be perceived as older than we really are and we dress, speak, act, and even think to that end. When is it then, that a woman is suppose to give the demure reply of, "I'd rather not say" when asked her age? I am short for my age, short in general really, so sometimes I surprise people whose vision isn't strong enough to see the budding bags under my eyes when I tell them my age. 27. It really isn't all that old, and I honestly don't feel that old. I still have lots to accomplish and I still feel a little like my child-self spouting pudgy fingers and half-baked sentences to anyone foolish enough to listen.

What will this year bring? I am different now at 26 than I was at 25. I am older--the high school dream finally reached I feel and even act a little older and (dare I say it?) maybe even a little more mature. How will I feel at the end of 27? Who will I be? Perhaps that is why we exchange gifts on birthdays--to help us to remember that the greatest gift we get--the greatest present if you will excuse my pun-- is our very own present-a reality we can unwrap and mold and uncover for a whole year.

I devote the last 10 minutes of my 26th year to gratitude. Gratitude to my Heavenly Father who gave me this year and the opportunities in it, gratitude to my parents who supported and sustained me through the various trials that were sent my way, gratitude to the army of family members and friends who took me in as I scoured the country like a migrant worker carrying everything I own in the back of my little car. I am grateful to the people I met for letting me into their lives and hearts, for their ability to "warm and clothe and feed" their guest, and sometimes go so far as to "lay them on their couch to rest" I am grateful to my car who made the journey with me and didn't break down once. I am grateful for my family members as they continue to support me, house me, feed me, and even have a rather lavish party planned for tomorrow--the most pomp and circumstance my birthday has seen in years. I am grateful most of all to my Savior. For His gift to me in not only the ability to be forgiven for the countless stupid and selfish decisions I make but for His grace which allows me to try and become what I long to be and am not--an instrument in His hands, doing His work in His way.

I pray 27 might be as wonderful as 26. Bring on the ribbons--I'm about to unwrap another year.

America the Beautiful

Every now and then I feel moved to become an artist. It runs in my family--my mother, my grandmother, and especially my great grandmother on my dad's side are all accomplished painters. Mom use to sell her toll-painted projects, Grandma's artwork fits right in with the other beautiful watercolor pieces on display in her home, and my Great-Grandma won first prize in the state fair with her painting of the lion and the lamb. You might think, as do I, that it probably runs in my blood and though buried deep, some magical day if I hold my tongue right and am smiled on by the mystical art nymphs I too will graduate from stick figures. Once I actually made a very convincing pencil-drawing of an empty toilet paper roll I tried a full roll with less success. Not even kidding. That being said, I have had the blessing to spend the last year as a migrant, living out of my car and moving every few months. In some ways it was a little difficult or lonely but mostly it was exciting and adventurous to meet so many wonderful new people and see so much of this amazing country. One of my new friends I met on this cross-country pilgrimage asked me the other day which area I liked best, and in thinking about it I decided I should write about the beauty of the various places I have been.

Any discussion about beautiful scenery will always need to start with home--Texas, in my case. My beloved home state is characterized by unbridled skies, long flat vistas, searing muggy heat that still surprises me with its intensity, and (in spite of most people's Hollywood-inspired perceptions) large leafy trees that provide useless shade and look even bigger than they are because the aren't forced to compete with mountains for breaking up the skyline. Like most people, there is that additional ethereal  "being home" beauty that is no more imagined than it is inexpiable.

Although Utah wasn't part of my "around-the-country-tour" last year I did spend several years there in school and have visited at least once each year since my graduation in 2009. Utah is rugged and imposing, majestic and almost violent in its beauty. The view from Bryce Canyon is quite literally breathtaking.



 
After graduating in Utah I went to Spokane, Washington right up by Coeur D'alene, Idaho for grad school. Spokane was too cold in the winter for my taste, but the other seasons were lovely. There are no large mountains where I was living, though they are readily available for the many outdoor enthusiasts in the area but there are rolling hills all through the city. Many of the roads have to be closed down in the winter because even with salt and snowplows the steep hills the roads are built on make them impassable. It is very green there, but my favorite part of the city is the diversity of everything; the people, the landscape, the weather, and even the restaurants. There is one in downtown Spokane where you can get deep fried Oreos if you know to ask for them.

Medford, Oregon was full of orchards. I was able to work one day in a pear orchard and even though I was there in the winter when most of the leaves were gone pictures of what the orchard sprang into mere weeks later were bright and friendly and beautiful. Medford also has moss, foliage, wildflowers, and blackberries everywhere and frothy fog most mornings.  Even in the winter, Medford was friendly.

Vancouver, Washington was also green, but green barely begins to describe it. Who knew there could ever be so very many shades of green in one place at one time? Vancouver is perhaps one of the most gorgeously lush places I have ever been. It did rain almost every day while I was there, and the resulting carpet of luxuriant forestry is amazing. Glistening lakes and rivers accent the forests of the region.

Last, I end up in Arizona. Going from Vancouver to Arizona was a bit of a culture shock, but even Arizona has its own beauty. Mysterious and romantic, the desert rolls out as a deadly force of heat and hard-fought survival in a world of dust, painted rocks, cacti, and brilliant neon sunsets. This will be my new home.

 

And so I am left to marvel at the beauty of the country I live in and for the moment I am left to leave the artistry up to the Creator while I marvel in his skill and diversity.

Tony Horton makes me cry... I hate him, but I love him

In life, there are some things you do just because they are good for you. Eating beets, washing behind your ears, making your bed, and balancing your checkbook are just examples of this phenomenon. For me, exercise falls in this category. I like feeling strong--being able to run up a few flights of stairs without being winded, able to carry groceries and boxes, able to work all day as walking, standing, pushing and lifting people back to health and not be exhausted at the end of the day. I also enjoy the feeling at the end of a workout, like I finished something hard and now it's out of the way. Mostly though, I feel like I have to work out because I tell people every day to stay in shape and exercise, so if I don't do it too then I feel guilty. All that to say, working out is not on my list of things-to-do-for-fun or even things-to-occupy-myself-with-when-I'm-bored.

This summer me and my sister have been trying to do P90X; an exercise program designed to either kill you or make you really strong after 13 weeks of difficult daily workouts that last between 60 and 90 minutes each. Disgusting, crazy, painful, and stupid can all be used to describe this behavior, but still we persist. I suppose if you piled up all the time people spend making their beds (not necessarily me, as my time may not add up to much) that may be seen as overboard too, right? Bottom line is that it is hard and difficult. We are sore every day after the previous day's work out, and it seems like we switch daily which of us has to work to diligently persuade the other to work out that day. Still, we can't stop because we've already put so much time and effort into what we've dune thus far that it seems wasteful at this point to not just go ahead and finish the program to see if at the end we are indeed either dead or fit. We are on week 6 and the jury is still out on which  if either state is the case.

Perhaps the worst part of the workout, however, is Tony Horton--the man who runs each workout.  He is super muscular (perhaps proving that bronze and brains don't always go together?) and he is cheerful and consistent, but somehow listening to him every day trying to be funny with the same jokes over and over again is more than a little exhausting. The following are all actual quotes from the workout videos.

"Don’t stop breathin’. You stop, you die." wonderful advice, really. "Tip of the day-don’t smash your face." again with the helpful advice. "Like a pterodactyl backing out of trouble. Kah!" this one, wouldn't be so bad if he didn't use it on several workouts, which means by the end of the 13 weeks you have  heard it over 30 times. "Go ahead and laugh, these are excellent jokes." His quote, not mine. "He makes Gumbie look like the Tin Man!" This one is during a stretch and is actually a little bit funny. "Don’t bite your toes, Aarg. I recommend foot spray." This is during a cobbler stretch, and yes, he actually says that. “Let the weight of your head do the work. Mine weighs 600 lbs; there’s nothing in it." Truer words, friend. Truer words. “Lets make it x like… not exlax thats somethin different” I'm telling you, you can't make this stuff up.

I could go on, but hopefully you get the picture. Perhaps not the brightest crayon in the box. Still, he is cheerful and works hard. That being said, sometimes after walking around observing and commenting on everyone sweating their faces off he likes to jump in at the very end and brag about his superior form and speed, sometimes even making fun of his less-effective work out buddies. This wins no love from me, as my form and speed definitely leaves much to be desired, even compared to the less-than-perfect participants behind the self-proclaimed perfectionist.

I wish I could go on, but the dreaded Tony time has come again and today it's my turn to encourage my sister that yes, we do want to exercise. Bottom line, I had better look awesome in seven weeks or I will be left to bemoan the loss of perfectly healthy brain cells.

You've Got Mail... Now What?

I am throwing my dignity on the symbolic alter of full disclosure in an effort to vent out my snarkiness here rather than somewhere it might wreak more damage. I've always thought public humiliation, like bandaids, are best taken care of in one swift pull--rip it off. Here it goes: I have joined the world of online dating. It's true. The how and the why is a complicated and mortifying tale that I have absolutely no intention of disclosing unprotected here, but long and short of it is that I am officially an online dater.

Anyone who knows me at all knows that while I certainly have talents and good points dating and dealing with men in general is absolutely not one of them. I'm not sure what made me think that dealing with them in the cyber world would be more successful than dealing with them in the flesh, but somehow I did. In reality, I suppose I am a better conversationalist when I can edit and spell-check them before they are sent into the world. There are also obvious benefits when people can only see cute pictures of me. However, there are also some pretty serious pitfalls.

One obvious problem is the premise: you are waiting for an e-mail which is somehow even more pathetic than waiting for a phone call. The frequency is an issue--you don't want to write so frequently that you seem desperate but you don't want to wait so long between e-mails that he looses interest. Also, lots of guys don't put up a picture at all. At the risk of exposing even more of my shallow self while appearance isn't everything not showing a picture at all still makes me curious. Does he have an unsightly mole on his left eyelid that prevents him from opening it? Does he have tattoos covering his face? Maybe he french braids his nostril hairs? What does it mean? Or what about the guy who uses "lol", "hee hee", an inordinate amount of explanation points and no capital letters in his e-mails? Is that how he talks in real life? With no capital letters? Then there is the question of how to stop a web-based non-relationship. Do you send an "it's not you it's me" e-mail? Do you just stop reading his? Do you tell him you want to try and be facebook friends? And how long do you exchange e-mails until you expect him to "make a move" to the next step? (On that note, what should the next step be? Do we exchange numbers--usually the first step so it kind of feels like going backwards? Do we actually try and meet? How does this work anyway?)

So meanwhile I will keep looking for an "online dating book for dummies" book and falling all over myself online and in person... at least until my subscription runs out.

Me and my Daddy

Normally I am just to a fault--fairness is one of the most important virtues to me. Certainly I know that life is not fair and all that, but I can certainly try and be fair. All that to say, after writing about mom for Mother's Day I have long been intending to write about dad too. Below you will find my top 5 favorite memories of my father.

I grew up in a family with 5 younger siblings. My home was almost always busy, happy, and exciting, but I learned early that time alone with daddy was valuable and worth seeking out. Dad started out with 2 daughters before he finally got his son, so my earliest happy memory with him is learning all about football--rules, penalties, positions, and scoring. That of course led to many happy memories watching football with dad.

Dad also taught me about fishing as a young girl, and to this day I love to fish. My favorite fishing memory with my dad was when we were camping one day. Me and dad got up earlier than everyone else and went trout fishing for a few hours. We had been waiting for two old men to vacate a lucrative fishing hole for most of that time and we finally started catching stuff when they left. Unfortunately a thunder storm started right about then and we had to take the boat to shore and seek emergency shelter under a tree. I don't remember what we talked about but I do remember feeling special and important and loved.

My next memory is not nearly as specific. I was a typical teenager, sure that my world was tumbling down around my ears at the slightest provocation and one day when I was crying over some reason that I'm sure I would twinge over now dad gave me a hug and wiped away my tears. His thumb was large and calloused and I felt like everything would be alright--I will never forget the love behind that gesture.

Next happened recently. In 2011 I ran a marathon in Kansas. Don't ask me where this crazy idea came from cause I still don't know, but mom, dad, and one of my sisters all came to support me. As I crossed the finish line they were all there to greet me and dad didn't seem to mind that I was sweaty and disgusting he just held open his arms and hugged me to him. He still thinks it was a wildly crazy idea (rightly so, I guess) but he still supported me.

My favorite favorite memory though was when he sent me off on my mission. I will never forget the way he hugged me and the feelings we shared then.

I love my dad! I am so lucky in the parents that I was given.

Finished

I can’t believe I am done. I have been on this journey so long that I almost don’t know how to feel now that it is over. The ceremony itself was a bit of a blur. It didn’t help that I was running a fever and my whole body was aching, but as I gave my professors and classmates a hug at the end my hoarse voice said “goodbye” somehow I felt like I was rehearsing a line. I have said more than a few goodbyes during this year of moving every 3 months for a new internship but somehow these are partings I wasn’t prepared for. How does it make sense to say goodbye when of course I would see them all again in class—the same way I had seen them every week day for the last 2 years… except I won’t see them again. This is the end of school. The class of 2012 is disbanded and we are all officially physical therapists now. I sat by Christine and Ansley, Jenny cried a little, Jason laughed at me for sleeping during the ceremony, Elias skipped the whole thing, and minus one other palpable absence the whole gang was there. It was refreshing to see everyone, but even better was the feeling of standing on the stage, listening to my name being read, and having Dr. Anton place a hood over my head. That is a feeling I will never forget—a warmness not quite from my fever or the sun that left me grinning like a fool and prancing across the platform to retrieve an empty diploma cover. After seven years, an embarrassingly large sum of student loans, a river of tears, an untold number of late nights, and more stress than I ever thought I could endure, I am finished. An army of teachers, friends, family, and mentors have led me to this moment and there is no way I could have gotten here any other way. Even with that, it was also a lot of work. A mountain of really really exhaustingly hard work, and I did it.

You can call me doctor if you want.

Hair: 1 Me: 0

I lost yet another epic battle to my hair earlier this week. Not good. This is a fairly common occurrence and I will take this opportunity to outline the various strategies of the opposing sides in all their hairy glory:

My strategies

Bio-warfare: I literally drown my poor hair in a barrage of product. Shampoo, conditioner, curling moose or gel, frizz control as needed, and whatever else I can use to try and control the opposing forces.

Capture and Torture: Tying up, pinning back, braiding, twisting around, and whatever other strategy I can think of to force my hair into whatever socially-acceptable shape I can manage, whether it wants to be there or not!

Suffocation: technique utilizing hat, scarf, bandanna, or paper bag if that is all that is available.

Negligence: Sometimes when all else fails all I can do is do my best to ignore what a mess my hair is. I have gotten pretty good at pretending not to know it is such a disaster.

Decapitation: Not used quite as frequently but occasionally there is nothing else for it but to cut off the fuzzy mess and dispose of the casualties.

Hair Strategies


Explosives: This seems to be my hair's weapon of choice--expanding from seemingly harmless strands into a mini tree. Nice.

Kamikaze sacrifice: I lose lots of hair... lots and lots. So desperate to be separated from me it seems to leap out of my head.

Sneak Attack: Another favorite: after painstakingly exerting my best efforts to control the mop perched atop my head it delights in escaping said style, bushing into wildness, and corkscrewing into chaos.

Indecent Exposure: I'm half embarrassed to mention this one,but my hair likes to show looks that are absolutely not meant for public eyes.

And so the battle rages on. Eventually, of course I will win, cause I have the ultimate weapon at my disposal; raze and destroy. I haven't yet pulled the "shave off the offending forces" move, but as it is always in my power to do so my hair will never be able to fully defeat me!

Happy Mother's Day!

For Mother's Day I have thought about what tribute would be good to share here since I am pretty sure she is really the only one who reads this... stuff. (I wanted to use a different word, but as this is a post for her I don't think she would have liked the one I was thinking of). I decided on a collection of her common quotes-ones I do not always like because I am not always smart enough to listen to my mother, but ones she uses a lot.

"Don't Should on Yourself"
Mom doesn't like the word should--it usually is used in a send-yourself-on-a-guilt trip way after all.


"You are on Thin Water!"
This started as a family joke, though it was a dangerous funny at the time. I was just a little girl but still remember the situation. Dad had done something to make mom mad and even though we all knew her irritation was rising (the steam was coming out of her ears in little puffs, her eyes were slowly starting to glow red) whatever dad was doing he continued, much to mom's irritation. Finally she blurted this quote out in frustration--an unsuccessful unconscious effort to combine the "in hot water" and "on thin ice" threats. This is definitely a you-had-to-be-there moment but I will not soon forget the way mom's palpable irritation slowly melted away as my father (who has a special talent for making people laugh at themselves) got us giggling and mom allowed her grumpiness to wash it away. Now when she uses it I feel like she is reminding me not to take myself too seriously.


"It's going to be okay."
I will not embarrass myself by disclosing how frequently I need this assurance, but I will say that mom is always able and willing to give it, no matter what time I call her. : )


"I don't need it..."
This one makes me smile and shake my head in exasperation. Mom, who is often encouraging me to splurge a little and get something new--shoes, a dress, a top, or whatever (not that I usually do, haha) never ever seems to get one for herself even when dad tells her to. He almost always has to take her to the store and make her get something. Such is the selflessness of motherhood--always putting everyone's needs above her own.

 

"Well President Eyering says:"
Mom likes all the church leaders, but for whatever reason President Eyering seems to be her favorite. Whatever follows is usually wise and wonderful but we still like to give her a hard time.


"A person all wrapped up in themselves makes a very small package"
Think about it.

"I'm cold."
Mom is a frugal machine who also suffers from significantly low blood pressure. Consequently in the middle of Texas winter (and I know those words don't really go together, but humor me--it's Mother's Day) she keeps the house in the 60s before she turns on the heater. When she was still working at home this meant that she would sit on the couch with her computer with a sweatshirt, at least 1 coat, and at least 1 pair of gloves or socks on her hands to try and get her work done. The ironic part of this whole story is that while I complain here I will probably end up keeping my house at the extreme temperature ends too because that's how I grew up--you save money by suffering a little.

"Have you prayed about it?"
This is her answer to every problem I bring to her (and let's just say I probably bring more than my fair share and most of them I bring more than once). Excellent advice--the kind that sometimes makes me laugh and say, "do you really always have to be right?"

"I don't know what I'm doing"
Strange for her to say that to me, as I am a firm believer that she does have it all figured out, but also somehow comforting because I absolutely have no clue what I'm doing, so if that is true at least I'm in good company!

"I'm doing laundry"
It seems like mom is always always always doing laundry. I don't mind laundry personally but I happen to know it is her least favorite job. Sorry mom. : (

and last but not least....

"I love you!"
 I love you too mom. A lot. Like, a lot a lot. I am a pretty lucky kiddo to have a laundry-master, prophet quoting, reassuring, mother Sensei  in my forever future. Happy Mother's Day!

The Beautiful Oregon Coast

So after finishing my internship in Medford, OR I took a long leisurly drive dipping first down into Calinfornia to see the Redwood Forest then up along the coast to get to my next internship destination. This was absolutely some of the most beautiful scenery and atmosphere I have ever seen ever. I felt guilty and bloated trying to absorb it all by myself it was so pretty!

 

The Redwood Forest

This is called the family tree. It's trippy. If you look close you can see other trees growing out of the branches, sending their roots into the main branches of the mother tree and getting their nourishment that way. The sign said there were 12 trees in all from this single trunk. You can see one really well in the right corner.

These guys are 297 feet(ish) tall 

This is called the Cathedral Tree--it is 9 trees all growing together, using the same roots system

This is a fallen tree that had several (maybe 6?) new trees growing out of it.

This isn't a great picture cause I made it look like a branch, but this is a tree growing sideways. Wild, eh?

This is a petrified tree ring they have at the entrance--it shows how old the tree was before it finally died.


After the Redwoods I went to the Oregon Coast Aquarium. I love aquariums, maybe even more than zoos, and this one was pretty cool.

These birds literally fly through the water--not swim, they flap their wings, tuck their feet, and fly underwater. It's pretty bizarre. They also have this oily stuff on their feathers that makes them look like they are covered in metal underwater.

The ceiling in one of those walk-through aquarium. I really couldn't take a picture of this that was awesome enough to make you see how cool it is.

Jelly fish--one of the weirdest animals in the ocean.


So it was pretty much an awesome trip. So breathtakingly gorgeous! God sure did an excellent job on this area.

Happy

I am happy. I can say that without reservation, apology, or explanation. I am happy. I love being happy. I love to laugh and smile and absorb the beauty and grace of the world around me like sunshine penetrating through my pores.  This really is a magical time of the year. I feel like everything around me is doing its very best to announce the love of God. The way the rain brightens and cleans the very air we breath, the way the sunshine glitters off the baby flower buds is almost magic, the way the trees, flower beds, and even people's wardrobes suddenly explode into color, and the way everything smells fresh and new. We are emerging out of winter like refugees desperate for the sun, and there it is to greet us!

I am currently in Vancouver, Washington and I see the sun about twice a week, but somehow that makes it even more exciting each time I do. I think I am in love. I spend every work day with a group of some of the most adorable kids you could ever ask to meet. They have been sent to this earth with bodies that can't do all of the things mine can, but they still manage to inspire me every day. The smile of a child is magic, especially when the child is beloved and trust me when I tell you, it is impossible not to fall in love with these kids.

Perhaps my favorite part is that this whole season preaches resurrection, rebirth, and renewal. Happiness. Just like the planet gets to remake itself each spring, I have the chance to reshape my attitude, the kids I get to spend time with will be given re-formed perfected bodies, and best of all I have the gift of opportunity to remake myself through the grace of my Savior. All of these second chances are made possible by the matchless gift He has offered to all of mankind--His perfect life, the atonement, and the triumphant resurrection where He overcame every last obstacle that was facing all of us. He has won every battle we or anyone will ever fight ever--all we have to do is join His side and allow Him to take over our own trials and difficulties. How can I not feel happy? He lives! He really does. The tomb, the mob, the grave, and every other person, dominion, or power that would try and hold him has failed forever, and Jesus Christ, Savior of the world, has won for and in behalf of all of mankind. This is the happiest news ever to sound anywhere I am a happy girl.

Sister Burton!

This beautiful woman is Sister Linda K Burton--the new general Relief Society president for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.

This is another picture of her (you will see her in the back in a green shirt with a black jacket) As you can see, she was my mission president's wife! I am way beyond excited. She will be amazing as RS president. I will miss Sister Beck, but I am ecstatic to see and hear her again. YAYAY!!!

An hour and a half later...

Yesterday I found myself playing the piano. I sat down for a few minutes, and found myself still sitting playing an hour and a half later. The exercise left me feeling relieved. I actually use to be quite good on the piano, back when I practiced and trained regularly. It has been years since my peak and I have fallen a great deal. If I ever could have been called "talented" I'm afraid all I can manage now is "passable", but still it brings me a great sense of satisfaction and joy. I never have been great with emotion, so having a medium through which to purge it through has always been a great gift.

Yesterday, though, I was mostly fascinated with the way the music tasted. The unexpected tang of an augmented chord, the refreshing splash of an ending resolving itself, and the milky smoothness of unrelated notes blending together like potato salad. I think my favorite sensation though, is the thrill that the sounds that come out of my fingertips actually improve the silence. As someone with almost no artistic ability, I have learned a great respect for the blank page as I know that my additions only serve to mar the pristine whiteness of untouched paper. My heart sings, however, when the air is filled with sounds better than the quiet that proceeded them. I didn't create the sounds--I have masters with influences older than America to thank for that, but I am able to give life to their sounds--to do my tiny part to preserve their influences.

A verse of scripture I enjoy is 2 Nephi 9:51 which goes like this: "Wherefore, do not spend money for that which is of no worth, nor your labor for that which cannot satisfy. Hearken diligently unto me, and remember the words which I have spoken; and come unto the Holy One of Israel, and feast upon that which perisheth not, neither can be corrupted, and let your soul delight in fatness." Part of the reason that I like this combination of words is, of course, that it could be talking about chocolate with its terms of satisfaction, preservatives (things that don't perish) and delighting in weight gain but I especially love the idea of "delighting in fatness". There are some things that fill up my soul--the gospel, education, family, and music. I love things that make my soul grow bigger--things I can sink my teeth into. I love delighting in fatness!

I close with yet another not quite serious top 10 list: Why the piano is better than men

10-I can be a piano player whenever I like, when I am a player with men they tend to complain.
9- The piano may come with strings attached, but at least they can be tuned to my preferences.
8- When I am angry, I can beat on the piano all I want--it's not illegal.
7- I may have little hands, but they fit the piano just fine--not always easy to hold hands with guys whose fingers are thicker and longer than my baby ones, though I will admit that I defiantly enjoy trying...
6- The piano doesn't mind spending the evening with me when I'm PMSing.
5- I'm much better at communicating with the piano than I am with men.
4- I can play the piano in my PJs and sweats--don't need an uncomfortable outfit or even any makeup.
3- Pianos sound better than sweet nothings...usually. : )
2- Pianos don't mind a little neglect every now and then, they do well with clinginess also.
1- The piano is something easy for me to love--no mysteries, no hidden messages, no staying up late trying to guess what I should do next. Men have always been a mystery.

I'm not exactly sure what I am suppose to be feeling, but this whole thing feels reminiscent of a toothache. At first the white hot knife stab that leaves you breathless and immobile, but now that the shock is gone it is more like the dull ache that is in the back of your mind and somehow tints the images you see and the way you see them. The one that keeps you up at night and prevents you from running your day-to-day life the way you use to.

I feel...distracted. Like I can't fix on any one idea, or devote myself fully to any single task. Even writing these few sentences has taken me almost twenty minutes.

People ask me if I am alright, and part of me wants to cry and laugh and say "of course I'm not alright! What a stupid question." but part of me feels numb and empty and part of me wants someone else to wrap their arms around me and tell me that I will be alright so I don't have to think about that answer myself.

Mostly though, I just feel...distracted. Distracted and numb mixed with a little bit hurt and guilt, a dash of pain and a pinch of disbelief and lots and lots of confusion. Kind of like a toothache. It just won't let me relax.

I am not alright, I am not myself, but I am not un-alright either. I just am. My soul feels sluggish. My body can take me through the motions and get me where I need to be, but I feel like I am removed and somehow not a part of any of it.

I had a terrible toothache once last year. I use to cry at night it hurt so bad and I couldn't eat hard foods or drink cold liquids, and I saw two dentists and no one knew what was wrong. It was terrible, but there was nothing I could do about it and eventually the pain just seeped away as slowly as it came. Maybe that is what will happen here too. Ever so slowly, the Novocaine will wear off and I will wake up and pay attention and be alright again. Until then, I just am.

Quirky Confessions

1- People think I love to run. This is a lie--I LOVE to eat, and I find that if I run on a fairly regular basis I am able to eat to my heart's content without guilt or feeling disgusting

2- I talk to myself in Korean so no one will know the craziness that goes on inside my head

3- I can't cook. It's a disgraceful thing, but there it is. The poor schmuck who gets stuck with me will have to put up with a year or so of burnt dinner-attempts.

4- When we were kids my sister and I always had imaginary boyfriends/superhero-partners. Hers was named Justin and mine was named Joshua. My sister married a Justin, and now whenever I meet a Joshua I like him a little bit just because of his name.

5- Although my dish-doing skills are almost legendary, I have an aversion to sweeping and vacuuming.

6- I hide chocolates in my underwear drawer, and I eat them too (the chocolates, not my underwear)

7- I only shower every-other day unless I've gone for a good sweaty run, otherwise my hair turns into an even bigger frizzy mess than usual

8- I like to watch Ella Enchanted and She's the Man when I'm sick or especially lonely

9- I try hard to be brave and I am truly happy and rarely down, but truth be told I am terrified of being single forever and sometimes I lose sleep over it.

10- I have songs from Korean boy bands in my playlist.