What was there before you?

Dear Pacman~

Right now you are stretched out at my feet, your rounded stomach rising and falling with each silent breath, your arms occasionally flailing purposelessly for a second until you bring your tiny perfect fist into your mouth and suck wetly until you fall back asleep. Your face is serene, your limbs splayed, your lips still suckling the air. You are perfect.

I remember wondering those 42 and a half weeks what you would be like, what it would be like to carry you in my arms instead of on my pelvis. I worried that I wouldn't know how to keep you safe and healthy, how to teach you all of the millions of things you will need to know to navigate this world we are living in. I worried that you might not understand how very much you are wanted, that we would make so many mistakes trying to figure out how to take care of a brand new person that you would grow to resent us. I worried that you would hate your name or that it wouldn't fit you somehow. I worried that you were unhappy inside the cocoon my body had built for you. It seemed I was always worrying, but I also learned to love you. Every time you kicked my rib cage, or rolled over onto my bladder, or pressed your tiny forming hands and feet up against my abdomen I was surprised anew--this is my baby--the one that will belong to me and his father and our Father. The responsibility was exhilarating and terrifying and strange.

I remember the first time I held you. We were both exhausted by the immense work of labor, trying to separate two people who had been tied together for months. Your weight on my chest, your fists angrily striking the air with indignant wails at the harsh treatment of birth. You were so much more substantial than I had expected, not the fluttering bubbly movements I had been noticing for so many weeks in a row but arms and feet and a nose and fingers--a solid moving being vociferously squawking your displeasure. I remember how you calmed down eventually and just looked at me. I don't even know if your milky newborn eyes could even see yet but I could feel your soul acknowledging mine, a reacquaintenship somehow bigger than both of us. You held my finger in your hand and formed an unbreakable link--I was instantly yours forever.

The first few weeks were no joke. I wondered if I would ever feel human again. In my zombie-esque state of constant half-sleep I watched in amazement as you slept, ate, fussed, kicked, and looked at me. I was amazed at every tiny movement, constantly reminded of your you-ness--that you were a person wholly your own. Eventually we fell into a rhythm and the purple circles under both our eyes began to fade. We learned together how to be a family. Dad, mom, and you. You were patient with us as we fumbled our way through diaper changes, night feedings, tummy time, and handling techniques but you had no tolerance for bath time. Your screaming wails left me confused--your distress, though both unnecessary and caused by me--left me hollow and anxious.

Today you are 3 months old; still tiny and helpless but also blossoming into unique you-ness. Your dad and I are still floundering our way through this fledgling parenthood lifestyle, but already we love you without reason or restraint. We live for your smiles, are captivated by your coos, and become unnerved yet again every time you wail in protest. You have a new laugh--a sea-lion style belly grunt always accompanied with your wet gummy grin. You now seem to enjoy bath-time and are surprised every time you splash in the water. You are a morning person and wake up kicking and cooing, smiling and sublime. You are teaching us the science of yourself and we are eager (if sometimes slow) pupils.

Still I worry sometimes. Being a parent is both more wondrous and more terrifying than I expected it to be, though somehow I knew to expect that it would be. Will we be able to teach you of God's immense love for you? Convince you of ours? Will we keep you healthy and strong and safe? Will we ostracize you with too many restriction or spoil you with too few? Will we be able to provide the educational, emotional, spiritual, physical, financial, mental, social support you will need to flourish? Still, my worrying is tempered by your sweet smile and trusting gaze that seem to assure me that no matter how many mistakes we make, you know we are trying our best and you are willing to try with us.

Your slumbering self is beginning to snuffle awake, so I will close with this truth: I love you, Pacman. I cannot believe you are here, that God has trusted us with you for a few precious years. Your tiny form has somehow filled our lives and we love it. Welcome home.

The Story of you and me

This is the story of us. How we came to be an us and why; why it worked, why it had to be you, why it took so long, and why all of those factors are kind of the same. This  story may not be exiting or even logical but it is true and worth the telling.

We meet in the singles ward. You were new and I had been there about a month. You were looking for a new start and I was starting my new job. You were quiet but approachable and I thought you could use a group of friends to hang with. I still remember thinking as I gave you my number, "I hope he doesn't read to deeply into this." And of course you didn't.

We had been friends for about six months before you asked me out. Somehow I still felt a little nervous. Dating a friend who shared your same social circle can be dangerous. Still we had a good time. Talking was easy and natural and somehow the 45 minute drive didn't seem all that long either way. We went on another date not too long afterwards and I started to feel hopeful. Maybe we could really try this thing and maybe it would work. Maybe.

Then you stopped asking me out. You missed a few Saturday church socials and I saw less and less of you. I admit to feeling a little petty and slighted by your absence, but when common friends told me you were exploring other options I felt both vindicated and satisfied. We had made some effort but your interest was simply elsewhere. I began other pursuits of my own and we remained congenial friends. After a few months however you asked me out again. Your timing was horrid. I was making labored headway with my newest romantic attempt and having felt ignored by you once already I was reticent to let you get too close again. I was blunt. Possibly to blunt and likely much too honest as I told you I wasn't into you like that anymore, that I had been at one time but I had painstakingly talked myself out of it and was no longer there. I told you I may likely get there again but there were other players involved now and I gave you no promises. I'm still not sure what you made of all that but the date offers slowed down a bit. You went out of town and I found to my frustration that not only did I miss you but I was relieved to see you when you returned. Being the mature adult that I am I greeted you with stoic friendly aloofness to punish you for inconvenienceing me. Still you asked me on one more date and I was excited almost inspite of myself. We had a lovely time and again it all felt natural and easy but you were so maddeningly polite. Not a touch, not a hand-brush, not even a "do you want to do this again" at the door. And I was confused and frustrated. (Much like I'm sure you had been feeling for quite awhile.)

That night I called you. You didn't seem surprised or disappointed. We had the obligatory and slightly awkward DTR we decided to give it a go officially. Things went well. I was still a bit reluctant to commit and often threw in quips like"if we don't break up we should... " or "if we are still together then..." But somehow you put up with me.

And slowly, almost against my will I fell for you. Irredeemably. We dated for 6 months when I knew I had to decide if I wanted to keep you or let you go for forever. I was always more afraid of the permanence of being married than I was of you but that have you little comfort. I asked my grandpa for advice and a blessing and he taught me that I had been praying for the wrong thing. Instead of wanting to know if this was going to fail he said I should be asking if it was going to succeed. That changed everything for me. Very soon I knew you were exactly what I wanted and my hint dropping probably became obnoxious. A few weeks after that you asked me for forever and I gave you my future. Now we are an "us" for time and all eternity.

I can't promise you perfection. I can't even promise you magic. But I can promise you that I love you. That you are the best thing that has ever happened to me after being born into a gospel-centered family, and that I will do everything I can to give you back the amazing life you have given me. Let's go conquer the world together.

Engaged

I was two when I met my sister--the first family besides my parents I had ever known. She wasn't much to look at then and she wasn't all that exciting, at least not at first; but there was something magic about her. Something that made the whole world love her just for existing. Something that made me want to keep her part of my life forever. As our numbers swelled from 2 to 6 I learned that family was my destiny--all I was, and all I hoped to someday be.

I was fifteen when I finalized my plan for the rest of my life.  I would be married somewhere among my three breezy years through college then magic and babies sliding down rainbows of bliss and stability, eight perfectly behaved children in two perfect rows rejoicing at their luck to come to such an ideal home--one naturally without tears, disagreement, or dust. I would be a perfect cook, a brilliant piano teacher, and I would never lose my girlish figure or charm. It was really a good plan.

I was twenty two when I woke up one day in Korea in an experience that changed forever not only who I was but how I saw everyone else. I learned that love is messy, perfection is overrated (and unattainable), sometimes you call magic a miracle, and that there is sometimes more charm in spontaneity than precision. 

I was twenty three when I earned my bachelors degree and went into a field that I love. I was accepted into my top two choices for graduate school and began the journey that would carry me to start me on the path of fulfilling all of my professional dreams. I was twenty six when I earned my doctorate degree and left school forever. I was twenty six and one day when I began to despair of forming my very own family.

I was twenty seven when I started dating someone new--someone who felt different somehow than anyone I had ever dated before. I was very nearly scared off several times because this one carried a sticking sensation that I wasn't sure I was ready for, but that same stickiness kept me there somehow. And we fell in love, almost like magic.

I was twenty eight when one of my very favorite people on the planet asked me to be his wife. Delight, anxiety, anticipation, and a dash of untinted terror. He is sticky. Not in the jam-hands sort of way that makes me feel like I need to wash him off but in the re-usable stickers way--the way I find him attached to my thoughts and plans, the way I see him when I shouldn't be able to. The way he has become so much a part of who I am it is hard to imagine when he was not a part of me. He cut away the sluff I had hastily tied to cover my despair and filled in the space with shiny new hope. What he lacks in spontaneity he more than makes up for in delightfully dimpled charm. I gave up long ago on destiny and perfection, but I have finally found my own kind of sticky magic. And I think I'm going to hold onto it forever.

Single on the Clearance Rack

Today I had a bit of time to kill between jobs and went to a factory clearance store. As I browsed the clearance rack of the clearance outlet not really looking for anything I found myself waxing nostalgic (shocker, I know). Call me pathetic but somehow I found it absurdly unfair that these articles had been passed over again and again only to lie strewn sadly over a rack  vultured over by everyone from old ladies with canes and paisley handbags to young girls with too much shiny pink lip-gloss. Clearly their creators had meant them to be so much more--to see them unwanted and passed over this way felt vaguely wrong and unjust.

I have been single for what sometimes feels like a long time. I have watched friends, sisters, roommates, classmates, and coworkers pass into that mysterious married state as I stay stagnant and stoic. Feeling, I imagine, a little like the brand new clothes--tried on but never selected. Picked over but never cherished. Laughed at a little, brushed once or twice by the casual shopper, and maybe even in someone's "maybe" pile for a few breathless moments of hope but never actually a keeper for anyone.

Not to sound all doom and gloom--it has been a fantastic life that I am grateful for and that I have loved. I cannot regret the road that has led me here because I like where and who I am. Still, there is always that lingering nagging thought. Even now, when I am in a fantastic relationship with a fantastic man, the acrid idea berates my brain--what is it about you that makes you leave-able? They say people are single for a reason, and I feel like that's true. Why, then, are you still here?

I guess the happy ending for most clothes and people is they find a home. Be it alone or with someone, purchased or donated, bought or stolen everyone eventually meets their tomorrow. I am excited and a little nervous about what mine will be, but at least today I couldn't look at discount clothes quite the same way. They made me think of people, and I couldn't quite think of those "weird" people in my singles ward quite the same way either. It's no fun to be passed over and heckled at. This I know. God doesn't heckle. I need to love better. To make sure that everyone has a place--right beside me. In the Kingdom of God and here in this planet there is room for everyone even if they feel too flashy or worn or if they seem a little old fashioned or out of fashion or even have an odd tear or stain here or there. God loves us all just the same. It's time I did a little more loving and a little less passing over.

Seeking the Baby Jesus

Merry Christmas. Merry means full of mirth and cheer--how perfect an emotion to sum up the season. I am lucky enough to be home for Christmas--everyone's secret wish. The flight over was kind of a pain but it was worth it to hang out with my favorite people on the planet. My nephew is just old enough to have a lot of fun with Christmas, though he still didn't understand why it was fun to cover up his toys with wrapping paper instead of just let his mom give them to him. It was also fantastic to be at home--to be here where I can be just me unabridged and unfettered. It is both refreshing and a little frightening, but being surrounded by my siblings and parents is a beautiful and happy thing.

This Christmas I have thought a lot about the wise men who sought the baby Jesus. They had spent a lifetime studying and learning about the prophesied Messiah. They devoted time, means, and countless energy to learn about and find him. What a glorious emotional moment that must have been all those years ago when their efforts were rewarded with the star--the beacon of hope that was physical proof that their energies had not been in vain. I can only imagine the joy and faith such a site must have inspired. It always impressed me that after a lifetime of research, searching, prayer, and faith they presented their gifts--perhaps all they had to offer--at the feet of their king and they returned to their everyday lives somehow never to be the same. Maybe the fact that I feel like I long for a better relationship with my Savior, or perhaps the fact that I do not always know how exactly to present an acceptable offering, or maybe simply that I seek for some indication that I am on the correct path to find my Savior, but no matter what it is the story of the wise men from the East has taught me a lot this year. Perhaps in 2014 I will better be able to find my Savior, and by so doing find myself.

Thanksgiving-ness

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! This year sent me somewhere completely new but there was still be turkey, pie, sweet potatoes, and of course my Grandma's pretzel jello salad of joy. Regardless of where I ate the big meal though, I have loads to be grateful for. So in no particular order, here are the first things that come to mind.

1-  The gospel of Jesus Christ. This message is the base of all the good things in my life.
2-  The Atonement of Jesus Christ that gives me hope for forever.
3-  An amazing family. Seriously, the 7 people I hope to spend eternity with are among the most amazing people I have ever met.
4-  My degree and all the help, friendship, guidance, and ice-cream-fueled-cry-myself-to-sleep-cause-I-can't-take-anymore nights that went into making it a reality.
5-  Two jobs that I love--making my life a fantastically busy mess of greatness
6-  A great boyfriend. I am not very good at this dating thing but he is both patient and kind which makes it fun.
7-  Three funtastic roommates.
8-  The Book of Mormon and the peace it brings
9- Agency--I love the power to make and learn from my own mistakes.
10- My testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ
11- My mission and the things I learned from it.
12- Playing the piano.
13- Beets-my new Hyndai. I wasn't sure about having a boy car, but it ends up he is great!
14- Pajama pants and sweatshirts cause they are so cuddly.
15- The Indianapolis Colts. Who is feeling Lucky!!!
16- The temple.
17- Texas--the state of greatness.
18- Texas--the family dog worthy of his illustrious name.
19- Good running shoes that make it so I can run without wanting to cut off my feet.
20- Good running weather
21- Playing the guitar
22- Mascara so I don't look like a man.
23-  Raisins. They belong in EVERYTHING. End of story.
24-  Open-faced chunky peanut butter and honey sandwiches on cinnamon raisin bread.
25- A living prophet to lead and guide the way
26- brownies
27- Dark chocolate covered raisins
28- sunlight--especially in November
29- Gullybuster rainstorms.
30- A rich family heritage and legacy--lots to aspire to
31- Learning how to crochet. My mom only tried to teach me 17 times before it stuck.
32- Nertz. One of my 3 talents.
33-An inspiring heritage
34- Christmas music (now I can listen to it--it's after Thanksgiving)
35- Happy music
36- Dryer sheets
37- My body--I love love love the human body--most amazing machine in the history of all history.
38- Learning--especially about the human body!
39- hot showers
40- indoor plumbing
41-When my favorite song comes on the radio and I am alone and can sing at the top of my lungs without shame
42- When my favorite song comes on the radio and I am with friends and we can sing at the top of our lungs together
43- Towels fresh from the drier
44- Chocolate chip oatmeal cookies with raisins (of course) fresh from the oven
45- The New Testament
46- The Old Testament (even though I can't always understand it)
47- A living prophet--a Moses in my day
48- General Conference
49- The internet--what did we do before we could get anything we wanted online?
50- Disney movies
51- Star gazing
52- Goodnight kisses after star gazing ; )
53- Warm summer rainstorms
54- Curling up with a blanket and a book during cold winter rainstorms
55- Personal revalation
56- Prayer
57- Taking the sacrament
58- Laughing until my stomach hurts
59- Smiling until my face hurts
60- Modern medication for when I really hurt
61- Watching football with my Daddy
62- Memories of playing games with my family
63- Memories of doing dishes with my family
64- Cell phones that let me call my family when I can't play games and do dishes with them
65- My adorable new nephew
66- Captain America--my beta fish.
67- Clean drinking water
68- Dreams
69- Goals
70- Standing in the sand on the beach while the tide is going out
71- The smell of fresh cut grass
72- The smell of eggs cooking in the morning
73- curly hair--it's crazy and ridiculous and fun and easy to fix
74- Sitting criss-cross-applesauce
75- Children laughing
76- Getting hugs from my PT kids
77- My testimony of the plan of salvation and the direction it gives my life
78- Hymns--especially "More Holiness Give Me"
79- My parents' marriage that shows me that marriage can be a fantastic thing
80- Homemade bread with honey butter
81- Tulips-- the most dignified bulb there is
82- Daisies-- the friendly flower
83- Live music
84- Air Conditioning
85- Sunsets
86- Making someone smile
87- Airplanes--especially the ones that take me home
88- Cute clothes that make me feel confident
89- Forgiveness
90- Burt Bees chapstick. Mmmmm tingly
91- Sweet potato fries
92- coconut shrimp
93- cooking with my mom
94- Japanese Cherry Blossom flavored lotion from Bath and Body Works
95- Christmas lights
96- The temple and the promises I make with Heavenly Father there
97- Things that don't work out... cause then sometimes, something else does work out... sometimes something better
98-  Our bishopric--My calling would be just about impossible without their support
99- Korea--the smells (mostly garlic), the sounds, the tastes (mostly garlic again) and best of all the amazing people
100-The army of friends, family, and mentors that have made my life a fantastic place

I have so very much to be thankful for. God is so very good to me.  I could go on and on, but I have 2 jobs (both of which I am thankful for) to get to tomorrow.

Falling for Autmn

There is something magic about fall. Spokane sprinkled the streets and sidewalk in a crinkly cascade of red and orange fire leaves. I use to shuffle my feet and stray into the gutters to prolong the subdue cacophony beneath my feet. Now, far from Spokane, leaves, and even trees I find that even in Arizona there is still something bewitching about fall.

I love the mornings--crisp and sharp like a perfectly ripe apple. Sometimes I go running and get to watch the sunrise. The air around me is not exactly cold but somehow has a keenly sharp edge to it--fresh and new and untasted. I love the way it stings my lungs the tiniest bit, congratulating my determination for trying to wake up early and helping me finish the job.

I love how pumpkin finds its way into everything. Cookies, smoothies, decorations, fires, cakes, breads, puddings, donuts, casserole, and I even saw a pumpkin lasagna once.

I get excited about a brand new wardrobe--sweaters, hoodies (my personal favorite), jeans (wait no, maybe this is my personal favorite), scarves, hats, and fleece pajama bottoms. The colors and fabrics are exciting because they are familiar while still being fresh. I just finished winterizing my closet and while I have a lot to learn about putting outfits together I enjoy the challenge of trying.

Fall has the best smells--cinnamon, peppermint, mashed potatoes, apple pie, pine, vanilla, camp fires, and... of course... pumpkin spice.

Best of all though, I love the togetherness of everything. Neighbors, families, churches, classmates, friends, and people in general tend to merge and cooperate in a way that just doesn't seem to happen after February. People were made to love each other--that is our ultimate purpose and design. I love how the season brings out the who that we should be in just about everyone.

Happy fall everyone.