If Music be the food of Love, play on.

I have decided to skip the day about my parents. Honestly? They're amazing. I love them. And you'll probably hear much more than they'd care for you to know on this blog, anyway. Moving on to Day 5: A song to match your mood.

Normally, this would be a challenge. But this week, I've pretty much been listening to the same song. Because I could not find a video of this song no matter how hard I tried, I just put it on my playlist! It's "I Love the Lord" performed by BYU Singers to the tune of Be Still My Soul. Honestly? It's been an amazingly difficult week for me. I owe my survival of it to this song. It's the only song I've played in my car, and it has been amazing. In the mornings, when I'm driving to school, I turn it way up. Then the "Awake my soul" part happens, and it just gives me chills. I'm sorry, I don't know how to convey my feelings about this song. It just makes me feel the Spirit. I love it so much. It's given me strength to make it through the days.

When I write letters to my missionaries, I add an S.P.S.(Scriptural Post Script) Today I added this to the end of a letter to my cousin:
Alma 26:12:
"Yea, I know that I am nothing; as to my strength I am weak; therefore I will not boast of myself, but I will boast of my God, for in his strength I can do all things; yea, behold, many mighty miracles we have wrought in this land, for which we will praise his name forever."

With His help, I know I can make it through anything. It won't be easy, but I know I'll do it. Somehow.

What's it called when the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie? I always seem to forget...

All right, I'm not gonna lie. (I'm a pretty blunt person, so I don't usually lie, anyway.) I'm getting sick of the whole thirty-day challenge thing. Today is day three. I realize I have a very short attention span, but this is just ridiculous! My goal is to do at least ten of the thirty days. That's realistic, right? I certainly hope so.

Day 3: Your first love. First love? Me? Wow. Where do I start? I am seventeen years old. I've had a lot of first loves. (Not the way you're thinking, though, I'll bet.) In my opinion, every person experiences hundreds of "first loves" in their lifetimes. Every love is a first love, in its own way. While not all first loves are people, some do end up lasting for a lifetime.

When I was three, I realized I had a love for books, and for sounding out words. Around the same time, I realized I loved mashed potatoes. (Both of these loves have lasted through my ages, by the way.) When I was five, I was in a Sunday school class with all boys. One Sunday, we had a lesson on temple marriage. One of the little boys proclaimed to the class: "Someday, I'm going to marry Lisa!" I did not like that one bit. My reply? "Nuh-uh! I'm going to marry my Daddy!" Needless to say, I've always been a bit of a daddy's girl. When I was nine, I fell in love with the feeling of reeling in a fish by myself. At the age of ten I became infatuated with all the heroes of Jane Austen's novels, and the movies that accompanied them, along with countless other classy British men. In ninth grade I discovered the act of singing alto. At fifteen I fell for the sky, and I've never really been the same since. I've always had an immense love for rain, as well. I don't think any single thing has answered my most heartfelt of prayers as many times as rain has. At sixteen I found a renewed love for independence, as often comes with obtaining a driver's license. And at my current age of seventeen, I've fallen in love with the feeling of wet clay between my fingers, walking around with only socks on my feet, and the beautiful campus of Utah State University. Somewhere along the way, I fell in love with laughter, with ice cream, with friendships, and somehow I even learned to love myself.

Every person has a list like this. The list goes on forever and ever... You can't possibly list all of the things you love. But sometimes it's a very good thing to try. That way, you can realize just how grateful you are, or how grateful you should be. Tender mercies are everywhere, and they come out in the things you love. I love the Lord. I know He's watching out for me. He sends me blessings every day, and I'm so very grateful.

1 Nephi 1:20: "...the tender mercies of the Lord are over all those whom he hath chosen, because of their faith, to make them mighty even unto the power of deliverance."

We have all been chosen. It's just a matter of finding the faith to acknowledge the tender mercies the Lord is sending our way.

Doctrine & Covenants 58:18-21:
"18. Yea, all things which come of the earth, in the season thereof, are made for the benefit and the use of man, both to please they eye and to gladden the heart;
19. Yea, for food and for raiment, for taste and for smell, to strenthen the body and to enliven the soul.
20. And it pleaseth God that he hath given all these things unto man; for unto this end were they made to be used, with judgment, not to excess, neither by extortion.
21. And in nothing doth man offend God, or against none is his wrath kindled, save those who confess not his hand in all things, and obey not his commandments."

I love these verses so very much. Like I said earlier, the sky and rain have served as answers to prayer more times than I can even count. This scripture helps me know that I'm not crazy for thinking of it that way. Verse 21 gives me the chills. Having and showing gratitude is so important. I really wish I could remember that all the time. I'm working on it, though. And I'm not working on it alone. :-)

What's in a Name? Or an age, for that matter...

Day 2: The reason behind your blog name. Honestly? I don't remember. I think I called myself an uncommon misconception one day, and it just seemed to fit. I liked the sound of it. Anti-climactic? I think so. But, it is what it is.

Moving on.

Lately I've been thinking about how age is relative. I mean, I remember when my oldest sister was my age, and I still think of her high school friends as "old". When I look at her senior pictures next to my senior pictures, she just looks so much older than I do! I don't feel like I'm old enough to be making the decisions I've been making. My sisters were so old when they made these decisions! Apparently not... But I swear I'm not as old as they were. Which is funny, because I am in fact older than either of my sisters were at this point in high school. Still. It's weird.

Yesterday, my dad turned fifty-something. Isn't that weird? What's weirder still is that someday I will be fifty-something, and he will be ninety. Oh. My. Goodness. At that point in my life, fifty-something will seem young! Yesterday was also the birthday of my dad's twin sister, and her little granddaughter. The little grandbaby turned one yesterday. I'm also freaking out that she sees me as "old". Aren't I the one that's supposed to think everyone is old still? I guess that now my FUTURE seems closer than it ever has, age becomes less important. I have friends in their thirties, forties, fifties, sixties, seventies... Even a couple in their eighties. Seeing them now, in the age they're in, has helped me to realize that age really doesn't matter. Not at all. Not when it comes to happiness.

Sure, there are certain things that come with the different stages of life. Big things. Big, life-changing things. Soonest for me is graduation. (That is, if I can get all of these online classes out of the way...) For my older sister (age 23, almost 24), it's marriage. She gets married in eighteen days. That's it. In eighteen days we will no longer share a last name. (Which is a shame, really... I love our last name.) For my other sister (age 27), it's a career and possible parenthood. She's been married for nearly three years, and she is now, officially, a "grown-up". She even has the full-blown career and cat to prove it. Oh. And her husband. For my big brother (age 20), life's all about adventure. He just wants to get out, and to try something new. We're kind of in the same boat that way. We're both ready for a change. Out of all of my siblings, right now I relate most to dear old Steve. My little brother's getting closer and closer to the strange world of high school (age 14). Next year, as a Freshman, his grades will actually count. Life's crazy like that. Even my parents are having all kinds of adventure, too, even at their ages of fifty-somethings. My mom's been less-than-bored with all sorts of projects: planning a wedding, remodeling the house, keeping track of my dad's business, and teaching math part-time at the college. Plus, she's getting some gray hairs over the fact that she'll only have one child left at home here really soon. My dad's getting closer and closer to retirement, basically living in Brian Head. With bishoping and dentisting down here, I honestly can't blame him for his love of solitude. He so very much loves hiking, and discovering. I think he's having a hard time coping with me leaving, too. As much as I sometimes hate it, I am his "little girl". Daddy's girl to the extreme, that's me. I don't think he likes the idea of me growing up. (If his hair weren't already almost completely white, this would probably take the color right out of it.) But that's not the point! The point of this long, rambling paragraph is to emphasize that life is crazy and great at all ages. College isn't the end, it's not even the beginning. It's just another phase of life that's there to help me grow and to become a better person. Isn't that the point of every phase of life, after all?

Wow. I'm in a rambling mood! Just a little bit! Going back to names: I've been thinking about my name quite a bit this week. I don't know if that's because my sister is about to change hers, or if it's because I've been called Liz about four times this week by different people, but I've just become really grateful for my name. I think it fits me well. I love that it's so short, and blunt. Kind of like me. What do you like about your name? Does it fit? Have you been told that it doesn't? I think I'd get a bit defensive if someone told me my name didn't fit. Not that it's meant to be offensive. A name is just so important! No matter how hard we try to believe it's not. Why else would we have nicknames? Nicknames are there to describe the special relationship between people. I will probably devote an entire post to nicknames someday, as I have already rambled enough for this one. :-)

I apologize for this post that shows just a little bit too much of me... I will be incredibly surprised if this even makes sense. But, as I said before, it is what it is. :-) And, in the words of good ol' Popeye: "I yam what I yam."