I Will Not Be Still

Last week, I went to the baptism of a friend of mine. She is eight years old, and quite possibly the funniest person I have ever met in my life. Before this experience, I hadn't been to a "live" baptism in years. It was such an amazing experience. I don't think I've ever been so excited for someone else. My face was seriously about to split from the huge smile that wouldn't go away. Right before her dad baptized her, he came up to her older brother (who was sitting next to me at the time) and asked him if he wanted to come be a witness. The look on my dear friend's face as he walked up to witness his baby sister's baptism was so priceless... Watching a family have this experience, it was amazing! It got me so fired up!

More and more of my dear friends (and some that aren't quite so dear) have been receiving their mission calls, becoming elders, and submitting their papers. I'm feeling a little bit of mission-envy. But it's all right! I can definitely wait three more years. Less than that, now, actually! Every time I see one of  "my boys" preparing for or leaving for a mission, it makes me happier than almost anything else. I honestly am having a hard time containing my excitement for them. One of my best friends is submitting his papers next week... I went to the temple with said friend this week, and I felt a huge surge of joy as he was talking about it. He just became an elder, and he's even more excited about it than I am. (Which is saying a lot!)

There's this song that I rediscovered on an old EFY cd this week. It's been getting under my skin. I love this gospel. It makes me happy. Doesn't that mean I'm supposed to share it? It doesn't matter if I can't express my thoughts well. He'll help me out, if I try!

I've never been the kind to testify,
I don't have the words his truth deserves.
But it's a simple thing he asks:
A worthy heart and willing hands.
He says if I'll make the choice,
He'll help me find my voice.

He calls me to serve and I cannot fail him,
The one who has given me all that I have.
I place my trust in him alone,
He knows the yearnings of my soul.
Because he believes in me,
I will go willingly...

How can I keep this gift to myself
When I can lift somebody else?
I am a witness of his miracles and his mercy
I put my future in his hands
Knowing he's made me all I am
When I put my faith in him, the truth begins to
speak
His power is real; it moves me until I will not be
still

Lifting the hands that hang down in sorrow
Strengthening knees that bend in despair
Reaching the hopeless hearts who do not know His love
Seeing their lives begin to change
I know I'll never be the same

How can I keep this gift to myself
When I can lift somebody else?
I'll be a witness of his miracles and his mercy
I put my future in his hands
Knowing he's made me all I am
I put my faith in him, and truth begins to
speak
His power is real; it moves me until
I will not be still.

His power is real.
I trust in his will.
I will not be still.

Sure, I'm a little jealous that my male friends get to put their papers in already. But just because I have to wait a couple of years before I go on a full-time mission, that doesn't mean I can't start sharing the news now. "How can I keep this gift to myself?" I can't.

It may be cheesy, but I really am so excited.

Why I Am the Way I Am.

This post has been in the works for a long time. It's a very important subject to me, so I've had a really hard time expressing my thoughts about it. The person I am most like in this world, the one from whom I get the majority of my personality, is my father. I don't know why I have found it so difficult to express myself on the subject of my dad, but the past couple of weeks have made me even more grateful for him. Three of the closest friends I made in Europe no longer have their dads here to hug and talk to face-to-face... It made me think a lot. It made me miss my dad even more (and my mom).

What traits do I get from my dad? Only the best and the most difficult. And a lot in between. For instance:

-We're both incredibly stubborn. Especially when we know we're right. Like when someone's not coming to church for a stupid reason, or someone is keeping others from progressing.
-While we can both do fine being with people when needed, solitude is golden. Especially in the mountains.
-Attention is not the favorite thing in massive groups of people.
-Fishing is one of the most relaxing things in the world.
-Green. I realized on my last fishing trip with my dad that we both love the color green for the same reason. Wild grass and aspens, man. Who couldn't love green up in the mountains? (Or in Europe, we've discovered)
-70's Rock. His love for it has infected me.
-His love for the mountains, and hiking in those same mountains, has definitely been passed to me.
-Sometimes it's easier just to give up something we want rather than have to explain it to someone else. That doesn't mean we won't be disappointed when it doesn't happen.
-We both sunburn super easy. (Pretty sure we both burned when we went fishing for my 16th birthday in the rain. Do you sunburn in the rain? Probably not.)
-For being so short, we can both be rather aggressive.
-At the same time, though, we both hate confrontation.
-We both love spending time together. But we're both incredibly busy. Sometimes it takes sacrifices to spend time together. One summer, my dad watched an entire Dickens mini-series with me. (It was about 10 hours)
-As a result, we both like British movies. (Although his have more requirements than mine do.)
-We both misplace things a lot. (The difference being that he usually finds the things he's looking for eventually)
-We both hate talking on the phone.
My father is an incredible man. Sometimes, we're more alike than I'd like to be. But then I realize what an honor it is to be like him. It may make it a little bit harder to get along with each other all of the time, but the other times are what make it so worth it.

There are some traits of my dads that didn't quite make it to me, but I sure wish they had:

-His steady hands. (Being a dentist, it's pretty important for him.)
-His impression of Mrs. Bennett from the five-hour Pride & Prejudice. It's pretty brilliant.
-His impression of Hagrid from the Harry Potter books read by Jim Dale.
-His patience. (When it's necessary.)
-His ability to tell stories.
-His ability to turn every story into a spiritual one.
-His sense of direction.
-His running ability.
-His wisdom.
-His ability to cook. (i.e. baking, grilling, cooking in general)

I love my father very much. I love spending time with him. I love listening to his stories. When I was little, I used to insist that I was going to marry my dad. While my views on that have changed quite a bit, there are many things that my dad does that will be very important to me when looking for a husband, I think. (Don't worry, that will be in a very long time.) My father's influence has made me who I am.

Now I'm moving away. I'm moving to a place I've only visited once. A place my father doesn't want me to go. I think he's going to miss me. But not as much as I'm going to miss him.

There aren't loads of pictures of me and my dad on this computer. But I feel like this one pretty much explains us. He's always teaching me something. Sometimes (most of the time), he has to teach me more than once.

Thresholds.

I've been diving into a lot of firsts lately. First time staying with my sister and her husband? Check. First time leaving home for more than a week without my parents? Check. First time riding the St. George Shuttle? Check. First time talking to a complete stranger for four straight hours? Check. First time going to Europe? Pending.

I'm going to Europe. On Wednesday. For sixteen days. Is this crazy to anyone else? If not, it probably should be.

This has been one of the busier summers of my life. (I can't decide between this summer and working full time two summers ago. This one probably actually wins. I've spent much less time at home, and that's kind of how I describe busy.) This Europe trip seems to be just one more exciting thing to cross off the list. But it's more than that. It's the only thing I've done this summer that's made me nervous. Don't get me wrong, I'm incredibly excited for this adventure. I just happen to be terrified at the same time.

I keep getting lectured on not getting robbed. Apparently it's a big concern over there. I'll let you in on a little secret: I'm kind of naive. I've only ever remembered living in Utah. Utah is a wonderful place, and I love not worrying about getting robbed as I walk down the street in just my socks. Of course I'm more careful at night and such, but this is different. I'm going to a place where there are trained professionals ready to steal my stuff and feel good about it. I've been told not to be warm and friendly to everyone I see on the street. Apparently a smile means more to some people. I've been told to keep track of all my stuff at all times. I've been told to never go anywhere without someone else. I've been told to not listen to the stories of people I meet, for fear of someone else coming up to cut the strap of my purse or to steal my camera. In short, I've kind of been told to not give in to any of my natural reactions while walking the streets of Europe. It's going to be a wondrous adventure, but it's also going to be a big challenge. And I am scared.

This time next week, I will probably be walking down some street in France. Perhaps I'll be eating a pastry. Or singing in a cathedral.

I'm ready for a big adventure before really moving out. I think this just might be it.

In the words of Rafiki: "It is time."

My Top Five Signs/Reasons that it's time to grow up:
(Top Five idea stolen from the lovely Saya)

Yes, I believe in signs. Get over it.

Sign/Reason #1: My phone. I killed him. This seems like a stupid thing to put on a list of reasons to grow up, but it really fits on here for me. I've had the same phone for always. His name is Hubert. He's survived two years of Sara and three years (gasp!) of me. No other phone could have done as much. The phone has come to represent my reluctance toward change. I hate change. I know it can be good, but it just kills me. When I have a good thing going, I hate messing it up. But now, with a new phone (that may or may not look exactly like Hubert, anyway) and a fresh outlook, I'm ready to leave. To change. To move on.

Sign/Reason #2: I now sport a much, much shorter and infinitely easier-to-do haircut. It's another thing to do with change. As much as I hate having long hair, the idea of cutting it all off still kind of scares me. But I did it! I survived. And now I am going to be able to spend loads less money on shampoo, and way less time actually doing my hair. This will keep on the better side of my roommates, I think.

Sign/Reason #3: The list of my future roommates arrived this week. I am excited (and terrified) to meet them. There are seven other girls that will be living in my apartment. Seem like a lot? Yeah. But don't worry, there's a bigger chance of finding one I actually like with so many. I have all of their email addresses. I haven't used any of them yet. Would that be weird? Emailing them all out of the blue? They were all smart and have professional sounding email addresses for college. I was not so smart. Wonder what they think of me based on that? Not worth worrying about, I guess. But I am curious. :-)

Sign/Reason #4: Through various forms of good fortune (but mostly my wonderful sister), I now own a large (green!) mixing bowl, a bunch of (green!) plastic dishes, an air-pop-popcorn machine (yay!), a toaster oven, and a super shnazzy crockpot. These things, coupled with the fridge and microwave in my apartment/dorm-hybrid, will make it so I can feed myself! Hooray! Well, partially feed myself. Technically I have a meal plan. That should feed me most of the time. I hope.

Sign/Reason #5: Today (in the middle of writing this, actually), the two most influential women in my life outside of my family stopped by. They brought a gift! A beautiful framed picture of the Logan temple that says "As long as you can see the temple, you are never lost". Along with the amazing picture, they each gave a letter. Oh, boy. If they think I'm ready, then I must be ready. Their faith in me really does make all of the difference. They support my decision, and they've told me that they know I can succeed. If for no other reason, their love and support could motivate me to grow up and accomplish something. Through these wonderful ladies today, the Lord answered my prayer. I've been struggling to know if Utah State really is the right place for me. They carried the answer in the form of a picture. As they gave it to me they said "This is your new temple." I'm going to know that temple well. The Lord's looking out for me. I can do this.

Not only am I ready for this next step in my life, but I'm excited. And terrified. And anxious. And ecstatic. And petrified. But ready.

Are you positive that molehill's not a mountain? It looks pretty big to me...

It should not come as a surprise to anyone in the continental United States, Canada, New Zealand, or Argentina when I say that I am a dramatic person. I overreact to things. It's a problem that I have. That being said, these have been some pretty big weeks in the life. Seriously. The beginning of the end. Or is it the end of the beginning? I never can tell which...

May 25 was graduation. Yippee. It doesn't feel real to me yet. Not at all. It felt like I was playing dress-up all day. But it was real. It happened. I'm done. That seemingly-huge chapter of my life? Yeah, it's over. What now? What do I do? 

Somewhere during that week I had a birthday. A pretty big one. Remember when 18 was so old? When my friends started turning 18 in September, I was pretty freaked out. Now it's me. Scary. I've found that when it comes to my birthday, I have to not think about it as a special day. I was talking to my sister about this last week (on her birthday). We're both the same when it comes to birthdays. If we expect anything special from it, anything at all, we end up getting cranky and upset.  This is why I don't understand how some people think that being selfish is what's going to make them happy. It's just miserable! Granted, I can be super selfish. But whenever I am, I just feel crappy. What's the point?

I apologize for rambling. I'm just freaking out that now I'm a "big girl". At least, that's what they say. I'm not so sure I believe that yet... One of my favorite people in the world has a blog titled "Looking for my big girl pants". She is in her thirties and a mother of five. This makes me a lot less worried, actually. If she still hasn't found her big girl pants yet, and she gets to be that amazing, then I have a chance at being okay, too.

I'm not the prettiest, or the smartest, the most talented, or the funniest. Goodness knows I'm not the kindest. But I am me. And you know what? I am perfectly okay with that.  So, World? I'm coming now. You might want to get ready.

Because We're Cool.

Women are awesome. We all know it's true. Mothers, especially, are amazing. My mom is the best of them all, no lies.

My mom is the most amazing person I know. Why? Well... Where do I begin?

• She rides the unicycle.
• She makes really good soup.
• She's the funniest lady I know. Seriously.
• I can talk to her about anything.
• She has the most amazingly strong testimony you'll ever hear.
• She's only 5'3".
• She likes to make cookies whenever it's cold and windy outside.
• She likes to make cookies whenever it's not cold and windy outside.
• She comes down to my room at two in the morning when thunder wakes her up to make sure I'm awake so I can play in the rain for a little while.
• She can skateboard.
• She has the prettiest blue eyes in the world.
• She almost always wears a sweater.
• She gives the best hugs ever.
• She always gets the same flavor of ice cream from Baskin Robbins. Always
• She doesn't make fun of me for being a picky eater.
• She knows how to fix everything.
• She doesn't want me to go away for college.
• She's letting me go away for college, even though she doesn't want me to.
• She loves going on walks. (I think I get this from her. Just maybe.)
• She can text faster than I can, nearly.
• She still goes on road-trips with her friends.
• She teaches math because she loves it, not because she has to.
• She loves math.
• She once read a book called Zero: The Biography of a Dangerous Idea.
• She read it more than once.
• When we listen to Harry Potter CDs on the way to California, she helps me think of more excuses to ride in the car so we can listen.
• She spoils me when I'm sick.
• She trusts me to run errands for her.
• She was too nervous to take me driving for the first time.
• She let one of our best friends take me, instead.
• She loves to laugh.
• She plays the piano for me when I ask her to.
• She's not fragile.
• She's really the only person in the world I feel comfortable crying in front of.
• She is a terrible liar.
• She stinks at Murderer in the Dark. (See above fact)
• Sometimes we go get ice cream and watch movies together. Just for fun.
• She's interested in my life, genuinely.
• Sometimes she zones out pretty bad.
• She sometimes forgets that her sunglasses are on top of her head.
• She has a pair of sunglasses with two different-colored lenses.
• She hates that she has to wear reading glasses now.
  
• She calls them "Old Lady Glasses"
  
• She is the single most loving and sweet person I know. (Nobody's really sure how the kids in my family happened.)
• I am only forcing myself to stop typing this list because it's getting a little bit on the long side. I really could go on forever.

We just had Mothers' Day. The fact that there's a special day for it just proves that we're not as grateful as we should be. Sometimes we just forget. I'm so glad for Mothers' Day. I'm even more glad for my own mother.

This year, I've been thinking about mothers in general. They do so very much. To be a mother, you have to be pretty much an expert in nearly every occupation out there. Mothers are doctors, artists, chefs, taxi drivers, coaches, therapists, comedians, maids, wardens, singers, teachers, and the list goes on and on. And on.

I'm going to be a mom someday. I'm even excited to be a mom someday. (Granted, "someday" is a very, very long time from now.) I am so blessed to be a woman. A true daughter of God. Think about it: Someday, I get to count myself as one of the moms. Last week, I was taught a little bit more about motherhood. The women teaching me told me this: "There is nobody in the world more loved than a mom." Someday I will be loved more than anyone in the world.

Both of my older sisters are now married. Neither have any kids yet. That's all right, though. Trust me, they're the type of women that are worth the wait. The fresh spirits that get my sisters as moms? Wow. They're lucky. Almost as lucky as I am.

Lindsay's kids are going to be absolutely beautiful. They're also going to be crazy smart. And musical. You know, pretty much the kids that everyone loves and hates at the same time because they're so jealous. They're going to be the most awkward dancers in the world. Heck, they'll probably even be tall and skinny. She'll have at least one daughter that's as sassy as she is.

Sara's kids won't be nearly as tall as Lindsay's, but they'll all probably dwarf their mom. They're going to be an interesting mixture of spontaneous and logical. Creative and nerdy. Arts and science. Outgoing and shy. And they'll be absolute cuties, loved everywhere they go.

Both of my sisters will have kids that absolutely adore them. I mean, how could they not? I know I do.

We should be honoring our mothers every day. But not only that, we should be honoring the future mothers, too. A woman should be respected. A woman should be loved. A woman has the chance to one day be a mother, and she should be treated that way. She should be treated in such a way that will make her yearn to be a good mother, to spread her own light. Women were given the responsibility, the privilege, and the complete trust needed to be mothers. Never forget that.

On every side, women are attacked every day. Physically, emotionally, spiritually, verbally, intellectually. In every way possible, Satan is trying to make women weak. Lucky for the world, women are tougher than Satan. We can handle it.

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.