Monthly Archives: February 2009

Joy

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I just finished speaking/singing to a group of 300 women in Yuma, AZ. After lunching with them, talking with them, crying with them, laughing with them, and learning about them, I’m back at the lovely Lundgreen’s, alone with my thoughts in the quiet peace of their home. I will post my conference remarks soon. But in the meantime, may I just say …

Joy is knowing you did (or said) what God wanted you to.

Joy is holding hands and sharing stories. In that, your hearts become one.

Joy is the warmth of a sunny day.

Joy is knowing you made a difference for someone.

Joy is a spirit-filled home.

Joy is a peaceful heart.

Joy is living up to your potential.

Joy is having prayers answered.

Joy is what I feel.

Train Escapades (and More of the Maintenance Man!)

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I have a handful of meaningful posts simmering right now and will share them as soon as they are sufficiently cooked. Right now I’m busy working on my fireside/conference presentations, and memorizing all the music, and am learning some wonderful things that I’m looking forward to sharing. In the meantime, I think I’ll continue my current trend of frivolous posting and give you an update on … the maintenance man. Today is your lucky day! There is news to tell.

SO. I haven’t seen him since the day after Dream 1. And what I didn’t tell you, when I told you that I saw him getting off my train that day, was that I quick grabbed my phone so I could take a picture to send to Frit. (If you tell me I’m ridiculous or pathetic, I’ll tell you to go stick your head in the sand). Best friends need visuals. Period. Unfortunately there was no way to take a front-view photo without him knowing so the PIX Frit got looked something like this:

Obviously not a very helpful angle, but all I could capture without him knowing. Until today …

At the end of the work day, I caught the trolley to the SL Central Station where I transferred to a train headed out of the city. Whilst on the trolley I’d called my Grandma Sally to say hi and I wasn’t paying much attention to anything but our conversation until I got to my favorite seat in the first train-car, turned around, and saw him. Him! The maintenance man! I quickly, but with feigned nonchalance, turned around and sank into my seat as the flush spread from my cheeks down my neck (and maybe, just maybe, to my hiney). Every encounter is a bit uncomfortable, you must realize, on account of the fact that I’ve kissed him and all. Even more uncomfortable is the fact that he doesn’t even know we’ve kissed. But anyhow, I finished my conversation with Gram and contemplated my options.

Should I get up, move over to his aisle, and strike up a conversation?
No, you fool. You can’t even see him without going all 6th grade on yourself. Besides that, you’re a chicken.
Yeah, true. OK, what about a friendly smile?
Yeah, you could pull that off. Friendly smile is very non-threatening and even a 6th grader chicken can do it.
OK, on the count of 3, I’m going for it. Three … two …

I stood up to “resituate” my bag and coat into the compartment above my seat and as I did so, I caught his gaze (so I thought), smiled, and waved. Aaaaaaaand … he? He turned his gaze and looked out the window. No smile. No nod. No wave. Nothing. Nothing? Nothing!

Wh-what?! If I could’ve sunk any lower into my seat after that I would have been the grit in the creases of the worn leather upholstery. Later, when I told Frit about it, she laughed so hard she almost peed her pants and then (once she could breathe) came up with reasons as to why he didn’t acknowledge my friendly gesture including:

a) He thought I was waving at someone behind him.
b) Though he appeared to have been looking at me, he may have been looking past me and didn’t even see the smile and wave because he was staring into space.
c) Men are sometimes oblivious and he, being a man, might not even realize that I should look familiar to him. So while I have seen him (and kissed him) enough to feel like I know him, he might not recognize that in fact, I am not just a strange woman waving on the train, but am actually someone he’s come in contact with multiple time.

(She’s such a good friend.)

I’m personally banking on option A, but regardless, at the time, I felt like a royal idiot. I sat through the rest of the ride trying to appear as cucumber-like as possible grasping at any shred of dignity I had left. But if I’d had any at all to begin with, I tossed it out the window with my next move.

As we approached my stop, I turned to gather my things, and stole a glance in his direction. He was asleep! Asleep! Heaven had smiled upon me. This was my chance! My chance to get Frit the visual she needed! I ducked back down beneath the top of my seat, fumbled for my phone, quickly turned on the camera, and then slowly, nonchalantly, poked my head up, eyes darting to see if anyone was watching. I carefully rested my arm on the back of the seat, casually “fiddling” my phone. I twirled it on its corner, tapped it on the seat, flipped it around, and when the coast was clear: snap!

‘Twas a bit crooked and blurry so I tried again. Second time’s a charm.

Now I realize after telling you this story, you might think I’m a little crazy. But I like to call it “quirky.” And I think a little “quirk” is charming. So don’t think about leaving that in the comment box. I also realize that in showing you these pictures, I might totally embarrass myself, because YOU might know him. But that’s a risk I’m willing to take for a good blog story. I also realize that in showing these pictures to people who may or may not know him, I might discover that he’s married, which is just plain awkward. But if he IS married, he’s one of those idiot married men who doesn’t wear a ring which I think is awful, and downright rude to us single ladies. And if that’s the case, my dream about kissing him isn’t even my fault. It’s his and he should be ashamed of himself.

OK, enough stalling.

Here’s take 1:

And take 2:


Sidenote: I’ve never seen him wear spectacles before. And today, the spectacles plus the scruff just about did me in. He looked soooo philosophical. And those who know me best know my heart beats true for philosophers. [Sigh] (I wonder if he plays the guitar. If so, he had me at “Now what seems to be the problem with the thermostat on your floor?”)

In conclusion I’d like to say that my train escapade today was fun. I need a little more adventure like this in my life. I’d also like to say that I have no feelings toward the maintenance man whatsoever, other than flustered embarrassment that is slowly turning into curiosity as to why he’s popping up in my life all the time these days. Frit thinks it has to do with The Secret … The Secret … The Secret. Whatever it has to do with, at least there’s a man to talk about.

Just Call Me Patty

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As you well know, I am in training for a triathlon (82 days. But who’s counting?). Now, part of a good training program is taking time for some good ‘ol stretching. Stretching increases flexibility, prevents injury, lends to greater range of motion, is thought to improve muscle recovery and athletic performance, as well as enhance respiratory functions.

Well, if that really is the case (and it is), I’m going to stretch my triceps tonight with a good, hearty pat on the back. Because today? Today was a good day. And I’ve recently decided that I’m going to hold a nightly celebration for myself. All too often I get annoyed with myself at all the things I didn’t do, that I was supposed to do, that I forget to congratulate myself on all the stuff I did do. I won’t bore you with the celebration points every night, but tonight? Tonight, by golly, you’re comin’ to the party!


Pat on the back #1: I didn’t eat one ounce of sugar today. Even when the almond m&m’s were crying out from the candy bowl, begging me to partake, I said, “No, no, no, you little morsel of joy. You just be quiet. Our days of unabashed, frivolous merriment are over. Over I say. We’re breaking up because I’m in love with the spinach.” And then me and the spinach had a steamy, dreamy evening together. Unfortunately, in the end, the spinach too wound up crushed.

Pat on the back #2: I drank all my water. All 96 ounces. Whew! (And took just as many trips to the bathroom.)

Pat on the back #3: I went to the gym tonight even though I was super tired, and it was kind of late (for me). After Frit and I spent Family Night at Barton Creek, we graced Gold’s Gym with our presence and I and worked out for a good solid hour. It helped that The Bachelor was on the TV in front of my machine. And even though I gave up that guilty (but oh-so-beloved-and-very-much-missed) pleasure a few months ago, I figure it’s all a matter of give and take right? I mean, if The Bachelor’s Women Tell All episode will keep me on a cardio machine for an hour, well then I’ll watch it. One habit at a time Krista, one habit at a time. (p.s. And who’s SO happy ’bout Noelle [Season 12] and Fred [Season 13]?! I LOVE that they found each other and are together!)

Pat on the back #4: I made it to the train on time. Not a real big deal I know, but I’m all about the props to myself tonight. I mean I DID save gas and mileage and did my part to be a little more green. Hey, it’s not easy!

Pat on the back #5: I also met some spiritual goals today that I really feel good about. And I’m so grateful for a God who’s eternally patient with our progression.

Lastly, and this isn’t so much a pat on the back as it is an observation: I am prettier after I exercize. When I got home from the gym tonight and looked in the mirror, I couldn’t help but think, “Kris, you look GREAT! Your skin is all glowey and healthy. Your eyes are brighter. And your bum is smaller. Girl, you are lookin’ somethin’ fine. You should go to the gym more often.” Now, don’t get the wrong idea here. And if I’ve just burst somebody’s bubble that thought I was a demure, quiet soul that permeates humility in every way, I’m so sorry. [grin] You were bound to find out sooner or later. Just know, that I am just a girl looking for every possible reason to get myself to the gym. Exercize is not something I love. I wish I did. But I don’t. So if I can find mantra for when I don’t want to go, i.e. I am prettier after I exercize, well then I am going to tell it to myself every day and believe it.

OK the party is over. Thanks for coming. Take the m&m’s on your way out please.

Nighty Night Campers: Part 3

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OK campers! Here’s the last installment in my dream series. It seems I’ve returned to my old habits of not remembering anything about my dreams upon waking. So until the next spell …

Dream 3: Occurred about 4 days ago
(this was a dream from which I never wanted to wake)

It was just before dusk. I could still see light on the horizon and I could see clearly everything around me, but the air was tinted blue–a beautiful, rich, cobalt blue. I was with a man (not the maintenance man you smarty pants). I never saw his face but I could sense that he wasn’t a heavenly being nor was he a husband. He never spoke but I remember feeling incredibly calm, safe, peaceful, comfortable, and content with him. He led me down a path through a lush garden to a house built on the side of a mountain above the ocean’s shore. The water spread wide before me, colored indigo like the air. We went into the house, a simple house, beachy and cottage-like in its furnishings. There were simple white pillars in the entry way and a wall of windows along the west wall in the living room. Gauzy white curtains framed the ocean sunset before us, but again, the sky wasn’t fiery, it was a deep, rich, blue. We walked through the living room into the kitchen. The sink was situated under another window and to the left of the sink was a shelf on the wall with hand-painted plates and bowls. We began taking plates down from the shelf and putting them on the table. Though there was no food (that I could see), I knew we were setting the table for a meal.

That’s when I woke up, and all I felt was sadness at no longer being there, at the house, by the ocean, in the blue, with him. I tried and tried to go back to sleep and pick up where I left off, but could never fall back into it. The feeling in the dream was so … perfect. I had no cares, no worries, no fears. I felt so peacefully happy. And safe. All I wanted was to stay there in my dream.

I’m still trying to put these 3 dreams together and come up with something legitimate to learn from them. Perhaps once I haven’t something substantive, I’ll post it here. In the meantime, it’s nice to remember this dream again. I can close my eyes and still see it, and almost feel it. And I suppose if this is the dream on which I end my current dream-streak, it was well worth kissing the maintenance man and stepping over a severed horse to get to it.

Here are the dream site’s interpretations:
Ocean
To see an ocean in your dream, represents the state of your emotions and feelings. It is indicative of some spiritual refreshment, tranquility and renewal.

Blue
Blue represents truth, wisdom, heaven, eternity, devotion, tranquility, loyalty and openness. Perhaps you are expressing a desire to get away. The presence of this color in your dream, may symbolize your spiritual guide and your optimism of the future. You have clarity of mind.

House
To see a house in your dream, represents your own soul and self. Specific rooms in the house indicate a specific aspect of your psyche. In general, the attic represents your intellect, the basement represents the unconscious, etc.

White
White represents purity, perfection, peace, innocence, dignity, cleanliness, awareness, and new beginnings. You may be experiencing a reawakening or have a fresh outlook on life.

Pillars
To see a pillar in your dream, represents your firm stance especially in the face of adversity. It symbolizes stability and strength. The dream may serve as reassurance that those around you support you no matter what you do. As we most elongate objects, a pillar may also have phallic connotations.

Living Room
To dream that you are in the living room, represents the image that you portray to others and the way which you go about your life. It is representative of your basic beliefs about yourself and who you are.

Window
To see windows in your dream, signifies bright hopes, vast possibilities and insight. To dream that you are looking out the window, signifies your outlook on life, your consciousness, point of view, awareness, and intuition. You may be reflecting on a decision and seeking guidance. Or you need to go out into the larger world and experience life. If you are looking in the window, then it indicates that you are doing some soul searching and looking within yourself.

Kitchen
To see a kitchen in your dream, signifies your need for warmth and spiritual nourishment. It may also be symbolic of the nurturing mother or the way that you are caring for your loved ones. Alternatively the kitchen, represents a transformation.

Dishes
To see dishes in your dream, represents ideas, concepts, and attitudes. The dream may be a pun on the things you are “dishing” out to others. Or it could describe someone you are interested in as in someone who is a “dish”. Perhaps it is time that you make the first move.

Ideas? :)

Nighty Night Campers: Part 2

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After reading about me kissing the maintenance man in Part 1 of my dream series, you probably all needed a cold shower (I mean it was SO steamy) so I know you’re on pins and needles for Part 2. Well, just so you know … Part 2 is not at all, in the least bit, in any way, shape or form something to get all hot and bothered about. It’s actually a leetle bit morbid. And definitely the weirdest of the 3 dreams I had. Yeah, I don’t really know what to say about it so without further adieu …

Dream 2: Occurred about 4 days ago
(remember you’ve been forewarned … this is a titch morbid)

The dream was set at home in South Carolina. I was at our neighbor’s house. Now we certainly like them as far as neighbors go, but we’re not really friends that visit each others’ homes, and I haven’t seen them in years, so it was very odd that I was at their house to begin with. But in the dream it all seemed very normal. Anyway, I got to the doorstep and lying across the threshold was half of a dead horse. It was very graphic and vivid but I don’t remember thinking that this was at all odd in my dream. I just stepped over it and went into the house. I found myself in the kitchen where, on the kitchen table, was the other half of the dead horse (I told you it was weird). Jeannie (our neighbor) led me into her living room to show my her ceramic Christmas village she’d set up for the holidays. It spanned the whole wall and I looked at each house and shop she’d set up until I reached the end of the wall where the fireplace was located, at which point I, all of a sudden, had a paintbrush in my hand and began painting their fireplace with gold paint. At which point I woke up.

Weird. I know.

So here’s what the dream interpretation site said:

Horse
To see a horse in your dream, symbolizes strength, power, endurance, virility and sexual prowess (what the heck?!). It also represents a strong, physical energy. You need to tame the wild forces. If you see a dead horse in your dream, then it indicates that something in your life that initially offered you strength is now gone. This may refer to a relationship or situation.

Christmas
To dream of Christmas, symbolizes family togetherness, reunions, celebration, peace, goodwill, generosity, and human kindness. It is also representative of new beginnings and fresh starts. Consider also your own associations with this holiday.

Fireplace
To see an unlit fireplace, is indicative of low energy, disinterest, or disheartenment.

Painting
To dream that you are painting your house, signifies that you will find much success in a new project or that you will be promoted to a coveted position. You may be expressing your creativity. Alternatively, it may indicate that you are covering up something. To see or use a paintbrush in your dream, symbolizes harmony, creativity and artistic talents. To see paint in your dream, symbolizes expression of your inner emotions. Consider the color of the paint and how the color makes your feel. It is this feeling that you need to express more in your waking life.

Gold
To see gold in your dream, symbolizes wealth, riches, natural healing, illumination and/or spirituality. The golden color reflects your spiritual rewards, richness, refinement and enhancement of your surroundings.

***
Upon telling Frit about this dream, she asked if I had been sneaking episodes of Law & Order behind her back. Cuz see, she has imposed a rule in our house that I’m not allowed to watch those types of shows because I eventually wind up freaking myself out after it’s over. Whatever. And just so you know … I have NOT been sneaking episodes of Law & Order or NCIS or CSI or TGIF or RHU or SLJF or WLA or any of the other million acronym-named crime shows. My brain just came up with a severed horse on its own! Who needs the TV with a brain like this?!

Anyhow, that’s dream 2. Still don’t know what to make of it all.

Mostly I’m just thinking no more Mike and Ikes after 7 p.m. Any thoughts?

Nighty Night Campers: Part 1

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As a child I prayed to have dreams about certain things. In fact I distinctly remember praying one day while I was taking a walk along our driveway (I wasn’t allowed past the mailbox) that I would have a dream about Wonder Woman that night. I was about 5, had Wonder Woman underoo’s, and LOVED all things WW. So naturally having a dream about her would be super cool. That prayer never got answered. Or maybe it did (because God answers all prayers) and I just don’t remember having the dream. Because … I NEVER remember my dreams. EVER.

Until recently.

In the last week, I’ve had some crazy-weird dreams. And I actually remember them! AND they’re incredibly vivid. Normally I would just laugh it off and chalk it up to my crazy, jam-packed, over active, oddly creative brain (and maybe I still will). BUT, my friend Laurel recently posted about one of HER dreams and a dream interpretation site she found so now I’m all … “WHAT if these dreams mean something! WHAT if I’m supposed to be learning and understanding something from what they’re trying to tell me!”

So … mostly for your reading pleasure … and partly to solicit your friendly interpretations … I am going to post the dreams here, in a 3-part series (cuz there’ve only been 3 so far), along with the interpretations from the dream site. Like I said, feel free to offer your own interpretations. I’d love to know what you think.

Dream 1: Occured about a week ago
(this one is slightly embarassing)

I was outside the front door to our office building and there was a valet parking counter on the curb (we don’t have a valet counter in real life). I was laying down on the side walk facing … a man. It was the maintenance man for our offices! :/ (He’s a young guy, mid-20s probably, and little boy cute. Usually has a bit of scruff, which kinda makes me all … well … let’s just say I like scruff. OK fine. I love scruff.) So anyway, we’re laying about 2 feet apart on the sidewalk, on our sides, facing each other, and I reach over and run my fingers through his hair and say, “You have really great hair.” (BAAAAH! I’m so embarassed right now!) Then all of a sudden we’re standing up (and kissing) and he says, “Can I get your number?” And I say, “Sure.” (If only it were that easy in non-dream life!) So I walk over to the valet counter and there’s a stack of post-it notes and a pen. I write my name on the top note and it’s not straight so I pull it off and try again. I do this 3 or 4 times but I can’t seem to get my name written in a straight line in the center of the post-it note. I remember feeling very frustrated that I couldn’t get my name right. And I, for some reason, couldn’t give him my number written all skewampus on the paper. It had to be perfect and I couldn’t get it right.

And then I woke up (with a lingering frustration that I couldn’t get my name straight).

Now for the dream site’s interpretations:
They don’t interpret the whole dream in the context of the entire story, just the elements that you remember and type into their search engine.

Hair
To see hair in your dream, signifies sexual virility, seduction, sensuality, vanity, and health. If you are reaching for someone else’s hair, then it suggests that you are trying to connect with that person on a spiritual or intellectual level.

Kissing a Stranger
To dream of a kiss, denotes love, affection, tranquility, harmony, and contentment. If you are kissed by a stranger, then your dream is one of self-discovery. You need to get more acquainted with some aspect of yourself.

Work
To dream that you are at work, indicates that you are experiencing some anxiety about a current project or task. The dream may also be telling you that you need to “get back to work.” Perhaps you have been slacking and need to pick up the pace.

Writing Name
To dream that you are handwriting, represents your self-expression and creativity. Consider the symbolism of what you are handwriting and how it relates to your waking life.

***
As a side note, I thought you might find it enjoyable to know that while I haven’t seen the maintenance man (aside from dreamland) since before Christmas, I’ve ended up running into him TWICE this week. What’r the flippin’ odds! We rode the same train Tuesday morning and I ended up accidentally sitting a table away from him later that day when a co-worker and I went to lunch. I of course got all flustered and embarrased. I didn’t know what to do with myself! All I could think was, “I’ve kissed you in a dream and YOU don’t even know it!”

So until tomorrow … chew on that. What do ya think?! :)

G’night!

Snowy Streets, The Monkees, & Good Karma (ALL in one post!)

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Tonight, on my way home from religion class, I drove like a granny through the cold, wet streets lined with banks of snow. Even though I hate the cold, I love it when the trees and mountainside are all white after a big winter storm. For some reason it makes me feel like I’m living in a Norman Rockwell painting. It makes me feel happy and content. Cozy even. So I, of course, paid no mind to the cars swerving around me in their huffy hurry, dialed in the oldies station (pre-set #2), sang along with Dion & the Belmonts, the Supremes, and the Monkees, pretended I was cruising along in some old vintage car wearing a cardigan sweater set and my love’s class ring on a chain round my neck, and realized once again that I was born a few decades late.

***

On a completely unrelated note … I’m flying to AZ in a couple weekends to speak/sing for an LDS youth fireside (Friday) and Relief Society Conference (Saturday) and would love to get your input as I prepare my remarks. Please feel free to answer one or two or all of my questions in the comments section or email me with your thoughts (kristaqm[at]gmail[dot]com) if you don’t want to leave them in comments.

p.s. you don’t have to be LDS to answer.
p.p.s. Good karma (and maybe prizes!) await all who answer!

Youth Fireside
1. What qualities or traits make someone a great example (i.e. someone to look up to and emulate)?
2. Who has been an example to you? Why?

Relief Society Conference
3. What brings you joy?
4. What stands in the way of feeling joy all the time?
5. How do you find joy in your calling as a woman?

Unloading

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Today, I am cleaning out the cobwebs.

Wearing nothing but slippers and my unmentionables,
I ate chocolate for breakfast,
and then shredded 2 dustbins worth of used-to-be-important papers.
Funny isn’t it … how only time makes them now unimportant –
A burden to be unloaded.
It feels good to unload.

I’ve finished two and a half loads of laundry,
begun a list for the grocer,
am still wearing the same get-up I started the morning in,
and am now onto tackling the tower of boxes
that have followed me since university.
Lying in the top of the first one
I found a treasure of a poem,
One I adored throughout my 20th year.

…that was ten years ago.

I find it interesting … what I’ve saved and what I haven’t,
how I’ve changed and how I haven’t.
For upon reading this little delight,
the first time in 10 years,
the almost-30-year-old smiled with softness,
Just like the 20-year-old who fell in love with it to begin with.

Thankfully,
there are just some things that will always stay with me.

I hope you savor it like I did …

“Oranges” by Gary Soto

The first time I walked
With a girl, I was twelve,
Cold, and weighted down
With two oranges in my jacket.
December. Frost cracking
Beneath my steps, my breath
Before me, then gone,
As I walked toward
Her house, the one whose
Porch light burned yellow
Night and day, in any weather.
A dog barked at me, until
She came out pulling
At her gloves, face bright
With rouge. I smiled,
Touched her shoulder, and led
Her down the street, across
A used car lot and a line
Of newly planted trees,
Until we were breathing
Before a drugstore. We
Entered, the tiny bell
Bringing a saleslady
Down a narrow aisle of goods.
I turned to the candies
Tiered like bleachers,
And asked what she wanted -
Light in her eyes, a smile
Starting at the corners
Of her mouth. I fingered
A nickle in my pocket,
And when she lifted a chocolate
That cost a dime,
I didn’t say anything.
I took the nickle from
My pocket, then an orange,
And set them quietly on
The counter. When I looked up,
The lady’s eyes met mine,
And held them, knowing
Very well what it was all
About.

Outside,
A few cars hissing past,
Fog hanging like old
Coats between the trees.
I took my girl’s hand
In mine for two blocks,
Then released it to let
Her unwrap the chocolate.
I peeled my orange
That was so bright against
The gray of December
That, from some distance,
Someone might have thought
I was making a fire in my hands.

Small Town Life

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I had always planned on going back to the Southeast coast once I’d graduated from BYU. I’d wanted find an old white house with a wrap-around porch in a sleepy beach town. I could see it all in my head. I’d wear white linen, flip-flops and straw hats as I cruised around town on a bike with a basket. And I’d earn my living traveling the world writing for magazines like Conde’ Nast and National Geographic.

But like most of my best laid plans … that just didn’t happen. Or rather, it hasn’t happened yet.

When I graduated, God led me elsewhere. He showed me His best laid plans. And though at times it’s hard for me to live in a desert (mostly on days like today when the air’s so cold it hurts), I’m grateful for where He’s led.


I may not have an old white house surrounded by sand dunes. But I do live in a lovely little home, in a lovely little neighborhood, in a lovely little township.


Most people don’t even know our town exists. Situated across the railroad tracks on the west side of the freeway, it’s a charming “Mayberry-like” town that sits quietly on the shores of the Great Salt Lake. Dotted with pastures, it’s not uncommon to see families riding horses down the street. Children race their bikes to school, and the crossing guard who tends to the corner of 8th and Pages waves to everyone on their way to work. A cow and a family of goats live at the end of our street. We’re all friends here.


And every few weeks, on a night like tonight, the citizens of our town gather together at City Hall for an evening of music. Frit and I breezed in just a little late this month and it was standing room only. Tonight was country-western music and cowboy poetry and everyone turned out to see the show. Children ran around in the back, grey haired couples sat holding hands, a few wore their cowboy hats and boots. Everyone was smiling. Laughter and chatter filled the hall.

We stood in the back soaking it all in. The goodness of community. The friendship of a small town. We clapped for the poets and sang with the crooners. I cried when the young Soby girl sang “Proud to be an American” and swelled with love for this city I’m making home. I’m happily a small town girl I’m afraid.

If only this place had an ocean.

Make New Friends

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…but keep the old. One is silver and the other gold.

Today I had lunch with Alison and Ange. I haven’t seen either of them in three years. That’s what happens when you grow up, graduate, meet men, get married, and have two children. Or in my case: grow up, graduate, meet no men, get a job, and daydream about what it’ll be like when I have two children.

We met at BYU; all three of us taught at the LDS Missionary Training Center. We had such a kindred group of friends there. But now we’re scattered all over the world. And I miss them. Today was like old times.

I love friends you can pick up where you left off with. There’s no explanations. No pointless chit-chat. No apologies for who you are and what you think. Just real conversations. Mutual respect. Love. And laughter. Lots of laughter.

And those babies of theirs. Oh! So precious I just wanted to nuzzle into their necks, take in a big whiff of baby goodness, and smooch.

Ange brought me a loaf of her homemade wheat bread and a bottle of honey. The bread is de-licious and the honey … well the honey’s almost gone. And the three of us — we just talked, and talked, and talked. For a good two hours. It was a perfect break in my work day.

A few hours later, after I boarded the 4:59 train out of the city, I met Mike. Mike was sitting in the opposite aisle about 3 seats away. He seemed to be about 50 or 60 and looked as though he hadn’t shaved in a few weeks. He was looking at me so I smiled politely (though a little apprehensive inside), and the thought occurred…share your bread. “No,” I told myself. “What if he’s not even homeless and I totally offend him.” Share your bread. Again I debated, but eventually lost (how you loose a debate with yourself is beyond me). And so I asked him, “Would you like some bread?”

He smiled a toothless smile and nodded. I tore a big hunk off the end of Ange’s loaf and placed it in a pair of dirty hands blistered with want. He asked my name. I asked his. He asked where I was from and was delighted to meet someone from South Carolina; he’d never met someone from there. I asked where he was from (“New Mexico.”) and how he got to Utah (“I just wander.”). We talked for a few more minutes as he tore small pieces of bread and put them in his mouth.

It wasn’t long before we reached my stop. He smiled again, “Thank you. This bread is good.” I smiled too (without any apprehension), “Have a good day. It was nice to meet you.”

The doors closed and he headed back the way we came, enjoying the warmth of the train-car for just a little longer. I turned and walked to my next train.

I’m so glad I had bread to share.

12 Weeks

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Tonight …
was our first night …
of triathlon training.
All i have to say …

is that this …
is gonna be ca-ra-zy.
Tomorrow …

we gotta get up …
E.A.R.L.Y …
to do our core training exercises …
so that when game day comes …

we look …
like …

THIS.

Here’s to Someday

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As Latter-day Saints, we believe that the family is ordained of God and that it is the central unit in His plan of happiness for us, His children. One of the ways we are encouraged to nurture those family relationships is by reserving one night each week for “Family Night.” On this night, we, as families, sing, pray, teach, learn, play, laugh, eat, encourage, and (hopefully) enjoy each others’ company. We grow in love toward one another and in our understanding of important gospel principles. Obviously these things should be happening every day of the week, but it is on “Family Night” that each family member puts all other social and professional obligations aside and focuses solely on the family.

Since “Family Night” is a weekly tradition I want to have in my “someday-family,” I’m trying to cultivate that habit now. It’s a little tricky (obviously, since I don’t have a family), and sometimes funny–mostly when Frit welcomes “all of us” to Family Night or when we sing the opening song (just the two of us). But I know that by staying dedicated to what I believe is important and wise counsel, I will adopt a habit that will bless my future home and family.

Tonight, I was in charge of the lesson and with Valentine’s day around the corner, I decided to teach about love. After the opening song (that we mostly laughed through) and an opening prayer, we opened our scriptures to 1 Corinthians 13 to read Paul’s sermon on charity. As we read we talked about what love really is at its purest form and what it means when Paul says that without charity we are nothing.

I asked Frit who (aside from Christ) had taught her what charity is, and what that has meant to her life. She shared her thoughts on her mom, a woman who has always been there, loving her in love’s most pure, basic, true form. She then flipped the question and I too could think only of my mother, who would do anything for anyone without any thought to how it would affect her life.

As we talked about the kind of women our mothers are, Frit said, “Do you think it’s because they love the Lord, that they know how to love others so well?” I hadn’t ever thought of it that way before, but yes. I do think that.

I think that when we, ourselves, feel the abundant love of our Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, we can’t help but love others. And not just love them, but love them with the same unconditional and genuine love God has for us. You can’t help it! You know how much you are loved. You know how much you are worth. And you see that worth in others.

It is easy, when we are far from the Lord, to forget just how much He loves us. We forget how merciful, kind, and gentle that love is. But the closer we get to Him, the more real and obvious that love is. It’s a love that is impossible to misunderstand.

I have felt His love increasing day by day as I try harder and harder to inch closer and closer to Him. But more importantly, I have seen His love fix my small and broken life, despite my own efforts. It is a love that is real and unmistakable.

It is a love I cannot live without.

It is a love I cannot wait to share.

Here’s to someday.

(Oh, and just in case you were wondering …
after the lesson, we wrote love notes to friends and family and ate pie.)