Yesterday morning, after posting 1,673 words worth of honest, I was feeling very silly and stupid and slightly alone. Then I got an email from Meghan with an enclosed “e-hug” all the way from Atlanta. Not a page worth of validation. (Which I didn’t need.) Not an ounce of advice. (Which I didn’t want.) Just a, “Hey. It’s not easy and you sound like you’re in a rough place. Here’s a hug.” Two lines total. And while I still felt a tad bit silly and a handful of stupid, I didn’t feel quite so alone.

Thank you Meghan. xo

***

Yesterday afternoon, when I was feeling even more ridiculous than I had in the morning, and had since added intense vulnerability to the emotional equation about being as open as I had been, and was contemplating deleting the whole post all together, I got another email–this time from Katie, my BFF from college. Enclosed in her email was “love from San Fransisco” and a link. The link led me to a video about authenticity and vulnerability and shame and fear. After watching it, I still felt vulnerable (as I still do), but no longer did I feel silly and definitely not stupid. And the vulnerability? It grows on you. I now understand that in the vulnerability of sharing my honest, authentic story yesterday, I can now move forward and clean this mess up. So watch out. You just might get more honesty than you bargained for around these parts.

Thank you Kate. xo

***

Yesterday evening Frit and I went for a drive. It was dusk and we meandered through the high streets of Bountiful, up and down the hills, in and out of neighborhoods, round and round the temple, as the lights of city and sky reflected in the Great Lake we live beside. It was a mostly silent drive with the windows down and the moon roof open. The air was warm but with a coolness that nipped at its heels.

On our way home she told me a story. Last Sunday at Church when she was reviewing the songs with the children for their annual program, she played a game that was a cross between America’s Got Talent and Dancing with the Stars. The children were to sing like it was showtime and their teachers were going to judge them on a scale of 1 to 10 on certain aspects of their performance. For example, one teacher would rate their knowledge of the words. Another would rate their posture. Another would rate their smiles. Etc. Well the kids loved it, especially when they got a “10″ which meant they got to “add a scoop” to the cardboard ice-cream sundae they were building, representative of the ice-cream party they get after the real program is over.

Frit said it was interesting (and hilarious) to watch the difference between the junior class (ages 3 to 7) and the senior class (ages 8 to 12) as they each practiced. In junior, after receiving their ratings, and in particular a “9″ for their smiling, the teacher-”judge” them told them it seemed like they were so focused on smiling that they forgot to sing. And then later, in senior, after also getting a “9″ for their smiling, the same teacher told them that it seemed like they were so focused on trying to remember the words that they forgot to smile.

“I think,” she told each group, “if you’ll just focus on enjoying the song, then the words, and the smile, will come.”

She’s a smart one, that Frit (and sneaky). She knows how to soup me up with advice that doesn’t look like advice.

Thanks Frit. xo