Read all about it! Moms of many and few

My mom... is the very woman who held me in her arms after nine months of being in her belly and after 12 long hours of labor (it may have been 10 or 14, I'm not sure). Uncontrollably and undeniable, that is the moment when any mother falls in love with her tiny baby and it's stuck upon the two of you forever and ever. Even though the words might not have been said so often over my life of eighteen years, I do Love my mom, and I know that she Loves me, too. Sometimes actions aren't as easy to recognize at the time, but looking back and looking forward I see that actions can speak louder than words, and they do. 
My mom has gotten me through this life. There are so many times where I thought my independent little self could do something on my own, and usually I did. But had I not had her example in the back of my mind I wouldn't have been able to do whatever it was I was trying. My mother is a blessing in so many ways, and I will always be forever grateful for her in my life. 

For who she is.
For who she isn't.
For all she has and hasn't done.
For all the love and strength given to me.
For walking me through life.
For being my mom. 

My sister Rebecca... is the logic in the family. Anything you ever need to know, she can tell you. Even in the silliest form of an answer, she has it. She knows how to Love unconditionally and beat any trial that gets thrown at her. She carries strength and gives out Love with honestly like it were flowers. She never ceases to amaze me. Following close behind our mother, with three children herself, her love is worth the world. And as I've found out, we don't see each other nearly enough, but I still love her all the same.

My sister Elizabeth... is someone I've gotten to know better in the past two years. She is a strong woman, probably more so than any of us in the family. I admire that. She never gives up. She has been through a lot and is wiser from all of it. She is a woman I can always find something in her that I need to learn. She knows how to Love with her whole heart, and her kindness can't deny that.



My sister Lisa... is absolutely positively my bestest friend. We are as close to twins as two people who aren't can get. She gets life. She sees people through the eyes of God and is always taking care of others. She was there to back up my mom when three little boys were weighing her down and now she has three children of her own who she renders to each day. She is grounded with zeal and has all the affection that any person could need. 

These women are my hero's.

 I don't know what I would do without any of them. I can go to all of them for everything or each of them for something, and they always give me what I need to learn and grow. It's kind of like they have been my watering can all of these years. I love them all so dearly and am incredibly blessed, so so blessed that I can be a part of their life- all thanks to my mom.
To all of the other women in my life, thank you for your example. I wish I could name you all, because you rock.

My Dilemma.

I want someone to talk to. So here I vent my recent feelings to you, my dear reader:

I am a writer (the kind that breaks all the rules). I am going to college to major in education and become an elementary teacher. At the core of my heart I just want to take science, history, psychology and such writing classes to expand my knowledge so that I can be the writer I need myself to be. If I could study and practice writing, I would write more often. 
I undoubtedly want to be a wife and a mother, with a husband I can love endearingly with precious children whom we can love and teach forever.
Above all, I want to serve my Heavenly Father and do in my life those things that would make him smile.
I don't know what the next chapter of my life is going to be, but He does. And I trust that.
Now and again I think to myself how great it would be to get married, not physically go to work, take the classes I want to take and just be a better writer! Maybe even get published, too.
However, that is not reality. 
Reality is that I should be prepared to support my husband with a job if anything ever comes up in the future. I have goals to fulfill, and as a prerequisite I've got to be a teacher. I'm young, and so I can't get married just yet (I think. A boyfriend first would be good). A mission? I haven't reached that chapter yet. I feel that I am right where Heavenly Father wants me to be, for now.
Sometimes it is fun to dream though...

Lately

I am surrounded and blessed with incredible friends. Just on my list, I have 32 friends who either have their mission call or have already left for a mission. I could probably get that number up to 50, and like one third of those friends are girls! The ones who already have their call are pretty much gone. It seems like once they know where they're going, they enter a whole new world "missionary mode" and that becomes their new life. I feel very left out of this loop, especially with my birthday being in October. That means after study abroad in the summer I start my papers and head out myself, or continue going to school and hunting attractive guys. In any case, my friends are dying out for a better cause quickly...

Tonight I wasn't in a hurry to get to bed, so I had some unusual me time. 
When I was a tiny little midget, my dad would wrap me up in towel after bath time, sit me up on the counter and tell me to smile as I looked at my foggy reflection glowing in the mirror. Then I would open the medicine cabinet mirror and stick my head in-between the two mirrors to see how far I could see a reflection.
I did both of these tonight and I really gave my eyes a stare down (this isn't weird, I promise). I discovered something amazing I haven't seen for a while. My eyes are lined with grey, then blue, then green, then yellow, then brown, all seeping out of a very black pupil. As I moved closer or farther away from the mirror my pupils would fluctuate and adjust to the difference. My eyes are very much mine and I see so much of my personality in them.
Your eyes are alive, children. I find it so intriguing! The Eye. I am incredibly thankful for my eyes that I have been blessed with. I love them.
Now go try it out for yourself. It makes you happy =]
On somewhat of the same note, I was thinking about the opportunity I will have one day after this life to become a Goddess and possibly build my own world. (Yes, I truly believe this. The scriptures say so.) Well, I thought about God and all that he can see right now. Everything. He knows everything, he sees everything, and he feels everything that happens to us. Holy smokes, it makes me so happy. In Alma chapter 5 in the Book of Mormon there is a scripture that I love. "Can you imagine to yourselves that ye hear the voice of the Lord, saying unto you, in that day: Come unto me ye blessed, for behold, your works have been the works of righteousness upon the face of the earth."
I'm not sure how that connects to my eyes, but those words have been flying through my head. 
The world is wonderful. Life is incredible, every single aspect of it. 
It's good stuff.

Today is A Soft Day

I woke up this Sunday morning expecting the sun to be shining and to feel warmth in the air. That was not the case. Before I opened my eyes I was snuggled up to my blanket and felt a chilly breeze sweep through my bedroom. There was no shining sun but a cloudy sky and damp ground. I find this poem is very fitting for this cold and beautiful Sunday afternoon. 

I am thankful for my body and my health as I am so blessed to have both in this world. We have so much in our life to be truly grateful for, so I ask, what do YOU thank God for today?

A Soft Day

A soft day, thank God
a wind from the south
with a honey'd mouth
a scent of drenching leaves
briar, beech and lime
white elderflower
and thyme
and the soaking grass
smells sweet
crushed by my two bare feet
while the rain drips
drips, drips from the eaves

A soft day,thank God
the hills wear a shroud
of silver cloud
the web the spider weaves
is a glittering net
the woodland path is wet
and the soaking earth
smells sweet
under my two bare feet
and the rain drips, drips,
drips,drips from the leaves. 

Winifred M. Letts

Day Three

Blue Buttons in a Bottle (For Forest)

They could go as far west or north or south as they pleased, but they could never cross the border to the east. The eastern land was strictly off limits, and Kirby would never know why. Soldiers sometimes patrolled that border to ensure that the Bears (that's what the curious upper-class citizens were called) stayed clear of it and that no body ever saw beyond. If anyone were to get close enough to see the other side, they would either die instantly from electric shock or be forced to work for the government indefinitely if caught. It was territory no Bear had dared to venture into- until late last year.

The first Blue Bear from the south to ever question if there was something on the other side of the border was Kirby Atkins, the most rich and famous man there was in the valley of L'Ours. With his corresponding guard, Forest, a Green Bear from the North, Kirby felt as if he knew all the ins and outs of the valley, except for near the east border.

Bears was a term for the upper-class with a color based on their background. Purple Bears mean royalty. Next in line after royalty are the Blue Bears, like Kirby. Blue Bears stand for knowledge and youth- the ones that people like to keep around. Purple and Blue Bears live all over, where as the other colors are classified on location. In the north live the Green and Orange Bears, to the west live the Red and Brown Bears, and the south live the Yellow and Pink Bears. White Bears are the government, if you would believe it. And lastly, Black Bears are the unspoken of. Your spine would shiver and your teeth would chatter if you were to ever encounter a Black Bear, or what some people refer to as, a Black Beast. In the entire population, only three Blacks have ever been known of to the public. They are said to have come from beyond the border, from the east.

Kirby was scheming in his mind an impossible plan when Forest interrupted him.

“Kirby, the orders are here,” Forest announced. “The trucks are switching out the equipment and then we must leave as soon as possible.”

“Is that an order or a suggestion?” Kirby asked.

“Well, based upon the lack of events lately, I would highly consider it a suggestion.”

“If the tree fits in the ground, then I guess it fits.”

“Excuse me?”

Kirby stood up from his hand carved wooden desk with a chuckle and patted Forest on the back as he turned to exit his office. “You're excused,” he added before closing the door, leaving an as-usual confused twist on Forests' face.

Part Two to be added soon...

Day Two

Even though I didn't exactly reach my original goal of writing every day in January, I can still reach my 30-days writing goal. So a week or three later, here is what I wrote from the second writing prompt.

Drip-drop, drip-drop was the sound of the quiet, innocent rain as it softly fell from the sky and drizzled down the rigid surface of the stone. She sat motionless staring towards the tombstone in front of her, eyes black and cold. No outward emotion could express the empty, broken pain she felt in her heart at that moment. A perfect existence had been sucked away from her and she now had to cope with the death of an only brother and father who were once an immediate part of her delicate life.

Pulling her away from her distant thoughts and most recent memories, she felt a hand gently clasp around hers. Turning her head and pressing her right side against his as if to push away the pain, she recognized the butterfly collection box sitting in his lap. Breaking the eerie silence inside of her, she began to hum a tune as her softened eyes scanned the sight of each butterfly he had collected throughout the years and was now giving to her.

While determining whether her face was soaked from the rain or her own tears, she noticed the spring time sun trying to creep through the canopy of trees above them with little effort as he leaned over and lightly pressed his lips against hers, as if to say You don't have to go through this alone. In the stillness of the trees around them she realized that this hollow pain could never be forgotten, but perhaps with him, in that very silent and reassuring moment, she could relinquish a part of the anger and pain that dwelt deep inside. This tombstone may have captured the only two lives so dear to her, but she wasn't about to let it capture a third.

Day One

FYI: Just so you as a reader know, doing this makes me nervous. I am hesitant to ever give someone a copy of my writings or post them somewhere because of copyright issues. My words are mine. I don't speak much, and when I do I often surprise even myself. Enjoy the simplicity of this first one. I always appreciate feedback.

It was the first night that Julie was spending in her new apartment in the suburbs of New York City. In just a couple of months she would be getting married and her fiance would be moving in with her. As she was laying in her new, clean bed in what seemed like a new and fresh apartment, something suddenly was not right. Her body began to tingle all over, then it started to burn and an itching sensation crept over her skin.

What is happening to me? Julie thought.

Without further hesitation she tossed off her covers, flew out of bed and slammed on the light switch as she was about to jump in a cold shower, when suddenly she stopped in mid motion. She held out her arms looking at them with caution, paused, and after a moment of realization she screamed in horror. There were tiny, slimy bugs crawling across her skin.

Maggots.

“Why would there be maggots?” She asked herself with a gasp.

Julie was going to school to become a nurse and already had a minor in anthropology. The bugs immediately registered one of two possible situations in her head. Maggots meant flesh; quite possibly the flesh of a human.

Even though it was almost two o'clock in the morning, Julie immediately called her fiance Scott, who was a firefighter.

“Hello?” Scott answered in a groggy voice.

There was silence.

“Julie? Are you OK?” Scott asked, more alert.

After a short pause Julie said with a staggered voice, “Someone died in this apartment.”

Before Scott could respond, his phone went dead. Julie was left standing alone outside her bathroom door with maggots trying to eat her alive and a dead body somewhere in her new apartment.

The 30 Day Writing Challenge

   As a little kid, I believe I had a hidden passion for literacy; reading, writing and being competent about words. The second semester of ninth grade I did home-school and as a result had way too much free time on my hands. That is when my writing spark was ignited. It burned strong for about a year, then it went from constant writing to regular writing. In the fall of just this past year (2012), I began my first semester of college. I think I only wrote two poems and rarely wrote in my journal from September to now. But that ends now...
   Sometimes I think it's like a disease, not writing. At first I become irregular and don't notice, but then this wave of writers block engulfs me the longer I go without writing something of worth and it's like MYSELF has almost died or something terrible like that. Let me tell you that IT IS NOT EASY to get back into what was once my normal writing schedule.
   I have hosted a couple of poetry reading nights over the past few months which have lit my spark again, but it's still just not strong enough. SO, I am going to add a change to my life. Just a small and hopefully significant change. After all, "By small and simple things are great things brought to pass" (Alma 37:6).
   ANYWAYS. Sometime perhaps back in late October I found this website: www.creative-writing-now.com . On this website they have a free Ebook titled "Thirty Days of Inspiration," which is a thirty day challenge.
   Provided in this book are 32 writing prompts or story starters to choose from. It suggests to write at the same time for at least ten minutes every day for thirty days using the ideas to get started.
My goal: Write every day for thirty days in January for at least ten minutes with the given prompt.
   Starting January 2nd I will post my first day of writing without the given prompt., just what I write. I'm not aiming for a well-written piece with perfect grammar and deep meaning. Just a starting place to write every day. That books says Keeping a regular writing schedule can be very powerful. It's like daily exercise that trains and strengthens the writing "muscles." 
Truth!

So here I go.
After all, I can't say aloud "I am a writer" if I don't write.

Love and Loss

The famous poet Alfred, Lord Tennyson once wrote:
I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.
His words speak so true! Once a person has loved, they always have that memory to hold with them. But if you never get that chance to love something or someone, you don't have anything to go back to when you need it. 
Lately, the words of this poem have been running through my head with all the different things happening in life.
Things that I miss:

• Riding my bike through the back streets in Utah to watch the sunset.
• Being the youngest person in a group of older people.
• Sitting on the roof outside my bedroom at night.
• Easily writing my own masterpiece every week.
• Having someone I can talk to at any random moment needed.
• Children.
• An organized bedroom.
• Hiking the steep, rocky trails along the Wasatch Mountains.
• Cool summer nights.
• Not having to ask for a hug from someone.
• My pillows.
• Cameron Earnhart.
• Singing.
• The spontaneity of youth that seems to have slipped away. It's still there, but I feel like someone has tied it down.
• Utah- my sister, her family, the landscape, my friends whom know everything about me, the mountains.
• Being myself.
• Deep conversations with a friend.
• Living in my memories.
• My brothers, who were at one point considered "cool" by me.
• That time in ninth grade when I didn't have to go to school. I thought I was the best I could be, I wrote everyday, I truly enjoyed myself... for a few short months.
• The way things used to be.
• I miss a lot, a lot more than I can say.

Things that I Love:

• Watching the sun rise when I run in the morning.
• Being surrounded by so many attractively incredible members of the male species ;)
• Being happy!
• Ice cream on the weekends.
• Driving in the car.
• My sisters.
• Books and bookstores. (Does any body else get an overwhelming feeling of happiness when they walk into a bookstore?)
• 60 degree weather in the winter!
• Occasionally sleeping in on Saturdays. 
• My dog, Buddy.
• My parents.
• Little children.
• Smoothies and delicious bread or rolls.
• Learning new wisdom.
• Spontaneously doing something adventures!
• Remembering good memories.
• Laughing and smiling. I love my smile!
• The Gospel of Jesus Christ.
• Music!
• Riding my bike in the breeze as if I were flying.
• Going on trips and exploring new places.
• Cute things I can snuggle.
• Deep conversations with a friend.
• People watching.
• (Optimistically thinking) I love who I am and I love my life. There are so many things I could list that I love!

Icepacks

I wanted this blog to help me write better and get all my thoughts out to people.
So far it's not working.
I just can't seem to get my thoughts comfortable for people to hear. But one day, it will come.

Recently, weekends are my only free time. During the week I go to school, have cross country practice after school, come home to shower, do homework and eat and my day is basically over. Three days a week I even get up at 5am to go run with the team.
I love it!
Things are going really well.
Strange, though. It's a very peculiar feeling. Things just feel... weird. Adjusting to new friends (when it feels like I've know them for a really long time, when really I hardly know them at all), socializing with people, getting used to my surroundings, going to a new school and trying to get to know people and let them know me. Yeah...It's somewhat overwhelming on my brain. I don't know any other way to describe it.
Not that this is important but the climate is so different. I am always sweaty, hot and never feel clean. It's a new concept to me.
Oh and irrigation: flooding the grass with water. It doesn't make sense.
Anyways...
Today, we had our first Cross Country "invitational", which was a team fundraiser. We were given 30 minutes to run around the track and put in as many laps as we could. We had people who pledged a certain amount of money per lap. Since my hamstrings and IT bands have not been happy with running, I couldn't go as far as other kids. But I managed to push out seven somewhat easily painful laps! By the time our first meet comes around, I think I shall be somewhat wonderful.