Five

It is 5 am and I am awake in bed listening to a thunderstorm that I can only imagine is renting the world in two. It woke me after only 2 hours of precious sleep and I would be lying if I said the lightning did not frighten me at all, but this is the stuff monsoons are made of and I would not change a second of it. This is what I have been waiting for with baited breath for the past 2 months. It is finally here.

In honor of the ludicrous hour and the obliging weather I am going to make a list of 5 things that made me smile yesterday. 5 reasons my Monday was, for all intents and purposes, a good day.

1. I stayed in bed until noon. It sounds disgustingly idle, I know, but I loved it. I slept until after 11 and then staying in bed until after 12, and it was nothing but lovely. I ate my breakfast at lunchtime and did not change out of my pajamas until 4 pm. If that is not the very definition of a lazy summer day I don’t know what is.

2. It rained. Hallelujah. I have been desperately hoping for rain for weeks now and the sky finally gave in and gave me what I have been asking for. Thank you. Now that you’ve come I’m not even upset you were late. Just grateful. Monday evening’s rain was not the same variety of the one that is raging outside my window as I type. No, Monday’s rain was quick to arrive and even quicker to leave, leaving the earth smelling wonderful and the temperature perfect for hours and hours. The world is better after it rains. My world is better after it rains, and the moments right before it begins, and certainly those precious moments during. Rain and I have a very close relationship and I would not trade it for the world.

3. My first single’s ward FHE. Not a bad experience, considering. I actually rather enjoyed myself and I learned about a previously undiscovered talent. Paper Football. It’s not bragging to say that I’m good, just a lie to say anything otherwise. (!) It was also rejuvenating to be taught from the scriptures, a reminder that mine stay closed on my nightstand far too often.

4. Brule’s Rules. I won’t take credit for discovering these, or for previously knowing they existed, or for stumbling upon them. I watched at the suggestion of a friend, and I could not help but laugh at This and This and This.

5. Happy Hour. And the fact that my mom asked if any of my friends who would be going were people who drank. (We’re 19, Mom. We can’t buy alcohol at Applebees.) ‘Twas, all in all, a very fun experience, and one that once again kept me out entirely later than I planned. A perfect distraction from everything else.

Not a bad day at all. Here is hoping Tuesday also treats me well, and if it doesn’t, that I find reasons to smile anyway.

Public Enemies.

“I like baseball, movies, good clothes, whiskey, fast cars... and you. What else you need to know?”






Thank you, for keeping a promise made so long ago you probably don’t even remember doing it. I remember. It means the world to me.

Your Heart Won't Heal Right if You Keep Tearing Out the Sutures

Things stick in my head. Especially words. It makes it hard for me to be as forgiving as I know I should be, as I know I must be. If I have met you, I will most likely remember. If you have said something to me that meant anything at all, whether good or bad, I will most likely remember. This means I have the bad habit of drudging up things from the past and throwing them in your face when I am hurt. I am not making a special effort to remember, it’s just that the words stick in my head. If you said something on accident and it hurt me, I will remember. When we would fight he would sometimes say That’s not what I meant. Forget I said that. And I would always reply I can’t. Kind of a defeatist attitude, I realize, but so far I have yet to master forgetting. I am able to forgive (again, not as easily as I should) but it is the forgetting part I have so much trouble with; words stick in my head. Words are important. Knowing this, you would think that perhaps I think twice before I speak. I understand the power of words. But I say plenty of hurtful things without thinking about how they might affect others. I think this is why I love writing so much. I say the wrong thing, I delete it, I erase it, I tear it up. I have all the time in the world to word my thoughts in the manner of my choosing.

More than 3 years ago I read Life of Pi. I read the majority of it while I was home sick in bed with a 103 degree fever, and yet so much of it stuck in my head. So many passages I fell in love with. So many quotes I think about often.

“To choose doubt as a philosophy in life is akin to choosing immobility as a means of transportation.”

"'If you stumble at mere believability, what are you living for? ... Love is hard to believe, ask any lover. Life is hard to believe, ask any scientist. God is hard to believe, ask any believer. What’s your problem with hard to believe?'"

There are two passages in particular that have been stuck in my head today. One about fear, the other about goodbye. Fitting, I would say.

"I must say a word about fear. It is life's only true opponent. Only fear can defeat life. It is a clever, treacherous adversary, how well I know. It has no decency, respects no law or convention, shows no mercy. It goes for your weakest spot, which it finds with unerring ease. It begins in your mind, always. One moment you are feeling calm, self-possessed, happy. Then fear disguised in the garb of mild-mannered doubt, slips into your mind like a spy. Doubt meets disbelief and disbelief tries to push it out. But disbelief is a poorly armed foot soldier. Doubt does away with it with little trouble. You become anxious. Reason comes to do battle for you. You are reassured. Reason is fully equipped with the latest weapons technology. But, to your amazement, despite superior tactics and a number of undeniable victories, reason is laid low. You feel yourself weakening, wavering. Your anxiety becomes dread."

“What a terrible thing it is to botch a farewell… It’s important in life to conclude things properly. Only then can you let go. Otherwise you are left with words you should have said but never did, and your heart is heavy with remorse.”

When I copied that final passage into my notebook 3 summers ago, sitting at the airport, waiting to board my airplane, I thought it was all over. I was convinced I had botched the farewell because I never had the chance to say it. I thought it was the end. But it wasn’t. It turns out that a goodbye was not necessary. It still hasn’t been, 3 years later. So maybe the goodbye I feel cheated out of this time is not necessary either. Or maybe I am refusing to participate because I am hoping to be lucky twice, to once again save myself the pain and despair of letting go of something I am absolutely not ready to be done with. Either way, I do not feel the need to rush. Not now. Tomorrow I might. I might wake up tomorrow morning longing to say goodbye. But I doubt it. I know myself better than that.

And since I wanted to post this picture two weeks ago, but my camera was lost at the time, I will post it now.

Consider it a small farewell. A way to avoid the real thing.

Fire & Ice

If love is friendship set on fire I cannot help but wonder which piece you were missing, which piece I was missing, and whether they were the same.

it worries me how easily you get scared.

"I am part of the fellowship of the unashamed. They dye has been cast. I have stepped over the line. The decision has been made. I am a disciple of Jesus Christ!

I won’t looks back, let up, slow down, or be still. My past is redeemed, my present makes sense, and my future is secure. I’m finished and done with low living, small planning, smooth knees, colorless dreams, tamed visions, worldly talking, cheap giving, and dwarfed goals.

I no longer need pre-eminence, positions, promotions, plaudits, or popularity. I don’t have to be right, first, recognized, praised, regarded or rewarded. I now live by faith, lean on His presence, walk with patience, am uplifted by prayer, and labor with power. My face is set, my gait is fast, my goal is heaven. My road is narrow, my way is rough, my companions are few, my guide is reliable, my mission is clear. I cannot be bought, compromised, detoured, lured away, divided, or delayed.

I will not flinch in the face of sacrifice, hesitate in the presence of the adversary, negotiate at the table of the enemy, ponder at the pool of popularity, or meander in the maze of mediocrity. I won’t give up, shut up, or let up until I have stayed up, stored up, and paid for the cause of Christ. I must go until he comes, give until I drop, preach all I know, and work until he stops me. And when He returns for His own, He will have no problem recognizing me. My banner will be clear!"

With The Sun

I woke up with the sun this morning. It would be so convenient to say that it feels like a fresh start, a “new” day, and that it feels like things are going to be different. It doesn’t. It feels likes things are going to be exactly the same; horrible. But they’re not. I would be so easy to let this run the same course as always; but it won’t. I am going to make sure things are different. It might seem like an insignificant distinction but to me it makes all the difference in the world.

I am on about 1.5 hours of sleep right now, at best. If I had it my way, I would not be writing this. But I am writing because once I read something that said “Keep writing. Keep doing it and doing it. Even in the moments when it's so hurtful to think about writing.”

I loved that. So that is what I am going to do.

Signs, Detergent, & a Not-So-Subtle Metaphor

I have this shirt.



My mom thinks it might be trying to *tell* me something.

Yep. You heard that right. My mother thinks my shirt is a sign.

Or rather, my behavior every time I wear my shirt is a sign.

It’s not.

But I will tell you about it anyway.

I was wearing said shirt a couple of months ago even though at that point I still had no idea if I was going to ASU or U of A in the fall. I put the shirt on and said offhand, “I will alternate between wearing my U of A and ASU shirts and whichever one I feel better in will be the school I go to.”

You following?

It was dumb logic, obviously, but it was also a joke.

About two minutes later I *somehow* managed to spill chocolate all over my ASU shirt. My mom said it was a sign.

I threw it in the washer.

I wore it again not too long after that and once again mysteriously got chocolate on the shirt.

My mom laughed. And said it was a sign.

I threw it in the washer.

Every time I wear my ASU shirt I spill on it. Every single time. Including today.

And every single time my mom happens to be standing close by.

She always thinks it is a sign.

It should be noted however, that I spilled on my U of A shirt last time I wore it.

My mom remarked that maybe I am not meant to attend school at all.

I tend to think it is a sign I should not be allowed to handle food anymore.

But that’s beside the point.

The point is this.

My ASU shirt always comes clean. Always.

I am inclined to think this might be an even more important sign.

I might totally screw things up, over and over again, but it will always turn out okay. I will get another chance. This decision is not the be-all end-all of my life.

Either that, or we have really good detergent.