Have Hope

Have hope. The world is not a terrible place.

Have hope. There are pieces of goodness in every face

Though it seems to be spiraling 

And everything's gone wrong

People are still trying

We're learning to be strong

Have hope in humanity, faith in the free

Have hope that we can become who we want to be

The news may be darkness day after day

But if you look, you'll see that's not the way

Things really are- that people are trying

To get better, to live stronger, to stop lying and crying 

Have hope in your family and your friends

Have hope in love that never truly ends

We're  accepting differences, in the open for once

It's inevitable that some will act like a dunce

These are first tries for many, new  experiences for all

Of course some few will slip up and fall

Have hope that they're learning, trying their best

Have hope that some people are not like the rest

Have hope. 

Empty Heart

I rediscovered this while rummaging through old writing notes- a short story. I hope you enjoy it!

She had stumbled across the room without meaning to. She'd just been exploring the house. It was starting to get old and shabby, and the dust was accumulating. It needed maintenance. This room particularly appeared to not have been entered in months, at least. She coughed as the door ruffled the dust layer atop the cold tile.

The walls of this room were barren, only un-patched nail holes showing where pictures had once hung. The paint was peeling in those places, and around the edges of the room, baring the drywall to the air. Furniture was sparse, and all bore white vinyl dust covers. Vague impressions were the only clue to what each item might be. There was one window on the east side, but it did not allow much light to pass, as the panes were encrusted with accumulated filth. A bare light-bulb hung in the northwest corner of the room. The wires were bared in a way that seemed slightly dangerous, but the light flickered to life. It illuminated and shadowed, making the space leap into sharp relief. Small bugs scurried out of the way.

She looked around the room. It seemed so desolate, so empty. If only she could afford to reside in the house and keep it well, but its upkeep was often beyond her meager budget and time. As it was, it seemed to be only a drain on her resources, yet she couldn't bring herself to sell it. It was a gorgeous old mansion, full of large, clear windows with views of the sunrise and the trees, and spacious rooms with open closets and play areas, sweeping stairs and gorgeous antique furniture. Its current shabby state had likely brought the value down, yet any with the proper eye would recognize it as a gem. This room especially would deter any prospective buyers.

Perhaps she could try renting it out again. She'd have to screen the tenants a little better; the last time, they'd destroyed some priceless parts of the house, and damaged others. This time she would have to be more careful- if she even rented it. Would it be worth it? She'd always thought maybe one day a renter would become a buyer. It had almost happened before, once or twice, but the deal always fell through. Perhaps they tired of the sound of the wind, or the isolated location, or perhaps they found a better, newer home. Whatever the reason, it hadn't happened yet. She held out hope, however. Someday she'd meet someone who was meant to live in this house, who fit these rooms like they were built for that purpose. Who would love it the way she did, but who could afford its constant upkeep.

Yes, she resolved. She'd try to rent out the rooms one more time.


There'd be a lot of cleaning to be done first. Starting with this room. Sighing, she tramped out to her car to retrieve the Windex and repair supplies. She'd bring the house to life again. Starting with that empty room.

"That I May Write The Things Of God"

I have tried to write this two or three times because I know there is something important I need to say. It is hard to express in words.

Life moves on.

Time passes

People come and go, in and out, and sometimes I wonder, will I ever know what becomes of them?

I used to wonder all the time what other people thought of me. I worried relentlessly about being anything less than perfect, about messing up or hurting someone. I had a sincere desire to do the right thing, but in a way, it went too far. I cared so much about what these people thought of me that I forgot what God thought of me.

I graduated high school and went to college, where I made many new friends, yet the old worries still came.

I submitted my papers for a mission.

I waited.

The breakdown came the day before my mission call arrived in the mail. I was so afraid to go and to talk to these people. What will they think of me? I worried what people would say or do and how I could possibly handle it all. I cried for a long time and I hid.

A good friend told me all I had to do was love the people. That was it. And then I would be okay.

So I did. I spent eighteen months in the Pacific Northwest loving the people, fighting my demons, and most importantly, I grew closer to God.

Then something interesting happened.

I realized I didn't really care what people thought anymore. I cared about them, instead of caring about how they felt about me. I realized that I am a daughter of God and that His opinion is all that matters. And I realized that in His eyes, I am special and divine and unique. I have a role to play in His plan. I realized that this was unchanging. That He was always by my side and that He always had been, even in the darkest and loneliest of nights.

Now, those people I used to worry about have all seemed to fade away. High school is a distant memory. None of that lasted for very long. After all, it's only been a little less than three years.

I have watched lives move forward and people change. I have seen how my perceptions from long ago were wrong. I realized how much I needed my Heavenly Father and my Savior, and how much I could rely on them. They have never let me down- and they never will.

Once, in a district meeting, the question was asked, "How would you define humility?" And I said "Confidence in God."

That is the truest thing I know. That is what I hold on to. I have confidence that in the end, everything will fall into place because He promised that it will. I have confidence in myself and my potential because He told me who I am. I know myself the importance of having a determined heart, and following Him is a choice I make every day. I can have confidence because of Him. My strength is in Him. He is everything, and He will never fail.

Once upon a time, I would have scoffed at that. I would have been cynical. I "believed" but didn't have faith because I thought I was too flawed to be fixed.

Now I know better.

So I am grateful every day for my mission. I am grateful for the opportunity to be, uninterrupted, with the Spirit, to learn and grow while facing some of the toughest adversity I've faced yet. I am grateful that I learned about the Atonement and that I can change. I don't have to be who I was. Today does not have to be like yesterday, because of Him. I am grateful for the friends I made, especially in my Heavenly Father and Savior. I am grateful for words. Even though they are not perfect, they have become my vehicle to understanding the world. I am grateful that now my foundation is built on solid ground. I am grateful to be able to move forward.

The deepest desire of my heart is to look at His face on that final day and to hear Him say my name with pride. The deepest desire of my heart is to be welcomed into His presence, to hear the words "Well done, thou good and faithful servant."

And now I believe that I can make it there.

Sunday Series: Come What May And Love It

"For it must needs be, that there is an opposition in all things. If not so, my firstborn in the wilderness, righteousness could not be brought to pass, neither wickedness, neither holiness nor misery, neither good nor bad. Wherefore, all things must needs be a compound in one; wherefore, if it should be one body it must needs remain as dead, having no life neither death, nor corruption nor incorruption, happiness nor misery, neither sense nor insensibility." (2 Nephi 2:11)

"And it must needs be that the devil should tempt the children of men, or they could not be agents unto themselves; for if they never should have bitter they could not know the sweet" (D&C 29:39)

"And the Lord spake unto Adam, saying: Inasmuch as thy children are conceived in sin, even so when they begin to grow up, sin conceiveth in their hearts, and they taste the bitter, that they may know to prize the good." (Moses 6:55)

Last night, I went over to a friend's apartment and watched the last half of "Patch Adams," an old Robin Williams movie. One of the scenes really stuck with me (as it was meant to) and I'd like to talk about what I thought of in that moment (if you haven't seen the movie, you ought to watch it before reading this).

It takes place after Carin dies, when Patch, full of grief, goes to stand on the edge of a cliff. In this moment, Patch is on the verge of suicide. He calls out to God, begging for answers and mercy, asking why man must suffer so much pain, why man cannot just be compassionate. Now, throughout the portion of the movie that I'd seen thus far, I'd gotten the impression that life had been good for Patch Adams. It felt as if he'd never had sorrow or cruelty touch his life, in a truly personal way. In this moment, he wasn't sure what to do with all that he felt. Eventually Patch gives up on praying and turns to leave, when he sees, on his bag, a butterfly. This revitalizes Patch, as to him, butterflies are sort of a symbol of hope, as well as a reminder of Carin. He returns to the hospital and begins his work anew.

This scene struck a chord in me. Once, I might've thought it would be nice to live in a world without sorrow or pain, a world of only kindness and love, but at this point in the  movie, I realized I no longer believe that to be true. Now I realize that love cannot truly exist, cannot thrive without the opposition of pain and grief. Love is so precious because of the potential for hurt that it brings. I've heard it said that people with depression will laugh louder, smile bigger, and try to make others happier, and I believe it's true. I believe that through their struggles, they have learned how to truly and deeply love. This can also be true for victims of tragedy, as Patch Adams was. Those who see that darkness and choose to move forward with hope become the strongest and most compassionate people. Knowing pain and choosing to love in spite of it results in a deeper, truer love than any other- that is what I believe.

So in the end, I think, seeing both the light and the darkness of our world is necessary to our growth as human beings. By being hurt, and choosing to move forward, we nurture our humanity. Our hearts become stronger, and because of that, because they can hold more pain, they can also hold more love. So in the end, evil is not entirely bad, because it can teach us how to love. And isn't it true that light is always brighter and more appreciated after being in darkness for a while? We see the night, and we must choose to look forward to the dawn.

I guess in the end, I truly believe that you must see both sides of this world in order to truly love it.

Humanity

I think that something we miss in our mortal existence is the endless variety that is humanity. We miss the smallest variations, the different quirks in their smiles, and how no one ever loves something in the same way that someone else does. We miss the fact that each of us experience the world as a different place. Think about it! It's as if there's billions of worlds out there,billions of universes, each held in the mind of one human being, who alone seems so much smaller than all that they perceive. At the same time that this fills me with wonder, it is also a little scary because I don't understand it. And I also do understand. I understand that I am not the same person in another's world as I am in mine. And they also change when crossing universes. This is at once the scariest and most wonderful thing of all

Perks Of Being A Wallflower

I was told before the movie began that it connected to everyone differently but I didn't expect to feel it so deeply. Honestly, I could not stop crying for a good ten minutes after the movie ended and everyone left, and even then, I only stopped when I distracted myself with Facebook.

I'm not sure what it was specifically that hit me so hard. I know the line "we accept the love we think we deserve" has always been one of my favorites, even before seeing the movie. And "in that moment, we were infinite." I did gain one more that I think will stay with me, and that is "we can't choose where we come from, but we do get to choose where we go from there" or something similar.

I think the part that first touched me was that, for the characters, life was hard. So hard. There were a million things going on at once, and there was something deeper behind everything. And I guess I saw a little of myself in Charlie, not in his experiences, but in his reluctance to open up to anyone, including himself. Because it's hard for me to trust people, especially when things are hurting me. I've often told myself, the only one that sees me cry, really cry, is me. And it's probably true, at least for most of my life. So I related to that, to how he hid his pain, how he coped with it on his own and just tried to make it go away. I can understand how, even when he had known these friends for a while, and trusted them, how even after they'd stood with him through thick and thin, I understand, I think, he was still afraid that if they knew anything about the shadows inside him, they'd leave. No matter how unreasonable that fear was and no matter if he knew it. Of course, his shadows were much darker than mine hopefully will ever be. But I believe that the fear is the same. And the need, the wish, to have someone to open up to. Even though we're too afraid to try and reach out first. Except for, perhaps, in really vague posts on the internet, or letters to a friend who will never receive them.

The quote that I mentioned earlier, my new favorite, about choosing where we go, that one resonated with me. Compared to many, my life hasn't been that difficult. That is true. But it is also true that my situation was not ideal. It was hard, and stressful, and more than I should've had to bear, or would've in the ideal situation. It was never easy. But it wasn't impossible. I managed to make it, and at times, it was beautiful, it was fun, and I enjoyed it. And now I get to choose where I go from here It's all up to me- finally. I no longer have to struggle with the same things that I did while growing up. Well, mostly. And I am so happy about that. I didn't get to choose where I came from, but it shaped who I am today, and I like who I'm becoming. And now I get to choose where I go. That's life, I guess. I think that line was the point in the movie where I really started to tear up.

There was one other thing that resonated- something that has been true lately, but isn't always, or even often, and that is the theme of loneliness. An ever-present feeling of isolation. It's been hanging over me lately, and because I don't know how to open up, I haven't told anyone. I've been dealing with it the best way I know how- joking it off, subtly appealing for company, curling up with blankets and food, reading, trying to sleep it off...It hasn't worked. Though I do honestly think I haven't been sleeping enough, and that's why it's bothering me still. But at those times when it becomes too much, I do wish for a helping hand. And that's when I relate most to Charlie at the beginning of the movie, and after his breakup with Mary Elizabeth. Because even though I have friends- great friends- I'm not brave enough to trust them. Or to go to them for comfort. And so I still feel alone. Until I get rid of it on my own. Which I have done, many, many times.

Oh look. I'm crying again.

I hope that everyone gets the chance to see this movie. I believe what my friend said, that it connects to everyone differently. Since each of our lives are different, it makes sense. There are so many layers to this story. Friendship, love, trust, bad experiences, depression, suicide, joy, protection, heartbreak, and probably many more that I missed. I could relate to so many different pieces of this movie, but not nearly all of it, and a lot that I won't talk about here. I think this movie is the thing that helped my current cloud the most. Because somehow, even though it's a movie, it's inanimate and unchanging, somehow, it understands.

In conclusion, this movie is wonderful and I'd like to get my hands on the book in the near future.

Rearrange

They rearranged the trash cans on the third floor, and now one fills the corner where I used to nap. The nook is just the right size, and I can see why they would want it there. But just around the back of this corner is another identical bin. There is no purpose in having both, and yet there it sits, a brown cube in my spot. No longer is this space one for my seclusion, so I move down the hall to the next corner. It's too open, less comfortable. I do not like this change.

I rearranged my cabinet last week, fitting together boxes and cans so that all my food is organized and accessible. Everything is neat, crisp, and precise- except the chip bags. Those just sit atop it all, leftovers that don't seem to belong. This change is one that is useful.

My heart was rearranged when I broke up with my first boyfriend. I learned some things I hadn't known about him, learned that he wasn't who I'd believed. I learned about relationships and about myself. And I kind of still hate this change. Even though it was good for me in the end, I miss the person I thought I knew. But in the end, though it hurt, this change was good.

My stuff was rearranged, when I moved into my apartment. Now I have half a room (though the room itself is twice as large) and half a bathroom (which is better than sharing with my four siblings). The pictures on the wall are neatly placed and offset from one another. I love the angles and the dynamic that creates. The window is smaller and has blinds rather than curtains, and the spiral stairs down to this basement lair seem a bit fragile. But they never fall, and I find that I like this change.

Life was rearranged when I left home and moved to Provo. All of my old friends seemed to drop off the face of the earth, and new ones rushed in to fill that space. Though I still talk to some old friends, and hung out with them over Christmas, they are no longer my core group. These new friends are not the kind thrust together by shared classes. We're all friends because we get along, rather than because it's convenient. I have learned so much about myself and about life, in these short six months. This is a change that I like.

So even though change means I must find a new spot to sit (or move the trash can) I suppose overall that rearranging things is good. It only helps growth.

Getting Past It

"Missing" never really goes away, does it- we just learn to ignore it.

I heard once that hearts never really heal. They just grow scar tissue over open wounds so that we can live with ourselves again. And I think my scar tissue had grown so thick that I forgot a wound lay beneath it. But then the knife fell and opened the gash again, and "missing" bled out into my life. 

I also read once, about how love for those around us can change us. It forges something new out of what we used to be. I thought in the time apart, I had changed enough that the parts of me where "missing" resided had all grown out. But they were still there, well-hidden.

I heard once that souls have no concept of time, which is why missing occurs so easily. The soul doesn't know that they will be back, or how long they have been gone, only that they are not here. And so it mourns their presence, cries out in their absence, until they return.

Coming back to writing this, weeks later, I find my calluses have again thickened, though my heart is still sore. Maybe missing is just a part of who I am. Perhaps it's a part of all of us- after all, life is always changing and growing into something new. And as wonderful as it is, I wish that I got to choose which parts changed and which stayed the same.

Some things I don't miss. Some I regret. But others make my soul ache in a way nothing else can because they are gone and will never be here again, at least not in the same way. These things may not be necessary. They may have had to disappear so I could grow. Yet still I miss them being here.

Who do you miss? What do you wish hadn't ever changed?

Sunday Series: He Has No Sin

How can a Savior who never sinned truly understand the pain of one who has sinned? He never had to repent or experience a change of heart....right?

Wrong. He did experience it. More than any of us, he knows how it feels. He did not sin or repent for Himself, that is true. But that was so He could atone for us. He knows exactly how it feels in our hearts when we sin, and when we repent, because He has felt our hearts. He has experienced all the pain the world ever offered to anyone, and He came through it, glorious, to redeem us all. Because of Him, we can get up after we fall, and heal, as if the fall had never happened. The only evidence is our own memory of it. 

The visiting teaching message for this month is titled "The Attributes of Jesus Christ: Without Sin." The message's focus is on how this attribute of Christ can guide us. It says that "Understanding that Jesus Christ was without sin can help us increase our faith in Him and strive to keep His commandments, repent, and become pure."

How do we do this? We are imperfect mortals, with a tendency to regress. Elder D Todd Christofferson said that "As we endeavor day by day and week by week to follow the path of Christ, our spirit asserts its preeminence, the battle within subsides, and temptations cease to trouble." How do we "endeavor?" 

Mosiah 5:2 reads "And they all cried with one voice, saying: Yea, we believe all the words which thou hast spoken unto us; and also, we know of their surety and truth, because of the Spirit of the Lord Omnipotent, which has wrought a mighty change in us, or in our hearts, that we have no more disposition to do evil, but to do good continually."

This change is also a promise, to do our best to live the Lord's way. Yet it is not a one-time promise. We are imperfect mortals and so we constantly sin, and regress. So we must make this promise over and over again. We recommit every day to living how the Lord wants us to. And when we fall, He can help us get back up, so that it was like we never fell in the first place.

I heard a valuable insight while visiting teaching today. One of the girls I teach referenced a talk that spoke on how sometimes the Sacrament prayer has to be redone. Perhaps a word is out of place, or the phrases were mixed up. Yet, even though it had to be blessed again, once it is right, it is just as perfect as if it had only been done once. Even though we messed up, if we repent, it is as if we never fell. And if we change, truly, to Christ it becomes as if we were never the way we were before, but for the memories that we have. 

Christ was without sin because we are sinners. Christ was without sin because He is our Savior. He lived a life without sin in order to save us. He lived the way He did so that we could live better. Christ is our constant. He sacrificed Himself for us, so that when we repent, it is as if we never sinned. All that remains is the memory of it, and that memory holds no weight in the eternities. 

Christ knows and loves us just the way we are, and He will guide us to be better.

For Valentine's Day

I'm standing here with my heart in my hands
Desperately reaching for you
I'm pleading and falling and see how I land
I lay crumpled, just one, and not two
Because desperation never works out
In matters of love and the heart
It's too needy, too ready to shout
And often over before it can start
But what if it's more than just the weakness inside
That's saying that we could be something
What if there's a reason for "you and I"
To have a chance to be more than a wondering?
Can desperation be silenced to find
The voice of one greater above?
Who placed us here, in this place, at this time
So we could find someone to love?

Even these wide eyes can see that it's hard

And that we'll each have to play certain parts

But it would be worth it, I think as I fall

To have the chance to join these two hearts

for you (oil spills)

I'll paint a portrait of love and loss, memories and oil spills
Coarse beach sand between my toes, a heart like an ocean
The clouds rolled in and I exulted - rain! rain at last!
But when they opened, rain was not what descended
I thought you were pure water, but I was wrong
The black liquid of you pouring across bright memories
Your glutinous solution sunk deep, discolored what was pure
A dark stain across my waves that previously gleamed
You killed my wildlife- my dreaming birds and darting fishes
They died, and the corpses washed ashore to rest at my feet
Soft feathers coated with slick, and scales that do not shine
To clean you up- it took great effort and much expense
I purified my ocean of you, but part of you remains
Bits of black dissolved into the expanse of salted sea
The memories I cannot forget
You were an oil spill that disguised itself as rain
The ocean waves roll, and though I am clean,
The water still remembers you

Brain Dump: An Old Thought Brought Back To Light

For a year or two now, one of the things I've held pride in is the fact that I felt like I didn't need a relationship, because to me that means that when I enter into a relationship, it will be because I want it, and not out of hormonal drive or some need to feel validated. 

Yet in that year or two, I've slipped up. This week is one of those. Perhaps it's the heavier load of work and homework- I'm working probably twice as many hours, and have more complex homework, and still have to fill obligations to friends and roommates, because I don't want to lose those precious relationships. Is it, then, so out of place, for me to wish that I had someone there to put their arm around me and tell me  I'm doing fine? To just sit with me, do homework in the living room with me. Someone that I'm truly comfortable around. Is it wrong to want that?

It's an interesting sort of feeling, for me. For the past couple weeks, I haven't had any interest at all in a relationship, right up until about three days ago. I seriously didn't even think about it. I was too busy, anyway, with homework and classes and getting used to a new schedule. 

But that's not the main point that I wanted to write about. That's not the old thought that came up. The old thought was this: That all pain is valid. There is no point where emotional pain is so insignificant that it should be disregarded. There is greater pain, yes, but that doesn't make the lesser pain unworthy of care. My stupid desire for a hug, for company when I'm lonely, shouldn't be disregarded. Someone I know is dealing with having to quit their job because they'd been working there for six years and never even been offered a raise. That may seem like a small reason to some, but that doesn't mean that they don't deserve help and support. 

Big issues need help and support as well. Abuse, loss, depression; all need that outreached hand and that knowledge that they are loved and cared for. But I would just like to say that we, as humans, should not allow the severity of these issues to constantly and entirely obscure smaller ones. 

I've told the story before, how there was a time where I felt incredibly insecure and sad, and I went to a friend and she told me I was being stupid and needed to suck it up. I have another story, however, of the flip side of the coin. This happened not long ago- a friend of mine who is depressed had run off early that morning, and we were afraid he might try to hurt himself. When I found out, I started to panic. By then, the issue had mostly been addressed, but it was still a cause of worry. My thoughts spiraled down the worst possible path, projecting the worst future. At that point, I was aware I needed to not be by myself- this kind of reaction was only hurting me and wouldn't help anything. So I texted another friend of mine, asking if I could just come over and hang out because I needed the company of someone who knew what had happened. She immediately said yes, despite being in the middle of her German homework with another member of her class. I just sat and talked with them, and I think that helped most of all. That night we actually ended up getting together with a few other people and doing something for that person, so it turned out much better, even for the one that we were all worried about, I think. It could have been so much worse, but it wasn't, because we banded together to help each other

My point is this: help others, even in the small things. Only good can come of it. 

Love

Your palm is warm against mine, and your fingers keep mine from freezing

When I shiver suddenly in a breeze that's filled with snow

Residual warmth and weight- your coat- rests on my shoulders

Swing the door open, and it jingles, allowing the sounds of dinner to escape

You pull out my chair- my knees slip beneath a scarlet cloth

Later, we will skid and slide home on a brand-new white carpet

Then on a couch- green like your eyes and soft like your heart-

Your embrace will tighten around me. I will rest my head against your shoulder

Warmth is no longer confined to touching palms

We are two birds, resting beneath our wings for the winter

The warmth and glow from the fireplace illuminate us

It will guard us as heavy eyes slip down-down-down

Until dawn peeks through the window to rouse us

In case you're interested....this poem came from an assignment in Creative Writing. We were asked to describe ideas and words using sensory details.

Sunday Series: To Never Escape His Notice

"And Jesus entered and passed through Jericho. And, behold, there was a man named Zacchæus, which was the chief among the publicans, and he was rich. And he sought to see Jesus who he was; and could not for the press, because he was little of stature. And he ran before, and climbed up into a sycomore tree to see him: for he was to pass that way. And when Jesus came to the place, he looked up, and saw him, and said unto him, Zacchæus, make haste, and come down; for to day I must abide at thy house. And he made haste, and came down, and received him joyfully." (Luke 19:1-6)

How small must we be to escape God's notice, and how wicked to not receive His love?

There is nothing too small for Him or too sinful. God loves all. God is love, as the scripture says. The story from Luke illustrates this quite well. Even a publican who was too short to be seen in a crowd was seen by the Savior. I love this story. If Zacchaeus was seen, how could He miss us? He has a place for us and will reside with us if we but strive to see Him.

Allow me to explain that last sentence. Jesus may not have gone with Zacchaeus, had he not climbed that tree to see Him. Zacchaeus sought the Savior, and as a result, the Savior came to him, even into his home. Zacchaeus was a good guy as well- giving to the poor and striving to right every wrong he had done. This seems to me to be a wonderful metaphor for how we ought to live.

I'd like to use this to suggest three guidelines to inviting the Savior in.

1) Give to those in need, whenever possible. 

This is not just those in financial poverty, or those suffering from hunger. Nourish those who are starving spiritually and emotionally as well. Take hold of the outstretched hand, heal broken hearts, bind up their wounds, and help them on their way. They need the help often just as much as those who need money and food. It is almost harder to help someone who is suffering in a metaphysical sense, because their needs are so much less definable. A few dollars or a meal may not help.

Aid all you can, in every way, with needs that are spiritual, temporal, mental, emotional, and otherwise.

2) Seek out the Savior

This is not a casual action. This is the willingness to go to any end, use any means, just to glimpse His face, as Zacchaeus did. Run ahead; climb the tree. Even if He does not see you, you have seen Him and know that He was there. It is necessary to seek out the Savior in all we do, and in all we are striving to be. And it is climbing the tree that places Zacchaeus in the right place and time to meet and shelter Christ.

3) Receive Him with joy

Do not falter in that crucial moment- when the Savior comes to your door, answer it with haste! Do not drag your feet or murmur. Do not wring your hands and hesitate. Receive Him with joy and gladness as Zacchaeus did on that day centuries ago. If we have done all we can, and striven to live the best life we are capable of, then He will gladly remain with us until the end of days. If this is true, what reason might we have to hesitate?

Blue

today the city haze is blue
like my heart; the shade is true
clear as the sky cloudless above
but darker, my heart, with love

blue is the color of love i believe
as wide as the sky as far as we see
friends and family herein abound
in a sea of love. can you hear the sound?

waves roll in and out like the tide
but this sea is entirely inside
of a heart not mine, i am for sure
a resident of this sea azure

we all have a sea within our soul
and a tide only rarely within our control
it's blue like skies and the city haze
and here is where i'll spend all of my days


















PAD Day 31

Memories Both Old And New

Christmas is a time for remembering many things, and the season is full of wistful gazes and beautiful music. I was able to listen to some of that music tonight- and by that, I mean, I compiled a playlist made up of all the songs my high school choir used to sing for the Christmas season.

It brought back a lot of memories. I struggled to remember some of the titles, but Google came to my aid. This list, to me, sums up some of my favorite high school memories- Christmas, and the love that I felt from and for my choir. The beautiful music that came from it, and the joy we felt in singing it- sometimes with passion (There Is No Rose), sometimes recklessly at the top of our lungs (Psallite), sometimes respectfully (E'en So Lord Jesus), and sometimes in memory of someone we'd lost (Ubi Caritas). I miss those days. They were times when we all felt an unusually high sense of belonging.

We performed a Madrigal Feast every year- a Renaissance dinner and short play, followed by a concert. I remember how much fun rehearsals were each year, and the concert that followed always brought tears to the seniors and to those younger students that they were close to. I remember my junior year especially well, because that was the year some of my best friends graduated and/or left. These were people that had thus far been present for my entire high school experience. This was the only year that I really cried.

Memories are a central part of Christmas. In fact, it is memories of Christ that make up the core of it. Traditions are part of these memories as well. I am so excited to travel home for Christmas and participate in our family traditions once more. To spend time with my family, talking about past years. We have many traditions around Christmas. We go to Grandma's on Christmas Eve, and we always have a Peppermint Pig. We hang our ornaments on the tree and the kids always help hand out the presents. And we get to open one present at home- always pajamas. Christmas is a day we most often spend at home, playing with siblings and enjoying the company of our family.

This year will be different, though, because I will be "coming home." Travelling home from this new place that I've found at college. I'm an adult and things are changing. It is strange to think that someday soon- not too many Christmases from now- I will not be spending the season the same way; I will have a husband and family of my own to spend it with. But I can still have Christmas traditions and memories. And I will have many new memories as well. That, after all, is the core of Christmas: memories.

Memories are so important to who we are. They shape us- I truly believe that much of who we become comes from what we go through, and without memories, those experiences would mean nothing. Memories are what give us language and friendship and love. Is it not memories that come, when you wish to think of happier times? Is it not reminiscing on days gone by that brings us comfort in loss? Memories are pieces of souls.

Memories are created by and for souls. We have the memories we do because of who we are, and we also are who we are because of the memories we've made. It is a wonderful cycle of becoming and growing and creating beauty and relationships that last far longer in memory than perhaps they can in time.

What do I mean by "we have the memories we do because of who we are"? Just this: That who we are puts us where we are, with whoever we might be around. Who we are places us in the right place to make memories that fit our souls. If you were someone else, wouldn't you be somewhere else? Whether from a different country, background, or even simply just possessing a different personality, can lead us to be in far different places and, of course, to create radically different memories. Two people may not even remember a particular event the same way. Our souls and identities are active participants in creating themselves- is this not true? It is what I believe.

The saddest part about Christmas, I think, is the memories of loss, of regret, and of pain. For those must resurface with the good memories. How many wonderful recollections of joy are tainted by the remembrance of the pain that came after? Some grief can be sweet, after a time, knowing that the ones lost are happy, or in a better place. But some heartbreak will always be sour to the taste, and painful to the touch. Christmastime is a wistful season, melancholy mixed with joy and longing with love.

And some times the nostalgia fills us, the recollections too big and too painful and it seems we cannot bear it. It is in these moments that we need the most important Christmas memory of all- the original one. It's ever so difficult in a world of wrapping paper, gifts, and receipts. It's ever so hard to remember that the sweetest gifts are often the simplest. Like a note, a letter, a handmade object.

A baby in a manger.

The sight of a star.

Simple.

Yet the sweetest of all

Music Taste

A little bit of rock
Christian
Indie
Young the Giant
Imagine Dragons
Juxtaposed with Benny Goodman
Ella Fitzgerald
Jazz and blues and swing
Next to Skillet, Toby Mac, and a little Linkin Park
A Great Big World and Twenty One Pilots
Carrie Underwood and Taylor Swift
One Direction
Fall Out Boys
Bruno Mars
This is the music that moves me



PAD Day 23

Stuck In My Throat (The Words We Need To Say)

I once heard that the three hardest things to say are "I love you," "I'm sorry," and "help me."

This struck me as quite profound. And true. What other words carry such weight? What other words reveal such vulnerability, so much of what is occurring within our hearts and minds? None at all, except perhaps poetry. And poetry is not so hard. In poetry, we hide behind metaphors. We veil our intentions with words and rhythm, cadences meant at once to reveal and conceal.

Not so with these phrases.

"I love you"

Vulnerability incarnate.

What other words, when said and truly meant, give away so much of what makes us up? What other words, when said, reveal something so raw and fragile? Our hearts are our most carefully protected part, even by anatomy. These words reveal them. They reveal a thousand layers of thoughts and daydreams, of glances sneaked across rooms, and staring when they look the other way. A thousand plans for a future that may or may not be, and a willingness to risk it all on a chance, on saying these words. When it would, could, should be far easier to hold it within yourself, though it threatens to burst. When it's easier to hide and pretend and refuse to speak of it, because of the risk it is to say. Because to be broken by one you've given these words to is the worst breaking of all. Because to break someone you loved is the only pain that can equal it, but sometimes it just doesn't work out. Sometimes things get in the way of the daydreams and the glances, and it builds a brick wall. And you shatter your glass heart trying to break it down.

This is why "I love you" is hard to say

"I'm sorry"

Admitting to fault

In a world where perfection is the ultimate ideal, where we airbrush our models, where being right is more important than being kind ofttimes, apologizing is hard to do. To admit we were wrong, to take back words said in anger, actions done in rage. How can we admit to being less than perfect? Less than human?

Even more painful: What will they think of us, apologizing? What do they think of us after what we did? And how will they react? What if they reject us? This is the greatest fear that apology brings: rejection. Being spurned, being treated the way we surely deserve to. We are afraid of receiving justice when we are on our knees pleading for mercy.

Saying these words reveals strength. It reveals that we know our faults and are trying to become better. It reveals us as human. But in this world, being human is not always good. Being imperfect is sometimes scorned.

This is why "I'm sorry" is so hard to say.

"Help me"

Help me.

Help.

I am lost and alone. I am in pain. I am weakened and crying. I am useless right now and need your hand to lift me to my feet. I need your gentle touch and kind words. Please don't leave. Please don't abandon me hopeless on this cold ground, in this desolate, cobwebbed corner where I have sequestered myself with all the shadows in my heart. Do not scorn me, abuse me, criticize me. Please help me.

To say this is to reveal our darkness.

The shadows we hide in corners, in back alleys and forgotten places within our minds. This is what we hide; this is what these words reveal. That we are weak. They show our weakness to someone else, revealing the soft parts of our soul, our Achilles' heels. They show a person where to cut if they wish to cut the deepest, and yet we must trust them not to, because we simply don't have the strength to keep moving on our own. These words reveal nights spent curled up in a ball, sitting on the bathroom floor. Nights of desperate tears and uncontrollable sobs. Days of putting on a mask of playfulness and joy because if they see your broken pieces, will they still love you?

This is why "Help me" is so hard to say.

Rejection

This is what we are afraid of. The deepest fear, the darkest hatred of the human soul is to be shunned, rejected, spurned, hurt. To be given harsh words instead of gentle, to be broken by the ones we love. Why then do we reject others? Why do we not give them the gentle hand we so desire? I am so, so guilty. And trying to improve. Can we all try to say these words, to not reject the outreached hands of those that make themselves vulnerable. Can we be vulnerable? Say the words. Hear them. Speak them to those you trust. Let them see your heart, see the cracks that make you human, and the love that makes you more, see the faults you are fixing. Perhaps it is so hard because there is a trend of hurt in what we see, what we read, what we are exposed to constantly. Every moment passing brings another chance to be hurt or witness another's pain. But it also brings another moment to reach out a kind hand and help them out of their dark places.

These words, when said and accepted, can bind us together stronger than ever before- or tear us apart further than we knew was possible. That is scary.

These things are the hardest to say because we have made them so. And because we are human.

Dreaming In Your Eyes

Baby I love the dreaming in your eyes

Your unrestrained laugh and your unseen smile

The way that you look when you think no one can see

The way that you laugh when you're joking with me

It's the future that I'm seeing here tonight

It's the future that I'm dreaming could be right

And I know there's a time that's yet to be set

But as for right now, I don't know you yet

I'm like Michael Buble, singing what's to come

I can't wait to find you and hear about where you're from

These little things that you'll do to catch my eye

They'll make it impossible for you to pass me by

Baby I'll love the dreaming in your eyes

Your unrestrained laugh and the love in your smile

The look in your bright eyes when they meet mine

The way that your mind and your soul are so fine

I'll love giving you surprises that make you feel loved

And planning fun parties just so you can come

Seeing your face on the pillow next to me

The sweet sound of children acting crazy

But as for now, I'll just sit and wait

It won't be coincidence or fate

Yet someday I'll meet you and it will be true

I'll know I want forever to be with you 

PAD Day 15

Sunday Series: Neither Do I Condemn Thee

"Blessed are the merciful for they shall obtain mercy" (Matthew 5:7)

Mercy is a wonderful concept isn't it? Mercy means "kind and forgiving treatment of someone who could be treated harshly" (along with another couple definitions, all of which are relevant, but not to this post). I love this idea so much. To be treated with kindness when it is undeserved is one of the best and most wonderful feelings. It is a gift that shows love more than any other, I believe.

The scripture at the top illustrates another concept, one that the Savior spoke of during His ministry. The merciful shall obtain mercy- it's kind of like the Golden Rule, isn't it? Do unto others as you would have done unto you. Treat others how you want to be treated. Be merciful and receive mercy. It's a beautiful concept, but one that I sometimes feel the world does not grasp.

I believe everyone in this world has been told at one time or another to "suck it up" or to grow up and stop acting like a child. Sometimes this is justified, sure. Sometimes the emotion they show is just the tip of the iceberg. This is where the concept of treating others with mercy comes in. Sure, they might deserve to be treated harshly. They may be acting like a child. But think what effect kindness could have. What if it was just the tip of a huge iceberg? What if your harsh treatment, deserved or not, was the last straw? And what if it wasn't? I honestly don't believe that it matters. All people need mercy, even if we don't deserve it. Imagine, put yourself in their place. How would you react to harsh words, honestly? How would you react to kindness? Thinking back on my own past, I've found that harsh treatment has destroyed trust and caused me to hurt even more than I had been. It did not have the effect that it intended. Saying "suck it up" has only ever made things worse. But then, in those rare moments when I received kindness and the gift of mercy, I was able to truly release whatever was built up inside and feel better. Mercy made things better for me.

What if we were kind? What if we were merciful always, gave the benefit of the doubt, treated all around us with kindness even when it seems that harsher treatment has been earned?

The Savior was the perfect example of mercy. My dad has a painting in his office by Liz Lemon Swindle titled "He That Is Without Sin." The painting is of Christ and the woman taken in adultery. The woman's accusers stand around them. The woman herself is avoiding the Savior's gaze: she knows what she has done. It is a beautiful painting, and a wonderful story of mercy. The Lord said to the accusers "He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her" (John 8:7). No stones were cast, and gradually those that had accused her left. The Savior asked, "Where are those thine accusers? hath no man condemned thee?" When she sees that none are there, she responds "No man, Lord." The Savior of the world, in His infinite mercy, says to her "Neither do I condemn thee; go and sin no more."

Now, looking at this story from the outside, it's easy to say that the woman deserved to be punished. The sin of adultery is a serious thing! Why was the Savior merciful; why did He not condemn her? She had earned any consequences that came of it. But He showed mercy. In my mind, I imagine that the woman was truly remorseful, that she realized what she had done. I imagine her resigned to a punishment that, had justice held all power, she would have received. Yet she received mercy. Imagine what a life she would have lived after this! A righteous life, most likely, a life that testified of the mercy of God and of His power. The Savior showing mercy saved this woman.

Mercy saves souls, hearts, and lives. This I believe more than anything. Justice has its time and place, and blunt words do too, but not towards  hearts that are hurting, hearts that are penitent, and/or hearts that are willing to change.

The merciful shall receive mercy (going back to the first scripture). If the merciful receive mercy, should we not be merciful? Do we not all need mercy, not only from God but from the people around us? Are we not all the woman taken in adultery- have we not all sinned and been condemned? But we can change, and the Lord knows that. The Lord knows our hearts, and if we are sincere when we fall before Him, I believe we will hear those words: "Neither do I condemn thee; go and sin no more."

Let us give those first words to others. Let us say to others "Neither do I condemn thee." We must be merciful for our sake and theirs. What right have we to judge and condemn? "He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone." In our dealings with our fellow men, we must be merciful, or mercy will fail us at the last day. Let us be merciful as He was merciful.

He That Is Without Sin