Lost and Found

Looking back at 2012, one theme sticks out: loss.

In the course of the past year, I lost hope for relationships with key family members (including straight-up estrangements for most of the year), lost a chance at love (although, if we're being honest, I dodged a bullet with that one), lost my health for several months, my team lost the election (grrrr!!!), and, a few weeks ago, I lost my grandmother, who was my family, best friend, and primary example in life. Oh, and just today I got the news that my grandmother's children are selling her cabin in Island Park—my lifelong haven and refuge—so that's another devastating loss for 2012. Even happy things, like moving to my delightful condo, involved loss—losing the happiest home situation I've ever had, living with my best friend in a place filled with joy and warmth.

So to you, 2012, I have two words: Peace out!

Now, onto the beautiful blank state of 2013 (which I'm kicking off with a one-night stay at the Hotel Del Coronado—hello, bucket-list item!!!)

I've decided that this new year is going to be MY year. As devastating as loss can be, it brings a certain degree of liberation. The voids left by losses can be opportunities to create better, brighter, beautiful possibilities—and I'm going to make finding them the focus of this new year.

Specifically:

• Finding Health and Wealth—Two of my biggest Achilles' heels in life seem to be fitness and finances. Honestly, both stem from a shared root issue: a lack of self-discipline and delayed gratification. This year I plan to attack both with a vengeance!
• Finding Love—And by love, I broaden that scope beyond romance, because love is so much bigger than that. My life is filled with love, and yet too often I either discount available love because it's not the source I crave (i.e. friends instead of family), or I get frustrated with love offered because it's not exactly what I want from that particular individual. I need to work on accepting what love people offer—no more, no less—while trusting in God's goodness to provide what I do need, even when it comes from unexpected places. (And if an unexpected place does happen to be that tall, dark, handsome "Mormon prince" I've been awaiting... well... fabulous!)
• Finding Meaningful Ways to Serve—Rebuilding my broken heart necessitated an inward focus for much of 2012, but I finally feel like I can breathe again! The dust is settling, and with that, I really want to get outside of myself. The two consistent services I did in 2012 were family history and temple work, which are incredibly fulfilling and fabulous, so I want to get back to those. But above and beyond that, I want to serve those within my sphere in whatever way possible. I have so much love to give and need to find great outlets for it.
• Finding My Voice—I've had an idea for a book bouncing around in my brain for ages now, but I still needed to gain some experience in order to pull it off. I think the time has arrived to put pen to paper and up my Writer (with a capital W) street cred by writing my book.
• Finding Peace and Comfort in the Atonement—Christ's Atonement is magnificent and marvelous, but as much as I appreciate it, I still don't fully tap into its strength and power, especially as a source of infinite love, peace, and comfort. I struggle to trust what I can't see, and that's a flaw that really needs to fall away this year.
• Finding Serenity in Uncertainty—Whew, trust is a BIG struggle for me, quite possibly my biggest. I have such a hard time believing things will work out, even when I have so many case studies of when they did. So instead I expend sooooo much energy overthinking and overanalyzing in an attempt to make certainty out of something inherently uncertain. Well, that has GOT to stop, because I seriously become my own worst enemy in those instances! Here's to letting go and learning to TRUST wholeheartedly, no fear, no regrets.
• Finding the Hows—It was a glorious moment a few weeks ago to realize that I've done it! I have, in many ways, become the woman I always wanted to be. It's such a wonderful feeling. Life is so much like hiking, and as the dust's started to settle on 2012, I've been enjoying the breather and the vista, appreciating how far I've come. Now it's time to get up and get back to climbing, looking for the specific, material ways to take that "becoming who I want to be" to the next level. If you're not progressing, you're regressing, and I want to keep moving forward into beautiful, wonderful things.

Here's to the most marvelous, wonderful, fabulous year yet, friends!!! Hope this next year brings you so much joy and love, too.

Weakness in Strength

You know the old adage, "When I am weak, then am I strong"?

Well... I've learned this week that the opposite is true:

When I think I'm so strong I don't need others... then am I weak.

In general, I don't rank pride atop my list of struggles or weaknesses. I think I'm a fairly humble, meek, teachable person...

... until I need help. It doesn't matter what the help is, really, either. Help with painting my condo or moving or even hosting a party. Someone to take care of me when I'm so rundown and exhausted, I accidentally starve myself for a week and go into diabetic shock. (Yep, that happened.) A hug and shoulder on which to cry while mourning my grandmother's death. Asking for the help I need is almost impossible. Somehow I think I should be able to do everything on my own, and if not, I'm failing.

That, my friends, is its own form of pride. And the last year - especially the last week - has compelled me to humility on that front.

I just like to tread lightly, I tell myself. Other people are busy enough. I don't want to make demands on their time and emotions. We're not close enough of friends that I can crumble in front of them. No one likes an emotional mess, right?

And, worst of all, I don't know how to be anything but strong. Even when I'm not, and when being strong is the last thing in the world I want to be.

So I'll admit it. Losing my grandmother is absolutely devastating. And while I genuinely felt so much support and comfort that first day, I also was at a total loss of how to react, and almost a week later, I'm still totally lost. There's no instruction manual for losing your sole earthly source of unconditional strength and support. I've been emotionally self-sufficient since the bottom fell out on my family when I was 13 and didn't have anyone to lean on - except for my grandmothers. Over the years I've built a phenomenal support system of friends, but my grandmothers had been there my whole life, and I felt like I could claim and expect their support. When Gram died a decade ago, I just rolled that closeness and emotional connection over to Grandma Doris. Without her, I feel so lost. Who do I have now? Add to that an additional 10 years with Grandma Doris in which we made that transition to an adult friendship filled with so many fun moments and important common bonds like temple attendance, and... wow. I still can't quite let myself "go there" and feel the shock because I worry I won't be able to pull out of the grief, especially with the full plate in front of me from now until after the funeral. And there's no one who I feel like I can ask to hold my hand through that journey, either, even as I'm getting more offers for help than I know what to do with. My family is soooooo "suck it up and deal" that I can't recognize when I need to stop going it alone - a not-so-good trait I inherited from Grandma. It is incredibly difficult for me to let go and let others take care of me, even when that's what I want and need.

I keep thinking about when I climbed Mt. Washburn this summer, something I proudly did alone. A few groups of fellow hikers invited me to join them along the trail, and while I did chat with them briefly, I always changed my pace to get back to doing my own thing. It was something I'd been wanting to conquer for decades, and I just felt like I needed to do it solo. But was I truly without help? Nope. California girl that I am forgot to bring a jacket, and mountains get cold, so Grandma sent me off with her windbreaker. And I'd forgotten my sunglasses at the office before heading to Yellowstone for the weekend, but my friend had forgotten his shades in my car a couple weeks earlier, so it was his sunglasses shielding my eyes. And that was actually a total blessing, because his were far better geared for athletic feats than my cheapy wayfarers. Most importantly, at the summit I discovered that the hikers before and after me all saw bears along the trail. Plural. I didn't see a single one, although I did notice their tracks on my way back down. Later I learned that Mt. Washburn is the one hike in Yellowstone notorious for bears... and I sure didn't have bear spray. But I had a Heavenly Father watching my back, even as I stubbornly tried to climb alone.

Well... lesson learned. Even though she's gone, Grandma is the voice in my head, and her love fills my heart. She can't give me her windbreaker when I forget my own anymore, but I can draw from her love forever. And there will always be friends there to lend their proverbial sunglasses to help me if I'm willing to take them up on it. The sunglasses wouldn't have helped unless I put them on my face, and my friends can't help me unless I let them in and take them up on their offerings of support. And again, most importantly, I have a loving Heavenly Father to protect me from dangers both seen and unseen. He wouldn't leave me without the resources needed to succeed and thrive in life. Here's to the next stage of life's climb: learning to lean on the love in my life and climb with the amazing company that surrounds me.

Grasping for Gratitude

Get it on Etsy here

Confession: Coming into November, the plethora of daily thankful posts on Facebook made me cringe. And roll my eyes.

Thankful? I thought, filled with grump and vinegar. Are you kidding me?! This has been the WORST year of my life. Heartbreaking family fallings-out, a disappointing relationship, health problems, watching a dear one's health speedily decline, and, on top of it all, moving into the Orem condo rental version of The Money Pit.

Needless to say, 2012 is a year I'll be happy to see come to an end.

But, honestly, I repent of that formerly shortsighted attitude. I have an amazing life, filled with wonderful blessings for which I am indeed grateful. And, admittedly, it seems like the best growth comes through the worst trials, and I will be closing out 2012 a far better woman than when I began it.

So, without further adieu, let me count my blessings:

• The gospel of Jesus Christ--I don't know where I would be without it! So grateful for the knowledge that Christ lives, that He died to save me from sins and sorrows, and that God is involved in the details of our lives. I'm also immensely grateful for the impressions and promptings that empower me to serve others or that give me a heads up which spares me from heartache down the road.
• Phenomenal friends--Seriously, I have the BEST friends in the world!!! It's funny; I honestly didn't have good friends until middle school, but I think all of those years spent without them has helped me make and keep wonderful friends because I never take them for granted. It's such a blessing to have so many of my nearest and dearest friends within an hour's drive, too--friends from high school, college, Orange County, and new ones from the last few years. It's even more fun seeing them all mix and mingle!
• Perspective--This year has led to a LOT of deep thinking, processing, and pondering. I love how we can see things more clearly with some distance, and I hope that I can parlay that perspective into better, wiser decisions and more selfless, aware actions in the future.
• Discovering new talents and hobbies--The good news? I learned how to make Grandma's delicious candies. The bad news? Ummm... I know how to make the candies that I got once a year as a treat... and now I can make them whenever. This could be DANGEROUS, folks!
• Music--Pretty sure there are few things I love more deeply than music, whether it's listening to the Utah Symphony play Rhapsody in Blue at Abravanel Hall, singing gorgeously arranged Christmas music with the Mapleton Chorale, discovering a new band in Provo's surprisingly awesome local music scene (from whence sprang Neon Trees and Imagine Dragons, I'll have you know!), or catching an impromptu jam session at sunset in Washington Square. Music has the most amazing ability to express and translate emotions and energy where words fall flat. I will be forever grateful that I was raised in a home where music was at the heart, and I hope I can share that passion as long as I live!
• Art in all its forms--Art is amazing!!! I love how people can capture the essence and beauty of life, translated into whatever medium they choose--film, canvas, stage, written page, and even culinary arts. Spending time in New York City last month was such a treat because we spent so much time steeped in the finest art America has to offer, from the Metropolitan Museum of Art's American Wing (which, yes, made my eyes get misty, I was so touched and overwhelmed to stand in such greatness!!!) and the MoMA to three Broadway shows, each so different from the others. It makes my heart sing!
• The ability to indulge my wanderlust--Speaking of NYC... I'm so grateful I've had the opportunity to travel so much in the last few years. It's been incredible!!! I average a trip for just about every month I've lived in Utah. Excessive? Perhaps. But I also know that as soon as I marry, it'll stop--my life and time will be for my family, and I wouldn't want to wander from home too far or often. But as long as I'm footloose and fancy free, I'll keep bouncing around from coast to coast: Seattle (x2), San Francisco, Denver (x4), Savannah and Atlanta, Southern California (x10+?), Island Park (too many times to count!), the Tetons, Capitol Reef, Glacier, Banff, Calgary, New York City, Washington D.C. (x2), Little Rock, Memphis and Nashville, North Carolina, Mount Vernon, Williamsburg--I've covered some serious distance in the last few years!!!
• My darling condo--Yes, even though it's been a headache to bring up to par, leading to some heated text-versations with my landlord... I absolutely adore my place!!! And not just because it's all my style or spacious for my things, but because it is my home. It feels beyond wonderful to have a place I can call that!
• My job--It has been the greatest blessing in my life these past few years!!! Words fall short to express just how grateful I am for it, especially considering how tenuous my career was in California. Property insurance software certainly wasn't what I envisioned as my life's work, but it's interesting, and I adore the people, the paycheck, and the values and focus of my company. Here's to more wonderful years ahead!
• My grandmother--Funny how knowing her time on this earth is waning makes me appreciate and value every moment with her all the more. Grandma Doris has been the familial foundation in my life, the constant source of unconditional love (albeit tough love at times) and the best example of selfless service and kindness I've ever seen. She'd give you the shirt off her back--my shoe collection can attest to that (we're the same size, and she's given me shoes when I've forgotten to bring more than flipflops in the rain many a time!). She's a truly amazing woman, and if I live to be a fraction of the woman she is, I will consider my life a success.
• Roots and wings in Utah Valley--I never, ever, ever wanted to end up here. And yet? I love it. I really, truly, honestly do... much as it pains me to admit that. :P Silly California girl pride! Provo has never been anything but good for my soul, from my life-changing 8th grade year at Farrer Middle School to four and a half glorious years as a BYU student to the last three years as a professional. It's funny how the lives overlap--visiting a current friend who lives around the corner from my 1996 home (or, heck, going to my friend Melody's a few weeks ago, only to realize she lives in my old house from summer 2004!!!), or going to classic movie screenings at the BYU library and walking down the stairs on which I sat and had my first post-college job interview, a phone call for a job at The Orange County Register while I was studying for my last set of finals. It may not be as glamorous as reporting about Laguna Beach or doing PR for Toshiba, but it fits well, and I am so, so, so happy here, it's a lil' bit ridiculous. Even with the snow.

Above all, I am deeply and profoundly grateful for my life, and that it didn't turn out as I wanted it to. The plan I had for myself wasn't nearly as amazing as the one God had in store for me. These last 12 1/2 years of adulthood have been filled with so many unanticipated adventures, both happy and heartbreaking, but I wouldn't trade any. Each provided experience that has shaped me into who I am today, and I can't wait to see what's in store in the years to come!

Defining Moments

Earlier today, I read this article about how a simple choice to head down a floor made the difference between being a victim or survivor to the World Trade Center tragedy. A quote in the piece is particularly chilling:

"Seemingly insignificant decisions a person made that day determined whether they lived or died. It's still something that's a bit hard to fully come to terms with."

This made me think of my own life. What split-second decisions have made a huge, life-shifting impact? Certainly nothing's been life or death, but there have been majorly disruptive moments, and it's funny to see the ripple effect these words and actions can have. Misjudging the distance between my moving van and the carport by a matter of inches cost me $300+ to repair, for instance - and the damage hit in a second. Boggles the mind.

Back in the spring, the wonderful guy I was dating felt the need to take a step back. His reasons were legitimate and, really, had little/nothing to do with me - but, being inexperienced and insecure, I let my tongue get away from me. In one sentence, I swiftly destroyed the immense potential that was there. In the moment, I didn't realize how huge a deal it was. It wasn't until I saw friends' reactions when I told them what had happened to the relationship - "You... actually said that to him?!" - that the reality of my mistake sunk in. It's haunted me daily ever since - this Sondheim piece aptly sums it up (and the plot of the show from which it originates actually examines the whole idea of defining moments, too):



You know what I love, though? My story isn't over yet. It's still in the process of being written. I don't know how it will end, ultimately, and regardless the outcome, things do work out, even if we fumble and misstep in the moment. I've seen so many split-second mistakes ultimately result in happily ever after. Not without tears and heartbreak and time, of course - but, in the end, things work out. They always, always do.

Sometimes the missteps are a matter of life or death. A moment's misjudgment behind the wheel killed a close friend and her father several years ago, drastically affecting many, many lives in an instant. I watched from a close observation point as her fiance and family grieved and dealt with the aftermath - but, eventually, they were able to move on. Her mother is happily remarried; her fiance is happily married to an amazing, dear friend of mine, and they have beautiful babies. Life goes on, and the broken pieces fall into place.

Earlier this year I had the blessing of attending a close friend's wedding, and it hit me during the ceremony that I was there because of a broken toe. Don't believe me?

Well, in 8th grade, while living in Utah with my dad, I broke my toe by tripping over home base and falling while playing kickball in my drama class. (Birkenstocks are not an ideal choice of kickball footwear, FYI.) Because of the injury, I left my bike at school - and when we came to pick it up that night, the back tire had been stolen. My dad was not a happy camper, to say the least, and he felt an appropriate punishment for my thoughtlessness was having to miss out on the 8th grade promotion dance. I, in turn, felt this was a gross injustice. After all, it wasn't like I got rid of the tire maliciously. Long story short, a HUGE fight ensued that ended with 13-year-old me shouting "Fine, I want to go live with Mom!" My dad handed me the phone with a warning that if I called her, that was that: one-way ticket back to California, end of story. My mother was one to make threats she didn't back up, and my father wanted to teach me that words carry weight. (Apparently I still need to learn that lesson... but... yeah.)

Although that choice had heart-wrenching consequences, it also led me to the women who are among my closest friends in the world today. Those friendships sustained me through high school, college, and into the present - particularly with those who live in Utah along with me, including the aforementioned bride. And, really, I wouldn't trade the strength or wisdom acquired through the hardship at home for the world. That experience has made me who I am today.

The "what if" moments in life may be haunting - they certainly give gravity to every moment in life - and at the same time, they're not the be-all and end-all. They act as the imperfect cracks that let God's grace shine through. He can bring light and joy into the messes we cause. Sometimes, as the song notes, there really is "hell to pay," but that price can be worth the wisdom and humility earned. We just have to maintain the perspective that, as Elder Neal A. Maxwell taught, "The cavity which suffering carves into our souls will one day also be the receptacle of joy." Oh, how sweet that joy will be when we embrace it and let go of the struggle faced in the split-second missteps.

I Can Do Hard Things

Picture snagged from Sweet Coconut Lime

Imagine limping your whole life on a poorly mended broken bone. The break came so early in life that you don't really remember walking differently. You don't notice it that much, really, until you try to leap and run and dance like your peers - but just plain can't. Finally, you hit the point where you refuse to be held back any longer, but the only way to heal it is to endure the painful process of rebreaking it, resetting it, and then working through physical therapy to rebuild strength. The process is arduous, unglamorous, frustrating, and exhausting - but it's that, or limp forever.

I'd rather leap than limp, even if it means being broken in the short term.

Since the fall, I've been working with an EMDR specialist to clear out the pain of my past, which is what I'd referred to in my last post. In so many ways, it's been AMAZING - I've had so many powerful "Aha!" moments that have brought phenomenal insight and empowerment. But at the same time, it's the hardest thing in the world to unleash the most painful moments and emotions that have been under lock and key for a lifetime - and stare them in the face. It is testing my strength in every way imaginable, and balancing all of that with my usual life of work, grad school, freelance, dating, friendships, church responsibilities, etc. has taken its toll. I am just plain burned out.

Apparently, so is my thyroid. Again. For the last decade, I've had Hashimoto's thyroiditis. It really hasn't been a big deal - just pop a pill in the morning, and I'm fine. But (not coincidentally - thank you, body/mind/spirit connection) as I've launched into working through things, the symptoms have crept back. I started noticing little random things, like the layers of my fingernails splitting and breaking, my hands being freezing cold (which I never noticed until the guy holding them commented on it repeatedly - cold hands, warm heart?), muscles in my legs and feet cramping up out of nowhere. But it wasn't until last week, when walking a 5K left me wiped out in bed all day, that I realized something was really wrong. And then everything added up.

Here's hoping the thyroid's the culprit, because it's easier to deal with a known evil than an unknown one. I've had it managed for 10 years, so I'm sure I can get it back to normal. Even so, it's scary and frustrating to physically not be able to do what I'd like. I just plain don't have the energy, and when it's gone, it's gone. For someone who's M.O. is to go, go, go, it's killer.

For the last several months, in the midst of all of this, I've pondered the idea of glorying in tribulations. I've spent a lot of scripture study looking at verses about trials, tribulations, and the blessings that follow those who faithfully endure. To say I feel overwhelmed is an understatement, but the thought that keeps coming back to me over and over again is  "I can do hard things" - and, most importantly, I don't have to do them alone. In the strength of the Lord, through the enabling power of Christ's grace, I can do that which I could not do otherwise. Only He knows fully what's going on; only He fully understands anyway. His love is unconditional, and He knows my capacity better than I do. In my most heartbroken moment, all I could think was "Wow, God must trust me more than I trust myself to get through this!" The only way I can get through what lies ahead is to lean on the strength of the Lord and to trust in His infinite wisdom and strength.

Time and time again, I've come back to the Lord's promise in Ether 12:27:

And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them. 

I'm experiencing the reality of this verse in powerful ways. There's something amazing about being okay with weakness when it's a stepping stone to strength.  I've never felt more humbled to the core as my barriers and walls have come tumbling down, and I've never been more keenly and painfully aware of my weaknesses and failings - and yet, I've never felt more empowered, really tapping into the strength of the Lord. This journey is one in which I can't reach out to any person in my life - it's too personal and hard to explain. But I can turn to the Lord with this broken heart and contrite spirit, and I trust in His power to make these weaknesses into strengths.

It's going to be an interesting summer, to say the least. At this point, I feel like making it to 30 with my mind, heart, and body in tact will be an accomplishment in and of itself!!! But without a doubt, I know that I'll come through this a better, stronger, wiser woman, more fit to be the wife and mother I dream of becoming someday (hopefully soon). Pretty much can't think of a better gift to myself and my posterity than that!

Sometime We'll Understand

Not now, but in the coming years

It may not be when we demand

We'll read the meaning of our tears

And there, sometime, we'll understand--

Why what we long for most of all

Eludes our open, pleading hand;

Why ever silence meets our call,

Somewhere, sometime, we'll understand.

So trust in God through all thy days;

Fear not, for He doth hold thy hand;

Though dark thy way, still sing and praise

Sometime, sometime we'll understand.

Sometime, we'll fall on bended knee,

And feel there, graven on His hand;

Sometime with tearless eyes we'll see

What, here, we could not understand.

So trust in God through all thy days;

Fear not, for He doth hold thy hand;

Though dark thy way, still sing and praise

Sometime, sometime we'll understand.

Next week I have the blessed opportunity to sing Rob Gardner's beautiful Lamb of God in this concert. During tonight's next-to-last rehearsal, this song touched my heart so much, it brought me to tears. Wish that I could find the audio online somewhere to share, but alas -- you'll have to trust me and listen to a clip here (or get it on iTunes. Worth every penny).

I don't understand why we're called to endure certain trials in our lives -- failing health, loss of a loved one through either death or diverging paths, a longstanding lack of something good, whether that be a job or a baby or a spouse. Life's hard. It really, truly, just is. But there is always hope. How grateful I am for a Heavenly Father who is involved in the details of our lives. His hand is in it all -- there is true method in the madness, although we may not be privileged to see the whys in the moment, if ever. More importantly, I'm grateful for a Savior who already bore all of our griefs, sorrows, sins, and afflictions so that He can succor us perfectly if we but turn to Him for comfort and care.

One of my favorite quotations comes from Jack Rushton, a quadraplegic patriarch in Orange County: "In life, pain and suffering are inevitable -- but misery is optional."

His words are so true. Each of us are here to be tested and tried, for it is only in those difficult moments that the true mettle of our character is tested. Who is it that knows the strength of the winds but the man who seeks to stand, not the one who bends, right? But we don't have to go the road alone, nor do we need to live in misery. Men are that they might have joy, even if that means glorying in tribulation (not just after the fact when we're on the other side of them!).

For now, we get to walk by faith and trust that God won't give us anything we can't conquer -- and that He will make up to us every tear, every sorrow, every heartache and lonely moment. The greatest gifts and blessings God can share with us are likely ahead of us on the path, if we will press forward. For a good reminder, read Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin's powerful talk, Come What May and Love It.

And if you want to hear what prophets of God are saying to us now, tune into General Conference this weekend. Don't know about you, but my heart and soul are ready to drink deeply from those waters starting tomorrow. Hard to believe it's been six months already since the last one! 

Broken

Broken. Fractured, imperfect, disconnected, not functioning.

That pretty much sums up how I've felt for a while now. One failure cracked my heart deeply, and a subsequent series of smaller heartaches and disappointments compounded to drive the fissure into a fracture I just haven't been able to set and mend on my own. That, of course, leads to more feelings of failure and frustration, and... well... the cycle can be vicious.

While discussing this with a wonderful listening ear today, this anecdote by Pres. Boyd K. Packer came to mind (boy, am I ever glad I listened to that fireside):

A Broken Bird

Now, the last thing I want to talk to you about: a broken bird.

Over the years, as a diversion, I have carved wooden birds. Sometimes it would take a year to complete one. I would get specimens and measure the feathers and study the colors and then carve them. I would carve a setting for them. It was very restful. Sometimes when I would get unsettled, my wife would say, "Why don't you go carve a bird!" It was a very calming thing in my life.

Elder A. Theodore Tuttle and I were going into town one day. I had one of the carvings. I was taking it in to show someone. We had put it on the backseat. At an intersection, he slammed on the brakes, and the carving tipped upside down on the floor and broke to pieces. He pulled over to the side and looked at it. He was devastated. I was not.

Without thinking, I said, "Forget it. I made it. I can fix it." And I did. I made it stronger than it was. I improved it a bit.

Now, who made you? Who is your Creator? There is not anything about your life that gets bent or broken that He cannot fix and will fix. You have to decide. If some of you have made mistakes and you think you are broken and cannot be put together, you do not know the doctrine of the Church. You do not know what the Atonement was about and who the Lord is and what a power He is in your life.

This is His Church. We are His servants. We who hold the priesthood have His authority and power. We can perform miracles. We do not talk about them. Most of those miracles have to do with healing the body. The greater miracles are the miracles of spiritual growth and healing in the lives of every one of us.

All of us feel broken, disconnected, and flawed at one point or another. That's the only reason I share this -- if I knew I was the only person who felt like this, I'd keep it to myself, after all. To live is to experience moments of loneliness and discouragement. Thankfully, we have a Savior who knows us innately and will heal us if we turn to Him. He made us -- He can fix us and help us to be stronger and better because of the challenges we overcome.

One of my initiatives for 2012 is to study the Atonement of Jesus Christ, whether through scriptures, inspired talks by LDS leaders, or books like The Infinite Atonement and Believing Christ. I'm also reading non-religious literature about healing, compassion, shame resilience, and imperfection, all of which dovetail well with my doctrinal studies. Each day I'm reminded of the amazing Plan of Salvation our Father in Heaven created for us, which involved the Fall of Adam and Eve, creating that original disconnection between God and man. Man became imperfect, and no unclean thing can dwell in God's presence. Therefore, an Atonement was necessary, with Christ selflessly taking on the role of Mediator -- paying the price of our sins (as well as our sorrows, infirmities, grief, etc., all the sad and heavy things that weren't caused by a lapse in our agency) while extending infinite mercy and grace to us if we will follow the commandments God has spelled out that lead us back to Him. That knowledge makes all the difference in the world.

We might feel broken at times, but we're not like Humpty Dumpty, shattered beyond repair. Christ's perfect healing power can make us whole again. And for that, I will be forever grateful and awestruck.

Letting Go and Grasping "That Good Part"

I have a paper due tomorrow - the first school paper I've had to write in, oh, seven-ish years. So here I sit, sipping a caramel apple cider float (Seriously. OBSESSED. You must try, friends!), listening to this wonderfulness, and blogging. Naturally.

You call it procrastination, I call it much-needed "negative time."

Lately it feels like all I do is work - at my job, at school, at my side projects, at my calling, at self-improvement. Coming from a family of workaholics, it's not hard for me to feel this constant need to work, especially when my to-do list never seems to end. After all, as I've written before, work has a wonderful spiritual dimension that expands our souls as it strengthens us and expands our capacities, stretching us to new heights.

But sometimes... we need to stop. Seriously.

There is a point at which being "anxiously engaged in a good cause" gives way to "run[ning] faster than [we have] strength," which we're told is beyond the realm of doing all things with wisdom and order, and I feel like I've reached that point. Even the fun things like playing with friends, dating, and traveling have somehow shifted into feeling like more work, and that simply is not acceptable.

After all, Christ made time to draw away from the crowds and refocus. He chided Martha for being so "cumbered about much serving" that she failed to choose "that good part" and drink deeply from Living Waters at the Savior's feet while she had the opportunity. The Prophet Joseph Smith was advised to "not run faster or labor more than you have strength and means provided... but be diligent unto the end." Even Elder Richard G. Scott gave a wonderful example in April 2011's General Conference about how his wife urged him to play in the fall leaves with his young children instead of fixing their broken washing machine.

There will forever be things that need doing. There will never be the opportunity to go back, however, and to change those crucial interpersonal moments that get lost in the shuffle. A quote I heard in church earlier this summer has become words I've tried to live by ever since:

Never let a problem to be solved become more important than a person to be loved.

(And sometimes that person deserving love is ourselves.)

In order to give that all-important love, we need water in our well from which to draw. We've even been commanded to "be not weary in well doing." I think that goes beyond not getting sick of doing good things. We also need to avoid getting sick from doing too much "well doing" at the expense of our hearts and sanity.

Lately I feel like I've just been present - and that's about as good as it gets. My recent trip to Denver was lovely, but I felt like such a zombie!!! I can get away with that with close friends, but with new people (more specifically, with these awesome guys who have asked me out of late), it simply doesn't cut it. I feel like with each date I've gone on in the last several months - since my play started in the spring, really - I've felt like

even if I looked more like

And that honestly goes for at least a dozen dates this year. How unfortunate! I just load up on caffeine, put on a smile, and do my best to be engaged and interesting when, really, I could fall asleep any minute. An exhausted shadow of the awesome person I can be is hardly the impression I want to leave.

The upside to the craziness is that it's caused me to really reevaluate my priorities, to find what I can trim and to let things go in their season. I've honed in on energy-zapping relationships and said that basically it gets better, or we don't have a relationship. (Most empowering thing ever!) I simply don't have the energy to waste on that anymore. I'm a less anxious dater now because I don't have the time to spend fretting about what his interest level is. I know if I'm interested or not, and either way, whatever happens isn't a reflection on my worth or value. Sometimes the chemistry doesn't ignite. No use worrying about it. Things happen or they don't - and what's right to happen will happen eventually.

Best of all, I'm learning to let go of the concept of being perfect. Honest to goodness, one of my Thirty, Flirty and Thriving goals was to strive for perfection by 30. Sure, I'd say, I know perfection isn't actually attainable... but let's be honest. I really did want to get as close to it as possible. But now, I'm embracing the gifts of imperfection and vulnerability, seeing the wisdom and order in just being good enough and doing my best. It may not be perfect, but it's all I can give.

After all, that's why we have a Savior - to bridge the gaps where we fall short, not only in terms of sin and sickness but in everyday shortcomings.

And it's beautiful to let go and embrace "good enough." All these things I do aren't who I am, after all. It's important to be engaged, but it's also important to not get so depleted that there's nothing left to give.

So for now, I'm going to read this (and listen to) this BYU devotional by Elder Neal A. Maxwell over and over and over again until it sinks in. And I'll keep diligently doing my best, but I'll also work on refilling my bucket so I can get back to the main purpose we're here on this planet:

"Adam fell that man might be; and men are, that they might have joy."

Of Greys and Grace

Friends, in case you were unaware, I'm going grey. Like, a LOT. This may come as news, seeing as I make frequent visits to my adorable stylist Brooke to keep my locks matched with my 20-something status... but it's true.

My premature grey status is something with which I've been dealing for nearly a decade. All along I've naturally blamed it on genetics. After all, my father and uncles went grey quite early. Just runs in the family, right?

But while mentioning this to my dad's older sister recently, I realized that none of her kids have gone grey early. And, come to think of it, my older brother isn't nearly as bad as I am. And then I had a mental image my father around my age:

Nope. I've got way more than he did at/near my age. *sigh* So if it's not genetics, what on earth has caused all this grey? I mulled this over and came to some conclusions, the specifics of which are too personal to blog.

However, I thought this takeaway might make a winning parable.

Back in my BYU days, Elder David A. Bednar (who was BYU-Idaho president at the time) gave a remarkable devotional about the enabling power of grace. That talk came to mind again while pondering the greys (pun intended). We have access to "divine means of help or strength, given through the bounteous mercy and love of Jesus Christ," as the Bible Dictionary defines it. It is that grace which makes immortality possible - but it is that same grace which gives us strength and assistance to do good works that we would not otherwise be able to maintain if left to our own means.

Just as there is absolutely nothing I can do to reverse the course of aging and get my hair to stop greying, life will inevitably bring us trials and challenges for which we have no responsibility and over which we have zero control. Yet we have all the power in the world regarding how we act and react - whether we forgive the offender, whether we let that disappointment / disagreement / offense fester, or whether we let go, march ahead, and make the best of what is.

When the grey hairs started getting noticeable my sophomore year at BYU, I made a choice: color my hair, come what may, until I feel like going grey in middle age. I'm far too young for it now, and boy am I glad to be able to take the reins and control its appearance. I don't like it - I can change it. Simple as that. Heck, as time has worn on, I've gotten adventurous and figured as long as I'm dyeing it, might as well have some fun:

Likewise, the root causes of my grey roots have been circumstances beyond my control. I can't go back and change the past; I can't bear an unending grudge for mistakes made by others in my younger years. It won't change a thing - except to change me for the worse, and why bother? Life is too sweet and wonderful to waste time on unproductive negativity. Really, if I didn't point it out, people wouldn't even notice the grey now, just like how they don't know about past griefs and disappointments unless I say something. Thank goodness we have access to that enabling power of grace through Christ's Atonement. It heals what's broken, strengthens what's weak, and gives additional power to us even when we feel like we have a pretty good handle on things.

And so, off I go to Brooke for another dose of dye and girltalk. On the more eternal scale, it's good to know I choose how vivid I let those past disappointments be in my present - and, thanks to Christ's grace, I happily opt to let them fade away. That's the sort of greying I'm happy to take on.

Hope for the Holidays

"No matter how bleak the chapter of our lives may look today, because of the life and sacrifice of Jesus Christ, we may hope and be assured that the ending of the book of our lives will exceed our grandest expectations." - Pres. Dieter F. Uchtdorf

You know, hope seems to get neglected amid its companion virtues of faith and charity, but I gotta say, hope has got to be one of the greatest feelings in the world! There's something so brightening about knowing that where we are in the now is not where we'll be forever, that there are bigger and better things ahead if we can summon the strength and courage to keep on keeping on.

I'm seeing some miracles come to pass in my life, things I'd written off and lost hope toward - only I didn't realize that I'd lost hope, if that makes sense. Instead I figured I was being tough and wise, looking out for myself, guarding my heart, adamantly refusing to set myself up for disappointment yet again. And that's on a few fronts, actually, but it wasn't 'til right now that the ridiculously obvious parallels came startlingly clear.

Anyways.

The last couple of weeks, events have been set in motion by external forces (i.e. I wasn't expecting or planning on it!), and all of a sudden I'm full of this exuberance and peace and radiant happiness that I haven't felt in a while. The scales of skepticism are falling from my eyes, the pain of the past is dissipating to where it belongs - in the past and far from my present! - and, well, I'm hopeful. Hopeful that what seems to be on the horizon really will be. Hopeful that the other person won't let me down again - and if they do, well, hopeful that I'll be able to rely on the Redeemer's healing yet again. Hopeful that I won't stumble and fall but will be able to make some amazing things happen in 2011. Goodness knows 2010 was packed. I feel like it's the year I came into my own, and now there's nothing but blue skies ahead.

Here's to some hope-filled adventures on the horizon!