New Beginnings

"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." -- Semisonic, "Closing Time"

Friends, think back with me to a time when you ventured into the unknown--first day at a new school, first Sunday in a new church congregation, a first date, or even the first social outing with a new set of friends. Remember the butterflies? The queasy uneasiness? The nerves and petrifying fear, wondering how this next chapter of your story would play out?

Well... I'm on the precipice of major changes once again, and somehow I keep thinking this will get easier with age, but... it doesn't. It still feels raw and vulnerable and so scary to face the unknown, walk away from what's comfortable and joyous and working, and venture into a new opportunity with no certainty of what lies ahead.

This January, I will officially age out of being in a young single adult ward (congregation) and will once again attend a "family" (traditional) ward for the first time in my adult life. I haven't been part of a family ward since the Sunday before I graduated from high school!!! I left high school graduation in my cap and gown and moved straight up to BYU, where I've been actively engaged in the YSA scene ever since--from BYU wards aplenty to the two singles wards in the southernmost tip of Orange County to four wards across the four years I've been back in Utah. In each case, a huge chunk of my social life (if not the majority, honestly) has derived from the friendships made within the current ward. It's so natural in LDS life!

Singles wards are busy busy--three hours of church on Sundays (plus a couple more hours of leadership meetings for the bulk of the last nine years), post-church potlucks, ward prayer, firesides, Monday night "Family Home Evening" activities, mid-week Institute classes, a number of activities that pop up throughout the weeks and weekends... and that's only the formal stuff! Then there are the social gatherings that naturally grow out from the friendships cultivated through so much church-sanctioned interaction.

And in a mere seven weeks... that part of my life and my identity will end. Completely. Forever. And there's not a danged thing I can do about it.

To say this feels intimidating and powerless is an understatement. I absolutely adore my ward! And the feeling is mutual. I was out of town yesterday and managed to receive at least five texts or Facebook messages from friends, telling me how missed I was and asking how I'm doing.

Come January, I'll switch to a family ward, which is what it sounds like--a congregation filled with participants of all ages and stages of life instead of the 18-31-year-old singles of YSA wards. Each type of ward has its benefits; a family ward certainly trumps the YSA ward on depth of life experience, especially in the ward into which I'm heading. I've been attending intermittently since August to ease the transition, and I've been nothing but impressed with what I've found there.

But that still doesn't stop me from having a heartbreaking sense of loss, defeat, and trepidation each time I walk into the back of the chapel and sit alone, uncertain of what the heck I'm doing there... feeling like a failure in the deepest, most visceral sense.

My life's mission is to marry and raise a family--no, not in some broad, sweeping gender stereotype sort of a way, but in a personal, Christa's-hopes-and-dreams sort of a way. It's all I've ever wanted, and getting booted from the singles ward because I've expired is really, truly the actualization of one of my greatest fears. I never wanted this to happen, just like I never expected to graduate from BYU single. And while that unexpected life path has brought countless blessings and such great happiness that I wouldn't have had it any other way... that still doesn't completely soothe the sting of feeling like I've failed to accomplish the One Big Thing I want in my life.

And... oh, the ridiculousness... I also recognize that with each passing year, I grow closer to the inevitable fulfillment of that dream, and it fills me with just as much trepidation as the lack of it does too!!! Talk about a Catch-22--I just can't win!

Couple those senses of loss and uncertainty with how the other Big Thing I wanted to happen didn't, and... I haven't felt so at a loss for understanding where I fit into this great, big world and what comes next in my story in a loooooooong time. And for a PLANNER, feeling totally lost and unsure of what's next is just about the scariest, loneliest feeling in the world!!!!

I do trust in God's timing and in His plans for my life--and, without a doubt, His plans always turn out to be a million times more amazing than anything I've dreamed or schemed for my own days.

But still... this hurts. A lot. And as much as I just want to savor every last second of my seven weeks in the singles ward, the fact that I know it's ending and soon just rips up my heart. I felt like I missed enough with yesterday's absence while in another state. How on earth will I handle stepping away when geographically I haven't budged?!

How do you handle life's great disappointments and unexpected twists? Goodness knows this problem pales in contrast to the life-or-death battles friends of mine are facing--and these kinds of disappointments are just part of life. I'm no different from anyone else. But even so, I'd love to hear how you cope!

Gearing Up for Grandeur

How would you change your day-to-day life if everything you've dreamed of is just around the corner?

This is a thought that I've been chewing on a lot lately. After the blood, sweat, and tears of the last two years, including the aforementioned "physical therapy" phase, I'm finally able to breathe again and to enjoy the sweetness and magnificence that is my life—and with newly gained compassion, patience, insight, and wisdom.

And wonderfully sweet, exciting adventures lie so close in store, I can brush them with my fingertips!

But I've also had a jarring, eye-opening realization in the last week: what does it MEAN if these long-awaited blessings are just around the corner? Am I ready?

In my heart of hearts, I know that my life's on the brink of major, major changes once more. Remember how I felt this... and then this happened? (And events unfolded to make my life infinitely better than anything I could've imagined or realized?) I've gone through enough rounds of this to recognize the pattern.

Which means it's time to work with a laser-like focus on making weak things become strong.

Last week I read this Psychology Today article that examined why/how "bright girls, when given something to learn that was particularly foreign or complex, were quick to give up—and the higher the girls' IQ, the more likely they were to throw in the towel. In fact, the straight-A girls showed the most helpless responses... [because] more often than not, bright girls believe that their abilities are innate and unchangeable, while bright boys believe that they can develop ability through effort and practice."

Sigh.

This article hit me profoundly because that is the story of my life! I've always been very, very bright—and, ultimately, it's been detrimental. I have limited myself SO much by not pushing past the limits of my comfort zone and only playing to my strengths. If something doesn't come naturally to me, I just avoid it or brush it off: "I'm just terrible at sports." "I can't do math to save my life."

My eyes are so painfully opened and aware of my weaknesses that I've ignored for this very reason. There are certain things that I've just given into, more or less—knowing I could do better but settling for this complacent mediocrity because, to some degree, I guess I don't believe I can do it. Sad, sad, sad.

Thankfully, the article goes on to discuss what is my new goal: "No matter the ability—whether it's intelligence, creativity, self-control, charm, or athleticism—studies show them to be profoundly malleable. When it comes to mastering any skill, your experience, effort, and persistence matter a lot. So if you were a Bright Girl, it's time to toss out your (mistaken) belief about how ability works, embrace the fact that you can always improve, and reclaim the confidence to tackle any challenge that you lost so long ago."

Examples abound of friends who have persevered over major obstacles to achieve great things, or who push past their disdain of the work to enjoy the result that work inevitably brings, whether it be running or school work or health issues.

If they can do it, I can too.
Right? In theory?

So, here's to sucking it up, buckling down, and working on becoming amazing. Or, as Sara Bareilles puts it, being BRAVE.

There's Something to Be Said...

...for friends who know you well enough to know you'll be up early on a Saturday morning...

...for knowing that while you can't cure the problem, a Baz Luhrmann movie and Nutella ice cream can work wonders for morale...

...for running errands on Saturday morning with minimal makeup and undone hair and not caring one iota...

...for the infinite power of hope, even when hope is all you have to go on...

...for the beauty of a sunny spring day with its blossoms and wispy clouds to make you forget the bitterness of a long winter...

...for OWNING your life in all its imperfect glory...

...for being self-aware enough to know that what you want most is NOT what you need right now... and that delaying that gratification will be worth the wait, whereas fulfilling it now would be detrimental!

...for the friendships so deep that a mere raise of the eyebrow or simple, perfectly timed smile can result in doubled-over fits of laughter...

...for those reminders that you can't script your life, so just enjoy the ride, because what's for you won't pass you, even if the story takes time to play out...

...for the new people who cross your path and shake up your prejudices and preconceived notions...

...for the phenomenal way that seven musical notes can transport you to a world of emotions and locations and eras, all in how they're arranged (seriously, HOW does that work?!?!)...

...for movies, music, etc. that can instantly take you back decades... like so:

(SWOON. Right?! )

...for making the deliberate choice to seek happiness and help others do the same...

...for quality, good men, single or married, who remind me of what I'm waiting for (not perfection, of course, but goodness and a heart that's focused on the right things)...

...for maintaining perspective and balance, choosing to see challenges as opportunities and remembering the power in perception...

...for the warmth that fills my home when friends are there...

...for savoring life's sweetness in its simple, everyday moments...

...and for remembering what matters most:

Spring Awakening

"Does a snake mourns the skin it sheds as it grows? Or a butterfly—does it hesitate when breaking free from its chrysalis and flying onward and upward?"

These are the thoughts I find myself pondering tonight. Glorious as it may be, growth means departing from the familiar and moving into the unknown, trusting that great things are ahead but not really knowing what that means. And for someone who struggles to let go of the reins, venturing into the unknown world alone is about as terrifying and uncomfortable as it gets!

The end of 2012 dovetailed with a life chapter's closing, and while I charged headlong into the new year with big hopes and aspirations... life had other plans (including two months of bronchitis). Six weeks ago I finally stepped into some semblance of a normal life, and... it's been a start-and-stop process ever since, relearning to what it means... well... to be me. 

I guess when you break a bone and reset it, there's inevitably a period of physical therapy, right? The fracture has healed, and that old, pesky limp is FINALLY gone, but the atrophied muscles have to awaken and regain their strength, and it takes so much patience and perseverance to get back to running and kicking and swimming and dancing and all those good things. And none of those will feel or function quite how they did before, nor should they.

Well... I suppose my heart, mind, and spirit are in something akin to physical therapy.

It's weird, picking up the pieces and moving forward into life again after a year spent on hold—breaking down to the core, working through heartbreaks, treasuring every moment with my sweet grandmother, transitioning into a new phase of complete independence. I didn't realize just how dearly I needed the connection and purpose and belonging I felt in Grandma's last months... and now... it's just me again. No roommates. No place in a family unit. No debt. No emotional obligations. I've never been so wholly independent in every sense—which is both liberating and isolating. 

As much as I try to look at everything as an opportunity... it's not easy. Most of the time I feel kind of lost. Keeping busy keeps my mind off of things... but I don't have the desire to push as hard as I once could. Busy is not a badge I like to wear anymore. Slowing down is great... except when it reminds me that I'm alone. Keeping the "nobody loves you" gremlins at bay is a frequent battle. I know in my head that I'm dearly loved by many... but when my days come and go with little meaningful connection to others, it gets tough to really believe that in my heart.

New friendships have helped immensely—I've been adopted into a wonderful group that fits so well, and we do dinner twice a week plus play games on Sunday nights—but there again, it's a mixed blessing. New relationships require patience and effort and vulnerability—and goodness knows I feel vulnerable enough as it is just existing these days! I'm finally authentic and comfortable in my skin... but what it means to "be myself" is new, too. I'm not who I was a year ago (or six months ago, even). Just skimming my blogposts from as recent as December... man. That feels like ancient history. Even the focus on my "30 by 30" list—who was that girl?! So much of it seems silly and trivial now in the grand scheme of things. Familiar, good things are snapping back into place, like a desire to bake again Sunday for the first time in ages. But the deeper, emotional things are all new.

And it's funny, because when I get out of my own way and just LIVE, I do wonderfully. People tell me I'm amazing frequently... and I'm not trying for that feedback. I'm just being myself. But when I think about it, that's when I second-guess and wobble and fall—getting scared, wanting to run away and hide in my condo, where it's safe. And don't even get me started on dating!!! So many false starts lately that ultimately lack real traction and potential... but hope still prevails. It'll happen when it happens, and when it does, it'll be glorious.

Meanwhile... I just keep trekking along. Usually I like imparting of some overarching insight or wisdom when wrapping up a blogpost, but this time? I got nothing, kids. I'm making life up as I go! And, really, I guess that's the best insight of all, because that's reality. It's all we're asked to do—no more, no less.

But I will leave you with a couple gems I've found of late:

"You're going to become more tolerant with time, and not only because you have more to tolerate in yourself. Because life will batter you and you'll have a surer sense of what's important and has meaning and is good."—Peggy Noonan, 

Wall Street Journal

And...

Prop. 8, Four Years Later

We all knew this day would come.

Even as the votes were tallied and California voters opted to pass Proposition 8, defining marriage as between a man and a woman, those of us on the fight's frontlines knew it wasn't over. A sigh, perhaps, of temporary relief - we cleared one hurdle, won one battle. But we knew the fight wouldn't end until the case was ruled on by the Supreme Court.

And that time is now.

Prop. 8 is a tender subject for me. In many ways, being as involved hands on as I was really, truly changed my life for the better - but it wasn't about marriage, then or now.

For me, it was about integrity.

I believe in prophets. I believe in continuing revelation. I accept that while I may not see what lies ahead for us, and I may not understand what the consequences of varied courses of action may have, I do know that God has called men to be prophets, seers, and revelators. They are watchmen on the tower, and they receive guidance from God regarding how to act and advise for the best of God's children.

It's easy to follow the prophet when his requests aren't all that demanding. But what do you do when they truly test your soul and commitment and endurance?

As my hero Neal A. Maxwell put it, "Not shrinking is more important than surviving."

Well, I've never been one to shrink.

And so, while I know it's an unpopular stance, and while I know I may lose friends over this, I want to once again reaffirm that I support Proposition 8. There's a plethora of reasons I could give, supported and driven by hours upon hours of research I pored into the issue in 2008, but at the end of the day, it comes down to this: men who I sustain as prophets, seers, and revelators specifically asked my peers and myself via satellite broadcast in October 2008 to get involved in support of Proposition 8. I personally walked out of that fireside with strong, bold, clear direction about how specifically I was supposed to engage. My friend Heather and I hopped online immediately upon returning home and set up Preserving Marriage, springboarding from the LDS Church's website PreservingMarriage.org, as a group blog for several of our friends and ourselves to share insights and reasons for supporting traditional marriage. I spent hours of my evenings making phone calls; I spent Saturdays walking the streets of San Juan Capistrano to go door to door, explaining why the proposition made sense.

It wasn't easy. For one thing, some of my dearest, favorite, cherished friends are gay. I love them. I want them to be happy, and I know that they want marriage. I support them in their relationships. For another thing, getting involved in this made my friends and me targets of hatred and vitriol. Some even lost their livelihoods over it; goodness knows we all lost friends over the issue. Clearly "tolerance" only applies when you're arguing on one side of the issue. For those of us on the other side, no holds were barred in mocking, shaming, scorn, and insults.

But still, I knew that I aligned my actions with my belief in following the prophets, and regardless of what anyone else thinks on the matter, I know in my heart that I did what God asked. And I know that my life has been enriched immeasurably for acting with faith, integrity, and courage.

Meanwhile, I wish people could see the issue from my side of the line. It's not about hate or fear or homophobia or any negative emotion. It's about a firmly rooted belief in God and trust in His word. He is not a fickle God, and what He declares, He does for a reason. Yes, I understand that that line of reasoning doesn't hold up in today's forum of ideas -- in fact, the irreligious would argue it isn't "reasoning" in the first place. I don't care. I believe that respect is a two-way street. I would never shun or shame someone for taking a stand because I understand and respect that they reached that conclusion from a life experience that differs from mine. I would hope others would permit me the same space and freedom.

And so, honestly, when it comes to the court ruling... I'm ambivalent. I will be shocked to see Prop. 8 upheld. I just plain don't think it will happen. But regardless of that, I am proud to have taken a stand when it wasn't easy or popular because I knew it was right according to the beliefs I profess. I don't expect others to understand, but I hope they will appreciate that integrity, and I hope they will understand it's possible to unfailingly love all of God's children, regardless of their actions and choices, while still toeing the line God has drawn.

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.

A Word on My Single Status

Friends, I feel like every time I say anything remotely related to dating or along the veins of saying that I'd like to be married, I need to give a disclaimer.

So I'm going to give this disclaimer once. Please listen and take note - and I'm sure your other single friends would concur.

Ready?

When your response to anyone's commentary on their own singleness is something along the lines of a platitude or patronizing remark about how "It'll happen at the right time..." or "Just have faith..." or "Aren't you so glad you can traipse around New York City while I'm at home potty-training an unruly toddler?!"

Please... and I say this with the most love in my heart possible...

Save your breath.

There.

I said it.

After 12 1/2 years of being in the marriage-obsessed LDS singles scene, believe you me, I've heard it all. I understand and appreciate that the comments and compliments are meant to lighten my load, but honestly, they don't.

Because I know undoubtedly that God is preparing an amazing, righteous, wonderful man for me. I know that he will be worth every bad date endured, every tear shed, every hope dashed painfully to pieces. The caliber of men I've dated in the last couple of years, coupled with the phenomenal guy friends in my life, assure me that there are still plenty of keepers out there. I don't opt into the "all the good ones are taken" philosophy. Mine's out there, and he'll come when he and I are both ready for it. Period. End of story. And I wouldn't have him come along a moment sooner.

Because if I'd wanted just to be married by now, I would be. I've had offers, guys. And I mean that pretty seriously, even if the relationships didn't have labels affixed. There's one in particular who would marry me this minute, and boy, I would be the most cherished, lucky lady in the world... except for that whole temple marriage thing. I can't budge there. Some things you just plain don't settle on.

Because when I say I could really use a husband right now to hold my hand as I face the passing of my grandmother, I don't mean it as an invitation for platitudes. You mean well. I get it. I appreciate it. But I'm not complaining. I'm just acknowledging reality. There is a difference. I want someone who will hold me as I cry. I need that now more than I ever have in my 30 years. There's not a person on whom I can call for that right now (well, in the same state as me, at least), and that stings. I'm tired of being strong and feeling like I have to do it all myself. I want someone who is mine forever and always, from whom I can claim protection, companionship, comfort, support, etc. and who I can, in return, love with all of my heart, who I can nurture and cherish, with whom I can just plain enjoy how fun and wonderful life can be. Even awful situations like a midnight ER run can be an adventure with the right company, as my best friend and I learned last weekend. Yes, I have amazing friends who are here for me. And I don't discount that. But they have lives - busy lives and families of their own. And due to how I was raised, my default assumption is that I'm bothering people if I ask anything of them. I've had a lifetime of self-sufficiency. I want someone to whom my life materially matters, and vice versa.

Because life is supposed to be a team sport. Remember that whole Adam-Eve thing about it not being good for man to be alone? It's right there at the start of the Bible for a reason - it's the most essential, basic part of this earth-life experience.

Because I am really, truly, blissfully happy with my life right now. It is amazing. I'm done waiting to let myself fully enjoy and embrace my happiness with life as it is right now. No more asterisks. No more "Everything's great... except I just need a good man." So please refrain from discounting my happiness and putting conditions on it for me, okay? My post about how blissful and perfect my Thanksgiving was this year elicited a comment about how "all it was missing was a good man, and that will come!" Gag. Me. I know she meant well, but... she really didn't need to remind me what I'm missing and then top it with trite words of "comfort." I'm not postponing my happiness. Please don't do it for me, either.

Because it'll happen when it's right, and really, honestly, from the bottom of my heart, I am not worried about it. Do you have any concept of the energy I've expended in the last decade-plus, worrying about dating and crushes and trying to read between lines and decipher what's going on in the minds of the objects of my affection?! Can you imagine the amazing things I could have accomplished by channeling that into something productive?! Yeah. I don't want to regret wasted time and energy anymore, either. And after the last year, I'm out of extra emotional energy for the wasting anyway.

And, most of all, because I'm not going to pretend the lack's not there anymore than I'll let myself be defined by it. It is what it is, just as much as I can't control my height (but I can improve my posture) or my grey hair (but I can dye it). I'll make the absolute most out of my current single status, but acknowledging reality is neither a whining complaint nor a cry for complimentary platitudes. I know why I haven't gotten married yet - I've needed this time to grow and learn. I am an amazing woman now, far better than I was a year ago, and I am sooooo glad I didn't meet Mr. Right a moment sooner.

Please join me in embracing the awesomeness of what's there and letting go of what we can't control. And thank you, as always, for your love and good intentions. I appreciate it.

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!

Are You Online, Part 3

Remember how I said I take back what I'd said about online dating?

Well, I think I spoke too soon.

One prince among frogs does not change the fact that the virtual lily pond of dating is heavy on the frog side of things. It's encouraging to know that there are good guys out there... and if I found a winner via the interwebs once, then surely I can find another... but it's really like searching for a needle in a haystack. Tuesday I've got another online-initiated date lined up, and he seems like a great guy -- our phone chat last week went really well -- but still. I suppose it's no more awkward than a traditional blind date, but the process of assessing which ones merit face time seems so unnatural, and the odds aren't great.

But alas, what else is there to do? I'm not about to gather moss in my dating life. Gotta keep things rolling along! I'm doing my part to try the online thing, go to social gatherings where I could meet someone with potential (well, as much as my schedule permits), etc. -- but at the end of the day, I wonder how worthwhile all of that is. Really, it's a matter of your path crossing with the path of someone who's a match, and that doesn't change because of odds. It happens because of inspiration and heavenly help, and there's no forcing that. Better to focus on becoming the woman I need to be, serving others and living my faith, and just letting the rest fall into place as it will. The best things come when least expected, right? (I hope?)

So, here's to saying a prayer in my heart and keeping my proverbial powder dry -- or, in other words, doing what I can and trusting God to honor that and make miracles happen.

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!