Fears

I miss Michael. I need Michael to come home. I need to come to peace about the life I've lived the past two years. I need to be more patient. I need to be more understanding. I need to be more confident. I need to be more independent. I need to be more humble. I need to love. I need to be loved. I need to not feel so alone.

Service and Friendship

"I have wept in the night for the shortness of sight that to somebody's need made me blind; But I never have yet felt a tinge of regret for being a little to kind
--Unknown"

So many times I've been told that I'm too nice. I don't understand that idea and I feel confident that the Savior would not agree with this idea either. I think the problem that people see with being too nice, is that you will be taken advantage of... And I will acknowledge that possibility, but I believe, ideally we can follow the model the Savior has given in this principle.

It is true that the Lord gives us an eternal amount of second chances. We can repent, and his arms will forever be stretched out still. The key difference thing to remember is that he has taught us how to behave and how to return to him. In our own lives, we have the same ability to "teach" those around us what we expect from them... Whether it's doing the dishes, or putting the toilet seat down. If they don't meet our expectations, that doesn't mean that we get upset or give up on them. It means we continue to serve and love them even if they never return with the actions of respect or love that we desire.

I've heard so many people say that the Lord does not expect us to do this. "Once a cheater, always a cheater" kind of thinking that teaches us not to trust those who have messed up. The idea being that if we trust someone who has betrayed us in the past, we are setting ourselves up and people will take advantage of us. But I believe the notion of being "taken advantage" can only apply if you are ignorant of the situation. If you are choosing to serve unconditionally, you can never be "taken advantage of" because you are giving that service willingly. In that sense, it is all dependent on how you think about it. And I believe that willingly serving those who may take advantage of us, gives us a power through strengthening us in patience and love, while dissolving any negative feelings we may have. To refuse service because of some maleficent or unappreciated deed is immature, and more harmful to you, than it will ever be to the actor of that deed.

"Kindness, love, patience, understanding, and unity will increase as we serve, while intolerance, jealousy, envy, greed, and selfishness decrease or disappear. The more we give of ourselves, the more our capacity to serve, understand, and love will grow."
--Carlos H. Amado, "Service, a Divine Quality"

"The Savior will let you feel the love He feels for those you serve. The call is an invitation to become like Him."
--Elder Henry B. Eyring

In my life, I feel a great responsibility to touch and influence the lives of those around me for good. I have a constant fear that the people who cross my life will do just that.. "cross my path." I may only have a short amount of time with any one person that enters my life. I might not have a lifetime of friendship to love and cherish them and to be there for them in all their needs. And to be honest, that scares me. One of the greatest talents I possess is my ability to make strong friendships, especially in times of need. I hold myself to high expectations of "what a friend is." Sometimes I fear that makes me only a successful "bad weather friend." I have seen the Lord put people in my life that needed me. And I have also seen many friendships dissolve when the trial was over. "Our paths cross" ... but do not seem to stay on the same path for very long. Sometimes I resent this. It is in trial that I have seen myself grow closest to friends in my life. To watch such a powerful friendship dissolve afterwards, is awful.

Trials are extremely powerful things that lead to a plethora of opportunities. It is in trial that we have that opportunity to grow closer to our Savior and our King.

At the same time, I deeply appreciate knowing that I can be an instrument in the Lord's hands. I feel such gratitude for the opportunities I have had to get to know so many wonderful and precious Children of God. I love them. And I know the Lord will allow me a few kindred spirits that I can save as my closest friends for my entire life. I cherish the opportunities I have to learn and grow from them and to love them for a life time. I pray regularly for the blessing that my most cherished friends will spend more time in my life than just to "cross my path."

"We become more substantive as we serve others--indeed, it is easier to 'find' ourselves because there is so much more of us to find!"
Teachings of the Presidents of the Church: Spencer W. Kimball, 85-86)

If there is anything in the gospel of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints that I have a testimony of, it is service. I hope and pray with all my heart to be in tune to the needs of those around me. I pray for the spirit to guide and direct my words and my actions. I want nothing more in life than to know that I have spent a life time in the service of my God and my fellow man.

I have such a strong capacity to love that I yearn to feel more love for those around me. And the best way I know to find that is to serve. I want a life of service. It is in service that I learn the most about the characteristics of my Savior and that I yearn to be more like him. It is in service that I grow. I find myself. And I find an unending well of possibility that I can continue to find as I perfect my ability to serve and love unconditionally and to see others through the eyes of Christ.

Hands like His

Today I went to the Salt Lake Temple with Ann. If there is anything to be remembered, it is the spirit of the pioneers that could be felt in that building. Sitting there it didn’t feel like there could possibly be anything much more important than sitting in that room, full of heritage, imagining those people… people like Brigham Young who had walked through those halls and had baptized the saints in the same font I was about to climb down into.

For whatever reason, the whole time I was there, I couldn’t stop thinking about our dear friend, Vanessa. For those of you who don’t know Vanessa… she was blind. Vanessa was one of the sweetest people you would ever have met and the most patient. She never let being blind inhibit her from doing anything she wanted to do. She died a few months ago. Every time we went to a temple with Vanessa, someone would take her by the elbow and guide her by the walls so she could feel the designs in the woodwork and admire the beauty of the temple through the feeling in her hands as someone described them to her to the best of their ability. I remember her being sad when we went to the San Antonio temple, because San Antonio’s beauty is in the art work and in the stained glass windows and not in the woodwork. It was hard for her to appreciate the beauty of that temple when she was used to the Houston temple. But she always kept in mind that she was in the Lord’s house, and that made it beautiful.

Salt Lake City Temple was very simple inside. Most of the woodwork was simple. But the parts that had designs were beautiful and ornate. Imagining some pioneer carpenter making them by hand was awe inspiring and added to the feeling of sacredness to the room. I also spent a lot of time admiring the oxen. Their faces and their eyes showed a sense of deep concern. I felt like their eyes were communicating the tragedy that so few people come to the temple… the tragedy that so many souls out there have yet to have that saving ordinance of baptism and be sealed to their families. Their eyes showed a Christ like love.

The whole time Ann and I sat in the baptismal room I thought of Vanessa and how she would have seen that room. After I felt like I had absorbed the room as much as I could visually, I closed my eyes and felt everything I could with my hands without trying to be obvious about it. It made me sad that Vanessa would not have been able to feel those oxen, as I was not able. How would someone have described the emotions in the eyes of those figures? Most things were simple as I said… but there was something very different about cutting off the perspective of eye sight and feeling things with my hands. I felt like the age of the building was seeping through my hands and telling me things my eyes could not. I still felt the spirit of the room, even when my eyes were closed. I knew Vanessa would have been able to feel the spirit in that room and feel its history as I was able, and I just knew she would have loved it. With all her heart.

I thought a lot about hands. I don’t think we think enough about hands. Hands are so sensitive and can feel so much. They can also do so much. Sitting in the temple, thinking of how Vanessa used her hands to see and not just feel, I thought to myself, that Vanessa probably understood hands so much better than anyone else. If we let him, the Lord’s hands can be working constantly in our lives, helping us to grow closer to him. I thought about our hands, and how like most seeing people, we don’t appreciate our hands as much as the blind. Our eyes blind us in a sense, if that makes any sense. If we let the spirit guide our hands, our actions… we too can grow sensitive like the blind when they read brail. We can act as the Lord’s hands in the lives of those around us, sensitive to their needs we can serve the Lord as we serve them. It’s a special part of the gift we have in being on this earth.

Cowboy Music from the Wild East

The first time I ever wanted to travel abroad was when I was just 9 years old. I went to a small private school located in a shopping center called "The Village." In that same plaza was a movie theater that showed a lot more classic, international, and independent and old school movies rather than the current out-coming movies. I had a science teacher that year whose name was Greg. He was by far one of the greatest science teachers I have had in my life and he will forever hold a special place in my heart and in the hearts of my two closest sisters who also had him.

One week a movie called Genghis Blues came into the theater and my science teacher came into possession of some free tickets. He asked kids in my class and their parents if any of us wanted to go to see this movie. He explained the basic premise of the movie. A blind blues singer named Paul Pena while listening to the radio one day happened upon a Russian short wave radio station and heard a group of Tuvan throat singers. Paul Pena became so fascinated with this form of singing that he later learned the Tuvan language, and self taught the Tuvan style of singing. Years later he traveled to the Republic of Tuva and won the Kargyraa portion of a National Throat Singing contest.

I don't really remember my thought process at my young age of 9 years... Maybe I just thought that if Greg wanted to see it, it was obviously worth seeing... but I decided to go see this movie.

I absolutely loved the movie and have wanted to see it again ever since. I have looked into buying the movie since then, but I only found it recently, and the DVD costs $25 so I have yet to deposit the money necessary to buy the film. In the moment I left that theater though, I knew that I would forever love the Tuvan people. I had never traveled anywhere, and I knew nothing of alternate lifestyles. I had never learned of anything more intriguing to me than of the Tuvan people and their style of throat singing. For years I studied the Tuvan language, and their culture and their food in my spare time. I attempted to teach myself how to perform the act of throat singing, but never truly mastered it (although one of my brothers did, as well as that beloved science teacher, Greg). I have of course, always been intensely jealous, not that I'd necessarily be inclined to admit that.

Every now and then I try to share my love for this people and their music with people I am friends with. I am most frequently met with mocking apprehension. It hurts. I'll be honest. I know they don't realize that I am attempting to share with them, something that I hold dear to my heart... but it does still hurt sometimes to see their faces as they mock the sounds that to me are some of the most beautiful sounds in the world.

I know that Tuva, the small Autonomous Republic, wedged between Siberia and Mongolia will forever be a place my heart longs to see. Even to this day, when I hear Tuvan singing, I long for the sights, and the smells, and the tastes of Tuva.



Can you honestly tell me after watching that... that you have ever seen or heard someone sing with more fervor or passion? I see it in their faces. I feel more love for a people I have never seen, listening to them, than I could ever explain. The closest description I have ever heard was when a dear friend of mine explained to me the feelings she had when hearing the Call to Prayer in Jerusalem... although I am sure our feelings are different.

I don't know that I will ever feel closer to the world than when I listen to Tuvan singers.



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tsVzm-rgS-w&feature=related

My Love for A Cockatiel

Camille is going to make it. But not with me. I cried last night... I couldn't go ten minutes without crying. Ann held me for a while and let me cry with her there, and talked to me a little about it. I needed her more than anything at that moment, and she was there for me. I prayed for strength to pull through this... And I prayed for Camille to have strength.

I finally fell asleep last night... and did not dream of Camille. I dreamed of other things. And every time I woke up my mind would start to wonder to thoughts of her, and I stopped myself because I sensed that it would be best if I did not think of her just then.

I finally woke up about 4:41 and my nose was too stuffy to breathe through, so I'd been breathing through my mouth and my throat was dry. So I went downstairs to get a glass of water and to take a Mucinex. I went up stairs and crawled back into bed and fell asleep once more.

This time, I dreamed of Camille. There was some kind of big event going on, and a big scary looking man came and took our parakeets and Camille. Said we didn't need them anymore. I kept looking for that man so I could get Camille back from him. When I finally found him, all he had was two grocery bags, one in each hand.... and I knew they were my birds. I don't remember the conversation we had but I think he was going to do something to them, and I didn't want that to happen... and he ended up agreeing with my alternative. He handed me the bag with the parakeets in it, and I threw it toward a pile of rocks. That way I knew their death was certain and they were not suffering any longer. He handed me the bag that had Camille in it and I just started crying. I lifted the bag up to my eyes to look for any sign of her body to see her just one last time... and poking out through the folds of a thin piece of cloth that she was wrapped in inside the bag, was her beak. I could see it moving and I shouted for joy. I pulled and tore at the bag as it opened and I pulled out Camille. Her beak opened in her biggest smile and she chirped for me. Her wings outstretched in the most glorious way possible and she looked magnificent. She looked beautiful and strong. And my heart was full of joy.

I awoke just then with a feeling of peace in my heart. I knew when I called Brenda this morning that there wouldn't be good news, but I just know that Camille is going to live. She will finish out her magnificent life with someone else... but I will see her again.

When I talked to Brenda, she said that Camille can barely walk. The vet thinks an organ has swelled against the nerves that go to her legs. Which most likely means her liver or her kidney. But she can still fly just fine, even if she cannot land. And that tells me, she has the strength to live. She will survive any surgery that vet gives to her. She will be wonderful, and I know that she will always remember me.

Brenda put the phone next to Camille so I could talk to her one last time. I heard her weak chirp. I admit I started crying, and I might cry several more times during the day... but I will be okay. Brenda's going to take a picture of her. I'm not sure I want to see her as she is now. I might not open the email, so I can remember her the way I always have.

I'm going to do something in honor of Camille. Whether it's make a pillow and embroider something on it just for her, or write a poem, or both.... But Camille deserves anything I can do. Anything and more.

Camille

 

Many of you have met my beloved bird, Camille. Well, she's pretty sick right now and I'm in Idaho so I can't even be with her during this time. There's a good chance I might lose her.

Pray for her, keep her in your thoughts. She deserves that.
I'm praying she will get better.

Temple Square

I want to go to Temple Square one day. I know I went once with my Aunt Jesse and my mother when I was just six years old or so... because there are pictures to prove it. But I don't remember it. I don't think I've been to Salt Lake since that day. I'd love to go back one day.

Until Then

 

The very last email I got from Michael before he left included this image.
Sometimes I wonder if I've pretended for so long... if there will ever be anything but pretend. Or if there ever was. It's so hard to think of someone as being real when you don't see them. The majority of my friends have never met him. Which only perpetuates the idea that maybe he doesn't exist. My memories of Michael are perfect. I interact with guys now and I wonder if I'm comparing them to some ghost that I made up in my head while I was sleeping. That maybe I should just give into creating a relationship with someone that doesn't compare. Because it's probably not fair that I make those comparisons to begin with. How could a relationship be as good as ours was? How could things have been so perfect? Am I just starting to forget? Have I created a false memory of how it was?

Of course, I know the answers to my questions. I have inner debates with myself fairly often. Waiting is easier now than it used to be. I can barely imagine him coming back. Because it doesn't feel real. I think I really have succumbed to the idea of living life the way I do now. Atleast most of the time.

I'm convinced that seeing him again will be one of the most surreal moments of my life.

No Intent to Send

Sometimes I write letters, or emails... or even have imaginary conversations with people in my head. Because there are so often things that I wish I could say but can't. It might be because I'm not entirely sure how they would react, or maybe because I know they wouldn't react well. Maybe it's because circumstances don't allow it, or maybe I'd regret it. And there are some things I wish I could say, just to let them out. I hate having secrets. I hate having things about me that are unknown, especially to those I love.

But if they knew, they'd never think of me the same. No matter what you might say, if you knew, then every time you looked at me, or thought of me, it would pop into your head. Our relationship would be changed forever. And for that, I could never forgive myself.

There are some things you just don't say.
And some things, you just don't send.

Pictures

There's not much more that makes me happier than spending time with good friends. And right next to that, is getting pictures with those good friends. Specifically good pictures. Pictures that represent the closeness that is our friendship--pictures that represent special memories. While I enjoy taking pictures of my friends that savor their personality and who they are to me, I love pictures of my friends and I together most.

No friendship is complete without a picture that represents that friendship.
That's just how I feel.