In Retrospect

A beginning at the end.

December 28th:
We picked up my returned missionary brother from the airport
We opened presents about 7:30 PM
Stayed up until 2 AM with my brothers, talking, listening to new music

Suddenly, my long-lost brother is back. I see him every day, and I love it. Sometimes, though, my mind plays games with me: The past two years have been a dream, haven't they? My family's all together again; I'm sharing a bathroom with my brothers; every little quirk my family ever possessed has become magnified in these past few days.

But no. No matter how similar now and then are, we have changed. I am no longer the fearful, starry-eyed girl who held life at arm's length. These years have taught me about perseverance--to stick with my goals, and if I do, I'll reach them. About love--there are many more types and kinds than I realized--and how I must never take it for granted. About true, Christ-like kindness--this life is not merely for me and my hopes, but to help others reach theirs. About knowledge--there is so much not only to learn, but to experience, feel, and explore in this life; why should I waste it? Knowledge encompasses a greater sphere than simple book-smarts and cleverness. It's about the experiences we have and what we glean from them. In other words: it's wisdom. I am working on becoming wise.

It excites me that How To Save A Life has been around for an entire year. Looking back over my old posts, I can remember each of those feelings, sharp as a pin prick. Lessons learned, ardent achings articulated--blogging is a whole different vehicle for expression, and for a while, I did not think I could do it. Surely, other people carry more fascinating tales and more inspiring messages than I do. Yet, I know that something I have to say can help someone, somewhere. Who knows? Maybe I already have. I'd like to think so.

There's a lot more to discover out there, and I plan to find it. I want to improve, turn my flaws to fine points, and become the person I've always wanted to be.

So here's to another year--another chance to thrive!

Revival

I'm a lot like a hobbit.

With a few exceptions, I don't like much change. Routines are comfortable for me; knowing when, where, and how something happens provides a certain degree of security. I hate admitting it, but when plans change, my feathers get a bit ruffled.

Bilbo Baggins felt the same way when a band of dwarves marched into his house speaking of adventures, singing of past dangers, and consuming every ounce of his food. "I can't just go running off into the blue! I'm a Baggins! Of Bag End!"

At every turn, Bilbo worried about the accumulating mud on his floors and the dwarves' roughness in handling his family heirlooms. Essentially, he focused on the lesser things, not realizing what an incredible opportunity had presented itself to him.

I, too, have let my gaze slip from what matters most. Perhaps that is why I've neglected my blog for so long! When I am not scribbling away at an essay or intensely studying for an exam, I usually find myself watching an episode of my favorite show or wasting life away on stupid Pinterest. Honestly, I am comfortable. Safe, I guess.

But that isn't really living, is it?

Bilbo's fear of stepping outside the Shire is understandable. An adventure? Something so much bigger than you that you might not come back the same? Sounds daunting. Throughout Gandalf and the dwarves' visit, Bilbo's repeated answer was "no."

However, when the choice left him, he realized what he had lost. You could just see the hope on his face as he scoured his house for the crew the next morning--and the disappointment at not finding them.

No matter how accustomed to habit and mundaneness we are, we are almost always intrigued by something new. A chance to see, hear, and be what we never have before. Once the initial fear is pushed aside, our perspectives start to look a little like this:

All things considered, Bilbo overcame his fear rather quickly. Throughout his journey, he followed the best he could and worked diligently not to be a mere accessory to the crew. He actually ended up saving their leader--Thorin, a stoic and initially cold-shouldered dwarf. By his actions, Bilbo proved that no matter how small you may be, no matter how inexperienced or insignificant you may feel, you can make a substantial difference. I admire him greatly for that.

As for myself, I cannot quite decipher what's been holding me back. Am I afraid of what I can become? Am I simply too comfortable with where I am? Am I just lazy? Whatever the case, I am not where I should be. Sitting, studying, waiting. It's safe, easy, and completely... lifeless.

For the longest time, life has just been a theory. A question. Some faraway point I've been working up to my entire existence so far. Somewhere I've heard it mentioned that high school is like a treadmill--you're running, sure, but not progressing. You do grow stronger, but a treadmill can only provide so much. If you could only get outside; then you could see what you have missed.

But this Wednesday, a joyful gasp escaped me as I woke up smiling. 18. I'm an adult. Childhood is behind me, and there's nothing but endless possibilities in my view. Who will I meet? What new obstacles will I face? What undiscovered joys and sorrows await me?

I've decided that 18, my 18th year, will be the year of possibilities--of adventure. For anything goes. This is the beginning of my life. From here on out, I will work to fulfill my potential and change to become what the Lord, the world, and those I love need me to be. Nobody said life and love would be easy, but I've never heard anyone say it wasn't worth it.

I'll leave you with this:

Once upon another time
Before I left the child behind,
I saw myself in summer nights
And stars lit up like candle lights

I make my wish, but mostly I believed
And yellow lines and tire marks
Sun-kissed skin and handlebars
And where I stood, was where I was
To be

Once upon another time
Decided nothing good in dying
So I would just keep on driving
Because I was free.

-Sarah Bareilles, Once Upon Another Time

A Bit of a Fangirl...

This last Saturday I had the privilege of going to a book signing of Brandon Sanderson's (who, in case you didn't know, wrote the Mistborn trilogy and is currently finishing the Wheel of Time series). I AM A HUGE FAN of this guy and his work. In fact, the night before, I laid everything out and talked to my dad about going there early to get in line.

Excuse my complete and utter nerdiness, but I thought this expressed my thoughts pretty well. 

My dad, my uncle, and I went to Barnes and Noble to save a spot in line. Somehow we managed to snag second place! The girl in front of us was a friend of Sanderson's sister (both of them are named Lauren, too). For the next two hours, the four of us talked, read some of Sanderson's books, and totally geeked out. It is always fun finding someone to discuss your favorite books with; the whole reading experience seems to become more satisfying.

With the minutes closing the distance to 2:00, I started to feel anxious: I didn't even know what I was going to say! I could imagine myself blurting something along the lines of "Um hi. You're really cool. Sign my books?" That, or an embarrassing involuntary fangirl squeak. No! I would be eloquent, poised, and totally not over-excited. However, when my dad declared "I can see him!" my composure slipped a little. Those of you who have ever met your favorite musician, actor, or author, you know the feeling. All things considered, I think it went nicely when it came to be my turn.

Wow. What an experience! Sanderson seemed happy to be there and happy to sign my books. I had brought one of his stand-alone books for my brother's Christmas present, along with my Mistborn trilogy, for him to sign. He even personalized all of them! While he did that, he gave me some invaluable writing advice (which I will graciously share with you): Write every day, but don't focus on what you write--instead, focus on how you write. Find out if you are a binge writer or a more spread-out one. Once you find out what kind of writer you are, develop yourself; then you can zoom in on your content. This is key because no matter how novel or creative your ideas are, no one will want to read them if your writing is poor. Neat stuff, no?

After my Sanderson book-signing experience ended, I was floating on cloud nine and unable to utter anything intelligible. "OH MY GOODNESS" were the only words I could process! So, although this post offers no insight to life, personal character, or self-improvement, it does serve as a channel to express how ecstatic I was about Brandon Sanderson coming to my hometown. Good enough, right?

In closing, I'll say this: meet your heroes. Any chance you get, take it. Grab it with both hands. Even if he/she turns out to be a jerk, at least you'll know better. But, if he/she turns out to be a kind, gracious individual, it's one of the coolest feelings in the world. It means there is good in high places.

I apologize for the encroaching comic... dang formatting.

Unintentially Cliche

Between parties, papers, tests, and the guilty pleasures of a certain TV show, I've neglected my blog. Though I still lack time for a nice, substantial post, I figured I could at least swipe away the cobwebs and leave a small something to show that I haven't stopped caring. So, here I am, thinking I'd post something about all the little pleasures I've enjoyed recently, when I realize: it's November. EVERYONE is posting about the things they are grateful for. Ah well. I want to share mine anyway.

• Sending a letter to a close friend of mine (I mean a real paper-stamp-envelope kind, people)
• Sipping some hot cocoa while making good progress on my English term paper
• Having time to read a wonderful book
• Laughing about silly things with my parents
• Being complimented on how well I read (as weird as that sounds)
• Seeing the fat, fluffy snowflakes begin to blanket everything in sight
• Sleeping in for as long (or as little) as I please
• Bringing a surprise treat to one of my favorite people
• Being finished with an icky test
• Having my house smell like pumpkin chocolate chip cookies
• Wearing sweaters and fuzzy socks
• Eating ice cream!
• Looking forward to all the exciting plans for the day
• Knowing that I have enough time
• Knowing that my brother will be home soon (it's been two years!)
• Waking up early and being the only one up
• Making waffles for myself in that early hour
• Being able to share all this with you

With all these little joys, these tiny happinesses, I feel blessed. Especially considering they all came from just the past two days.

Anything Could Happen

Can you imagine? A single day, a mere 24 hours, that changes your whole life? And you never suspected it in the least.

No schedule, no time constraints, no obligations, simply... life.

(I swear this guy looks like Channing Tatum!)

In the middle of it all, you meet somebody completely new. If it weren't for this day, you'd never have met them.

 

Is it fate, or is it coincidence? Either way, it happened, and nothing can alter that. You wouldn't want it to anyway.

There's something about these moments, this person, that sets you free. You can be you and they accept you, even respect you for it. Not all is known between you. That's part of the magic.

Masks come down, and all that's left is exuberance, delight, and an inexplicable trust.

 

Why should it end?

 

 

 

Though the day must end, this doesn't have to. Hope. There is only hope in goodbye. Hope in another encounter, another chance to make something abiding.

 

 

So, goodbye is merely a promise for another hello.

 

 



That's the beauty of the movie Roman Holiday; it shows just how magical one day can be. Anything could happen; you only have to be ready for it. 

In Between

This last weekend (or two weekends ago, I suppose), I took my pilgrimage to the university of my dreams--BYU Provo.

One of my best friends attends college down there, so I had the privilege of visiting her for a couple days. I thought about describing the abundance of simple, fantastic euphoria I experienced down there, but instead, I'd like to share the affects it had on me.

Honestly, what can I say here to express how much I loved it? Without sounding too sacrilegious, it's  like picturing heaven, arriving there, and then finding that it's everything you hoped for and more. Unfortunately, however, it's only a visit to heaven. There are still things to do before staying there permanently.

This recognition weighed heavily upon my shoulders once the shuttle van began pulling away from BYU campus. As the van departed, I saw my friend and her boyfriend walking back up the steps in the distance. In that moment, I did not want to go. The realization struck me with such force that tears started welling up and spilling over. How could a place be and feel so much like home if I was not meant to be there? I belonged there.

It was also in this mere moment that the Lord gave me permission to go to BYU. All my life, I'd hoped to go, and even knew I would go there, but when the Lord confirmed my dream, my tears dissolved into a shamelessly large smile.

(Bear with me; the BYU fandom is just about over.)

 

Despite this indelible experience, I still had to return to my little ol' hometown. Still had to attend high school. Still had to wait. But there were bigger and better things! "Why must I stay?" my senioritis argued.

 

That Monday, in seminary, each student picked a topic from Preach My Gospel to research for a couple minutes. I chose Patience. As I searched each scripture pertaining to the topic, three stuck out to me: Mosiah 23:21, Romans 8:24-25, and Psalm 46:10. Each of these helped me to see the greater scheme of things:

• Always keep Christ in sight. He will help make being patient easier. After all, because of the Atonement, He knows what I am going through.

 

• Be still; take a moment to simply think, reflect, ponder, and pray. There is much the Spirit can teach if we but provide the time.

• Do not let the chance to be excellent pass you by. The Lord wants to see what you do while you are waiting. What do you choose to do in these small hours?

Earlier on in the lesson, the class had passed around pictures depicting different events in Christ's life. The one I ended up with was called "He Will Make It More:"

This picture added to what the scriptures taught me. The Lord will magnify my efforts to be excellent. It may take time, but the Lord will always bless the faithful and diligent. Because of this, I feel like I can make it through this final year.

I will endure, and I will THRIVE!




(Un)Ceremonious

Sometimes, you get carried away.

All throughout last week, I made sure to be bold. And I liked it. It was liberating and exciting to say and do what I wanted to. Not that anything I did was out of my standards, mind you, but that it was more outgoing than usual. I said hi to people I normally did not, my friends and I asked a new guy to join our table, I cracked jokes and shared witty remarks. All in all, I felt like Lauren 2.0 walking through the halls. Friday, especially, I let myself be daring.

This story is sort of my own Aesop's fable.

It was Homecoming. All of my friends and I sat in the bleachers, mingling, laughing, goofing off like only high school seniors can. Somewhere in the middle, we made plans to watch a movie at McKayla's* house. Why let the night end after the game? Later on, Tess, Jericha**, and I went to grab jackets. One thing led to another, though, and this small trip turned into a full-blown chocolate run to the grocery store. From there, we found ourselves meeting up with a friend of Jericha's.

 

Bit of back-story, here. This friend of Jericha's (we'll call him Sam) asked her to the Homecoming dance, and though he did not know it, he was going to receive his answer that night. Due to the elaborate scheme Tess and Jericha had concocted, they couldn't go to the movie we'd planned earlier. I was still planning on going.

Nonetheless, my commitment wavered when I got to know Sam. When I first saw him, he was sitting on the bed of his truck and covered in shadow. After Tess introduced the two of us, he stood up to greet Jericha, revealing a six-foot-four frame. I was impressed. But, I was more impressed with what a cool guy he was. He appreciated my vocabulary--what guy does that??? Plus, he was completely animated; he went along with all the silly things we said and did. In fact, he was the fuel to our fire. The four of us talked, laughed, and ran about, not really caring what people thought of us. I liked how Sam was different from the guys I normally hung out with. It felt bold. Refreshing.

 

As the night wore on, I found that I did not want to go. So when McKayla called me, asking "Where are you?" I told her I was going to stay with Tess, Jericha, and Sam. Her voice took on an exasperated tone as she said, "We planned this thing for you; you said Jericha hadn't seen [certain movie title] and you wanted to have a movie night for it. We're all here now, and you're not, and it's kind of disappointing." I felt like my chest was full of lead after she said that, but I knew what I wanted to do. I told her I was sorry, but that she'd still have fun with those that were there.

My reasoning for staying was this: When would I ever get another chance to know Sam? He attended another school in a different city, so what chance was there that I'd ever see him again? In addition, I greatly enjoyed being with Tess and Jericha. The whole situation was akin to watching a movie, becoming immersed in it, and then being told to turn it off and start a different one. You'd probably say, "Wait, I wanted to finish that!"

I had a very fun time. After all, I had done what I wanted. Even so, it was not right, and I knew it. A commitment was made, people were expecting me to keep it. In that moment when I struggled to decide which choice was best, I should have listened to the voice that urged me to keep my obligation. The question, "What would Christ do?" should have entered my mind. And though this dilemma was not of immense proportions, did not mean life or death, it still mattered. It is the little, day-to-day decisions that matter most. I am sad that I did not prove my loyalty.

Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin mentioned in a talk that we will all endure our Fridays; the days when we don't quite make it, when we feel like failures. However, he also mentioned that Sunday will come. "No matter our desperation, no matter our grief, Sunday will come." In light of my story, I take this to mean that I can become better. And I will, because that is what a disciple of Jesus would do.

Thus, there are two things I got out of Friday night:

• A new friend
• And a great lesson about personal character

For both, I am thankful.

*Names have been changed. :)

Modus Operandi

Sitting in my first-hour class this morning, I had the thought

This year, I'm gonna BE BOLD.

I want to do everything I didn't last year. I'm gonna show who I am, let fly the funny comments I normally keep to myself, dare to ask the questions I might be afraid to. 

This time, I will reach out more to others. That cute guy in my seminary class? I'm gonna say hey to him tomorrow. The girl sitting alone at the lunch table? My friends and I will invite her to sit at ours. Those kids in the class I'm a TA for? They will see just how cool I can be. 

There will be no regrets this year. No reservations. Everything I do, I will do with a purpose, even if that purpose happens to be silly.

I will try all sorts of new things. How does that adage go? Don't knock it 'til you try it? Well that is precisely what I plan on doing.

For too long, I have held life at arm's length, never really immersing myself. As my family well knows, my usual approach is to focus on the future and dwell a bit on the past. What kind of life is that? If one never speaks up, one is never going to be heard. Bravery--boldness--is the key. A friend of mine asserted this in a piece of her writing, and it has stuck with me ever since.

Thus, my modus operandi, my mode of operation, is:

After Hello

"And what comes after hello?" she asked.

"Anything. Everything. Whatever you want," he said. "Just as long as it's not goodbye." 

Remember Tess? She lent me a book that put everything I ever wanted into words.

A huge, bustling city brimming with life

 Freedom. That was what I felt standing there on the corner with a park on one side of me and a cluster of shops on the other, the small bookstore with its open door and rolling carts of books beckoning me across the street. The freedom to go wherever I wanted, do whatever I wanted. I was a single person in a city of millions.

Meeting someone utterly new, completely unknown, and turning them into a profound friend--maybe something more

 I thought back to that moment when I had taken his picture. I smiled, thinking of all that had happened because I had chosen to follow him. Such a simple decision, almost impulsive, but it had changed everything. It had changed me.

A lively adventure filled with whatever happened to cross the path

"What's a 'yes day'?" I asked. 

"It's a day where you find ways to say yes."

"To what?" I looked from Sam to Vanessa.

"To goodness," she said, spreading her arms wide. "To life."

"To things you might otherwise say 'no' to, " Sam added. His eyes flickered up to mine, the brown as warm and dark as my chocolate.

"Like saying yes to a damsel in distress?" I asked with a lift of my lips.

"Exactly." Sam matched my smile, and I felt my heart flutter in my chest.

Learning to see inside my soul and help share the burdens of other souls

 "Art can conceal as well as reveal," she continued. "It takes courage to remove our masks. But it takes greater courage to allow those we care about to remove their own masks when they are with us." Vanessa fanned a row of feathers--all green except for one solitary white one--above the arched eyes. "When we grant others the opportunity to be open and vulnerable, that is when we can see the truth. In them. And in ourselves."

Moving from self-preservation to self-actualization

My hands trembled, both from excitement and from fear. Could I really pull this off? Should I? I wasn't an artist--not really. Not like Vanessa, who ruled her world with magic and muses. Not like Aces, who lived his life with passion and built his own three-dimensional version of reality. Not even like Daniel, who could play music that sounded like the voice of God. 

I was just me. But sitting at that table that had once been a door, I thought being me might be enough. 

Savoring the little things, the humble moments of the day

Sara sat up, rubbing at her eyes with a loosely curled fist like a child might after a nap. A faint pink line creased her cheek from where she had leaned against his shoulder. The pattern matched exactly the black stripe that ran down the sleeve of his hoodie. 

He felt a strange and sudden flash of pride at seeing it. Even though he knew it would fade--it was already fading--for a moment, they were connected, like halves of a whole, and that made him happy. 

And getting another shot at happiness


"I don't want this to be good-bye, either," he said. He pulled out two tattered sugar packets from the bag and held them out to me. His eyes danced with light and life. "So tell me, Sara without an h--what do you want?"

The last time Sam has asked me that question, I hadn't known what to say. This time I did. Aces had given me the answer. "I want my life to be filled with passion."

Sam chuckled under his breath. "That's a tall order."

"But not impossible. Someone once told me that if you don't know what you want, you'll never get it."

"I see. And something tells me that a smart girl like you will find a way to get whatever she wants."

"Hey, I learned from the best."

"True." Sam granted me that point. "But I think there is one lesson left." He bounced the sugar packets on his palm. "Instead of saying good-bye, let's say hello instead."

I lifted a packet from the palm of his hand. "How is this going to become a hello?"

"The same way it became two tickets for Jess, or a coupon for a free manicure. You trade your packet; I'll trade mine. And if we keep them moving, eventually we'll find what we're looking for."

"This little packet will bring me back all the way to New York?"

Sam smiled. "You never know. Maybe my packet will take me all the way to Arizona."

I grinned, catching the spirit of the adventure. "Are you proposing another quest?"

"You game?"

I turned the small packet over in my fingers. "Yeah," I said. "I am."

"Good." He tucked the square of sugar into his pocket. "Then the next time I see you, we'll have a proper hello."

I raised an eyebrow, feeling a matching lift of hope in my chest. "And what comes after hello?"

"Anything. Everything. Whatever you want," he said. "Just so long as it's not good-bye."

All in one day.

The Gambler

Slow down, we've got time left to be lazy
All the kids are bloom from babies into flowers in our eyes
We've got fifty good years left to spend out in the garden
I don't care to beg your pardon, we should live until we die

We were barely eighteen when we crossed collective hearts
It was cold, but it got warm when you barely crossed my eye
And you turned, put out your hand, and you asked me to dance
I knew nothing of romance, but it was love at second sight

I swear when I grow up I won't just buy you a rose
I will buy the flower shop, and you will never be lonely
For even if the sun stops waking up over the fields
I will not leave, I will not leave 'til it's our time
So just take my hand, you know that I will never leave your side

It was the winter of '86, all the fields had frozen over
So we moved to Arizona to save our only son
And now he's turned into a man, though he thinks just like his mother
He believes we're all just lovers, he sees hope in everyone

And even though she moved away, we always get calls from our daughter
She has eyes just like her father's, they are blue when skies are gray
And just like him she never stops, never takes the day for granted
Works for everything that's handed to her, never once complained

You think that I nearly lost you when the doctors tried to take you away
But like the night you took my hand beside the fire thirty years ago
'Til this day, you swore you'd be here 'til we decide that it's our time
But it's not time, you never quit in all your life
So just take my hand and know that I will never leave your side
You're the love of my life, you know that I will never leave your side

You come home from work, and you kiss me on the eye
You curse the dogs, you say that I should never feed them what is ours
So we move out to the garden, look at everything we've grown
And the kids are coming home so I'll set the table; you can make the fire

This is a semblance of what I hope my marriage and family will be much, much later in life. I hope to share a sweet, leisurely love with my spouse. To live life unhurried, merely savoring what is in front of me. I hope to look back on the past with a knowing smile, and to listen to my grown children's stories of their own lessons, labors, and loves. It is almost like a glimpse into eternity.

(These lyrics aren't mine. If you'd like to find the song, you are welcome to it.)

Home

Can I tell you something I did?

Yesterday I checked a deed off my bucket list.


I have always wanted to travel down a road as far as I could go. Some unfamiliar path that stretches farther than the eye can see.

I did it.

And it was one of the coolest things I've ever done. Riding along on my bike, I passed seemingly endless fields of gold and green, aged houses with rustic charm, and sparkling canals teeming with life. All this from my little hometown area on a Thursday evening.

The reason I embarked on this bike ride was not actually to check it off my bucket list, but to blow off some steam. However, my ride soon became something of a higher nature. I noticed all the simple beauties God has placed here, and it brought the most genuine smile out of me. And, when I realized I was completing a goal of mine, I couldn't stop smiling! So, I cranked up my John Mayer tunes and pedaled even harder, going farther and farther. By the time I had to turn around, I was at least five miles away from anything I could recognize.

If it hadn't been so late, I would have pedaled to the mountains.

Rainy Day

Call me crazy, but rainy days are the best.

Drizzly, overcast days make me a little more ponderous, a little more thoughtful. Sure, the sun is wonderful, but how often do rainy days come around? They're special, and for me, special things happen on those days.

Take yesterday for example. It was the second day home from my last year of girls' camp and--as you've probably already guessed--a cool, wet Saturday. Waking up smelled like rain, leaving me feeling clean.

Later on, my friend and I made a visit to the Rexburg Temple for baptisms. Honestly, I can think of no better way to polish off a week of spiritual feasting than a trip to the temple. The beautiful white building was stark against the dusky clouds, and numerous couples were reverently filing in and out of it. Once we had gotten settled and began waiting to be baptized, I felt completely peaceful. And I couldn't stop smiling. Quite a few college-aged men and women waited with me and my friend, and the coolest thing was that we were all there, doing the Lord's work. All was well and right. Coming out of the temple, my friend and I felt so good! Clean in every sense of the word.

A little while after that, my parents returned home from Utah, and I loved catching up with them over a batch of cookies. Rain continued to fall, keeping the world shiny and new. My missionary brother would be jealous because rainy days are his favorite. Since he's in Los Angeles, he doesn't get too many of those. So with the exception of this brother, it was nice to just be with my family and enjoy the sound of rain pattering on the roof.

Then, I went to work in that never-ceasing rain. I work at small, family-run amusement park, and when I got there, the only thing running was the go-karts. Soon, even those people left, leaving me and a different friend (we'll call her Tess) to clean up the park. As we wiped down fences in the downpour, Tess and I talked about everything. It felt great to tell her what had been on my mind, and she felt the same. Usually the both of us are too busy to merely converse like this, but because of the weather, nothing could stop us. And while we continued to clean benches and tables, we got the brilliant (no sarcasm here) idea to go puddle jumping. So we did.

Tess and I were little girls again, giggling as we sloshed through puddles and stamped in miniature streams. And since nobody was in the park but us, nobody cared. When the two of us clocked out, our manager let us put up one of the inflatable slides. I went down first, careening into a puddle so cold I gasped. Tess came down seconds later, and we crashed into each other, slipping again when I tried to get back up. I don't think either of us stopped laughing.

Never underestimate the power of a moment. As I mentioned in my post "The Hiatus is Over", it is the little moments that matter most in life. They fill in the cracks between the big events and lessons, creating the map that is our lives. I believe I have done better about cherishing those small every-day things. Through doing this, I am better able to use my agency, to recognize what exactly I am doing, and if need be, to change it. Ultimately, this brings me closer to my Savior and Redeemer, Jesus Christ. I will do everything in my power to follow Him, for He is my Lord and my Light.

For me, rainy days are spiritual, thoughtful, and a fun change of pace. They never seem gloomy or disappointing. Actually, it almost feels like I glean more out of them than regular days.

Writer's Dilemma

With the exception of some inspiration on Sunday, I've hit a major writer's block.

For quite some time, topics and experiences have stepped into my mind, wondering if I'll ever put them to words. The thing is, I can't. Part of me wants to write them, but once I sit down and think of what exactly I'm going to write, I draw up an emotional blank. It's as if there is no conviction behind the ideas.

What then? Could I write about something I feel nothing for? I think if I did, I'd feel like a hypocrite. 

Then... what responsibility do writers bear?

Everyone has learned that writers possess many purposes: explaining, persuading, informing, entertaining, and sometimes even relieving. However, I believe a writer's real purpose is truth. Whatever form it may take, be it memories, stories, or documentaries, the words must be true. I don't think people realize the effect their writing can have on others. Their words go out to millions of people, all with different perspectives and beliefs. A handful of letters can change all that. For better, or for worse.

So then, are writers just aloof creators, streaming words effortlessly, never taking thought as to what they are putting out there? Do they do it all for the sake of a story? Quite possibly. At least, I presume they would be more careful if they recognized the extent of their impact. And yet, there are writers who are very deliberate in what they create.

I'd like to think some of my favorite authors know what they're doing with their writing. Jane Austen, Orson Scott Card, J. K. Rowling, Charles Dickens, Ally Condie, C. S. Lewis, Brandon Sanderson, the list goes on! Still, I wonder if a writer can become desensitized after a long period of time. Much like some doctors grow so accustomed to the human body that they forget what a marvel it is. Could a writer really forget the power of writing? Thereby leading themselves to abuse it, or to become careless?

I guess the heart of the matter is the fine line of presenting evil without making evil attractive. For example, people swear. I understand that. Accordingly, a minor curse or two is acceptable, though not preferable. Nonetheless, must there be sexually crude things? Just the other day, I was immersed in a book by one of my most favorite authors, when I came upon a shockingly inappropriate passage. This guy is LDS! His previous books are clean, though not in a naive or innocent way. This recent stumble of his disappointed me greatly. Now, understand, I am familiar and pretty okay with flirtatious-bordering-on-innuendo type stuff. It's fairly normal in today's society. But, there are deeper and darker things out there, and it wounds me that great writers would stoop so low.

There is a careful balance to depicting things as they really are. One must be truthful in writing, lest they mislead the reader--both good and evil must receive their due--but at the same time, one needs to present the difficult side of the truth in such a way that readers do not find it attractive. Thus, if a writer depicts truth in that sense, then readers should not fear. In fact, in an essay of Orson Scott Card's on this very topic, he stated that those who cannot understand why there are unsavory things in a book "have no perspective."

This gave me pause. The author I mentioned earlier possesses an otherwise clean track record, so did I miss something? Was there a higher purpose to that seemingly crude passage? I still haven't decided yet, but Card's words struck me even so.

Through all this rambling, I've come to a conclusion about a writer's responsibility. Foremost, writers, no matter how or what they write, must feel conviction for their work. Otherwise, what good is he to the world? There are already so many writers lacking care and substance floating around, spewing less-than-admirable work. Need there be any more? Additionally, a writer must convey truth. He must show both good and evil, but do so with caution. As a budding writer myself, I want to fulfill these requirements. In fact, much of the reason I write is to share the truths I've discovered.

My hope is that readers--you guys--can find truth and conviction in my writing, and that you may glean something from it. Something to help you, to give comfort or understanding. That is why I write.

My House on a Sunday Afternoon

It's June.

My brother is asleep on the couch.

A fan hums while it blows away the muggy summer heat.

My dad messes around with his smart phone as he sprawls on a different couch.

The cat stretches out luxuriously on the carpet, oblivious to the world and its cares.

My mother reads about jewelery online.

There's a book left open on the sofa, its pages turning when the fan comes its way.

A pair of house-shoes sits in the middle of the room.

Dove chocolate wrappers litter an end table.

The blinds are down.

My nails are painted a tropical hue.

We still haven't brought in the Sunday paper.

And I don't have a care in the world. 

(I wish this picture was actually part of my house.)

Mockingbird

I'm going to mimic a friend here and share a bunch of quotes that have lingered with me lately.

 “Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one’s definition of your life; define yourself.” Robert Frost

 “Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.”

Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up.

"This is a good sign, having a broken heart. It means we have tried for something." Elizabeth Gilbert

 “In the end, all men die. How you lived will be far more important to the Almighty than what you accomplished.” Brandon Sanderson

Sometimes we just have to wait long enough...then we find out why exactly it was that we kept believing.

“Expectations were like fine pottery. The harder you held them, the more likely they were to crack.”

 That's what I am here for. To make people happy.

“The journey is part of the experience - an expression of the seriousness of one's intent. One doesn't take the a train to Mecca.”

“But God doesn't call us to be comfortable. He calls us to trust Him so completely that we are unafraid to put ourselves in situations where we will be in trouble if He doesn't come through.”

“There's nothing like deep breaths after laughing that hard. Nothing in the world like a sore stomach for the right reasons.”

“It's hard to beat a person who never gives up.”

She celebrated her laughter, her longing, her utter sense of well-being. This, she knew, was how living should feel. 

“It was one of those moments of perfect tiredness, of having conquered not only the work at hand, but the night who had blocked the way.”

 "She wanted none of those days to end, and it was always with disappointment that she watched the darkness stride forward. "

It's only half past the point of oblivion: The hourglass on the table, the walk before the run, the breath before the kiss, and the fear before the flames.

"The words were on their way, and when they arrived, she would hold them in her hands like the clouds, and she would wring them out like the rain."

My friends, this is what's been on my mind.  

The Hiatus Is Over

I am an odd person.

My heart, mind, and eyes are glued to the future while I chew thoughtfully on the past, trying to digest all that has happened in my life. All the while, my feet are firmly--and unfortunately, so my heart says--planted in the present.

What about the now?

Somehow, I have managed to carefully sidestep the little moments that make up the present. Too many times have I thought about some future moment and forgotten to enjoy right now. Or, I've been too preoccupied with something I did or felt in the past to appreciate what goes on around me. Either way, I'm missing out on the moment.

Here's an example: The other day, my cousin and I woke up before sunrise to go on a hike called Adam's Canyon. This beautiful trail wove into richly greened mountains, and clouds nestled quietly on top, enveloping the mountain's low peaks. No one else was up, so my cousin and I had the hike completely to ourselves. Because of rainfall from the night and earlier that morning, the trail was damp and the air had a cool and calming heaviness to it. As we walked among slick stones and under lush canopies, I suddenly realized where I was and what I was doing. I had been so focused on our destination that I neglected the journey, literally and figuratively speaking. It was as if my eyes had been opened, taking in everything around me, when before they had been tightly shut. I think it was then that I truly began to enjoy that misty morning hike. And, because I took the time to stop and enjoy myself, that memory will hold a higher place in my mind than it would have had I not.

Maybe that's why I haven't been happy; maybe that's the reason I've felt this icky sense of self-doubt. If one doesn't take the time to look where they are going once in a while, they can get lost pretty fast.

I think fear has a lot to do with this. Fear of failure, fear of messing up what could be, fear of just not being good enough. Fear, if not harnessed right, can lead to worry. If I worry, what will get done? What good will it do me? You see, a little bit of fear drives one to work hard, but too much is debilitating. I have some lyrics to illustrate my point. They're from John Mayer's song Age of Worry.

Close your eyes and clone yourself
Build your heart an army
To defend your innocence
While you do everything wrong

Don’t be scared to walk alone
Don’t be scared to like it
There’s no time that you must be home
So sleep where darkness falls

Alive in the age of worry
Smile in the age of worry
Go wild in the age of worry
And say worry, why should I care?

No your fight is not within
Yours is with your timing
Dream your dreams but don’t pretend
Make friends with what you are
Give your heart then change your mind
You’re allowed to do it
Cause God knows it’s been done to you
And somehow you got through it

Alive in the age of worry
Rage in the age of worry
Sing out in the age of worry
And say worry, why should I care?

Rage in the age of worry
Act your age in the age of worry
And say worry, get out of here!

I tend to worry a lot; ask anybody who knows me. So, these words hold quite a bit of resonance for me. One of my favorite parts of this song is the idea of banishing worry away and living as we're meant to. With courage and joy.
  
Another part of relishing in the present is letting go of the past. Yes, easier (and more frequently) said than done; it's a common phrase that people take for granted. Nonetheless, dwelling on the past has greatly limited me. I might long too much after a previous moment, or beat myself up for a past mistake. Moving forward gets rather difficult if one always looks back at the past. To this I now say, live and learn. Forgive, and anticipate the greater happiness that is to come. I think I've gotten better at that. The movie Meet the Robinsons does a fantastic job of expressing this. 

This kid, Lewis, can't let go of the past, either. However, during the movie, throughout his journey of trust, confidence, and acceptance, he learns what would later become his motto for life: 

Keep moving forward

What a succinct way to say an important lesson. Progression is key; in order to become better and stronger, I need to move forward. Let go of those things that are holding me back. Set goals to be better. Appreciate my experiences.

Now that I've discussed fear and the past, I want to talk about savoring the little moments of everyday life, the right now.

Sometimes we get lost in thinking about the big things in life, assuming that they matter most. We can be constantly stuck in the before and after, fretting and planning. The late President Gordon B. Hinkley said this: "It is not so much the major events, as the small day-to-day decisions, that map the course of our living." So true! Who we are is what we do. So then, what am I doing? Am I making sure to enjoy the blessings I've been given? Am I using the time I have to make the lives of those around me better? It's definitely something to think about. 

Let's think about today. It's the only thing we need to worry about. In fact, 3rd Nephi 13:34 puts it quite nicely. "Take therefore no thought for the morrow, for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient is the day unto the evil thereof." Accordingly, decisions don't have to be huge. If I'm brave today, if I'm diligent today, then I can make a difference in myself. Tomorrow will reflect my good decisions, and that will bring a purer, simpler happiness than anything else could. 

There are many moments like that in life. Looking at all the miles one has run so diligently, laying on a freshly cut lawn in the summertime, finding out a great score on an exam, listening to a new song, sharing an engaging conversation with a friend, the list goes on. It's the little things that matter most. By small and simple things are great things brought to pass. I could go on and on about this, but for simplicity's sake, I'd like to borrow the words of Rob Thomas in his song Little Wonders: 

Our lives are made in these small hours
These little wonders, these twists and turns of fate
Time falls away but these small hours
These small hours still remain

Don't just remember these moments. Take it a step further. Live them.

What I Am

say that I'm changed, say I'm different
       maybe I'll finally understand
say I'll let go, say it's obvious
       oh, I tell myself over, over and over again

I'm ready, I'm ready
        I'm ready to believe

so tell me I'm strong, tell me I'm weak
        tell me I'll never, ever bend
then tell me I'm fire, tell me I'm cold
        cold oh, I tell myself over, over and over again

I'm ready, I'm ready
        I'm ready to believe

and all the world can watch the choices you make
        all the world can watch each tiny mistake
let the world watch to let the world wait for you

so tell me I’m wrong, or tell me I’m cruel
        tell me I’d fight, yeah tell me I fought for the wrong things

but I'm ready, I'm ready
        I'm ready to believe

(lyrics from Correatown's song All the World)

Check It Out!

If you look directly to your right, you'll see there's a new Pages section for my blog! Right under Home, there's a link called "The Fray." This link will take you to a page all about the band who helped inspire me to write this blog. Check it out, have a blast!

Still

Be still and know that I'm with you

Be still and know that I am here

Be still and know that I'm with you

Be still, be still, and know

When darkness comes for you

And covers you with fear and shame

Be still and know that I'm with you

And I will say your name

If terror falls upon your bed

And sleep no longer comes

Remember all the words I said

Be still, be still, and know

And when you go through the valley

And the shadow comes down from the hill

If morning never comes to be

Be still, be still, be still

If you forget the way to go

And lose where you came from

If no one is standing beside you

Be still and know I am

Be still and know that I'm with you

Be still and know I am

These beautiful lyrics are from The Fray's song "Be Still." When I first listened to it, I was struck by how much the words sounded like God's. Like Jesus Christ's. And I think they are. 

Whenever I need a moment of comfort or quiet strength, or merely a reminder that I am never alone, I turn to this song.

Maybe these reverent words will bring you peace, too.

Pour Moi?

In all my blogging existence, I never expected to be the recipient of a blogging award.

Well, one of my dear friends and fellow-bloggers awarded me the "Liebster Award." It's a pass-along award given to small blogs with fewer than 200 followers. Psh. Yeah. Like I'm even close to that. Even so, I am honored to receive this.

My friend who gave me this wonderful honor is Rachel from There and Back Again, an absolutely marvelous blog where I am constantly awed and inspired. I love how she writes all about life and the hope we can find in it. Plus, she makes it totally relatable and fun. Definitely a blog worth checking out!

The really cool--and also slightly daunting--part of this award is passing it along. Most of the blogs I follow have already or recently been given the Liebster--except for one, and that one truly deserves it:

• Jessica, from Mess of Jess, hooks people in with her easy, pure style. It's about her. Not in the prideful, look-at-me-and-my-fabulous-life about her, but the this-is-me, I'm-real kind. Jess writes of life's simple joys and true experiences. I love how she gives personal detail and touch, helping readers feel like they know her. Also, there's no fluff; she gets to the point and makes it beautifully. 

Go check these blogs out! Well, those of you five who don't already know one or both of these blogs....

Lauren Maker

This past week, in a word, was unexpected.

My dear grandmother died, General Conference occurred, I didn't work on that scholarship I meant to, I didn't reach certain goals I set, and it even snowed on Friday. 

Part of me cries out, What do I do with all this?? 

The wiser, more capable part of me quietly replies, Keep running. Do what you know to be right, keep going. The Lord will take care of you if you take care of the effort. 

And it's true, isn't it? I've always known it to be. Failure cannot prevail when one endures in the righteous cause of a life well-lived. At the very least, complete failure cannot occur. There are those times when it seems as if little mistakes, small letdowns, seep through the cracks. Sometimes, those little things threaten to break down one's entire foundation. 

But I can't let that happen.

There's this book by Orson Scott Card I read recently, called Seventh Son. It's essentially a retelling of the Joseph Smith story, but with folk magic and all sorts of creative twists. The big thing I want to share about the book is the concept of making and unmaking. In this book, Card presents the idea that God stands for making, building, and creating, which is the epitome of good. On the other hand, Satan stands for unmaking, destroying, and annihilating, the center of evil. I want to be a maker, one who builds and upholds things like families, standards, and knowledge. By doing what I know is right, and enduring the difficult things, I will be building upon my foundation, my rock. 

Let me put this into an analogy. My experiences and choices in life serve as the bricks of a wall or house. No brick is the same, some are long, some are different colors, but together they tell my story as I keep adding throughout my existence. The Lord represents the mortar between those bricks, cementing what I know and have learned. Though this wall of mine may become weathered, though parts may start to wear, it will never fall. I could never abandon what I know, for if I did, what would I hold onto during times of trial and heartache?

So this is what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna keep going, making my life by studying, running, giving, and remembering--all that I've loved and learned over the years. As long as I'm doing that, my work and beliefs and dreams cannot be unmade. I will do my best to be a maker.

My Day

"These are days never to be forgotten." - Elaine S. Dalton

Yesterday, I had the privilege of going to Utah with a group of young women from my ward. The first thing we did when we arrived was to go shopping at the brand new City Creek Mall in Salt Lake. Wow. This place was huge! I have never been in a mall so expansive, nor been in a place so filled with people. Seriously, yesterday put a filled football stadium to shame. (I didn't take this picture. If I had, it would show all those people!) I had so much fun talking, looking for and trying on clothes, and sight-seeing with my friends. Not to mention, the weather was perfect.
 

This is the Salt Lake Temple. What a beautiful work of architecture. To me, this temple is a castle, both in appearance and in purpose. It represents the most wonderful and beautiful parts of the Gospel, and it protects these things within its strong walls. This picture shows the temple almost exactly as I saw it yesterday while walking out of the Conference Center. Though I haven't decided yet, this temple is certainly on my list of potential temples to be married in. 

These are the lovely young ladies who sang at the General Young Women's Conference I mentioned earlier. I got to see and hear them in person! All their songs were beautiful, but "I Feel My Savior's Love" moved me most. Music is a powerful medium for truth and expression. Never underestimate it. 

Here's the Young Women's General Presidency. They are so loving, strong, and encouraging. Each of their talks provided some insight into my life, helping me find strength and ways of improvement. I think I enjoyed  the talks of Sister Elaine S. Dalton and Sister Mary N. Cook most. Because of these amazing women, I cannot wait to take on each new day, eagerly absorbing my education, enjoying what life has offered me, and building my future. 

When you look at this picture, it's hard not to smile, isn't it? This is President Thomas S. Monson, the prophet of the Church. He spoke yesterday as well, and I could feel the love and truth in the words he spoke. How fortunate we are to have a living prophet of God in our midst! This great man is the mouthpiece of God, and it was wonderful to hear him last night. His talk consisted of fitting counsel and guidance about where we're headed in our lives, and what we can to to become that righteous person we've always wanted to be. When he said that last part, my listening intensified. President Monson continued to show how each of us can spend "a lifetime close to the Lord", by seeking heavenly guidance one day at a time. For by doing this, we cannot become lost or dissuaded. Instead, our testimonies, confidence, and Christ-like attributes will grow. The future will not be something to fear, but something to look forward to. I love President Monson. I know he is our prophet today, and I cannot wait to hear him speak for General Conference this weekend. 

I probably saw many of these girls yesterday during my various activities. The cool thing, though, is that the majority of young women in Salt Lake City yesterday came for this conference. They came to hear the servants of the Lord, and to be knit closer to one another through righteous activity. A day like yesterday can never be forgotten. That day made us stronger, happier, and more ready to take on the world. I loved this little trip to Utah.