I Ride the Shuttle, and I Say Thanks

Fall semester at WSU started this past Monday.  The first few days were a bit rocky, but I survived my first week back!  Woo Hoot!

One of the things I quickly learned (thanks to a kind man at the Parking Office), is that if you don't get to campus before about 8:45am, there is barely ANY parking until about 2pm.  I was told - in near hushed tones - that instead of wasting my money ($71) on an annual pass I'll rarely be able to use, I should buy the pass to park at the event center (a mile away) because it's cheaper ($28) and there is a FREE shuttle service between that lot and the center of campus and it runs - get this - EVERY.FIVE.MINUTES.  

One thing I HATED about SLCC was parking.  I'd try to get to campus about an hour early, and even then a spot could be hard to come by; my quest often resembling a scene from a scary movie.  Me, on a stakeout, keeping my eyes peeled for that one student emerging from class.  I would follow him or her slowly in my car, hoping to get the spot they'd be vacating.  A few panicked looks over the shoulder and it never failed; they'd soon quicken their stride, eventually sprinting across the parking lot in an attempt to escape the "crazy lady in the Altima".  And, just like that, the trail would go cold.  

I cannot tell you the number of times I was tempted to roll my window down and offer someone a ride to their car, just so I could take their spot.  But, how exactly does one begin such a request.  "Excuse me, I know you don't know me, but are you going to your car right now?  Can I give you a ride?  ..... I've got candy."   "Hello?  Campus Security?"

Needless to say, a free shuttle sounded great!  All in all, from the time I park my car and take the shuttle to the drop point, it's about 10 minutes, which is way better than arriving an hour early and becoming the poster child for Campus Creepers.  

I am grateful for the shuttle, truly, and each day as I make my way toward the front of the bus to get off, I ALWAYS say "thank you" to the driver.  Sometimes a few other students in front of me will say thanks, but not always. 

When I am near the last to exit, I notice a trend, which supports evidence that we (humans) have a Psychosocial need to fit in.  If someone near the front of the bus says, "Thanks/Thank you" to the driver, then most others follow suit.  However, if those in the front of the bus remain silent, it often proves to be a very quiet exodus.  Perhaps one or two say "thanks", but because it's not the "norm", others are less likely to join in.  

Another thing I noticed, from the looks of it, is that those who offer up their words of gratitude freely, are mostly over the age of 25.  I thought about this in relation to Erikson's theory of  Psychosocial Conflict (Identity vs. Confusion, Stage 5).  When we are in our adolescent years, we might begin to "feel confused or insecure about ourselves and how we fit into society."  I wondered three things.  One -  were these students not taught these skills (manners & the confidence to use them) during that critical period?  Two - if this is now the norm, what does our future society look like?  and Three - is this something they will become more comfortable with and more free to express as they grow and mature?

I am sure glad I spent a lot of time and energy teaching my kids manners! 

I don't say "thanks" just to be nice.  I AM grateful for the shuttle.  I am grateful for the time and money it saves me, I am grateful to not have to walk in bad weather, and I am grateful to the driver for getting me to my destination safely!

My name is Emma. I ride the shuttle, and I say Thanks.

Something Important

I do not subscribe to the theory which suggests my existence is some sort of cosmic coincidence.  I believe we all have purpose.

But more than just gaining a physical body and being tested and tried and growing and learning - I believe that I have a specific purpose.  While I am not yet sure what that purpose might be, I have days, or sometimes just mere moments, in which I have this overwhelming feeling that there is more for me to do and more for me to be, and that that "more" is Something Important.  Sometimes, like today, that feeling just pulls at me.

Often when I've made a specific choice to do something big, like get remarried or finish school, and have peace in my mind and in my heart about that choice, I feel like it's because it's part of something bigger, something greater which I have yet to unveil; like the Something Important is giving me its nod of approval. And sometimes I think, hmm, maybe doing this thing or that is a stepping stone, or perhaps even The Stepping Stone, setting in motion the Something Important.  In spite of all of my shortcomings or spells of laziness from time to time, the Something Important seems to draw just enough curiosity and ambition to carry on.

Often times, as I contemplate the Something Important, I wonder if others too have felt that same pull. I think about the apocryphal tale, "I cannot tell a lie", and wonder if George Washington, at age 6, had any inclination of his Something Important as he tearfully confessed to hacking his father's beloved cherry tree to death.  I consider Mother Teresa and wonder about the state of her heart and her mind between the very young age of 8, when her father died, and the age of 12, when she decided she wanted to devote her life to her new found religion. Had she already known her Something Important?

I also reflect on the Not-So-Greats (by the world's standards), such as my massage therapist, my piano instructors, or my high school Biology teacher.  Did they feel they discovered their Something Important?  After all, they've made, and continue to make a difference in my life.

I'm not sure if one ever fully realizes their Something Important until they've arrived, and perhaps not even then. While I occasionally muse over these things, I try not to exhaust too much time or energy wondering what my Something Important might be, or worrying if I'll ever figure it out.

I believe that by continually working towards that big thing, whatever it is, I am learning to navigate through the ebb and flow of my life, and hopefully better myself (and maybe even impact a few others) along the way.

I am grateful for the knowledge that God has a plan for me and I am grateful for the pull I feel towards Something Important. In fact, I think I would feel a bit empty without it.

The Zone

Growing up, there were 7 children in my family and we all had chores (back in "the day" when parents actually gave kids chores).  When my mother would say, "Everyone needs to get their chores done today", one of us would ask, "who's coming over?" or another might inquire, "'Regular Clean' or 'Company Clean'?"  We knew that if company was coming it needed to be spotless, but that wasn't the only difference.

'Regular Clean' meant Mom would pull out her vinyl collection of 45s and we'd move & groove as we cleaned the house.  If one wanted to take time sorting everything out of desk drawers or the toy box, per se, one would be allowed; it seemed as long as it was done at the end of the day, all was well.  I don't think any of us kids ever looked forward to cleaning, but I do remember the feeling of accomplishment once all was said and done.  Dare I suggest it was even somewhat "therapeutic"?

'Company Clean', on the other hand, meant no messing around.  You do your job and do it now, and time is of the essence.  This mode of cleaning did not allow for ample sorting time.  Don't get me wrong; it wasn't a time for sweeping everything under the rug either.  Everything was to be in its place, polished & shined and ready for "show" (albeit we never lived in a house "fancy" enough to show).  Although this mode of cleaning was much more demanding, the reward of having company over was well worth it.  (You'd think we'd never been exposed to other humans by how excitable we became when company arrived.)

In my early adult years, we lived in small apartments or homes and I never felt like I had the proper space to entertain.  Up until that point, my motivation for cleaning had always been a) to avoid punishment from Mom or b) the imminent arrival of company.   Needless to say, I didn't feel motivated to clean anymore.

As a 20 year-old new wife and mom, I learned little "tricks" to play on myself in order to get motivated. "No crafting until I finish cleaning", or "no Oprah until all of the dishes are done". (Oprah got me through my afternoon infant feedings back then).  Sometimes, if I wanted to "play" first, I'd set a timer and begin cleaning as soon as the timer went off.  Two things I learned about myself and my cleaning persona as an adult?

1. I still prefer cleaning with the music on   - and -  
2. Once I start to clean, I become a whirlwind; it's amazing how fast I clean once I get in The Zone.

That's what I call it now - The Zone.  Once in a while I might take a day to leisurely clean out a closet, or organize drawers, but most often, when it's time to clean, I'm in The Zone.

Symptoms of The Zone

• You have a one-track mind: Must Clean.  (And everything or everyone that is not contributing to this is against you, obviously.)
• All "nice-ities" go out the window.  There is no, "Honey, will you please _________?"  It's more like, "You-- pick up this, grab that, go put this away, run that upstairs, .........  hurry. Hurry. HURRY!"
• A brisk walk.  This is a key indication that you are probably in The Zone. You basically turn into this vortex, grabbing things along the way as you pass from one room to the next while cleaning.  Note: You may also find yourself becoming extremely irritated at others (kids) who have not adopted this aspect of speed-walking for themselves; even more so, if they appear to be merely strolling about.
• You do not stop to answer texts, emails, or check FaceBook notifications.  You may even send your mother's call straight to voice-mail. (Just saying.)
• It's quite possible that, while you're in The Zone, your children or spouse may accuse you of "yelling", when in fact, you feel you are just speaking in a firm tone, in an attempt to emphasize the seriousness in which they are to accept your demands requests.
• Interruptions, of any kind, feel like huge inconveniences.

Today, while I was at the gas station, the clerk had to ask me to repeat myself a few times.  He followed up with, "I'm sorry.  I just returned from some time off, and I'm not yet back in The Zone."

I laughed and said, "My husband doesn't like it when I get in The Zone."

He chuckled and then said, as he was handing me my change, "Well, just remind your husband that when you are in The Zone, you are invincible."  He's right, I do feel invincible in The Zone. It must have something to do with Newton's law of an object in motion.

It is also true that my new husband doesn't like The Zone.  I admit, this came up shortly after we were married a few months ago. Everyone was working together to clean the house, and apparently, he wanted to take a brief moment to kiss his new bride (so sweet).  However, when he stepped into my path in an attempt to embrace me, it completely threw me off, resulting in a look of surprise on my part. (I think he referred to it as a look of disgust or annoyance.)  Luckily, for us, we communicate with each other rather well and were able to use it as a "learning" moment in our relationship.

Now, I give fair warning to any living being in the house when I am preparing to enter The Zone.  Also, if the Hubs wants a brief intermission, he now prefaces with, "Can you step out of The Zone for a minute?"
This of course usually gets me to smile and the transition is made easier.

Even though I've made a few modifications to The Zone, I'm still a vortex-- speed-walking from room-to-room, picking things up along the way, and I still send Mom to voice mail if she calls.  The Zone does make me feel somewhat invincible, and the quicker I delve right in, the more energy I seem to have, and I'm able to accomplish a lot more in less time.  To this extent, it works.

I just hope for your sake, you don't ever stop by while I'm in The Zone.

The Errand of Angels

For those who don't know The Man very well, he became single when his wife passed away nearly two years ago. Little B was only 4 years old.

Little B's maternal grandmother has been able to maintain a relationship with him and invites him for many weekends at her house. This has been important to her, as Little B is her only grandchild.

The grandmother was diagnosed back in the Spring with Cancer, and her recent bout with pneumonia over Christmas sent her to the I.C.U. None of us were sure what the outcome would be, and I think we were all doing our best to mentally & spiritually prepare for the worst, while praying & hoping for the best. Thankfully, she began to get better over these last few days.

Last Sunday, while sitting in church, I had several thoughts & impressions regarding the situation. On the one hand, I thought about the sweet reunion this grandmother would have with her own daughter, and have an end to her earthly pain, should she pass on. On the other hand, I knew she worried about Little B & his welfare; she would have a hard time leaving him. While contemplating this, the words of a hymn, "As Sisters in Zion" came to mind.

"The errand of angels is given to women;
And this is a gift that, as sisters, we claim;
To do whatsoever is gentle and human,
To cheer and to bless in humanity's name."

Suddenly, I imagined me, standing next to Little B's mother in Heaven before coming to earth. Me, making a promise to her to care for her child.

I don't know for certain that ever occurred in our premortal existence. But I do know the impact it had on me on that very instant. Having the opportunity to care for Little B IS a gift  just as the hymn proclaims.

I feel like the Lord has blessed me with a tender mercy; to glimpse just a little of my purpose - my mission here on this earth.  My errand of angels.

Stumps

So, last week we had a horrible wind storm.  The 70 mph winds they predicted actually came in between 80-112 mph last Thursday.   Category 2 Hurricane-like winds.  Not everyone in the valley got hit hard, but Davis County did, and especially South Davis County, where I live.

We were without power and heat, and unlike some of my neighbors who went without for 55 hours, I was only out of power from 6:30 am Thursday morning until 10:30 pm Thursday night. And while I was "lucky" that a tree didn't fall on my house (sadly, like many other neighbors), a lot of branches came down and I lost several shingles off my already needing-replaced roof.  (Now, if I could just get the landlord to call me back!)

The superintendent of the school district didn't see a particular reason to cancel school (he's a "stump").  Even though driving conditions were dangerous (flying debris, heavy winds) and that meant tons of inexperienced teenage drivers were on the road.  It also mean that students were sitting in dark, cold classrooms, with already wet hair because they couldn't blow dry it that morning. Finally, a neighboring city in South Davis declared a state of emergency and THEY made the executive decision to shut down all of their schools in that city.  Finally, the schools in my town decided to follow suite.  I heard one mother say that up at her daughter's school, the fire alarm went off and the kids had to stand outside in the freezing, harsh winds (with wet hair, mind you) for 45 minutes until a fire truck could be pulled from other tragedies (like downed power lines, overturned gas trucks on the freeway, etc.) to come and clear the school.  Finally THAT principal decided, enough was enough and he was shutting his school down.  In the meantime, the school district switchboard was lit up with steaming mad parents demanding the district close.  Nevertheless, the emergency weather line continued to play with the same message, "Today is December 1st. At this time there are no weather-related issues.  Davis School District is open and all schools are in session."  I think it must boil down to politics and money?  Who knows?  I certainly didn't understand.  The district got so many complaints, they proactively closed school for Friday, which was good, because there were still several schools without power/heat and many also had broken glass to contend with.

So -- after my kids were retrieved from their schools (after their principals decided to override the district's decision), I farmed them out to warm places and I drove up to another office to work because my clients still expected their money and their home sales to close on time.  :)    During my dangerous and extremely slow drive (took me 90 minutes to drive 15 miles) I saw down power lines, over-turned semi after over-turned semi, a twisted up trampoline flying through the air and landing in a field of cows, a mobile home sliced in half by the chain link fence it landed on, lawn chairs and trash bins rolling with ease like they were merely tumbleweeds and the trash from inside tossed all over the place.  Lights were out at nearly every intersection and I witnessed some very impatient drivers taking risks causing fender-benders all over town.

Needless to say, the kidlets stayed farmed out for the night to be sure to have something to eat and to sleep in warm beds and I found a place for myself.  I am not kidding when I say a long hot bath never felt so good.

The next three days in our town was spent cleaning up the after-math, especially because there were threats of another imminent wind storm.   I was cold and sore and tired, but soooo grateful for the help from the local scouts and their leaders who came and lent a hand Saturday afternoon.  Just as they left some more friends showed up to help me get the back tree mess manageable.

In all of the chaos, I felt gratitude and joy in how the community came together to help each other out.  Churches were canceled on Sunday and many others conducted abbreviated services so that the community could work together to clean up before the next possible storm (fear was that the lying branches and debris would damage more homes, posing more health threats).  The National Guard was deployed to help with the clean up as well and I still saw several of their trucks and soldiers around town this morning.

Sunday, a boy from church - who was also one of the local scouts that was assisting in the clean-up made a comment.  He said (paraphrasing):

We went to help [a neighbor] remove a fallen pine tree from her back yard.  But it was so big, we had to cut it down into chunks small enough to roll between the gate out to the front of the house, so it could then be hauled away.  As my leader and I were rolling one of the big stumps he said to me something I will never forget.  He said, "You can't stop rolling.  Even if you hit a rough patch or a bump, you have to roll on through.  Because once you stop, it is much harder to get it started again."  I have thought about that all night and thought how that applies in life too.  When we hit rough patches or bumps in our lives, we have to just keep on going.  Because if we stop, it will be harder to pick ourselves up again and get going.

Smart kid, huh?  Not only did his message bring tears to my eyes because such profound words from such a young man touched my heart, but because I realized that these boys are learning more than service and hard work; they are learning life lessons -- they are building character.  These boys will never forget the after math of that storm, nor will they ever forget the service they rendered and they are better for it.

Moral:  Just keep on rolling along!

Some teenagers in my neighborhood went around town during and after the storm capturing footage...

Blogspot Confessions: I Cheated

Ok -- so here's a confession. I cheated! Yep it's true.

It all started back when I lived in the Bridgeside Landing apartments as a young mom with little bebes. There were lots of other young moms with lots of little bebes too. We decided to do a weekly play group and rotate hosts. Whomever hosted provided the snacks. Well, all of these moms and their fancy schmancy million dollar delectable treats intimidated me. I thought about trying some of the things they had done. But let's face it, I'm lazy.

Instead, I began several processes of trial & error using simple recipes (or even worse - a MIX) and just embellishing slightly. The result? They thought I was a rock star and the next thing I know the neighborhood chicas were calling ME a "regular Betty Crocker".

I have since actually made things from scratch and many good things too, if I do say so myself. And much of it comes from experimenting or substituting this or that for something the recipe calls for which I don't have on hand. I actually enjoy cooking and baking now.

I have also since realized that my enthusiasm for cooking possibly/probably stems from my need for positive attention. "Back in the day" I needed to feel accepted by these seemingly oh-so-perfect housewives and moms. I also enjoyed the praise my many coworkers would give me when I brought something to the monthly potluck. It was their words of encouragement that motivated me to continue. My oldest at the time was only 4 years old and was a picky eater, as was the other parental unit. I remember trying new recipes for dinner and then getting offended or hurt that no one would even want to try them. But having a new audience, a new panel of judges per se, was exciting. It filled my need for praise and affection in a way I can't describe. I've heard that a lot of times people eat as a way to fulfill something they are lacking. I think I cook and bake for that same reason, or at least that's why I started to years ago.

I finally feel like cooking is something I am really good at. True, I will never be a gourmet chef. (My ADHD prevents me from even READING a recipe with all of those ingredients, haha.) But I love to cook and bake and please my family, (selfishly) knowing I'm gonna get some sort of praise in return -- even if it's just them eating a second (or third) helping.

I am actually grateful for my friends and family who were bold enough to let the accolades and "atta girls" roll off the tongue. If it weren't for them I might still be serving pasta-roni for dinner every night. :)

I guess the bottom line is we all need encouragement when trying new things. We all want to feel appreciated. We all want to hear we've done a good job. I admit, I "cheat" a little here or there with cooking. I am all for short cuts. But does it really matter how I got here? No. My kids love the stuff I make so that's all that really counts. I admit, it sort of pleases me to think that one day one of my kids will tell their spouse, "You should ask my mom how she makes it." :)

I think this is one area where cheating is acceptable. :)

If interested you can check out my recipes and cheats here: {{Simply Simmer}}

Sunday Sentiments: Personal Revelation

Sometimes, I am just not very good at being patient. I don't mean being impatient with other people, but impatient with things in my life. For example, I wish I was already done with school, remarried, in a nice house, with a nice job... yadda, yadda, yadda. Probably the biggest thing I stress about is $$$. I wish I was in a better financial position to NOT stress over my living expenses. But, as of recent I am not receiving child support and my hours at work have been cut back, the "ends" are so far apart right now they are basically impossible to meet, how can I not be a bit concerned? I can't even rob Peter to pay Paul because Peter's got nothing! =D

Anyway, there was a potential resolution to the whole job thing. But in order to make it work I would have to shuffle around my school schedule, find someone else to take my kids to school in the mornings and pick them up afterwards too. I would have to drive a lot farther every day five days a week and I would have to make sure that dentist appointments and the like were all scheduled as far in advance as possible as this new opportunity just wouldn't be as flexible. So the question was better pay and more hassle? Or stick where I am now, but struggle financially. I cannot tell you how sick this decision made me. I mean, doing "what was best" for me & my kids just didn't seem so clear cut, y'know? Isn't providing for them in their best interest? Does it really matter if someone else takes them to and from school every day? hmmm...

Well, on my way back from class about a week ago, I was sort of having a major-minor meltdown. It happens, right? As I drove past the church I saw the cars of some of our clergymen there. I decided to go in and talk to them. Y'know, it's really hard some days not to have that special someone to come home and pour my heart out to and unwind a little. So, I stopped in to see if I could talk to someone. There was someone available, so I did just that; I poured my heart out and explained my concerns and worries.

I have to say that I do believe in personal revelation. I believe that we are each entitled to receive our own answers or inspiration to prayers. I also believe with faith that God can make a way where there is no way sometimes. But like I said... sometimes I get a little impatient.

Anyway, after I poured my heart out, I was offered a blessing in my behalf from the members of my bishopric. I gladly accepted the offer as I could sure use all of the blessings I could get. So, one of the counselors of our bishopric gave me a blessing and it was so enlightening and powerful that it has stuck with me since. I keep thinking about it, and while very personal, there are some things I do want to share.

I was reminded in this prayer that the Lord knows my heart and my situation and my needs. I was reminded that I need to exercise my trust in Him and to be PATIENT. I was blessed that my work situation would "turn to my favor" and that I just needed to wait and be PATIENT. I was reminded that there is One who already suffered for me and has already felt everything that I am going through. I was reminded to seek the Lord often in prayer and to ask for guidance. But while waiting for that guidance to be PATIENT and ACT in faith, living my life in a way so I can be ready to receive His grace and the answers that will come in time.

There was quite a bit more, though this is what I am willing and/or feel inspired to share with you. In my "sharing" with the bishopric about my circumstance, the one who blessed me was not aware that I was contemplating another job. So, to me it was poignant that he blessed me that my work situation would "turn to my favor". I knew then my answer was not to pursue this other avenue. And of course, above all, I was reminded that if I was patient and faithful everything would turn out okay.

And logically, I already knew that. I already know that eventually, things will work out. Because I am the type of person that works to make things work out. I don't sit back and wait for life to happen. I am an active part of my own success. I believe in the proverb that God helps those who help themselves.

But this experience was good for me, as it reminded me that I can and **should** ask for blessings when I so badly need them. It is part of being humble to do so. I was able to go up to the temple the next night and meditate and ponder much, and left with a feeling of peace; solidifying the answers I received the night before.

God did not put me or you on this earth to fail. He wants us to succeed. He wants us to WANT to succeed. He wants us to live a life of happiness. He wants us to know that we are loved. We know this because as Christians, we believe that He already sent someone to suffer for us.

I don't know what answers will come next. I don't know what doors will be opened, since these "windows" have slammed shut. But I do rest assured that my trials are not in vain and that I can take much from them, even if it is simply learning that I am a strong person and that I can do hard things.

I think the following nuggets from James 1 are apropos here...

3 Knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience.

4 But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing.

5 If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.

6 But let him ask in faith, nothing wavering. For he that wavereth is like a wave of the sea driven with the wind and tossed.

Personal Revelation. If you don't have some, get some. All you have to do is ask :)

When Bad Things Happen...

Sometimes when bad things happen, I let it roll off my back. Or, I might cry~~ but just a bit. But then, if it's something out of my control, I try to ignore it... push it to the back of my mind.

Sometimes that works.

But sometimes... Sometimes, that bad thing gets compounded by busyness, stress, lack of sleep or other bad things.

And then... it all comes to a head. I can tell when I am on the "verge", as I call it. I can feel it brewing and I know that I am headed for more than a little cry; a monumental cry.

And the flood gates open and the tears flow and it seems like nothing is going to go my way. That "storm" usually lasts about an hour...or two...or maybe even three.

And as with everything else, there is that one person who can make it all better. Not that they can take away the bad thing or fix what's broken. But for some reason, just talking to them or hearing their voice makes everything FEEL like it will be better.

Maybe for you that one person is the same person each time. Or maybe it's that one person that is just the right person for that particular time. Either way, it works. That voice is the voice we can find comfort in. And that is the voice that sometimes helps us see clearly, or maybe just lends a listening ear. It can be a therapist, a coworker, a family member, a friend, a lover... Whomever it is, it is the one voice we need to hear in that moment to help soothe us. And they don't even have to say anything in particular; just being with them or talking to them is enough.

I am grateful and blessed that when bad things happen I have that voice...the voice that makes everything okay.

When I Grow Up

Ever since I was in High School I had several ideas and thoughts about what I wanted to be when I grew up.

When I grow up, I want to be a musical performer.
When I grow up, I want to be a realtor.
When I grow up, I want to be a teacher.
When I grow up, I want to be an FBI agent.
When I grow up, I want to be a writer.
When I grow up, I want to own my own music academy for kids.

As a 16 year-old preparing for college and filling out forms, I had to choose a major. I knew it had to be a viable one; something I could excel at and something I could actually do. I decided that teaching was something I could do and still have holidays and summers with my future 10 children. (Yes. 10. Once upon a time, I dreamed of having TONS of kids.)

The Plan {Otherwise known as "Plan A"}:
As a sophomore in High School, I had it all worked out. I was going to go off to college for 3 years, majoring in music education. I loved music. I loved teaching (or at least I loved public speaking). I loved conducting (what little I had done for church). Then, when I turned 21, I would take a sabbatical, and go on a mission for my church. I felt this was important and something I had always wanted to do. Then I would come home, and finish my 4th year, followed by a semester of student teaching. It would be during this 4th & 5th year I would search for my future spouse. I would graduate by age 24 and get married sometime around that time as well. I would start having babies right away and I would have 1 child per year (or try), and be done around age 35. I would be teaching high school choir and loving it. In my "spare time" -- y'know, between raising 10 kids and what-not, I would be writing and publishing books, and probably get my real estate license... y'know, to keep my "busy" during the summer.

Yep... that was pretty much the "rough draft" of my plan. But, here is what really happened.

Plan B:
Age 18 I went off to college, majoring in music education. During semester 2, I became engaged. It was a whirlwind and we had only known each other for 6 weeks before becoming engaged. After another 4 weeks, I went back home to work for the summer and did not return until 2 weeks prior to my wedding. (So, yes. We only spent a total of 12 weeks together before getting married.) At 19, I became pregnant ~oops~ about 6 weeks after the wedding and by age 20 had my first child. We moved out of state and went back home so my then newly-graduated spouse could look for work. This was just not happening; it took 10 long months to find something for him; anything. So, instead of going back to school, I took care of baby during the day and went to work at night. I did that for a year, before being offered a promotion that our budget could not refuse. I found a lovely lady right across the street from my work who took my baby in during the day and refused to be paid more than practically nothing. I kept thinking, as soon as we get on our feet, I will go back to school - maybe "next year". Next year turned into 2, and then we moved across country, again for spouse to find a better job. I was 23. 3 months after settling in, I found out I was preggo with #2, and the next year, only 3 months after #2 was born, I went back to work. I worked nights so I didn't have to do day care. That was my life for the next 7 years, and I had baby #3 in there somewhere. Finally at age 30, I left the night job and got my real estate license, because it was doable much faster than going back to school. I did that for a few years and loved it. But, by age 33, I was in the middle of a divorce and the market tanked. I found an office job for the title company next door. I liked the people, and felt I was good at what I was doing. But I didn't love my job. And it wouldn't be something I could raise my family on, on 1 income. I was 34 when my divorce was final. I thought to myself, I could stay with this job, doing this until I retire. Doing this for the next 30 years? OR, I could back to school, maybe finish by the time I am 40, and then do something else I possibly enjoy for 25. When put in that perspective, there was no choice. I knew I would finally be going back to school.

The New Plan B:
So, I was once again faced with the burning question, "What do I want to be when I grow up?" I already had my real estate license. I could check that off my proverbial occupational bucket list. Musical performance might be fun, but let's face it, I am not the cream of the crop there; not realistic. Starting my own business is too risky right now, and I think I may have surpassed my window of opportunity for the FBI. That just leaves, writing and teaching. Since my goal at this point in my life is a steady income with benefits, teaching it is. I am majoring in Music Education with the hopes of teaching High School Choir.

Plan Bb:
I read once that how you label yourself plays a huge part in your own success. For example, if you run often for exercise or even fun, do you consider yourself a "runner"? Or do you think "runners" are only those who run in races, or are sponsored for their sport? If you sew a lot, do you consider yourself a "seamstress"? Or is that title only held for someone who actually gets paid for it. It was a very interesting concept. With that in mind, I decided I am already a writer. I have written several books and stories. I just haven't published them. I "write" several blogs. Yes. I am a writer. I've decided in an effort to get published one day, I am doing a double major. I am also majoring in English with an emphasis on Creative Writing.

Reflection:
I never thought, 20 years ago, sitting in my high school guidance counselor's office, that this is where I'd be today. According to "Plan A", I'd have up to 10 kids, live in the 2 story house with the white-picket fence, going to book signings on the weekends, teaching choir during the week, and married "happily ever after". Funny how things turn out.

There are 3 sayings that come to mind right now. "Sometimes the choices we make are more about the choices we leave behind.", "Patience doesn't mean sitting back and doing nothing."... and... "You can do hard things."

I feel much better about my current circumstance when I think about those three statements. Life is a journey; my journey. I have made choices that brought me here; either the choice to move forward or the choice to leave something behind. Nevertheless, they are my choices. I accept that. I feel empowered to know that I am the one writing my story now, and that although I do not know what my "Happily Ever After" will fully entail, I'm buckled in and plan to have the time of my life doing it!

I am a mother, a student-soon-to-be-teacher, licensed in both real estate and escrow, and I am a writer.

The "I Can't Believe It's Not a Bucket List" List

Bucket Lists have been all the buzz ever since the movie with the same name hit the big screen. I went. I saw. I laughed. I cried. (I gushed over the use of John Mayer's song, "Say" used in the soundtrack). And yes, I made my own bucket list of sorts. Even though the movie's been out on DVD for a few years now, the term "Bucket List" is easily understood and readily accepted as common culture in today's society. Cassie was talking all things Bucket Lists over at her blog, cuz one of her teachers has assigned them to make a list of 100 things! Talk about a daunting task.

Anywhooo... got me thinking, "but what about the things I've already done, that I never even ever would have imagined I'd do once upon a time?" (Like that grammar there, did ya? ;) )

Looking back, sort of realizing the many things I have already accomplished has really been strengthening for me. It confirms my beliefs that I can do hard things and lends affirmations that there is a plan for me and that my Heavenly Father loves me. Not everything on my "reverse" bucket list is something others might view as particularly positive. Nonetheless, these are the things that I never ever even would have imagined, and in some way or another they have made me stronger.

I never imagined I'd ever...

• fall in love the first time at age 15.
• have my first heartache at age 15. :)
• have 3 oral surgeries as a teenager.
• be involved in 3 car accidents as a teenager.
• get accepted into the Indiana All-State Honor's Choir 3 consecutive years in High School.
• have a lead in a High School Musical Production.
• do missionary work in Bloomington on the IU Campus.
• go to college in Hawaii.
• get married at age 19.
• have a baby at age 20.
• move back home to Indiana.
• move to Utah. (Once I told my paw that I'd NEVER move Utah. He said, "never say never". I said, "mark my words...[evil laugh]")
• Learn to cook, or cook well.
• work for the airlines.
• have 2 more children.
• become ill and have 2 more surgeries.
• get my real estate license.
• get a divorce.
• get my Title/Escrow license.
• become a certified public notary.
• have a second chance at 50 first dates.
• become a "born-again" virgin (tee hee)
• get my concealed carry permit.
• get a gun.
• write a novella (still needs publishing, but hey! it's written!)
• become good friends with the now-wife of my then-boyfriend.
• be the target of neighborhood meanness.
• be the receiver of many generous people who have helped me over the last few years without expecting anything in return, and many times while staying anonymous.
• go back to school
• get straight A's
• feel love again...

I am sure there is much more that I have surprised myself with over the years, but these are just the first thirty or so that came to mind. What about you? What have you done or accomplished that you never would've guessed "once upon a time"?

Confessions of a Talk-a-holic

1) I am NOT a show-off. I mean, I enjoy nice things (not that I can afford to buy anything nice as of late), but if/when I acquire something, it is not in my nature to go around showing it off. I *might* share my excitement about it with perhaps a few close friends, however.

2) It's NOT only about me. In other words, I can have conversations about funny things that happened to me, or things I overheard, etc... but I don't seek out to tell others all about me. (or at least, I try not to.) And in a relationship, I am more of a "people pleaser". I like to do things for the other person, like cook or help them clean, etc. And when it comes to things like TV, I often forsake my preferences to watch what the other person wants. Things like that...

3) I am NOT good at taking a compliment. That sort of attention makes me a tad uncomfortable. Part of me feels like if I say "thanks", I am somehow being conceited... or at least not humble. Logically, I realize there is a difference. I am working on it, and I am much better now than I used to be.

Okay... all of THAT being said, I will admit to THIS:

I ENJOY ATTENTION.

There, I said it. Whew! I mean, I am a writer at heart, and would blog even if I had 0 followers and 0 comments. Though, I admit that I prefer comments and followers. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, "I am a bloggy comment whore!" Additionally, I admit that I sort of like making slight ruckuses on FB. Many times I update my status bar with things that are slightly ambiguous, such as "just found a bruise in a very odd place", because I KNOW it will invoke curiosity. I am sort of an exhibitionist in that respect.

I don't know how to explain it except that in many places where you're supposed to behave a certain way (at church, the grocery store, an office, his parent's house, etc.) I often have this insatiable urge to act another way. I think it's the thrill that I *might* get caught.

I am not a thrill-seeker when my life may be at stake (sky-diving, etc.)... but, I *do* like attention.

What about you? Anything YOU'D like to confess??? ;)

ABC's of Me

[A]ttention is something I enjoy,

[B]ourne Movies are my all-time fave.

There's no such thing as too much [C]heese;

[D]ollar and cents, I'm trying to save.

I'm [E]agerly searching for Mr. Right to forever be my lover.

Bare [F]eet gross me out; So keep 'em Cute, Clean or Covered!

Hawaii is where I went to colle[G]e,

But I'm a [H]oosier, 'cause that's where I was born.

My [I]pod's full of tons of tunes,

[J]uxtaposing love and scorn.

Amish is my daddy's bac[K]ground,

[L]DS is my religion.

[M]assages are like Crack-Cocaine,

and I love snuggli[N]g (just a smidgen).

H[O]bbies & adventures keep me busy.

I've [P]layed the piano since I was four

Which helps to [Q]uiet many thoughts

'cause insomnia's a bo[R]e!

[S]ushi rocks! Need I say more? ("Connect" and "Las Vegas" rolls, to-die for!)

"[T]hat's what she said" is my favorite line, (though it gets me into trouble).

[U]tah is where I live now (What some call the "Mormon bubble").

Con[V]ersating is my obsession,

[W]riting is my passion,

To e[X]cel is my drive, being myself in true fashion.

One stop short of Insanit[Y]ville, some onlookers just might decide.

But with [Z]eal, I continue, for I've nothing more to hide.

Ugly Day

Didn't hear the alarm. Woke up late.

It's gonna be an ugly day.

Quick shower. No time to style.

It's gonna be an ugly day.

I'm pony-tailin' it. Bangs in between.

Too short for tucking; too long for cute.

It's gonna be an ugly day.

Skin is dry, legs unshaven.

It's gonna be an ugly day.

Clothes in the dryer, still soaked.

It's gonna be an ugly day.

I try everything left in the wardrobe;

most of it ending up in the pile.

It's gonna be an ugly day.

An old brown sweater. An ankle-length skirt.

It's gonna be an ugly day.

Face is pale, zits are brewing.

It's gonna be an ugly day.

I race out the door, forgetting my watch.

No time for contacts. Spectacles, you're up!

It's gonna be an ugly day.

Get in the car; underwire snaps.

It's gonna be an ugly day.

Make it to work in the nick of time. Still...

It's gonna be an ugly day.

Fancy people come in;Fancy people go out.

I want to hide my "frumpy" under my desk.

It's gonna be an ugly day.

Tired. Hungry. Forgot my lunch.

It's gonna be an ugly day.

Reach in my drawer. Only chocolate.

It's gonna be an ugly day.

I take a bite of my chocolate-turned lunch

as Skinny Beautiful walks through the door. Ugh.

It's gonna be an ugly day.

Feeling like crap, fatter than before.

It's gonna be an ugly day.

Make-up has faded. Perfume has dwindled.

It's gonna be an ugly day.

To top it all off, I HAD to see her.

She's losing weight like never before.

It's gonna be an ugly day.

I liked her better when she was fatter.

It's gonna be an ugly day.

I liked her better when she was poorer.

It's gonna be an ugly day.

Driving home, the tears are brimming.

Too tired to cook, too down to care.

It's gonna be an ugly day.

Off come the work clothes, on go the PJs.

It's gonna be an ugly day.

Still feeling fat. Still feeling frumpy.

It's going to be an ugly day.

Need something to make it better.

Need something to make it go away.

It's gonna be an ugly day.

Tears start flowing. Snot starts dripping.

It's gonna be an ugly day.

Tears continue. Face gets puffy.

It's gonna be an ugly day.

Then in comes the call. I hear his voice.

In an instant, everything changes.

It's no more an ugly day.

Only Ten Dollars

Recently I received a check from the school. It was additional funds that were above and beyond the cost of my tuition and books for the semester. I am not rich. Not even close. So this little bit of extra money was appreciated. I decided that I would use a **little** bit of it to get my kids each something for their birthdays this year, and the rest I would use towards bills.

I decided to get them all three the same thing, and that I would get the gifts now and then hide them away until their birthdays (January, March and June). So, the other day I stopped in at SuperTarget and grabbed the said items. I was sort of in a hurry. And when I know **exactly** what I want, I mean it when I say, "I'm just gonna run in, grab this and run out."

Anyway, because I am in a hurry, I pick the shortest line. 2 people in front of me. The cashier was just finished ringing up this gentleman's order and proceeded to tell him the grand total. He is having a hard time understanding her English and she cannot speak Spanish. The cashier had already loaded his bags into his cart, and they were packed full of groceries. I am not sure how many mouths he has to feed, but my guess is a lot. The cashier is explaining to the man he doesn't have enough money. He is not understanding. She is pointing to the digital display, trying to explain once again that the amount of cash he had given her was not enough.

My first thought was, "Oh great! And I thought this was the SHORT line!" But then, I glimpsed my attitude in the face of the woman in front of me. She let out not one, not two, but THREE heavy sighs, adding a major eye-roll, which she turned and displayed for the rest of us as if to say, "Can you believe this???", and topping it all off with her hands-on-hips-I-am-too-important-to-have-to-stand-here-and-witness-this move. The lady behind me jumped on that ship and added two loud heavy sighs of her own, along with a rhythmic tapping of her undoubtedly, name-brand stilettos.

I realized that my being irritated was not going to help. I also realized that my initial feeling of exasperation was just about as ridiculous as the looks on these two ladies faces. At this point, the cashier decides that since he doesn't understand English, perhaps she could speak LOUDER, cuz that might just help. As she is explaining that he is about ten dollars short, he is digging in his pockets. The thought occurs to me that he doesn't even realize he is short. I think that he thought she was asking if he had the exact change. Like, if you have two pennies, etc. He digs in his pockets and turns them out empty. She then says, again VERRRRRY LOUDLY and now EXTREMELY SLOWLY, "YOU...DON'T...HAVE...ENOUGH...MONEY!" The man shakes his head "no". Again, I do not think he even understood.

Cereal. Spaghetti noodles. Oranges. Target brand diapers. Ground beef. Bell peppers. These were the items I could see peeking from some of his grocery bags.

Tap. Tap. Tap. The woman behind me clicked her shoes a little more loudly; each tap growing with intensity. The woman in front of me begins to look like a defective bobble-head; the constant shaking of her head from side-to-side. I could practically hear the clucking of her tongue.

Ten Dollars. He was short ten dollars. I had ten dollars cash, in my wallet. It wouldn't take away from **my** budget to give him the ten dollars. After all, this was *extra* money. Could I find a use for the ten dollars? Sure I could. Like I said, I am not rich.

However, just because I have never stood in a line at the grocery store as time stood still and glared at me for not having enough cash, doesn't mean I haven't ever stressed over being able to feed my family. I stress about it. All.The.Time. In fact, over the last two years, I have spent many a countless nights stressing over how I would pay this bill or that bill, or what I could make for dinner the next three nights with the few cans left in my cupboard. I cannot tell you all of the times I have felt like I could not handle just One.More.Thing. And it has been in times like these wherein somebody will have put an envelope of money in my mailbox, or a 20 dollar bill will have turned up in my old jacket, or someone else has brought me dinner or groceries, or let me "borrow" a can of diced tomatoes, a tub of cool whip or even a bag of chocolate chips. I cannot tell you the times I have come home to find my lawn magically mowed or my leaves mysteriously raked or my weeds pulled or my sidewalks and driveway cleared of snow. I am one person. How could I possibly "pay" each of these people back? Especially the anonymous ones...

Nonetheless, this man needed help. Right Now. He didn't have time to go home and see if per chance there was a ten dollar bill in an old coat. It was my chance to pay it forward. And the other thing too, I told myself, I KNOW where this money is going. He is using it to feed and care for his family. He isn't buying drugs or alcohol with it. He isn't gambling with it.

In reality, only about two minutes had passed. And yet, everything seemed slowed; the ticking of the clock filling the space of time, and the sighing and the tapping continued, each echoing a bit more.

"I've got it," I said, my own voice almost unrecognizable to me. I don't know why, but I was shaking as I reached my hand in my purse and fumbled to release the clasp of my wallet. The cashier and the two women gasped, almost in unison. The woman behind me looked at me with shock; the woman in front of me with disgust, and the cashier with disbelief. "I've got it," I said again, reaching out and handing the ten dollar bill to the cashier. I mean it was TEN DOLLARS! And it wasn't really even *my* money, really. I mean, it was given to me, but still.

I didn't like the looks on the women's faces and I decided that I didn't want others to see that in me. Instead I wanted someone to be able to look at me and see His image in my countenance. I wanted to be able to feel good about **finally** being able to help someone. Anyone. All of a sudden, ten dollars didn't seem like so much. I mean, really, with everything I have been given, and especially through the kind acts of others, it was **only** ten dollars. How could I NOT offer?

Isn't this what I want anyway? I asked myself. When I pray, often times I tell the Lord that I will be an instrument in his hands and that if there is anyone who could benefit from any service or deed that I could do, that I might be made aware of it. How do I NOT know that this may have been my chance to be *that* instrument. What if I would have ignored the prompting to help? What blessings or other opportunities might I have missed out on?

I know that some people would call me foolish or wasteful; saying that it wasn't *my* responsibility to help this man out, that he should have planned ahead a little better, or known his circumstance a little more. They may say that I wasted that money on someone else's family, when I could have used it for my own. I mean, that's about 4 gallons of milk right there.

I was still shaking by the time I got up to pay for my own three simple items. The cashier thanked me for doing what I did. I didn't really say much. I think my head was still thinking about all of this, in terms of my relationship with God. Then the cashier went on to say, "This is not the first time this has happened. He has come through my line before, and he has come up short before. It is sooo frustrating. Usually, I have to find someone who speaks Spanish to tell him to put something back."

I sort of gave her a half-nod as I took my receipt and goods and walked out to the car. I opened the door, sat in my front seat and began to sob like a baby. Not because I regretted giving up the Ten Dollars. Not because I felt like a do-gooder, though I did feel good about helping. But I was moved because this thought hit me:

How many times in my life have I come up short? How many times have I taken my case to the Lord in spite of feeling inadequate or unworthy to receive His blessings? And God doesn't say, "Again? This isn't the first time this has happened; you've come down this road before. This is so frustrating." God doesn't call the Savior in and ask Him to explain to us why we can't have what we just might so desperately need at that moment. He doesn't scold us, telling we should have planned a little better or known our circumstance more. No. The Savior paid the price for us. We are saved by His grace, after all we can do.

I am by no means trying to say that I think I was this guy's savior. But it hit me that this man gave all he had and was in need of someone to come to his mercy. Justice meant the items would have to be paid for. But Mercy meant that someone else could step in and pay the remaining debt, after all he could do.

I cried because at that moment it solidified for me, in my heart, how much my Heavenly Father truly does love me and that because He loves me He sent His son. And not only did He do that, but he continues to bless me through "Angels among us" who step in from time to time to bring me that bag of chocolate chips or shovel my walk. And sometimes-- sometimes He lets me know He loves me by letting ME have to opportunity to pay it forward.

Truly, it was only Ten Dollars.

Things... and Stuff

I have been really up and down lately. And I'd like to tell you all about it. But it's just that it's a bit too personal, and I might just cry, and stuff. On the other hand... I feel like I need to share -- talk about it, y'know?

OMGosh -- Fine! I'll spill...

Basically it started out with this person and me, of course. And we got together and did some things and then some other stuff. Then after a while we decided not to do some things and stuff. But then it was like they said this and I said that. And then I was way irritated over this and that and more things and stuff, while at the same time loving all of the things and stuff.

So -- now I am just not sure what to do next. Y'know? And the whole reason I really don't wanna share is pretty much because most people think I just really don't know what I am doing or what I am getting myself into, or that I am a fool. And in some ways a lot of these things and stuff has proved them right. And I really don't want to have to accept that either, cuz that's sort of embarrassing, right? I mean who wants to accept that perhaps they are just a little crazy, or desperate or heaven forbid, WRONG and whatnot. Besides, I guess deep down I feel that while sometimes things and stuff can back us into a corner, or make us do other things and stuff we wouldn't normally do, I just don't wanna have any more regrets, y'know? But by the same token, sometimes there are just certain things that are so totally worth every risk. I mean - as with a lot of stuff, right?

And I know that I said I was gonna like fall off the grid for a while... but seriously? We all know that I am a bloggy-comment-whore and really, like can't stay away for like too long. Cuz mostly, you guys like totally rock and help me get through my crap and stuff while I deal with these things... and stuff... like, y'know? Totally...

Boy, I'm sure glad I'm getting all of this stuff and whatnot off my chest. I feel a little better already. I am sure whatever stuff I decide to do next about all of that other stuff will work out, and I'll be ok, eventually -- maybe even a little better, a little stronger for it. Even though the road may be a little bumpy, and things might seem a little hard to handle sometimes... I mean, I really don't know what I am going to do or what's gonna happen next. I guess most of the things and stuff are outta my hands at this point. I wish like I could see the end from the beginning sometimes, and know more about how all of this stuff is gonna play out.

Wow... you DO get me. Thanks for listening! I know I can always count on you! Mwah!

The Push I Needed

I've known for years that "someday" I would go back to school... or at least I hoped. But then life got busy and I felt too old. I thought perhaps I missed my chance. Then after the Divorce I felt like I should look into school. And yet, at the same time, it seemed like something unattainable, out of reach. Plus, when I had looked into it before, too many years had passed and the local universities wouldn't accept my credits from the first go-round. That meant I would have to start completely over.

Then one of my sisters went back to school. I was jealous and bitter so happy for her. Then another one started taking a few classes. I felt left out excited for her and begrudged congratulated her! But then-- when the third one started taking a class, it was the straw that broke the camel's back I knew it was something I had to do too!

I spent nearly all of 2008 talking about "going back to school". I wondered if I could manage the homework while being a single mom. I worried about the expenses. I feared how long it would take, especially if I would have to go part-time. My friends said it was a good idea. Big-D encouraged me and told me I wasn't too old at all. My mom reminded me that she was older than dirt forty years old when she graduated from college.

I thought about that and I realized that my mother has been doing a job she enjoys and which she is good at for 15+ years. I reminded myself that I will be older than dirt forty in about 5 years and did I really want to be doing the job I am doing *now* for 15 more? Oh HELL-O No!

Nevertheless, I still only "thought" about going back to school. I wasn't sure where to even begin. Fast forward to May. If you remember, this is about the time I started talking to Eric, from back home. I was telling him about the idea of me going back to school. He said, "That sounds great! Where would you go?" I replied, "Probably just the community college. I think they might take most of my former credits." I added, "I would just finish my associates and then transfer to get my degree somewhere else." He then asked, "How much longer do you have to go?" I hesitated, "I am not really sure. Since I'd be going part time, my guess would be about four more years." Then he said, "Well, that doesn't sound too bad!" I sort of shrugged it off. "Yeah, I guess. I don't know... I haven't even applied yet." Then came the pivotal question, "Well what's stopping you??"

Just.Like.That.

It was as if time stood still for just a moment as those words reverberated in my head. What WAS stopping me? That single question set in motion the unraveling thread leading me down this path.

That question was a slap to reality a provocation, staring me in the face...taunting me. It was a question I couldn't ignore. What was stopping me? That's It! No more excuses. I have always been able to accomplish pretty much anything I have set out to accomplish. So, what was stopping me now? I had to call a spade a spade...And this Ace of Spades, my friends, was called FEAR.

As a person of Faith, I know that Fear and the Holy Spirit cannot dwell in the same place. I knew then that I needed to fear not; that I needed to take Fear head-on and replace it with Faith.

I CAN do Hard things... my mother even told me so :)

That very night I looked online and tried to figure things out. So much to do. So little time, and I would probably be too late anyway. Oh well, I thought. I will just "look and see" for next year. Wait! What's this? There is still time to apply for financial aid? The Community College is still accepting applications for Fall 2009? Couldn't be! But it was...

Well, I thought. I guess I could apply and all. I mean, I am sure that there isn't any money left, and I probably won't get in anyway. WRONG!

Apparently EVERYONE gets in to community college... who knew? ;)

And apparently there WAS money left. In fact with my piss-poor impoverished small income, I qualified for enough money that I would be able to go this year solely on grants... No Loans!!!

The rest seemed like a whirl-wind. Placement Testing. Applications. Transcripts Transfer Request. Enrolling in Classes. Getting Books...

I can't believe that here I am six months later, with my "thought" turned into "action". I love that everyone was so encouraging and supportive. I love that Eric gave me the kick in the pants push that I needed.

I sat through a training seminar for a few years back. I remember the speaker saying, "Power comes from telling the truth." She was right. I had to answer that question truthfully. I had to face my fears and "cowboy up", so to speak. And once again, thankfully, my faith prevailed. Not to say that fear and doubt still don't find a way to sneak in sometimes... but hey - I've got straight A's, so I must be doing something right! :)

Moments that Make My Heart Melt

Sometimes the littlest things will excite me. Seriously. It's like emotion leaps from within and takes my breath away and I have an "ah-ha!" moment.

A moment wherein my heart is in my throat and my head is in my chest. My breathing becomes rapid, even if only for a minute, and the world, though spinning furiously in space about me, seems to come to a pause, and the noise in my head is muted from all other noises. And I am just there, in the moment, even if only for a moment.

I feel "melty"...I am in awe...I have to remind myself...to breathe...


Moments when...


I am taking my nightly run and see the sun setting on the valley below. The purple and blue hues are magnificent... breathe...


I see a family of deer. And I see a lot where I run... still... everytime, it gets me... breathe...


I am holding a sleeping baby.... breathe...


I am on the trails, and I look up, and suddenly realize, I am in the MOUNTAINS... there is a freakin Mountain like Right.There. ... breathe...

I see an elderly couple holding hands...... breathe...

I am told I am loved... breathe...

I hear certain songs that take me back to another "melty" moment.... breathe...

I listen to my children play together or compliment each other from the next room. ... breathe...

I bite into food that I have already imagined would taste so good, and yet nothing I imagined could even ever compare to how savory and delicious and scrumptious it is.... breathe...

The wind blows, and the trees sway and it's like the flowers are speaking to me.... breathe...

I see a piece of art and it draws me in... like, "how did you know that is what I was feeling today?"... breathe...

At night, I look up at the stars, and have to do a double-take because I forget how magnificent they are. ... breathe...

The waves crash against the shore.... breathe...

One of my children struggles, and cries. It's like my heart stops, and I want to stop their pain or their fear or their frustration. Their meekness and tenderness remind me just how fragile they can be and that gives me reason to ponder...melts my heart... and I usually end up crying too.... breathe...

A photograph of someone from my past; a look into their eyes, even though the look is from long ago, the feeling is now...real... and I want to create the moment all over again.... breathe...

He touches his palm to my cheek... it's so tender, so kind, so loving, and so... intimate.... BREATHE...

The moment right before a gentle kiss...even if I know the kiss is coming...
BREATHE, Emma...BREATHE...


These are some of the things that get me excited or make me feel melty... What about you?

Who Am I?

Ok, so one of my classes is an Interpersonal Communications course. One of the principles of communications is that "all your communication starts or ends with you." You code or encode things you reveal or receive/interpret through your own frame of reference. Anyway, to understand the role you play in your own communication, it helps to do a little self-discovery. Here was the assignment:
____________________
Consider this question: Who are you? More specifically, ask yourself this question TEN TIMES. Write your responses... It may be challenging to identify ten aspects of yourself. The Spanish writer Cervantes said, "To know thyself...is the most difficult lesson in the world." ("Interpersonal Communication, Relating to Others,5th edition", Beebe, 34)

I Am...a daughter of God

I Am...curious.

I Am...talkative.

I Am...creative, I do things OUTSIDE the box.

I Am...kind & giving.

I Am...no respecter of persons.

I Am...positive (usually).

I Am...enthusiastic & playful

I Am...devoted, committed, loyal.

I Am...loving.

______________

Ok... I admit, this was sort of hard at first. But then, once I got going, it was like the flood gates opened, and as I neared 10, all of a sudden I could think of ten more, and then ten more on top of that! But, I wanted to limit it to the assignment and stick to ten. Try it... see how you do.

Who ARE you???

Hello, My Name Is...?

When I got married the first time I never doubted for a second that I would take my new husband's last name. I had no desire to keep my last name, to hyphenate or anything. It wasn't that I hated my maiden name. I just figured I'd take my husbands. Besides I figured my name was as Plain-Jane as they came, so a new name would be fun; exciting.

Then as I was going through the process of getting divorced, I had to fill out the paperwork and check the appropriate boxes of which name(s) I would go by. I again assumed I would keep my married name. After all, I argued, I had children with this last name, and I would want to keep it the same as theirs. I didn't want to upset them. Plus if I ever did get remarried, I'd probably change it then, so no use changing it more than necessary, right?

Well, AFTER the divorce my youngest asks if HER last name was the same as my maiden name since she lived with me. I told her "no", that her name hadn't changed at all. She then looked at me and said, "But yours did, right?" I explained to her that no, mine is still the same as hers. I think that actually confused her more! Apparently, she thought that my name reverted BACK to my maiden name automatically, just because I had gotten a divorce.


Then a few weeks ago, my oldest said I should have switched back to my maiden name. I thought that was sort of an odd statement. Here I thought I was somehow "protecting" them by keeping my name the same as theirs, and maybe they would have been okay with it after all. Maybe they are seeing that somehow I am NOT the same person I was when I was married to their father (thank goodness for that).

This I know. The more that time distances itself between me and that marriage, the less and less I feel like *that* person... the person with *that* name. Except, that is my name, isn't it? Legally anyway.

In all actuality, I now feel like the REAL me, only better; the OLD me, only newer. I am feeling like I am discovering the ME I was born to be. Funny, because I catch myself writing my maiden name All.The.Time. It's the name I have always tethered to my creative writing pieces, and thus it has never truly left me. And now it is the name I find myself telling people. I slip, I stumble, and I have to think... is this a "legal" question... do they need my "legal" name?

No... I don't think I will change it legally just yet. After all, it *would* be a pain to change ALL the forms, the id's, the bank statements, the credit cards, the gun permit, etc... not to mention all of the $10 fees to get NEW cards. Bleh. No thanks. But it's ok; I KNOW WHO I AM.

So, if per chance I slip and give you the "wrong" name... just know that I am still me... :)

You Took

You took away my once innate ability to have confidence in myself. Now I question, I fear.

You took away my instinct to speak up. I hesitate. I keep it to myself.

You took away my desire to touch and be touched. For years, I thought I was the broken one.

You took away my capability to trust first and doubt second. I'm always looking for the lie, and often the lines are blurred.

You took away my appreciation for certain types of music, because now upon hearing it, triggers memories of you.

You took away my capacity to feel intelligent or sexy or good enough around certain types of men.

You took away my inclination to love your people. Granted, out-sourced call-centers don't help... but still...

You took away my feelings of hope. Though I realize now perhaps it was a false hope all along, it was some sort of hope nonetheless.

I had hoped to be loved, to be wanted, to be good enough. To be... happy.

But you took, and you took, and you took, and you took!

And then you had the audacity to Blame.Me. [Sometimes, you are a Freaking Jerk-Face.]

...[deep cleansing breath]...

But YOU WON'T WIN!!!

I may have been physically exhausted. I may have been emotionally beat down. I may have even been spiritually suffering. But I survived; I am still here. I am still my own person, and you cannot take that away from me...Ever. *I* am the one writing MY story now.

I am learning that I can do things I never thought possible. I am learning that I have potential, and that I CAN do hard things, and that people DO love me... and that one day, when I find *THE ONE* he will be so much better for me than you could ever have even hoped to be.

And yes, there are still times when the things you TOOK still have an effect on my actions, but (luckily) those times are dissipating.

As I recently wrote on the Blogstalker's blog while guest-blogging...

I love the notion that, “We are not human beings having a spiritual experience, but rather we are Spiritual Beings having a human experience.” This adds significance to my plight in determining who I am, as now I desire to figure out who He already knows me to be. It fills me with hope and gives my journey purpose.