on knowledge.

{via}

Lately, I've really been struggling with this whole "I know better" guilt. 

I know that I should eat healthier. I know that I should work-out more. I know that I should keep the house clean. I know that I can be a better wife. I know that I can wake up earlier. I know that I can work harder at my job. I know, I know, I know.

So I have all this guilt for the things I'm not doing. I don't do them because I have this constant fear of not being good enough. And then I drown those feelings with more laziness and food. And that my friends, is the vicious cycle I am in.

I have this ache to paint and write and run and sing and bake and LIVE.

I just don't because I have convinced myself that I'm not good enough to find happiness in those things.

As if I have to be perfect at a task to enjoy it.

I feel this suffocating demand to be without flaw, and I know I'll never live up to that so I fall back on the knowledge that I will fail at perfection.

So why try.

But even here, I know better. I know that it is not perfection that is asked of me or of you or of anyone.

Improvement is all that is expected.

I have this text-message urgency to have everything now and reach the future now and be prepared now and have all my problems solved now.

The future isn't now. I know that too.

Knowledge isn't always what it seems. The truth is, knowledge can be crippling.

Truth seems like freedom when you don't have it.

But when you do, it comes with expectations. I just wanted to go on a cruise, but I have an expectation to run the ship.

Life isn't a vacation. I keep trying to take a vacation FROM MY LIFE, but you can't. Life follows you wherever you go. Responsibility, expectations, and structure call to you each and every Monday.

It is not a hard life, but sometimes living it is hard.

I know that I should do better, but I don't know if I can be better. I hope I can. I want to be. But that is something I just don't know.

I see my feet slip-up and my steps get shaky, and instead of working to regain my balance, I jump off the cliff. As if I meant to do it in the first place.

No one can judge me if they think I chose this. No one can make me feel bad if I make myself feel worse first.

But, then there was a break-through.

Bonnie L Oscarson spoke to me this week. (To thousands of other women too, but really to me.) I have emotionally craved this lesson for months. Her solution to all of my stresses and worries and fears came in eight words.

"Aim for the ideal but plan for contingencies."

This is my new mantra. All week I have repeated this over and over and over in my head. I can learn to accept contingencies. I can move beyond the ideal of perfection and find happiness even when things don't go according to plan.

I can get through these struggles. I can overcome. I can be better.

{via}

will heaven be hard for you?

one of my favorite parts of the LDS faith is our belief in eternal families. you can be sealed to your spouse and children and parents in the temple. this means that even after death, that bond is not broken.

i am sealed to my parents, as are my siblings.

many of my siblings are sealed to their spouses, and i am sealed to nathan.

because i am sealed to my parents, i can live with them forever. nathan is not sealed to my parents, but he is sealed to me. which means, that he will be living with my parents forever as well -- so long as he and i remain faithful to our vows/covenants.

likewise, nathan is sealed to his parents. i am not directly sealed to them, but we are connected through his sealing to them.

i adore his parents and his brothers and am honored and excited to have them in my eternal family circle.

---

lately i have been contemplating earthly relationships.

especially in this context of eternity, how are we treating those that we will be connected with forever?

i love nathan and am so lucky to also love his family. but if i didn't love one of them or any of them, how would that affect my eternity?

i think that heaven will be pretty hard if we cannot learn to love each other on earth.

indeed, heaven will be hard if we cannot practice kindness and respect on earth.

especially with family -- blood, in-law, adopted, church -- we must remember that this bond will not be severed.

you can't have the one person you choose and expect all the others they are connected to, to disappear.

when you picked that one, you picked the rest as well.

so, remember who is part of your family and treat them with the best of care because heaven will surely be hard if you don't.

bodies.

recently i let reality set in that i am the heaviest i have ever been.

there are physical explanations:

desk job

sugar intake

tv addiction

and each of them can be changed, fixed, remedied.

and there is the emotional explanation:

a few months after we first got married, i had a miscarriage. it wasn't even a real one -- a chemical pregnancy that my body sorted out.

but even when you know what is really happening, you wonder.

my whole life, all i've ever really wanted to be was a mom. in the way some crave being a doctor or a writer or an artist, i've longed for babies.

and seriously, it tore me up to even wonder if that was a glimpse into our future. that someday when we really did try and were ready for babies, that maybe my body wouldn't be able to handle that.

it's an illogical assumption, but such is life with hormones.

it doesn't matter that my husband looks at me exactly the same way as he did nine months ago.

i have destroyed my body by doubting my body.

i can eat less sugar and work out more and change these physical elements. i know this because i have done it before.

but learning to love a body that has failed you (even when that failure is more made-up than real,) is the hard part.

and this is the tipping point where i say that i've had enough.

for me, the emotion fed the laziness.

but excuses don't equal change. only work -- physical and emotional -- can effect the outcome.

today, the healing begins. beauty is not in a number. beauty is not a title to be awarded to you.

beauty is found in the love you show yourself.

**i vow to never try kale chips or learn to love quinoa

metaphor.

Picture a tree.

There's a thick, tough trunk. It supports branches that later bear blossoms and fruit. It holds leaves; constantly soaking up sunlight.

There are also roots. Roots that stretch and grow to collect water and nutrients. Roots are hidden, deep deep under the Earth. Not because they aren't valuable -- it is just the opposite. They're safe there.

There are strong trunks holding the weight of the world on their shoulders; fighting against the wind. There are roots ignoring fame and glory to nourish through summer and comfort through winter.

There are trunks and there are roots. They are different. They are separate. They are equal.

You can have roots without trunks and trunks without roots. But the happiest world has both.

Roots can strengthen trunks but they'll always be roots.

Trunks can renew energy to the roots, but they can't switch places.

There's different jobs to be done. We need both.

Do your job the best you can. Find happiness in your success. Reach, grow, improve.

You are not better or worse. You have a job. A noble, divine role. It's not the same as theirs, and it's supposed to be that way.

around these parts.

you have to do the dishes. you can be happy about it or you can be a grump about it. but you still have to do them. you can keep mental tally marks of who does it more often, but that doesn't erase that they have to be washed.

you have to go to work. you can do it happily or you can leave with a frown. but you still have to go.

yes there are days when i choose to be selfish. i let the laundry pile higher for one extra day or i let dominos make dinner. but then there are days like today:

the power went out and school was cancelled, so we cuddled in bed until noon. and as my husband's cold nose brushed my cheek i thought about how lucky i am.

dishes and laundry and work will always be around. but few are the days of simplicity.

no worries or obligations. just the person you love sitting next to you as you sleepily whisper your dreams to one another and plan the future.

life's obligations are important. but your heart, it's also important.

sometimes you need a day, or a morning, away from distractions to re-align.

life shouldn't be about counting calories or to-do lists or calculating who is making a bigger effort. because even when technology and vehicles and warm showers are stripped away, there will still be people around you. you can be a good person to be around, or you can be exhausting. you can be pleasant or you can be a ticking bomb.

i made a great choice when i chose to marry nathan. but it's my job to make sure he feels that he made a good choice -- every day.

accountability keeps a marriage happy. blame shoves a marriage aside.

you can be the problem or you can prevent it.

and that is what i've learned.

...

when dating, when choosing friends.

you need a gardener not a florist.

a florist only picks perfection.
they cut you down.
teach you that you aren't adequate alone.
a florist will stop your growth, in fact they'll kill you slowly.

sure, it seems rewarding temporarily.
you might bring a smile to someone's face for a week or so.
when you're chosen, you feel special. nothing else in the world matters.
but a florist treats all the other flowers the same.
in fact, a florist ignores your individuality more than it celebrates it.

but, a gardener...

a gardener gives you their time.
they keep you nourished and strong.
teach you that you're worth fighting for.
a gardener will encourage life and tear down weeds that suffocate.

a gardener will keep you rooted and firm,
they'll allow room for growth.
even understand that change is normal; change is good.
a gardener might trim and prune you, but only to keep you from hurting yourself.

sure, a gardener can't always prevent the harsh, cruelty of winter
but they'll absolutely revive you in the spring.
a gardener delights in your happiness and health;
your beauty and uniqueness makes them smile.
their knees will be sore from praying and working on your behalf.

and gardeners don't ask for a thing.
they just want you to shine.

so, find a gardener not a florist.

and, if you can, be a gardener too.

gratitude.

Brené Brown is my soul sister.

She is well-known for a TED talk on vulnerability.

She was also on Super Soul Sunday with Oprah, where she reiterated a comment from one of her books that gratitude is the key to joy.

---

I have been single for the majority of my life. The longest relationship I had been in, lasted a month. And I enjoyed being single.

I say this to emphasize the fact that I'm not a relationship expert; I don't have experience or any sort of knowledge on what works for everyone.

But, I wanted to share something that has been on my mind a lot recently:

My relationship has been hard. Hard because I consistently fought it. I am extremely lucky to have a man who is patient and understanding, who is obsevant and  approachable, who communicates when I can't find the words.

I am regularly insecure and often feel inadequate. For me, it seems easier to be alone. It seems easier to deal with my problems and fears in private. It seems easier because it's what I'm used to. When I get stressed or worried, I isolate myself.

Being single was easier because I could be wherever, whenever. I could hibernate and wallow and stuff my face and no one knew or cared.

Now I have someone who notices and sees and wants to fix everything. Man, boys like to fix things. And letting someone help has been terrifying. Opening and releasing my innermost thoughts nearly chokes me.

Vulnerability is the key to love, because (at least for me) love comes from appreciation. And how can there be appreciation without service? How can there be service without needs? There can't.

And in order to see the need we have to observe. In order for others to observe our needs we must communicate them.

Being transparent is frightening. But feeling understood and accepted after opening? That is the most beautiful thing I've ever felt.

That, to me, is love. It's not a perfect first kiss or a fun date. It's not arm candy or consistent plans on a Friday night. Love isn't a full bank account or a ten-year plan.

Love, for me, is sacrifice. It's in the silence after all words are spoken. Love is in the metaphorical hug that can only be felt after you jump off a cliff into their arms.

And love isn't kept once you find it.

Love is work. I always thought it was a feeling, but it's an experience. A constant choice. A choice that I believe reaps everlasting joy.

Joy that is kept when we are continually grateful for what we have and simultaneously offering good things for our partners to be grateful for.

It is hard and uncertain and far-from controllable. But it is worth that jump. It's worth the tears and the sacrifice and the risk.

Most people mistake passion for love, but I think it is more of a silent, solid trust.

I'm grateful for the honest, loyal man I have found. And I thank God every day that I didn't settle for the freedom of spinsterhood or the fleeting fun of previous relationships.

My joy is full. I would've waited thirty more years to experience this.

Don't settle for a ring. Don't settle for butterflies. Don't settle for sarcasm or empty promises.

Hold out for the lung collapse of terror when you find someone you cannot live without. Fight for the real stuff. Don't stand in your own way.

The joy will be worth the wait.

growth.

i gave up on love. i gave up on marriage.

it wasn't because i was old or tired of waiting, it was because i had been hurt. i had been lied to. i had been disappointed and tossed aside like garbage.

and they're not supposed to hurt you -- words. but they do.

words that go unsaid, they hurt.
words that are said insincerely, they hurt.
promises that are issued without thought and then broken, they hurt.

and through all that hurt it seemed impossible.

it seemed impossible that a boy existed who just wanted me to be happy. (not just make me laugh or entertain me, but to make and keep me happy every second of every day.)

it seemed too much to ask for a boy to care about my day.

it seemed there would never be a boy who listened.

i felt incredible. i felt deserving. i felt funny and attractive and relatively intelligent.
but i didn't believe that there could ever be a boy who saw all of that and my flaws and wanted to keep it.

no matter what the future held, i was certain that i was stuck with me.
i can never escape this body. i can change my name and looks and location, but this body and soul, they are mine.

and so i made myself into a version i was am proud of. i worked hard physically, spiritually, mentally, emotionally.

i worked on me. and that's when everything changed. i wasn't looking for someone to complete me or say the right thing around every corner. i wasn't looking for an elusive puzzle piece. i was more than content, i had created happiness.

i made myself into someone better, and then i got someone who was better.

the tweet of life stories.

subtitle: because you have to keep up with brissa and shaylynn.

my parents have a child for every form of birth control they ever tried. i was the last and the seventh, but i was intentional. this means that i have an unrealistic view on my importance as a human being.

as a child I made dance videos with my friend kelli. i messed up a lot and she yelled at me. this was the end of my dancing career. but i do know the hoedown throwdown and will show that off any chance I get.

up until high school, my mother forced me to endure permed hair but never let me in on the secret that brushes and perms don’t mix. picture a frizzy, triangular mess with loads of acne and you have every school picture of me from 1996 to 2004.

during high school I met friends that brought me down to earth in the best way – through laughter and sarcasm. i dated the prom king for like a week; even i’m not sure how that happened. he was my first kiss. i was half-asleep and didn’t realize he had kissed me until it was over. pure magic.

in college i perfected my cookie baking skills. i also skipped class a lot and so here i am, 23 and barely about to get my associate’s degree. power through, kids!

i recently started dating a boy who terrifies me in a good way. he's disgustingly nice. i was fully awake for our first kiss.

here’s to flat irons and conditioner.

the hardest thing to accept, the easiest to give away.

from the beginning, notes were my thing. sometimes i complimented his freckles. sometimes they were stuck to his back. sometimes they were hidden and sometimes they were hand delivered.

the first note he gave me was folded inside a birthday card. it was a letter, really.

he listed everything he liked about me. at the end of the list he wrote, "i guess i just took the long way to tell you that i love you."

those three words were supposed to be good news, but they stabbed me. because i couldn't say them back.

my whole life, love seemed like this euphoric, magical feeling where the heavens opened and you flew. maybe it is like that for some people.

when i read them i cried. in the following days, each time he'd say it it stung more. there was swearing and praying and even more tears.

because how could he love me.

for ten days he said those words. my silence didn't stop him. he loved me. he knew it. he didn't need to hide it or wait for the "right time."

he told me he wanted to marry me. that he would spend his life ensuring my happiness. that he couldn't promise a perfect future, but that he wanted me to be his, forever.

he said all these things even though i was silent.

part of me was scared to promise the same. part of me was scared i'd have to say it to someone else someday.

mostly i was unsure that what i was feeling was indeed love. but in those ten days i've learned that:

love is 90% being the right person,

10% finding the right person.

i learned that love is a choice. 

love isn't blind; i know his faults, i see his weaknesses. but i choose to look past them. i choose to help strengthen them.

love isn't on a time-table; it doesn't always come at first sight or hit you like a bus.

love is happiness. love is security. love is patience. love is practical and a bit reckless. love is full of possiblities. love is given and recieved.

it took me a while to accept love.

but once i accepted the word from that boy, it was the easiest word to give away.

my thoughts on growing up in the mormon church.

i am the youngest of seven children, born to a mother and father that faithfully abided by the doctrines of the church of Jesus Christ of latter-day saints. (and still do.)

growing up i attended three-hours of church service every sunday.
from the age of twelve, i attended an additional hour on tuesday evenings.
throughout high school, i reserved one credit-hour each semester to leave campus and take scripture courses.

my opinions on the church as a teenager were that there were far too many stories about pioneers.
there were a lot of references to obscurely-named characters from the book of mormon.
it seemed that i was to have every story memorized and able recite at any moment.
i knew to gasp upon mention of getting tattoos and showing too much skin.

i showed up happily to all these meetings. i understood what was being taught and i believed it.

more than anything, i observed the people. i watched what they did, i remembered what they said.
if, after observation, i felt that an individual seemed "good" i would listen to what they believed, then i would take their word for it.

after twenty-one years of doing everything i was told to do, one day i stopped and looked around and decided it wasn't for me.

so i quit going. i ignored phone calls. and suddenly i had all this free time.

then i experienced a down-ward spiral --that may or may not be related to the above-mentioned inactivity.
[the spiral did not consist of pre-marital sex or drinking or drugs or butterfly tramp-stamps.]

quite frankly i went from a euphoric, free feeling to unshakable self-doubt and despair.
but this is another story.

i experienced what i now refer to as a quarter-life crisis.

It is not the end.

President Uchtdorf:

“No matter how bleak the chapter of our lives may look today, because of the life and sacrifice of Jesus Christ, we may hope and be assured that the ending of the book of our lives will exceed our grandest expectations.
“And to all who suffer—to all who feel discouraged, worried, or lonely—I say with love and deep concern for you, never give in. Never surrender. Never allow despair to overcome your spirit. Embrace and rely upon the Hope of Israel, for the love of the Son of God pierces all darkness, softens all sorrow, and gladdens every heart.”

the long and complicated story of my recovery.

Today I finally reached the surface of the water; I took my first breath, and was filled with life once again.

As I work through the events of the past year I am overcome with the lessons I have learned. Overcome with feelings of love and gratitude.

There are two people who know my struggle. Not even my parents know, unless of course they are now reading this. I've given hints and passing sentences, but not details. I won't even attempt to do that here.

You see, eleven months ago I decided that I was going to end my life.

I wouldn't share this except that I feel it will help convey the seriousness with which I take the following. My reason for returning to this blog, isn't to discuss my downward spiral, it's to share my journey of swimming back up. To share the reasons why I can once again, call myself a dreamer.

The first flotation device I was thrown:
I had been underwater for a long time; I'd long since run out of oxygen. And then a boy named Nate showed up on my doorstep and told me so many sweet things. He told me sweet things and I, in my self-deprecating state, was less than sweet in return. I was down-right awful to him, actually. Mostly because I had such low self-esteem that I couldn't believe he meant the things he said, and partly because I had been a sincere jerk my whole life, and didn't quite know how else to respond to people.

But his efforts showed me that someone cared, and before that I had felt so invisible, so irrelevant. His kindness and forever-happy spirit showed me that I could make decisions to progress. I could kick my legs and fight to get to the surface. He unknowingly started pulling, while for the first time I started fighting.

The second flotation device:
I had made progress. Plans of how and when and where to end my life no longer plagued every thought. But after sinking for so long, my muscles simply couldn't fight anymore. I began to stagnate my ascent. I learned to fake-swim -- to look like I was working and happy, but still wasn't at all. At this point, no one knew of my struggle. I remember I was at church for the first time in months and people asked how I was. Each time I would enthusiastically reply that I was wonderful, that my life was lovely. Then once, after someone had walked away, I heard a voice over my shoulder. Riley told me that my answer was the most fake thing he had ever heard me say.

I was caught. Embarrassed and enraged and guilty, I hastily made up an excuse and went on with my day. But his blunt reaction taught me that I wasn't fooling someone, and that knowledge made me wonder if I was even fooling anyone. I could no longer fake it till I made it. I had to actually do something.

This is where the fight gets hazy. "Isn't it funny how day by day, nothing changes. But when you look back, everything is different?" - C.S. Lewis

All I know is that there was a lot of prayer. A lot of church. A lot of looking outside myself. A lot of kicking, a lot of screaming.

Mostly, there was hope:
Hope for air. Hope for happiness. Hope for good days.

I would pick landmarks and swim to them as fast as I could. Birthday parties, trips, and holidays. Anything that required celebration and was in the future. I started to make things exciting so that I would look forward to them. I listened to Dory and just kept swimming.

As I got closer and closer to shore, the water would get brighter and clearer. So many times I had thought I had broken through, only to realize that I was still amid a battle. But I could see things better, I could see how far I had come and finally I had something within myself to propel me forward.

Then there were two life vests thrown toward me:
Combined because they are brothers, Kyle and Nathan taught me that a person can be wholesome and pure while being outrageously funny and pleasant. They taught me that not all males are inappropriate. Not all males are jerks. They showed me what men act like.

These men reminded me of laughter. Of teasing and frustrated giggles. They have changed my perception of and  renewed my faith in marriage. After coming to dry land, I learned that I have a mountain to climb. But these two taught me that although it will be a difficult road, it can be filled with joy and lots of silliness.

Finally, there was learning:
I have learned that progress is progress and that is worth celebrating.

I have learned that the greatest gift you can give someone is the benefit of the doubt.

I have learned that celery is not poison, especially when it is covered in peanut butter.

I have learned that water doesn't have to drown you; that from the right source, water can fill you and lift you higher than you ever thought possible.

I've learned that there are men in my midst. Men that are clean and respectable and gentlemen and fun. Men that make me laugh. I've learned most of these lessons from men younger than me, but who have such a better grasp on life than I do.

I have learned that dating is the worst, but it is nice to be asked on dates nonetheless.

I have learned that I have an infinite ability to work. For happiness, and money and an education. I have power and means and time. Oh, how lovely the gift of time is.

I have learned that I can run, and I've learned to love the pain that comes after strengthening my muscles.

I have learned about all my flaws and imperfections, my tendencies to judge and gossip. I have learned that I can be tolerant and kind. I have not perfected this, but I am growing every day.

I've learned that JoAnna is the most incredible woman on the planet, and I am so happy to call her my beautiful best friend. I am so lucky to have had her by my side through this whole journey, and thank my lucky stars that she continues support me and offer her sunshine to me every day.

I have learned that dark days come to an end. That there is light at the end of the tunnel. You have to walk toward it though.

I have learned that no one can encroach on my ability to be righteous. No one can hinder me from pleasing God. No one can halt my journey. This makes it easier to move on, even when they treat me badly.

I have learned that lipstick isn't evil. It makes you feel fancy and grown-up.

I have learned that tears are healthy. They dry like raindrops, and are always followed by rainbows.

I have learned that you can cry a river of tears, but that you should probably build a boat first.

I have learned that Jesus Christ is the way, the light and the truth. He is the son of God. He is my brother. I have been a believer my whole life, but now I know the reality of His mission. He has given me a life worth living.

I have learned to forgive myself.

i rant and you unfollow me.

Subtitle: There's a big difference between knowing what you deserve, and believing it exists.

Today in church someone spoke about how often the reason [especially for men] that people aren't married is because they're afraid of commitment.

Everyone... everyone, laughed. Except me.
Straight-faced, I nodded my head. I agree whole-heartedly.

It's like that line from a Taylor Swift song, 'I brace myself for the goodbye, because it's all I've ever known.'

And it's not so much that I'm afraid of committing to someone. I just have a hard time believing that someone will commit to me forever.


And why is there this notion that we have to remain friends with someone who walked away from us? What do I owe them?

If someone is going to commit to me, obviously I will do everything I can to put them first. But if they break that commitment, I resume first priority.

And I do not want to use my time and energy keeping someone happy, who doesn't even want me in their life.

Dating is the worst.

"All your theories on love sound more like the rantings of a bitter and cynical woman." - The Wedding Planner

a second chance.

Wild Geese -- Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

This has been my favorite poem for a long time now.

Tonight I was driving home from a very fun evening and was thinking about how far I've come in the last few months.

I've traveled the spectrum of emotion over and over again and still, I am startled by happiness. Startled by confidence.

Tonight I danced and jumped and dove-in face first. I laughed and I counted the things I'm looking forward to. I won.

Back in January this poem was all that kept me going. I simply have to allow myself to love what I love. I have to let the world turn and imagine better things.

Today I consciously saw progress. I looked in the mirror and smiled. I felt funny again. I saw my personality.

I've dreamt of today; of overcoming sorrow and trials. But today wasn't a dream -- it was finally real.

I have prayed for a day when I would be excited about life again.

And it is here.

"To every thing there is a season; and a time to every purpose under heaven.

A time to weep and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance.

He hath made every thing beautiful in his time..." - Ecclesiastes 3:1,4,11

growing up.

I keep seeing pieces of you. In the laughter of old friends. In the kindness of strangers. I feel your strength pushing me to overcome fears.

There is so much comfort in feeling you near. I can sense your close presence and it's the most bitter/sweet feeling. Bitter because you're still unknown and distant. Sweet because this familiarity gives me hope.

Years ago I said that I was already falling in love with you, even though we had never met. Today, I felt that rush once again. This overwhelming trust that you exist and are in a similar place, even if it isn't the same as me. I appreciate this notion that you're already here.

I wish occasionally, that the future were here and we were together. But today I became thankful for the time I still have left. I appreciate the blessing of opportunity; I can still change and grow into the woman you deserve. I pray for time to become everything I want to give you.

Divorce is my biggest fear, and lately it seems that even the strongest of couples are choosing it. But lately, I've been filled with faith that my life can be different if I choose to make it so. I'm in charge; now that I'm taking down that tall, protective wall, I am seeing these little pieces of you come in through the cracks.

And I adore everything that I see. I adore you -- the man I haven't met.

The husband that I will someday call mine.


I may have to be patient for several more years or several more months, but either way I hope that I continue to use the time I'm given for improvement. Not for clinging to disappointments of the past or fear of future heartache. I hope that I focus on the growth of myself and the service of others.

You are my every birthday wish and my daily motivation. You may be somewhere else or with someone else today, but someday you'll be mine.

letter to my 21-year-old self.

My sweet, baby girl,

He hurt you. It's okay to admit that. Let yourself experience the pain. Don't be ashamed that you wanted it to work; desiring commitment and affection is never something that should be suppressed . Please, please admit to yourself that it hurt. The sooner you experience the emotion the better. Otherwise you'll hold onto it until it consumes you.
You are an out-going friendly woman, but holding onto this pain will cause you to drive people away. You'll stop trusting people; even worse, you'll stop trusting yourself. You're working so hard to hide the hurt that you're neglecting so many good things. Let it go. Cry and get angry. Do something, because feeling nothing can last forever and is even harder to recover from.

There will come a day when you are curled in the fetal position begging God to end your life. A week later you won't even remember why things were so bad that day. A week after that a boy will stand on your doorstep and tell you that he cannot find a girl who compares to you. Always hold out for good things. Keep hope. Believe that happiness is coming. Christ suffered alone, but He won't let you suffer alone. Always look toward the sun.
There is a saying that the grass is greener on the other side, but yours could be just as green if you took the time to water. Sometimes those good-things-on-the-horizon have to be worked for. Waiting won't get you anywhere.

Love,

Your biggest fan