Laziness, Dating Ettiquette, and Narnia.

I apologize for not posting last week. It was a combination of two things. First, my lazy mood. It didn't help that Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers was playing in our living room. I have many weaknesses in this world: plopping on the couch to watch three hours of awesome boots, capes, and swords is one of them.

The second was that silly tendency of us girls to think in spirals. My original thought: Wow. That last post was really short-winded. Where the spiral ended: I'm the worst blogger known to man!

I think its funny how we do that. We discussed it in young women's once. Scenerio: A boy sits behind us in class.

From that we suddenly remember that we didn't do our hair very well in the back.

Because we didn't do it very well, we're lazy.

Because we're lazy, we're fat.

Because we're fat, we're ugly.

Because we're ugly, he probably doesn't want to sit behind us.

No one probably wants to sit behind us.

 It goes on and on. And before the guy's even said hi, we're already craving chocolate.

Anyways, its good to be back. It seems that without fail I can walk out of the doors of our chapel on a sunday afternoon and feel like a completely new person. Without fail! I will literally have weeks where I say to myself, "Just hang in there until Sunday. You'll be fine."

And since I know some of you probably want to know (and thank you for wanting to) Winter Formal went great! I will be eternally grateful for my peers because here--and only here--can a student announce at the end of a school dance, "And remember to study your scriptures before you go to bed!"

Awesomeness. I just hope my date thought the same thing because after forgetting to tell him the color of my dress, fogretting to remind of the time our date, leaving my money in my hurry (it was girl-ask-guy), and guessing on what sort of Subway sandwich he wanted I was thanking my lucky stars he was such a laid back guy.

In fact, he told me it was one of the funnest dances he'd been to. And guess where I found the purse that held my money (and phone)? In his driveway. I had climbed out to walk him to his door and found it at my feet--inches away from where my tire would've smashed it. I have forever vowed to have good manners on dates. I wouldn't have found it otherwise.

It was one of those times where you just know someone up there is looking out for you. He knows your less-than-perfect tendencies as well as your closer-to-perfect ones. Maybe my Heavenly Father chuckled when saw that I had left my purse, muttering that it probably would've been my head if he hadn't screwed it on right. But then he knew that it was alright. He knew me and he knew that I would insist on walking my date to the door. The money my parents spent on that phone wouldn't go to waste.

I also apologize for my random topics. I can't seem to find just one theme for this week that would be easily postable. Just the daily reminders of who I am and where I need to go because I seem to need them as daily as a dosage of vitamins. And one of those reminders seems to always be my little brother. How angry can you get at a little kid for not wanting to put his church clothes on when he asks you out of the blue, "Do they make a 10Up? Because they make a 7Up."

But itt's crazy how the opinnions and themes of the world can still so subtly sneak into your head. That's why I like church so much. All the times I've grunted and groaned and scowled at my alarm clock this year that we've had to go early, I've never regretted how clearly my mind thinks afterwards. It just seems to clear all those petty little bugs that tend to get stuck to my spiritual windshield. It's one of the reasons I write this thing on Sunday after church. That way I can look back on it later and remember why I was so happy a few days before.

On a completely different tangent, I've decided to start reading the Chronicles of Narnia again. I tried once in the fourth grade because my more mentally-advanced friend was reading them. But I couldn't make heads or tails of anything. Lions couldn't sing. And what was with Edmund? There's no way I'd walk into the clutches of an evil witch just for some turkish delight. (Whatever that was.)

But now I get it. And it's so cool! I absolutely adore the symbolism as well as the straightforward things. One of my most favorite lines, "Now the trouble about trying to make yourself stupider than you really are is that you very often succeed."

Oh Mr. Lewis, if you only knew! Enter: Precalculus class.

Snow Place Like Home

There's just something about snow that makes us Arizona lizards go nuts. Suddenly the halls of school are more cheery (and muddy) and everyone's out and about. Yesterday I made a cowboy snowman, had a snowball fight with my baby brother, was pulled on a sled behind our quad, played an imaginitive game of wizards with my neighbor, and rode a horse! I hardly do half that much in a normal day.

The day before, simply entranced with this rare winter wonderland, I bundled up and went for a walk since I had PM Release and got out early from school. Except I forgot that all the elementry kids got out early too.

I saw some kids playing in their yard and casually waved as I passed, saying something along the lines of, "Looks fun!"

"Hi," they replied mischeviously. Then they brought their hands up, full of packed snowballs.

And that ladies and gents, began the most pathetic defense on my life that I have ever performed. Suddenly I was being pelted left and right. One sharp-aimer even managed to get some snow packed into my ear. I finally decided to fight back but if you knew my history of throwing abilities...well, let's just say that in dodgeball I only ever handed the balls to other people and in volleyball I couldn't serve to save my life.

In short, those rascals would be at point blank and my snowball would go flying two inches to the left of them. Not that it would've done any damage anyways.

And in the middle of this cold, wet warfare, two little girls kept begging me to 'spin them'. I had done it once for one of the girls and they weren't about to let the trend disapear.

So, three more spins, fifty-three more face shots, and a humiliating twenty misses later, I finally muttered something about having to go pick up my brother or something. Like a victim of the He-Man-Woman-Haters-Club, I walked off, digging snow out of my ear and shaking it out of my shirt.

But with all the Christmas stuff, and with all my plans to leave to college this summer, I've been getting sentimental. Again. To the point its almost pathetic. I basically cried myself to sleep one night just thinking about how I wouldn't be able to drive my arguing brothers to school or cuddle up by the woodstove with my family on a saturday morning. There'd be no little neighbor girls banging on my door waking me up from my afternoon nap or evenings roaring with laughter with my baby brother while watching Phineas and Ferb. My two bestest bestest bestest friends who know everything about me wouldn't be there. Neither would my Buick, who's doors got frozen shut last night and I literally had to call my house phone from the parking lot for someone to help me get out.

It'd just be me and the Barbie in the Nutcracker movie I've sworn to myself that I'm bringing.

Fittingly enough, the lesson in Young Women's today was about accepting change. I listened, trying to hold back even more tears.

And then it dawned on me. As if someone had wrapped a warm arm of security around my shoulders, the spirit whispered that this wasn't the first time I'd done this.

About seventeen years ago, I'd left a different home. One that I imagined I loved dearly. One I had built memories and relationships in. But I knew that I needed to go where I was going and that I'd be happy I'd gone in the long run. I needed to go and experience things for myself. To learn things that I couldn't there. Just like how I felt about college.

So I left my Heavenly Father, probably in a similar fashion that I'll be leaving my parents, and set off. He'd given me all the knowledge he could, just as my parents have done, and it was time for me to go out and make use of it.

I'd done it before. And a soft whispering to the heart told me that I could most certainly do it again. And, like my mom told me today, home isn't neccesarily where your past crayon drawings have been painted over or where your worn-down swing set lies. It isn't really where your first prom dress hangs up or where your favorite meal was made. Home is something in your heart. It's a testimony. A love and a prayer. A sense of confidence. A familiar warmth. Something you can take with you no matter where you go so long as you hold to it.

 And I think that, more than any financial aid or cafeteria pass, is what will hold me together when this sentimental lizard leaves her hole, no matter how thick the snowstorms. A little piece of the home before this one.

Bees and Turkey

This week I have two things I want to talk about. The first really came as a surprise for me: the honor bee. For those of you who aren't as familiar, the honor bee is a new addition to the personal progress program that a young woman can get by mentoring another young woman in finishing her own personal progress.

It would nag at me from time to time that I really ought to aim for that. I had lots of younger cousins and friends in our young women's group that would be easy to help. But life, as it usually does, got in the way and I would completely forget about it.

And then, last week, our young women's president (and my dearest of dear mother) called for me and the other two friends that I have mentioned a lot on this blog to come up. And guess what she presented us?
Honor bees.

She explained that, though we hadn't actually sat down and went through the method of checking of goals, she could 'think of no more deserving girls'. She brought us all to tears explaining how we had been examples, friends, and truly mentors to the younger girls. Even when most our age might look down and roll our eyes at them.
Quite frankly, us three always thought those little Beehives were cooler than us:). Besides, a good number of them were already taller than us. So I guess we would've had to look up and roll our eyes and the effect really diffuses the temptation.

But the point I got was following the spirit of a law. Sure none of us had had anything checked off on paper, but as I looked at the new little charm to my personal progress necklace, I felt that the Lord knew. He knew of all those girl's camp preparations as youth leaders. He knew of all the times we talked to the younger girls in the hall. He knew of my one friend's contagious laughter when she listened to one of their jokes or my other friend's fun way of making them feel a part of the group. He even knew of the time that I blasted Phineas and Ferb music in my car when driving them home.

How different things are when we remember the spirit. The law itself my produce an emaculate check-list and nice award. But the spirit of the law is something that's inside of you. The reward of that sort of devotion can be felt, both by you and others as you share it. A paper of recognition can only go so far, but a character of recognition can be spread to unnumerable lengths. I learned that there is a whole lot more to following the spirit of the law than I first comprehended.

The second, of course, is Thanksgiving. I am thankful for my mother's cooking and will probably be more so once I leave.
 I'm thankful for my little cousin who came to visit and wanted to play princesses. And, on that note, I'm thankful that I somehow fit into my last prom dress for the occasion because the size of my platter suggested otherwise.

I'm thankful for my fuzzy socks that have kept me warm this whole Thanksgiving break and for my low-maitenence hair because there's more fun things I'd rather be doing on a weekened.

I'm thankful all the lockers I've had throughought junior high and high school. Each has provided me with many adventures. They range from popping my back just trying to open it to forgetting my combo twice and nearly being late for class.

I'm thankful for my car. It goes through the thick and thin everyday and my mother (as well as my little brother) could testify.

I'm thankful for a family who listens to Christmas music while cooking the turkey and mashing the taters and who put up the tree before even all that.

I'm thankful for the Disney station on Pandora. People who work on the holidays. My english teacher who never tells me that I've screwed something up until I admit it myself. For my Precalculus teacher who answers question upon question upon question and who always looks my direction when he assures my brainiac class that he will give help if we need it on tests.

For a good book. For friends who also love a good book. For Subway sandwhiches and baked Lays. For those few classmates that keep life interesting. For my family who has put up with my piano poundings all these years to the unth degree. For my art teacher who lets me draw my book characters instead of boring buildings.

For all the heavenly help I get with this blog and for of you who read it. As well as others who let me fill their eardrums with my endless ideas. (One of my classmates even had a dream about one of my characters. In other words, I talk way too much.) I'll be grateful for the gospel far into the eternities, even (and especially) the sacrament meetings where the organist falls asleep and a toddler flickers the light switch because sometimes the best medicine is simply laughter.

And I'm thankful for the pilgrims and indians who showed us all what's up. Because I could fill the world wide web really, but, again, I talk too much. So I'll leave it to all of you. What are you thankful for?

The Story Behind the Story Behind the Clay People

Again I need to mention my amazing cousin Alicia. She has this quote on her website that made me laugh out loud when I first read it because I can totally relate.

"Everyone has a story. I happen to have a million and can't shut up about it."

Especially these past few months. Ever since I got that silly idea that prompted the making of all those silly clay people, the creative half of my brain hasn't wound down. So ask me about it at your own risk because I have had several friends who have and not only did I answer their question, but I told them the storyline as far as I had it, where I left off, where I wanted it to go, a little bit of the next book in the series, what I was worried about, why I liked a character that was to come in later, why I liked the character now, and so on.

Somedays I get so excited about it that I can't hold a normal conversation without a "Hey, that reminds me! You know that story I was telling you about the other day? Well there's this one part..."

There was even one embarrassing class period where I was drawing the characters I was so obsessed with. One of my good friends suddenly said, "That story is epic."
"Why thank you!" I smiled, "Now I just have to finish writing it."
She gave me a funny look and I realized she was actually talking about the book she was reading.

That, my friends, is a prideful tendency. Its on my dumb-things-to-get-rid-of list. Anyways, I'm beginning to understand why there's a scripture talking about 'bridling' our 'passions'. I usually hear it in lessons on chastity but I think it can relate to any passion. I'm beginning to see how easy it can be to lose control of it.

I am a firm believer that God grants us gifts and expects us to develop them. To use them and to find satisfaction in them. He himself is the supreme creator. I'm sure he has all kinds of talents and ideas. But I'm seeing how letting our passions bridle us can cut into scripture reading time or family time.

So that's been a goal of mine. Because when you can name everything from the favorite food to the place in choir of nine different characters, its important to not let things get too carried away.

But I don't believe in stifling ourselves either. Actually I think bridling our passions is a great way to improve them. Writing is more fun when you don't get to do it day in and day out. Also if the rest of your life is in order than you're able to enlist the help of our savior. As my grandma put it, "You wanna play good basketball? Read your scriptures."

Replacing Pride with Confidence

For some reason I've been hearing a lot of stories about inspiring people lately. I'm not sure what it is. Maybe it's really that  I'm older and pay a little more attention to them now.  Most of the time, they're deeply inspiring. People find ways to run a marathon on plastic and metal while I don't even feel like running a mile on legs. People who are paralyzed seem happier than I am most of the time. I've read of a teenage boy who had virtually no free time between school and taking his working father's responsibilities.

However, being the human that I am, I don't always let them inspire me. Rather, I compare myself to them and pull myself down. It's the same with talents. I've had people say to me, "What? Annelie's joining this craft contest? Well I quit. I've already lost."  And I've said that to myself about others. It's silly! Because, in reality, it's not them holding us back, its us.

Anyways, I heard another story today in Sunday School. It was about a girl with polio who eventually became an Olympic medalist. It was a great story, but the worst of me got the best of me and I sat there stewing while everyone began to talk about determination and strength.

I felt so pathetic. Not the "you-should-do-better" pathetic, just the "you-haven't-overcome-anything-like-that" pathetic. As strange as it sounds, I began to wish I wasn't so darn priveleged! I had it soo easy! How could I ever wish to be as amazing as those people who overcame such hard trials when I never had anything like them?

And then we started talking about those privileges and I realized how selfish I was being. I needed to enjoy these blessings while I had them! It probably wouldn't always be like this. I was sure that, later on, I'd look back on these days and miss them.

And, besides that, having some major battle scar didn't seem to be what my Heavenly Father needed for me right now.  I could recount at least two incidents where I could've been very badly injured but, by some miracle, I came out unharmed. One was on the trampoline when I nearly landed directly on my head but, somehow, didn't. Another was during a night game of cops and robbers when I ran directly into an unseen fence. It wasn't until on the way home, when I found a small scratch on my ankle and a tear in the pocket of my hoodie that I realized it was a barbed-wire fence.

And these aren't huge, but it just stood as a sort of testimony to me that that sort of thing wasn't in the gameplan. I felt that the Lord had blessed me with a healthy body for a reason. He'd given me AMAZING parents, a peaceful home, a superhero of a hometown, and so much free time because that's what I needed in my personal progression. It wasn't that He was trying to hold me back. On the contrary, He was trying to help me be the very best I could ever be.  He had given me tons of privileges. And, just like the stalwart people in the stories, I was expected to live up to thm.

I immediatly felt bad for my stupid ingratitude but, as soon as I repented, felt his love. He knew I knew better. I just needed a reminder.

Where much is given much is required. That phrase almost intimidates me, but I know with His help, I can most definitely give all that is required. Even if, at the moment, its simply letting go of my pride and petty comparisons and replacing them with the confidence and faith that He knows what He's doing.

Singing our Hearts Out

Two more late comers have arrived at the ball this week:

Thumbalina and Thomas (or Tom). I felt sort of jealous for my other clay people because these two seem to be more flashy with the flower dress and the acorn hat (ignoring her vampireish lipstick job and his beauty mark of course.)

Anyways, the real point of this post is to describe being in a youth church choir. Everyone already listened to us at Stake Conference, but I just wanted to share the point of view of a single choir member.

I love being in youth choirs. For one thing, it's hilarious. Get a bunch of us obnoxious teenagers to shuffle into one room and watch the volume rise. People joke, turn around in their seats, burst into loud laughter, tease, kick each other under the seats, talk, text, you name it. It's like being in primary class again.

And then the music starts. In a flurry of shushes and nudges, all of the week's events are temporaily forgotten and everyone becomes more focused on their sheet music. At least in the choirs I've been in. And I think it's great!

I loved this last one because our director decided to make the guys start off most of the songs. And I know that sounds rude, but during practice, the girls were placed in front. And there's just something about the strong sound of guys voices. I'm not sure what it is but it made me a blubbering, mascara mess at EFY and gave me chills during one of our practices.

And when it was us girls' turn to come in, the feelings were the same. It was as if every petty difference was gone. We were all sisters. Beautiful sisters. Daughters of our Heavenly Father.

I'm not sure why the effect was so strong on me this time through. I guess it's just the fact that they were all my peers. I'm becoming more and more aware that the Lord truly does know us teenagers. He knows the strong influence we have on each other and he knows that it can be used both negatively as well as positively. I think that's the reason for these choirs. For young women's and young men's organizations. For EFY and youth conference. He wants us to see that there are people just like us--hundreds if not thousands--who are trying just as hard. There is indeed strength in numbers and He wants to show us that we are not alone.

Our super-hero of a director was awesome. I've never seen a woman with such a strong passion for music. She probably could've gone somewhere amazing with it.  Yet she agreed to the task of taking all us goofy kids and teaching us the power of the songs we were singing. She made sure we knew exactly what we were singing and taught us that heart came before the notes.

I'm not sure how well we sounded in the big stake center, but I loved being there! Because of my lack of height, I was placed front and center where I could perfectly sing into one of our stake leader's ears. But I still loved it! The feelings of the words really came through and I had to keep reminding myself not to sing too much louder than those around me because I really get into music like that (refer to lawn-mowing story).

The weird part is that this summer I won't be in that group anymore. I'll be considered an 'adult'. My writing abilities end at trying to describe how unsettlingly strange that feels. Did I mention that just last week I ran around my grandma's house in boots, belts, and a cloak trying to be a 'shadow hunter'? And that I used a NHS assighnment of wrapping shoeboxes to watch Sleeping Beauty? I know I've described these sorts of things a lot, but they're on a daily basis! Look out college roommate, here I come.

The Royal Ballroom

Sorry. Again. This time I was on a group date with three sleeves of saltines, a bottle of sprite, and--yes---VeggieTales. An answer to prayer, VeggieTales. They, and only they, can keep me laughing and spluttering saltine crumbs all over the place when I have a stomach ache.

Luckily, though, it was fall break and I didn't miss any school classes. So, besides hanging out in my bathroom, I got this idea.

You see, whenever I'm not restraining myself from tossing my precalculus book across the room or scrambling through research reports, my brain gets these silly little ideas. So, since I knew I wouldn't be having any homework for a delicious five days, the creative gears in my head began turning.

I have this idea of writing all the fairytales from the point of view of the princes and including all the 'missing' parts of the stories that were supposedly never told in the originals. (like getting beaned by the twelve dwarves with an apple or finding out the fairy godmother is an enemy in disguise). Anyways, its been a playground for my imagination for a couple months now and so I finally decided to make a little ballroom of them out of clay and a leftover tile in the garage:

Most people go to sporting events or on a vacation when they get a break. I'm the nerd who turns on Micheal Buble and stays home making clay people smaller than her pinky. :)

The royal guests include...

 Cinderella and Evan (the prince names are according to my story idea).

Penelope and Peter (the princess and the pea if the dress isn't a dead give-away :)

Bell and Bryon. Yes, they all start with the same letter. I'm not sure why yet. It just sounded cool.

Lily and Lewis. I was aiming for frog with this scrawny limbs. I think I pulled off string bean instead.

Snow white and Stephen.

Aurora and Adam. I couldn't resist stealing the idea of Prince Phillip's puffy sleeves and robin-hood hat.

Odette and Oscar. It was actually sparky who came up with the color for her dress when 'helping' me by mixing my clay. Thank goodness for stubborn service :)

Rapunzel and Ryan. Funny how characters can become real in your head. Somehow these two's personalities shone through the most.

These two noble souls guard the ballroom. Seth insisted I make a fire knight and an ice knight out of more of the colors he mixed. I never asked their names but since he seems to end all made-up names with a y, I'm guessing Sir Icy and Sir Firey.

 And since its not a fairytale without the bad-guys, I made (from left to right) the fairy godmother that the creepy lady next to her disguises into, her little minion at her feet, Rothbart, the stepmother,and the stepsisters. They're not on the guest list of course but Seth appreciates them. The minion now as a Nemo fin because the knights have kicked him out for troubling the guests on several occasions.
Anyways, I just thought I'd get the little show out of my bedroom and share it. A little piece of 'Dolly's World' if you will. I hope it made you smile :)

Being Homecoming Queen

This week was our school's homecoming week, as most of you know. Because we're a small town full of trucks and tumbleweeds, the theme was western. And I loved it!! I think I dressed up for every day except for western celebrity because I woke up with a cold and was in more of a t-shirt and skater-shoes mood. But the real shocker for me was that me and the two friends mentioned in the last post were voted homecoming royalty.

We laughed because, of all the people they could've voted for, it was us. Us three who really didn't care a whole lot. But it was fun and we spent the week teasing each other over who would get the shiniest crown. What I was more excited for, though, was the fact that my baby brother got to be the cute little crown bearer! After I saw him in his little suit I was ready to take him to the dance.


Finally, during a complete blow-out of a football game that we were winning, the moment of truth came. All us attendants scrambled down onto the track and shivered in the cold until they announced our names. And, guess what? I was voted queen. And well-deserving friend of mine was voted king.

It wasn't until then that all the excitement hit. I guess because I had all these amazing friends and relatives rooting for me and because I was just handed a big, huge bouquet of flowers. And the crown. Of course the crown. Ever since I was little I've wanted a tiara that looked real like that. And now I had it :)

It was really fun! I got all these smiles climbing back up into the bleachers and, because I'm a girl and silly things like crowns and flowers change things, I suddenly felt prettier than I had a few minutes ago. But when I got home and hung the sash on my mirror, really looking at it for the first time, the surprise finally hit.

For some reason I don't see myself as Homecoming Queen material. I'm not sure why. I guess I just don't feel like all those girls posing in the magazines that we order dance decorations from. I haven't lettered in anything sports related. I go no higher than five miles above the speed limit. There are times when I'd rather hide away in my room and add onto my stories than go to most movie parties. Unless I'm singing aloud to my iPod, I can be showered and ready for school in half an hour. I personally avoid having a boyfriend at this point.  I still get grass stains from playing in my grandma's yard. And I listen to Veggie Tales for Heaven's sake!

So maybe I wasn't the paper doll cut-out that I always had in my head for these types of girls. But as I walked back into my place in the bleachers, I realized that there was no one who gave me a dirty look or anyone I felt like I needed to avoid. Maybe it wasn't neccisarliy my amount of friends as it was my lack of enemies. I began wondering if it was more respect than it was popularity which, quite frankly, was fine by me. I'd rather have the first anyday because respect lasts far longer than graduation.

I decided then that, though I might not always recieve an award for it, I would continue to be myself. I'd be the type of homecoming queen who could share her crown. The kind who treated others no less than herself and walked with lady-like confidence. Though it may sound silly because its only a school title, I decided I wanted to be continually deserving of the title of queen. Homecoming or no.

General Conference

Sorry about the two week gap. I had a week where my mind had run fresh out of creative insights and then a week where I was gone getting refills on them.

Me and my two friends that I've had since we stole some poor boy's ball in nursery went to Salt Lake to watch General Conference. Frankly, I'm just glad my one friend's parents thought to bring me along. One can only take so many hours of inside jokes and arguing over who should man up and eat the rest of the Doritos.

But, again, I'm sooo grateful!! I'm not sure what my problem was the week leading up to it. Some more pesky doubts probably arose like they always do and I just felt kinda....blah. So this short getaway turned out to be just what I needed.

I remember we listened to the first session in the car. My friend's gracious mother had bought all three of us little notebooks because she knew we would take notes. So we put our old ones away and used the cute, little mitch-matchy ones.
 It always seemed to be a tiny testimony builder for me whenever I would look over and see my two best friends eagerly scribble something down. There are many nights when I thank my Heavenly Father for gaurdian angels both seen and unseen. These two are always in mind. They seem to  know just when to bluntly tell me to stop freaking out or to give a sincere compliment. And since I tend to be the pun of most inside-jokes, there is the constant reminder to laugh through life rather than cry.

Anyways, as we listened in the car, I watched the changing scenery out the window. We were in the mountains at the time and I remember large masses of pink, yellow, and green trees. Some of the more-personal insights I received will be remembered with those beautiful patterns. Already those doubts were being dispersed.

Finally we reached Salt Lake and I suddenly became a little kid all over again.
"Look at all the people!!" I kept muttering to myself, "I've never seen so many couples in my entire life!" "Woah! Look they have a plaque about sunday school at the traffic light!" "Hey look, the tram! Can we go on the tram?" "*Gasp* an escalator and an elevator? My favorite!" "Woah...I want to jump into that fountain! It looks so fun!" "Ohh, look at the flowers. I could just lay in them!"

Another saving quality of my friends is that they have this amazing knack for tuning me and my overly-passionate excitement out. It's probably one of the things that's kept us three sitting at the same lunch table for so long. :)

Anyways, we physically attended the second session. We no sooner tumbled out of the car then a van full of boys pulled up and one of them rolled down their window.
"Hi," a couple of them shyly said.
"Hi," we smiled in return, holding back giggles.
There's not really much point to that, I just thought it was funny.

A classmate had also come and we found out where he was sitting: perfectly opposite of us. So we called him and got him to wave to us across the massive conference center. :) Later, they were trying to fill up some rows so we got to move up to the tenth! I could literally recognize the faces of prophets and apostles that I normally only saw on Mormon Messages or at home on my T.V. screen! If you got any idea of my excitement before, just imagine it now.

Of course, we eagerly continued to fill up our new notebooks and nudged each other to point out little things that we noticed. Then they had the rest hymn. The lights in the conference center came on and everyone stood to sing "Praise to the Man." The force of the sound from so many people brought tears to my eyes. Surely the very man they were singing about, the one who once held meager meetings in mere cabins, must've felt emotional at the sight. I knew he wasn't there physically but with the volume of all the voices I didn't doubt every word reached clear to Heaven.

After the conference--by which point I felt all my fears and doubts peeling away--a photographer, from the business that publishes church magazines, asked to take a picture of us. So if you see three teenage girls and a nice-looking mother in one, that's us. :)

We went shopping and I bought a goofy elephant beanie thing that I felt self-concious about in the Deseret Bookstore because everyone kept giving me weird looks. I guess it should've been nothing more than I expected though. :) We saw a pretty good number of people from our little hometown and I was startled by one of them yelling out my name and throwing her arms around me in the middle of a crowded bookstore. It still amazes me that such a small area could stretch such far distances. We had a citizen who had met someone in a different town who had met an exchange student from Germany who had come here. We may not be on the map, but we're everywhere else.

We listened to the rest of conference at my friend's grandparents' house and on the way home. I can't relate all the lessons I learned nor all the times I felt the peace I'd been seeking for. But I think it'll suffice to say that it took the world a couple months to build up my all my doubts and fears and grumpy attitudes to that point. And how long did it take the Lord to take it all down? A weekend. One of my favorite youth speakers, Hank Smith, points this out. As he says, " He probably could've done it faster." Only I'm sure He knew that any faster and I'd lose it all together.

To finish this up, I just want to share one of my favorite highlights from General Conference:

Recent Revelation

If there's one word that describes my college english book its culture shock. Er, I guess that'd be two words wouldn't it? Either way, its been a real eye-opener.

I admit that I probably need to be more educated about what's out there. My only real view into 'the real world' comes from passing by the news channel on my way to my room and a couple whispered conversations held behind me in my art class. Other than that, I basically live in a Disney movie.

So when I started reading these stories in my advanced-placement english class, I began feeling really...small? I dont' know. Naive maybe. Just...not the most prepared person to face this crazy world. I still don't even know who has the right of way at an unmarked intersection for heaven's sake!

But some of these articles shocked me. The authors always seem to analyze, critique, and sort the principle right out of a work of art. Reserved beliefs and standards just seem to be foolish--even cowardly--to them. There's no wrong or right, just persuasive or narrative. It seems any sort of principle is thrown to the wind; art is simply art, take it or leave it.

And not all of them are like this. So far it's been decently balancd with some more lighter topics, but still! I'd always heard of these types of things in the world but I'd never actually experienced them in this way. And, somehow, I felt kind of wimpy in that way.

One day, though, after I got home and was beginning to wonder how I'd ever survive college life at this rate, I felt something. It was quiet feeling. One that calmed me. One that said my Heavenly Father knew me. And, though the world may have found my shock weak and foolish, He understood it. He. He who knew everything understood it. And because He knew me, He knew all of my goals, including college. Though it might not always be a piece of cake, He would be there. He'd sent me to the perfect place. The perfect family and the perfect neighborhood for what He had in store for me. And if I only trusted and followed Him, He would prepare me. I may not know everything, but I knew enough. As President Thomas S. Monson said, "The future is as bright as your faith."



We Seek After These Things

I attended a good friend's wedding reception this weekend. I had watched them take pictures the day before in my mother's emaculate yard. And, after a week of disturbing college-english assighnments, disheartening news reports, and gross conversations in my art class, it was really refreshing.

Here were these two people, completely and utterly in love and more happy than I think I'd ever seen them before. But, best of all, they were clean. Pure. I knew this couple well and they hadn't followed the normal trend of the world today. They didn't engage in any of the sickening habits that now fuel all the dramatic T.V. show series. They were faithful to themselves and each other. They deserved each other.

I'm lucky enough to be surrounded by couples like this. I catch my parents holding hands while we go on walks, watch my cousin and her husband creatively raise their small children, and hear my Seminary teacher get carried away with how wonderful he thinks his wife is. And I love it!!

I know not every marriage works out and not every child follows the ideal. I guess I'm just saying that we will find what we're looking for. There are pure things out there. There are parents who love each other. Children who nobly honor their parents. There are modest dresses, good movies, clean music, and honest people. There is joy and there is hope. However, like my two friends, we must seek after it. And it won't always be in the trends of the world. But they had their sights set on being clean and they worked at it.

And, judging by the fact that they couldn't seem to wipe those huge grins off their faces, the reward was totally worth it.

Yay for Rain!

There's a scripture I discovered in Seminary two years ago that, for whatever reason, stuck in my head. It's 1 Corinthians 10:13 and it reads,

"There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the tempation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it."

At the time I kind of just thought this meant the Lord would provide a yogurt next to the icecream or maybe a quick flashback of where the door was in the middle of a shady movie. Or maybe even a friend who pulls you from the temptation of being low on yourself. And I think this I part of it. But lately I've been able to see a slightly different example.

It was raining the other day and, where I come from, the gloomy metaphor of a rainy day doesn't make much sense. When it rains, people gasp and cheer. They go sit out on their porch to watch it or roll down their car windows to smell it. They mutter prayers of thanks and, at the beginging of my seminary class, I've even had a few of my classmates dart out the door to dance in it. As my seminary teacher so sarcastically put it, "You'd think we lived in Arizona or something."

So me and my baby brother went for a walk. It was just a little sprinkle at the time, nothing much. But, in reality, it was a whole lot.

We saw not one, but two rainbows, raced up a hill, got free laffy-taffys (thanks Alicia!), and passed a man with a skeptic look, "You're going for a walk in the rain?" he asked.

"Yes!" I exclaimed, throwing my head back and feeling the cool sprinkles on my face, "That's the best time to!"

We also saw my cousin and raced some more once we hit the dirt road of my uncle's farm. Seth began to open up on every topic from videogames to the weather. From kindergarten to our dogs. From  misquito bites to the 'secret ways' he saw on our path. His little voice and stuttered words could probably be heard the whole way.  

By the time we got back, I felt more relaxed than I'd felt in a long time. My perspective seemed a little clearer and my worries smaller. Despite the age difference of about twelve years, I even felt a little closer to the little boy wearing a monstertruck shirt and unmatching sweats and carrying two rotting corn cobs to throw into the ditch.

I think sometimes that 'way of escape' isn't always just an alternative to the temptation. Sometimes its just a moment to get things together. A good morning run, a moment of laughter, a few minutes for prayer and scriptures, a smile, or maybe even some much-needed sleep. He knows we go through a lot down here and I think likes to provide something to strengthen or enliven us so that when the temptation to do something--or not do something--shows up, we can turn it down. He knows we can.

As the end of the verse says, "but will with the tempation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it."

I believe He sees and enjoys those little things too. He created us each individually and knows what we need. He will never leave us comfortless.

Personal Progress: a fitting title

When I see young men earn their Eagle Scout or Duty to God, I sometimes wonder what's going through their head. I know it sounds stalkerish but, I guess since they're usually my peers I just find the topic interesting.

Anyway, I've never really been able to find out, but recently my friends and I earned our Personal Progress medallion and I'm sure it can't be much different.

The first, of course, was accomplishment. I felt I'd done something worthwhile. Something that had changed me for the better and brought me closer to my Savior. Something that had led me to bring others there as well. Dozens of instances came to mind from teaching a silly dance to a bunch of little girls to crying over a scripture that answered multiple prayers.

Next was love. I love my ward family. And they don't call it a ward family for nothing. As my two friends and I, (announced as the 'Three Nephets by my bishop) stood up there, I saw an ocean of smiling faces. It was as if they had all raised me and were reaping the fruits of their labors. And, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that they had. They were. 

Then, of course, utter excitement. You know when you feel so utterly happy you could just laugh at everything? Even the corniest joke on a Laffy-Taffy wrapper? Yeah, that's about what it felt like. Us three just kept grinning at each other and then grinning at the congregation and grinning at our bishop and then grinning at each other.  

Two tangible rewards come from this. A pretty little necklace and a small statuette of a beautiful young woman. Both of these, I think will forever be prized posessions of mine. I'll take them to college. I'll take them into whatever house I end up living in. I'll take them everywhere! Because both taught me something that day. Something I never want to forget.

My father came up to put my medallion on, as the tradition went and I'll never forget my mother's soft whisper as he his calloused fingers struggled with the tiny clasp.

 "Do you want me do it?"

"No," he whispered back, "I got this."

I giggled, of course, but I was also filled with appreciation. How I loved these two special people!!! I've alreay described how much I know there couldn't be any better parents out there for me. And I realized that as I wore this symbol of a virtuous young woman, in my case it would also be a tribute to the two earthly angels behind her. Telling her to pull it together when she stresses to much and yet holding her when she cries. Telling her the sky's the limit and providing the opportunities to get there. I could go on and on, but I guess my point is that I honestly think there are two ways to react to an accomplishment. You can become focused on the cold awards of recognition stamped with your name just as cold with arrogance, or you can become overwhelmed with gratitude and as humble as those who helped you. I never really realized until then what humility was. It's not being down on yourself, it's the opposite of arrogance. Remembering that you're not the only one around.

The next item was the little statue thing. It really wasn't until I sat back down and I was looking at it that the lesson came. I was kind of wondering why they gave us a statue of just a plain young woman. Yeah, it fit the name of the Young Women's program head-on, but...why bother? We saw a young woman in the mirror every morning.

And then it came. This young woman, though simple, was beautiful. Not because they gave her some super-model face or desighner hair-do, but because she was pure. he whole thing was white, signifying that. It slowly began to dawn on me that this statue was not only supposed portray a girl between the ages of 13-18, it was to portray a girl living the gospel. She looked peaceful, clean, happy, loving. The type of person I guess you'd be if you finished you're personal progress.

It was almost like a self-portrait! Of course, I wasn't always peaceful, clean, happy, or loving, but it was a reminder that I could be.

And that, folks, is the gospel of Jesus Christ. One of silly dances and heart-touching scriptures. One of accomplishment, love, and excitement. One of humility, of friends and family, of ever reaching to that which is better. It's not always an easy pathway through life, but if you take it you'll find it's the easiest. Why? Well because you have the compaionship of the one who made the path in the first place.

Not Hiding Talents

Today I was reminded of an awesome set of movies that inspired me to share a few clips. Some of you have probably seen a few of them. They're called Liken The Scriptures and they basically do as their name suggests. That is, likening scriptures to their modern viewers and showing lessons easily applied to our lives now.

And they add a touch of music and humor...

This one comes from a story in 1 Nephi in the Book of Mormon. Though I'm sure ancient Isrealites didn't rap...

I love the exaggeration in this one about Esther, though it wouldn't let me post the actual movie. So here's the link.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vwUWPDxm9Hs&playnext=1&list=PL31ED576A8813EC75

Anyway, I tried to find the Ammon one where he whips out an ancient-american missionary handbook, but youtube only carries so much.

Even though some of the scenes in these movies are off-the-cob-corny, I love how the people who make them use their talents to help others. Make them laugh. Build them up. Make them think. I learned in Seminary this week about creating. How we are children of the most creative being ever and how the Lord blessed us with talents--in all areas, not just artistically--to create. To beautify. To make more of what we have whether it be a blank page, a messy room, a contentious mood, or a sad face.

Or, I guess in these people's case, a plethora of ideas and funds. As Dieter F. Uchtdorf put it, "You might say, 'I'm not the creative type'. If that's what you think, think again."

Fear and Faith

I really tried to think of what I could write about this week. School started. But nothing really happened there other than I wish I had a nickel for everytime I heard, "You're a Senior?!" I don't blame them though because, frankly, I can't believe it myself. In fact, as I write this, I am anticipating yet another adventure with all my cousins this afternoon. Its really easy to forget how old you are when you're running across balconies, sword fighting with nothing but soundeffects, and pretending you're the only human in a halloween-themed highschool.

Yeah, it probably won't sink in until I'm standing in the front of some college campus.

Anyways, I realized with school came seminary. And with seminary came reading assighnments. And with those, of course, came scriptural--and life--lessons.

So, Moses 1:20.

This is an amazing chapter (as most chapters are) and I feel bad for being half-asleep when I read it. But there was part that actually turned my thoughts away from my pillow. For now, however, I just want to share a small part of it. The beginning of verse 20 reads, "And it came to to pass that Moses began to fear exceedingly; and as he began to fear, he saw the bitterness of hell. Nevertheless, calling upon God, he recieved strength..."

There are probably close to a hundred different lessons you could get out of this verse alone, but the one that stood out to me the most was that Moses didn't see 'the bitterness of hell' until 'he began to fear'. Before this verse it describes God talking to Moses face to face. Right after that Satan confronts him and he becomes a little weak in the knees.

I think this happens a lot in life. We hear or see something amazing and inspiring to the point that we even feel a little bit of God's presence there. And then, almost as soon as we are trying to apply it to our own lives, opposition comes. It comes in countless forms, but it seems the root of all of them--or the reason we don't want to try and overcome that opposition--is fear.

Again, Moses didn't see 'the bitterness of hell' until 'he began to fear'. I realized that (and here we go again turning another page in my open-book of personal problems :) I, like Moses, had a testimony. I was trying so hard to do everything right and be the best I could be. But I still had human eyes and things, mainy those annoying doubts again, began to look a little scary.

So after reading this, I tried to change my perspective a little. Say I didn't fear. Say I took all those worthy desires, callings, and goals with some confidence in the Lord...

Like some sort of magic trick, they began to fade away. Because I knew my Heavenly Father was there and because I knew he loved me, I could replace that with fear with faith--like Moses in the rest of the verse, "...Nevertheless, calling upon God, he received strength, and he commanded, saying: Depart from me, Satan, for this one God only will I worship, which is the God of glory."

And suddenly, things didn't appear so scary. As President Monson so less-wordedly put it, "The future is as bright as your faith.

Funnies

Okay so I realize I haven't done a just-for-fun post in awhile. So this one's just going to be a plethora of things I thought were funny that I haven't already posted on facebook. :)

First off, my baby brother. Oh, my baby brother. A ball of energy that already comes up to my hips in height and towers over me in videogame skills. He's the only person I know who can live on a diet of juice and cheetos and run laps around the house, asking us to time him. He's the only kid I know who likes pepporoni and yogurt (yes, together) and flies walking on him, as he recently told me. And sadly, he's more popular in my highschool than I am. So here are a few of his quotes,

When looking at a display of plastic fingernails, "Look at these sunflower seeds!!"

When our neighbor's kid, two years younger than him, came over, "Ugh, little kids don't know anything do they Lee?"

His version of namecalling: "You...you peice of paper!!"

Reffering to my other little brother who's now 14, "Gus, you're my bestest brother." (can I que an "Awwww"?)

"No, Gus, I dont (pronounced dawnt) do that a'cuz, a'cuz, a'cuz it makes me all jacked up!"

Reffering to Gus' deoderant and my cousin, Steven, who's in college, "Gus, spray that on me! I want to smell like Steben."

And my other little brother. Not only do we not look alike,

When I'm sprawled out on the couch with the Fresh Beat Band on, "You're seriously watching that?" 

When I'm happily pounding away on the piano before school, "C'mon, we're going to be late."

When I'm giggling away at some driving mistake I made, "Oh my gosh, we're going to die! I can't believe you did that. You won't be laughing when we wreck."

When I parked the car wrong, reversed, parked it wrong again, reversed, park--"Alright, I'm getting out."

And you all thought he never talked :)

I love that kid soooo much! He's amazing! A lot of times I wish I had his level-headedness, his contagious laugh, his sensible outlooks on life, his observance, his logic, his arguing skills, his subtle sense of humor...

And then, of course, I get distracted by a butterfly or something.

Lastly, this: http://youtu.be/Zp1BYzIVi0U  I wanted to post the actual video but I couldn't get it to show the whole screen. So, though its not as pretty, click on the link. Click on it. You know you want to...

"Laffoon, I'm afraid I've been thinking." "A dangerous past time." "I know" (what movie?)

I have an amazing grandma who's basically a health expert and chiropractor without a license. She's the go-to person whenever anyone in my family has a crick in the neck, a pounding head, or even a stomach ache. It's pretty nice. Something I'll probably miss when I go to college.

 But lately whenever I go to her nothing works. She once worked on me for about an hour and fourty-five minutes and as soon as I walked out of her door I felt everything just go back to how it was. It was pretty frustrating for both of us and the last time I went she finally exclaimed,

"You're like a puzzle! I can't seem to figure out what the problem is!" Which is saying something. I've never known her to not know some strange massage or health pill that won't do the trick. She usually even knows the cause of these aches so I asked her what she thought. Her reply, "High levels of concentration. It's messing up your whole system."

In other words, I think to much. That, of course, got me thinking some more. I went through my whole day and discovered she was right.

I woke up and mentally ran through what I needed to do that day. Then I went running and had a knack for making up my own music videos in my head to the songs on my iPod (I know, weird). After that I took a shower and then read my scriptures. I usually spend a good fifteen minutes on this because at EFY I learned how every verse has a cool lesson if you'll look for it.  Then I eat breakfast and usually write. This includes planning my storylines, deciding on how certain characters would react, finding clever ways to use words, deciding what parts I needed and what parts I didn't, and the like. Sometime in the day I usually practiced piano which involves thinking as well.

Basically, my mind is running full speed all day. I think its one of the reasons I talk to myself when I'm alone because those thoughts have to go somewhere. It's also why sometimes I can't go to sleep right away.

Sadly, though, it doesn't just go into hobbies. It also tends to flood into how I can improve myself. This, by itself, isn't a bad thing at all. But when you think as much as I do, things can get a little complicated. When I mess up, I think about it and think about it and think about it until I've turned a small splotch into a huge puddle. That, of course, leads to me being too harsh on myself. So then part of me tries to make me feel better and its just turns into a huge confusing battle that makes my head hurt. And only then do I start thinking about thinking too much.

It wasn't until my grandma said something that I realized how bad it was really getting. It wasn't just hurting my head, it was giving me stomach aches and knocking my spine out of whack. I was also reminded of my anxiety attacks in track that came from all of this with the physical excertion of track practice on top.

My Mom told me I needed to do more things that would let my poor brain unwind. The thing that came to mind was videogames. That, of course, found me at a store handing over thirty bucks for a new Nintendo DS game snickering to myself, "It's for my health."

But, obviously, video games don't solve much. Frightening enough, I was reminded of how closely knit the body and spirit are. It was afraid it was even beginning to do a number on my testimony.

And then my friend finished her personal progress. Funny how things that hardly relate totally relate. Our plan was to wait until we were all finished and then get our recognition medallions together. So I decided to go through my pamphlet just to doublecheck that I had done everything like I remembered. I had to look through my journal to do this.

Inside were sloppily, yet excitedly, written entries that seemed to advance with each page. The first few, written when I was twelve, were a little skeptic and general. And then they got a little deeper as my testimony began to grow. And then they got excited and full of smiley faces, flowers, and about fifty underlines underneath the phrase, "I know my Savior lives." They were simple, hopeful, and the thoughts I had thought when I wrote them somehow  found their way to my mind again. I began to feel the love my Heavenly Father had and the joy he felt as I wrote those things down as a goofy, scrawny, yet cheerful little fourteen-year-old.

But the point that came across to me the most was that they were simple. I knew, I tried my very best, and the Lord would do the rest. It seemed to be a common theme of faith throughout the whole thing.

After that, and a silent prayer of thanks, I decided to go on a walk. A walk to, stubbornly, think. I came to the realization that the way my brain worked was a gift. Good to an extent. Its what helped me make relations to weird stuff and then post it on this blog. It was what helped me make my English teacher snicker at my more-entertaining-than-educational essays. It allowed me to come up with relating quotes and scriptures I'd read before whenever I was in Seminary, making the lesson a little deeper.

But then I also realized that, though it was a gift, too much of a good thing can be bad. Summer was coming to and end soon and He knew I'd be getting caught up in college and scholarships and homework. Perhaps, before all this, there was one more lesson he wanted to squeeze in this summer.

To have a little more faith in Him and His redeeming power and not...think so much.

Dancing Queen...or something.

This week, at the expense of myself, I'm going to illustrate something I've learned this week. (Can you tell I write these on Sundays? :)

I guess I'll start with a comment a couple of my friends made awhile back about the whole being someone's hero and someone else's idiot. And so the discussion started. Which was I really? What side did I lean more towards? The final conclusion was that I was a heroic idiot.

The next discussion I wanted to start was whether that was a compliment or not. Either way, for some reason this kept running through my head as I mingled with my peers at a dance this weekend. I'm kind of a dancing-aholic. A dancing nerd, if you will. I don't think I've missed a church dance since I first turned fourteen, though they play a lot of the same songs. And, if you read the lawn mowing post, that kind of got a little...redundant. So, of course, I had to mix it up.

Good Intention #1: Jumping Into Random Circle of People I Don't Know.

I've come to realize I think I'm immune to cliques. That's probably because I really don't see myself fitting into either of them so I just kind of consider myself in all of them. Anyways, Good Intention #1 started out really clumsy. I got a couple people's names and then got closed out of the circle. So I kind of hovered outside for awhile and then got in only to be closed out again. But finally someone else came to stand around and, after I decided to get his name, eventually got a swing-dance session out of it. Though I did most of it wrong and ended up getting dropped on the ground,  it was a blast!

Good Intention #2: Finding a Wallplant to Dance With

I know it's technically the guys' job to ask, but with the way my brain works, I usually can't stand in the same place for very long and wait for them. Don't get me wrong, I love when it happens. Its just a matter of...well, I just need to learn relax a bit I guess. As my mom said today, "Turn the Annelie volume down" (and if your reading this blog, I'm afraid its blaring.)

Anyways, so I made my way all the way to the otherside of the dance floor and found a guy leaning up against a wall more in the shadows. So, of course, I asked him to dance. He seemd a little uneasy at first, but it worked. It was really fun to see his bored face turn into a smile and to just meet a new person. And later I saw him several times in the middle of the dance and was able to say hi to him. I'd made a new friend!

Good Intention #3: Telling the DJ to Change a Bad Song

It's a church dance. I always feel like a hypocrite when I say I'm going to a church dance and then some ugly, stomach-clenching line comes blasting through the entire church building. In this case it was a parking lot, but still.

I've been meaning to do this for a long time, I've just never got up the courage. For some reason though, this time I was determined. I even told my more media-rounded friend that he was supposed to tell me when one of those songs came on so I could. That look he gave me still makes me wish I hadn't said anything, but at lenght, one came on and I finally found myself stumbling over to the DJ. I immediatly began mumbling.

"What?" he turned to me and asked over the music.

"I...you...could you change the song?"

"Why?" he asked, looking out at the dancing masses.

"Um...it's not...it's not good. Morally good, that is."

He gave me a doubting look, "What does it say?"

My shoulders slumped, couldn't he just trust me? So I described the meaning of the song and his eyes widened, "Oh! Ok, I will. Thanks, I appreciate that."

So is it alright to feel that warm fuzzy feeling and that 'you are such a goody-two-shoes Molly Mormon, let loose for once' feeling at the same time?

Good Intention #4: Interupt Guy Socializing With No One but His Cell Phone and Ask Him to Dance

This one really wasn't that amazing. He seemed a little bored with me through the whole thing, but I just kind of laughed and was just glad to know that I had the courage to do it.

Good Intention #5: Recommend the Hokey Pokey

"Hey, you should do the Hokey Pokey."

"The what?" he took off his headphones.

"The Hokey Pokey."

He gave me a strange look, "The what?"

"The Hokey Pokey!"

"One more time."
"The! Hokey! Pokey!" This was hard enough as it was!

"The Hokey Pokey."

"Yes."

"...I'll...think about it."

That was considerate DJ talk for "No. That's a dumb song. Now quit wasting my time kid."

Good Intention #6: Ask Lonely Younger Kid to Dance.

"Hey, you wanna dance?"

"No."

I guess my point is that not everything is going to be as flawless as we may intend. I get really hyper at dances so these weren't the only half-awkward moments I created. But a lot of times I get stuck on those little things. The little flaws in what was supposed to be something selfless or noble. Something bold or just cool. I can get so focused on them, that I don't see the rest of the results and I have a tendancy to think because of that one little slip-up, the entire thing was messed up.

But this weekend I was beginning to realize sometimes its just the fact that I attempted. The Lord knew very well the weakness of my hands, but he also knew the intentions of my heart. Its those intentions, and a pinch of faith, that allow him to make us more than we are, to strenghten our hands. So though we may feel a little awkward at times,or clumsy, or loud, or whatever else, if we give that heart full of intentions all to Him, we have no reason to fear. He can help. Or, in aweomse scripture terms...

Ether 12: 27 -- And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.

So even if your like me, the 'heroic idiot' who comes racing to the rescue only to trip themselves in the process, don't worry. If you're willing to listen, the Lord will remind you that you just need to tie your shoelaces.

The Healer

So today all I really have is a poem. It's really not anything deeply artistic, just a bunch of rhyming lines. But it was inspired by a testimony meeting where my cousin (Hi Alicia!) bore her testimony on how, no matter how small our problems are, the Lord is more than willing to help us solve them.

So here goes...

There once was a man who dwelt on a hill

Who could mend all the infirmities at his will.

This gift he offered to those below

If they would come, their wounds show.

There fast from his door grew a long line

Of those weary with problems of every kind.

Said the first at the door,

"My head is 'come sore.

For I have puzzled for hours on end

Over a complex and tedious business amend."

So the healer calmed his troubled mind

And gave him some advice to daily unwind.

Second was a villian of many sorts

Who'd made friends with the wrong kind of sports.

"Heal my scars, marks of my evil deeds."

And so He gave him exercises to fulfill these needs.

After him, up stepped a lonely mother.

"Please heal my heart. It's all a'smother.

I've lost my two children and, in life, my place."

He told her to visit often, with tears down his face.

And so it continued, each wound deeper than the one before.

And a boy in the middle began to find his own wound a bore.

"Who am I to bother this man and come?

For I have only a cut on my thumb.

It bothers me so, but I think I can live.

These people's problems are much more plaintive."

So the boy started his downhill climb

Convinced his tiny problem was a waste of time.

But the healer saw him step out of line

And beckoned, "Come, little friend of mine."

Startled, the boy turned back and

Trusting the voice, came back to stand.

The healer gently the cut brushed

And, at its insignificance, the boy blushed.

"I'm glad you came to me," the healer said,

"For even a small cut can become infected.

The longer you leave it, the worse it may get

A wound is a wound, and don't forget

In the end all need healing, and you'll see

That healing a small cut is simply more easy."

Girl's Camp, according to Annelie

As a lot of you know, last week was Girl's Camp. My last year of Girl's Camp. And I'd feel like I was neglecting it if I didn't reminisce a little--especially for how eventful it was!

This year, due to forest fires, we didn't get our 'camping' luxuries of cabins, showers, bathrooms, a huge eating lodge, and a speaker system. We actually had to camp this time. Tents, port-a-potties and all!

I really didn't mind. The place had a zipline! And swings! I rushed through the decorating (as us girls always do, no matter where we are) and made for the zipline. I had a few followers who came along to tell me as soon as I gripped the rope chair that I was going to die. I was the first one there to try the thing. But I was too excited to really worry about that. So I plopped myself down and pushed off.

I laughed out loud as my speed picked up. And it just kept picking up. Eventually I realized this thing had to come to an end. And still I went faster. Finally I spotted a pair of trees directly ahead of me where the cable ended, and I still was a few feet from touching the ground. I smiled nervously. Surely the people who'd made this thing had had people's physical health in mind. Maybe those people watching me up there had a point. Maybe they should speak at my funeral.

Then suddenly something jerked me back. The entire chair went flying into the air towards the cable and I screamed. It then swung back, bouncing backwards until I could touch the ground.
Needless to say, that wasn't the last time I went on it.

Next stop was the swings. It was a huge pole that all eight or so swings swung around. I soon got tired of plain sitting and switched to my belly, super-maning it around in circles until I lost my shoe twice and felt my lunch joining it.

But what happened next seems to be what everyone remembers. First it began sprinkling. Then raining. Then pouring. Then hailing.

And that, my friends, is where girl's camp's version of 'toughing it out' ended. We dug trenches around tents in the middle of the hailstorm to keep them from flooding but some unlucky groups pitched theirs at the bottom of the hill. I think one even caved in, which doesn't surprise me. My friend Sara has welts on her arms from it. Ask her, she'll gladly show you :)

So after all of that excitement, we all gathered into the tiny lodge where we would have our last devotional before packing. At first the leader teaching us went along the lines of our couldn't-be-more-fitting theme "Enjoy to the End." Then she shared the story of Christ walking on the water and Peter trying to do the same to meet him. He succeeded at first, but as soon as he turned his eyes away from the Savior and to the crashing waves, he doubted and began sinking. She pointed out how the Savior caught him and how He can do the same for us when we feel lost and overwhelmed by the trials in our lives, if we only take his hand.
It was a really, really good lesson that I wish I could record better. But what I most remember is when I tried to apply it to myself. I really didn't have many external trials in my life at this point. The only trials I really had were due to my dumb choices and the doubt or confusion that came with them.

So, as I usually do, I got thinking. Peter was awesome! He actually walked on the water for a few minutes before falling. What if it was someone like me? Someone who foolishly leapt off the boat and into the waves because they, for whatever reason, thought they could do it on their own? In other words, what if I brought my trials upon myself? Would the Lord still be as willing to save me?

The lesson went on and as it did, this image formed. There I was, half-drowning in the middle of the sea and wondering what ever possesed me to leave the boat in the first place. I was frightened, confused, lost. How could I have been so stupid?
 And then those familiar sandals came into view. I felt relieved and horrible at the same time. The Savior was walking atop the water towards me. He reached out a hand towards me and I humbly took it, immediatly making a million apologies for whatever I had done. But He cut me off by pulling me into a tight embrace, tears beginning to run down his face.
"Don't ever do that again," He muttered, "No matter how you fall into the water, I don't want you drowning."

***

The rest of camp was at the stake center. We ate more food than should be allowed in one day and did all kinds of fun activities including duct-tape purses, a lip-sync, and splashing each other with water. But, of course, we ended with another devotional and a testimony meeting. It was then that I realized I was one of the big kids. I watched as girl's I'd known since they were twelve come up and testify of truths that showed they were growing up.

And that was only confirmed by 'the box'. If you attened Girl's Camp for the whole six summers in a row, you get 'the box'. Its a pretty, wooden oval thing that no one really knows what to fill with, but its just one of those must-haves. I'm almost afraid to know if anyone snapped pictures while they handed me mine because I'm sure I had a weird look on my face.

Remember the girl on the zipline and losing her shoes on the swings? Yeah, 'the box' was something only the big girls got. I wasn't a big girl! I was short! I still enjoyed a good game of Barbies! I loved dressing up and ham & cheese sandwiches in the summer! I loved kazoos, bubblewrap, and dancing while folding the laundry. I didn't have a job, I knew as more VeggieTale lines than I did celebrities' names, and a lot of those shady jokes that were said in class still flew right over my head. For heaven's sake, I could hardly even drive! This isn't at all how I remembered the tall, pretty girls who I watched get 'the box' when I was little.

But then I guess maybe growing up can come in many ways. I did know a ton more than I did before. I was generally more mature. My testimony had grown and was more solid than I thought was possible for me at this point. I'd gone through experiences both succesfully and unsuccesfully. I'd developed my talents. I'd made new friends. And, thanks to a mother who followed a prompting to send her daughter to EFY, I'd been able to be a part of changing someone's life.

And by the Young Women's symbol engraved on the lid, I could tell that it was those things that made you old enough for some of the things in life, including 'the box.'