The Imagi-Nation

I know I've hinted a lot at all the little games my little cousins play with me (actually, they really aren't that little anymore. Three are taller than me and the others are quickly catching up) but I've never really let you in on some of them. So, buckle your seatbelts, secure your safety-helmets, keep a sword--and a sense of humor--handy, and open your mind folks. We're going in!

The thing that prompted this post was what we did yesterday. Only this one included stuffed animals. So I brought one of the only ones I still had after cleaning out my room: Trapeze the monkey with more inside jokes to him than fuzzies.
"Great!" my cousin exclaimed, "Okay, that tree is my house," she directed to a tree full of colorful critters, which didn't surprise me. In every game, without fail, she's literally everyone and their dog. "And that tree is my house," said my neighbor. It only had two inhabitants, but looked no less charming. They gave my baby brother the grapevine, but he soon U-Hauled to a little twig of a tree.
 That left me with the hammock--I liked this so far.
"Oh, and the lawn mower over there is the church."
"Alright," I shrugged, figuring that would probably never come into play. But one yell and I stood corrected.
"Okay everyone, its Sunday!"

So we all gathered around the John-Deere chapel where they insisted Trapeze be Bishop. Smiling uneasily, I moved my little monkey onto the seat of the mower and tried to think of a half-decent way to do this. But this wasn't some little 'close the doors and hear them pray, open the doors and they all go away' deal. No, they wanted a real meeting.

"Ahem...ok, um we have some...ward business...We, uh, would like to welcome Mr. Camel there who--"

"He has an egyptian religion that he usually goes to," his owner butted in.

"...rright. And, um...well..."

"We should sing!" announced the pink kitten.

And so they all broke into humming "What Child is This?" It's June, mind you.

Once that was over, I began stuttering again when the fox, Blacksocks, volunteered to give a talk. I probably should've just ended it here, but I didn't.

The talk really only lasted about two seconds with an undefined topic and then Easter-Cute-Bunny (my baby brother's rabbit. He named it himself) volunteered. It went as follows:

"Zowy! Zowyzowzow! Zzzowyzowy Zow--"

"Alright, yes. Thank you, Sir."

"Why did I come here?!" the camel suddenly arose from his pew and shouted, "Back at my religion we sacrifice sheep to bring the dead back to life!!"

Let it suffice to say that I really felt for the real bishops by the end of that thing.

But not all of our games are like that. In fact, very few are. Usually they're more like this:

Princess Eilenna storms into the ballroom and approaches evil advisor, "I know who you really are!"

"Yeah!" Agrees Sir Eragon and her sister Princess Alice. Ryu, the half-dragon, suddenly pushes through them and draws his sword, "You will give us the potion to heal the king, or else."

Evil advisor pulls out a pistol--

"Wait, wait, wait. This is medieval times. They didn't invent pistols then!"

"But flowers have pistals."

Or sometimes like this:

Agent James chucks a metal bar into the wheel of speeding car, jamming it. The car explodes and Agent Eliza barely makes it out alive before both agents find their vehicles and speed off.

Back at Head Quaters:

Boss: "Where are the others?"

Agent Eliza: "Have you checked the kitchen?"

Or...

The mysterious Ranger, Eragon, approaches Prince Thomas and grabs his wrist, "Come dance with me!"

"Wait. Who are you?"

"Elizabeth. Remember?"

"Oh. Right."

Elizabeth approaches Princes Thomas and grabs his wrist, "Come dance with me!"

"Okay."

While dancing, Eragon's pet horse, Black, comes trotting into the ballroom, "The princess has gone missing!"

"Ok, wait. Who are you now?"

"Eragon."

"Oh. Right."

Or:

"So, where did you say you came from?" the Nephite asked the ancient egpytian.

"Egpyt," she nodded and turned to the samuri, "And you?"

And sometimes even:

"Mwahahaha! Yes, I have finally captured every Disney prince in the film entertainment universe! Those helpless princesses will never know where to find me!"

Back at the castle:

Jasmin:"We will never know where to find him!"

Aurora:"We need a guide."

Pirate-looking character walks in, "I can help."

But almost all of them have this scene:

The table is piling with food as the brave heroes emerge from their bedrooms.

"Food!!"

"Hey!" shouts the Daisy, the giant, walking flower, "That's my orange juice!"

"Not anymore," smirks Quench, the ghost-like shade, as he gulps it down.

Meanwhile Pippy, the leprachaun, smuggles some eggs and french toast underneath the table.

"BACON!!

Ranger Keira and the flying, fire-sword-breathing snake break into a wrestling match on top of the table. Violet, the fairy, salvages all the food she can between flailing limbs and tails and Cassie, the wizard, simply blends up an enchanted milkshake in her bedroom.

It must be Grandma's icecream. That or all of us just trying to clear our heads out after a long week. The funny part is, it all makes sense while I'm in the middle of it.  It isn't until I look back that I realize why some of my peers, who have caught me more than once in the middle of rolling around on the grass or warning some invisible villiage of an oncoming attack of element-tribe-rebels, have funny looks on their faces.

But its so worth it! I love these kids more than they even know! I'm just glad they let a seventeen-year-old-and-soon-to-be-senior in on their epic adventures! Never have I seen one backyard transform into so many different locations.

It's kind of like the Backyardigans. In fact, there are two of these adventurers who are known to put song and lyrics to what's going on. The only difference is we usually aren't miscolored members of the animal kingdom. That only happens 'at church'.

The Grass Going to My Head

For summer most of my friends have jobs. One, whom I like to call my brain, is N+ certified and works on the school's computers. Another, who I should start calling my energy, has two part-time jobs. Me? I'm still stuck in the mowing lawns/babysitting industry. That's alright though. I have a grandma who seems to have this magical, bottomless wallet.

But I've decided it's probably high time for me to retire--before they kick me out. Babysittings fine. I figure that one changes with every kid. No, I'm talking about mowing lawns. Pushing a heavy noisemaker around in the same rectangle for a couple hours gets a little...redundant. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. But I'm afriad my grandmother's renters might be. Because when things get redundant, I have this subconcious tendancy to, well, shake things up.

Some of you long-time followers have probably read my previous post on mowing. Not much has changed, as you will see. I still mow with my trusty partners whom I like to call iPod and Headphones--both of which have come close to the same tragic fate as the grass.

 I'm one of those music listeners who has to sing along. It's like this uncontrollabe urge I get. I can't just let the lyrics roll by without joining in--especially when I'm alone and especially when I'm in a good mood: both of which were the case here. It doesn't help that I have every song on that thing memorized word for word. So I sang everything that came on, not even missing a beat. The more I did it, the more fun it became. And the more fun it became, the louder I got. I thought for sure the mower would cover up my oh-so-lovely voice, but a comment from my aunt (Hi Juju! :) let me know otherwise.
"Yeah, I went out to my car and could hear you just singing away."
"Your car?" I asked, a little color filling cheeks. That was a good 100 meters away! "Yep. And I thought you were one happy mower!"
"Your car?" I began to gauge the approximate circumference of my soundwaves. There really weren't that many other houses nearby, but I suddenly felt for the renter who was right in the center. His windows were probably opened.
"Yeah, it made me laugh, but I figured singing must make it go by faster."
"Your car?" The distance seemed to expand each time I said it. Poor, poor renter. He'd even offered me a water bottle. Maybe my voice was getting hoarse.

And then I remembered something else...

I believe it was in the middle of an epic Pokemon song (the kind thats so upbeat you can't help but belt it out. Or am I the only one that feels that way?) that my cousin (Hi Alicia! :) and her family came walking by. Of course, I was busy performing hard-core to my green audience and had my eyes shut to create a good effect. By the time I finally spotted them, they were half the distance of the lawn. I gave them a sheepish wave and they returned it, chuckling. I had no idea how long they'd been watching me, but I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

And, unfortunetly, that's not all folks. After all this mowing, the grass was so thick that it didn't bag well and I had to go back and rake it all up. Well, we have this really fun green wagon that was big enough to give each other rides through the hardware store when we first bought it. But, in this case, I was using it to load up all the grass. My goal was to fit at least four piles in before dumping it and returning for another load. In order to do that, though, I had to push some of the grass down to make room.

But shoving grass down with my hands so many times got a little...redundant.

So I hopped inside and began stomping--or rather dancing--around in it until all the grass was pushed down. This worked rather effectively and so I moved to the next pile, loaded it in, and then hopped back on top of it all to resume my stomping and slight booty-shaking.

I swear the ground was uneven. That or I'm just pathetically clumsy. Or both. Either way, somehow I ended up lying on the freshly mowed lawn with freshly mowed grass all over me and my feet in the upturned wagon.
Now someone who was smart might rush back to their feet and brush themselves off before anyone noticed (come to think of it, someone who was smart wouldn't be up there in the first place.) Someone who was smooth might've come up with some clever excuse and casually got back up like nothing happened. But I'm neither of those. So I just laid there and laughed.

I could just see the renter's visiting relatives looking out the window now, "Um...so who is that again?"
"My...uh...she's my landlord's...uh, hey are you hungry? I'm starving. How about some lunch?"

And even after all of that, when I finished hauling all the grass over the small hill that leads into the wash, I was so excited to finally be done that I couldn't help but mutter:
"Racers, start. your. ENGINES!!"
I gripped the handle of the wagon and made the appropriate sound effects.
"Ready, set, GO!!!"
And with that I went sprinting down the hill, wagon trundling noisily above all my makeshift engine noises the whole way. (Yeah, people no longer ask me what I'll be when I grow up, they just slice it in half: when will you grow up?)

I heard a quote today in church that brought all this back to mind and made me smile, " Never be afraid to laugh at yourself. Afterall, you may be missing out on the joke of the century."

The Miracle of My Roommate

Okay so first off I must apologize to all of you faithful followers who I've left hanging for two--not just one--but two Sundays. But you're not the only ones. I'm a member of this creative-writing website and was flat in the middle of a story some people were also following when I up and left for EFY for a week. I forgot to tell them. It's so fast paced that I'm slightly procrastinating going back on there for fear of seventy notifications wondering if I died.

But, as I was saying, EFY. Especially For Youth. THE BEST PLACE EVER!!! Joseph City aside of course :) I really could go on and on and on about it. About how I was bound and determined to not have a COW (crush of the week) and then hormones go the best of me. About how my group pulled a tribal attack and scooped a girl (the 'Indian Princess') up right out of a game of missionary tag, slung her over one of the guy's shoulders, and then kidnapped her. I could go on about the brownies, the life-chaning, prayer-answering talks, sharing one bathroom between four girls, and how much mascara I had to reapply after every devotional, but I'm afraid your finger might be sore from scrolling by the end of it.

So, for the purpose of this blog, I decided to share a miracle. The miracle of my roommate.

Technically, I came with my two bestest friends I've had since we were about four. But we determined that they would room together and I volunteered for the adventure of meeting someone new. And boy, what an adventure it was. I believe the first question I was asked by one of the girls was, "So, do you have a love life?"
My eyebrow rose and I slowly shook my head, "Uh, no. I've never had one." It was a fact I was pretty proud of at my age, but I couldn't help but chuckle; I'd never had attention turned away from me so quickly.

As for my actual roommate, I no sooner learned her name than I fell into a slight phase of culture shock. I was definatly a ways from home. Loudspoken and straightforward, I got a spunky earful of a lifestyle that went against everthing I knew and a whole new page in my mental book of vocabulary. My eyes just kept getting wider and wider and my stomach got tighter and tighter. At one point during the conversation I finally just got up and 'went to the bathroom.'

I leaned up against the door and let out a sigh. I wasn't about to back down.  I'd already determined before now that I was going to take the challenge of an unfamiliar roommate and make the most of it. No, I just needed to step back and gather my bearings. So I uttered a prayer. Though it may sound silly to some, I could tell I'd need help with this one.  I knew that Heavenly Father knew how naive I could be. I lived in a virtual bubble when it came to the things she was talking about. But He also knew my strengths. He knew where I could help. As small as my hands might be in comparison to His, He knew just what they could lift.

So it took a little bit of prayers and repenting on my part, but, more and more, I learned to love this girl. She was a daughter of God, just as I was. He loved her more than I could even comprehend and I felt that she had been sent to EFY for a reason. But what really kicked me into gear was when my counselor took me aside one night.

"Hey, she's making some of the other girls uncomfortable. If you feel the same way, you don't have to room with her. I don't want this to ruin your experience here."
I nodded, thinking it so amazingly typical of youth leaders to be so aware.
"I don't think there could be a better roommate for her, but if you need to move just tell me."
I ducked my head, wondering what prompted that compliment. I barely knew my counselor at this point. But I also felt at that moment that this was my chance. It was my chance to change someone's life--if I just stayed with it and listened.
She also revealed some scary possibilities that I would need to report if I heard my roommate talking about them, deepening the prompting. Not only could I change someone's life, I needed to.

All day I looked for opportunities. To compliment, to be friendly. I kept up my habits of prayer and scripture study because I knew it was how those I admired found answers to things like this.

It wasn't until that same counselor was giving a devotional on a topic that hardly related, that it came: "Try a roommate prayer or something."
At first I was a little reluctant. I could just see the look on her face now, "A roommate what?"
But it came again. So, after the devotional, I sauntered self-conciously into our room after brushing my teeth and put on the most casual tone I could manage, "Hey, um, I was thinking that maybe we could, uh, have a roommate prayer or...something."
"A roommate what?"
I forced a smile, "You know, a prayer with just us." I wondered if she'd agree. Afterall, we'd had a plethera of opening and closing prayers, group prayers, blessings on the food, personal prayers. How many prayers did we need?
But, after a moment, she nodded, "Alright."
"Great!" I beamed, "I...I guess I'll say it then."
We got interuppted halfway through with someone opening the door and I think I repeated myself from being nervous, so I doubted it was effective. But if there's one thing I learned when it came to promptings from the Holy Ghost, it's never to doubt.

I'm sure you can call picture my expression when, the next night, I was mentally running through the day and hurriedly throwing on my pajamas, and I heard a gentle:
"Hey, aren't we going to say roommate prayer?"
I froze. Just froze. I had completely forgotten! Then a grin grew on my face and I whirled around, "Of course! Do you want me--"
"I'll say it."
I clamped my mouth shut and went to my knees. I'll never forget that prayer that answered my prayer. It was one full of thanksgiving. For our counselors, for the opporutunity to be at EFY and learn of Him, and--the real tear dripper for me--for her 'amazing roommate'.
I really didn't need that. It wasn't me who had changed her heart. I had barely had the chance to talk to her that day.  And only the Lord had the power to transform something so deep, so fragile. But it was just a confirmation to me of what I had felt earlier.

The rest was really just between her and her Savior. I looked over once during a devotional and found her notebook page covered with uplifting messages and gospel principles. Besides overcoming my sleepiness once to follow the urge to reminder her to say her nightly prayers and telling her I loved her, I really hadn't done anything.

By the end of the week, she was a new person with a new outlook on life. She was vibrant, beautiful, and I think more of the person Heavenly Father meant for her to be. I could see so much potential in her--potential I'm sure He'd seen all along. When we finally had to leave, we both just threw ourselves into each other's arms and bawled. I realized that she wasn't the only one in need for a learning. Through her, I was shown more of the extent of the Savior's atonement and love. Of His hope and love for all of us, including me. Things I don't think I would've learned quite as well without her. What our counselor missed is that she was the perfect roommate for me.

 As I watched her car drive off, I realized I had seen another miracle. I was just glad I could be a small part of bringing it forth.

And Sasha, if you are reading this, Thank you sooo much girla! I love you so much!!