Pulling out the old high school box,
A descent into sentiment.

A future worth the finding

But I'll just keep on mining 'til I find my silver lining.
I'll dig until the world is shining in its brand-new silver mould.

One Midnight Gone

One month away

How time flies. 

There's so much more to do

Before my day 

Before she cries,

Before my time is through.

Same song, second verse.

And after a while, being ‘ok’ wasn't an act anymore. Everything was basically back to normal.
Because if there’s one thing I’m good at… it’s being myself. 

I like love songs. But I've never lived one before.

Video clip might be here.

LBD video clip here

EA video clip here

I have always loved these types of scenes. 

But being on the receiving end of such sentiments is a totally different experience.

The grand eternal scheme

Sometimes I cite my age and insist that I'm an "adult."

But psychologically, I'm still very much a child.

I watched the world spin 'round the sun -a stunning thing to see.

 Though I was at least a little shocked it didn't revolve 'round me!

I'm starting to realize just how much things can change in just a short amount of time.

This realization was brought on by a couple of key events in my life recently. For example, I am on the last few pages of my journal. I am an avid- though not steady- journal writer. It comes and goes in bursts (and Liz knows that I over-use the term 'entirely too late' in relation to my sleeping habits), but I've always managed to get the important stuff in there. 

This TARDIS journal, with its pages almost filled, covers just over a year of my life, from the week before I left for my Freshman year of college to the weeks before I leave to serve a full-time mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. 

In the grand eternal scheme of things, a year is chump change. But this was my first year away from home. The year I went to college. The year I made life-long friends in the form of roommates. It was the year my sister met and married Spencer. It was the year my cousins had children, my grandmother died, my childhood friends got serious boyfriends and my brother passed 6ft. This year changed my life, in so many ways. 

All of this happened in one year. 12 months. 525,600 minutes. 

A lot can happen in a year.

Originally, the thought of taking an 18 month hiatus from my normal life and routine didn't really phase me. It's just 18 months. It isn't two years. I won't miss much.

Only now do I realize just how much I will, unavoidably, miss.

My friend Melissa really loves this guy she's dating. She wants me to be her maid of honor but I'm starting to doubt... I don't think she can hold off that long.

First comes love, then comes marriage, then... I can't be there for everything.

Eliza will graduate. She'll go to college. Essentially, she will be living the life that I just left. And that's HUGE.

Little Melissa will be in Junior High.

David might have had his first date.

Cousins will date, marry, and start families of their own.

My favorite TV shows will come back on the air, movies will be made and released. 

I've been laboring under the delusion that the world would sort-of pause while I was gone and then kindly resume the moment I got back. And now that I know I will have to miss so many of these things a small part of me starts to wonder, is it worth it?

I hadn't finished asking the question before I knew its answer. Yes. Yes, of course it's worth it. Above is a catalogs of my potential losses. Really, I should focus on what I'll gain.

Experience living abroad.

Fluency in a foreign language.

Appreciation for a new culture.

A greater love for people.

Discipline.

Spiritual growth.

Blessings. Blessings for EVERYONE.

And more that I can't anticipate.

Yes. Things will change while I'm gone. And one of those things... will be me.

The dry day draws its end within a sinful, starless night.
-Life in Las Vegas

Words that aren't mine

Isn't it a strange thing to think that every book ever published -every story ever written, every essay ever eked out, every song lyric sappy poem silly rhyme and gushing love note ever left on paper, parchment, wood, or cloth- is just a different combination of 26 letters and assorted simple punctuation?

The basic building blocks of language are the same, be it a Shakespearean sonnet or a Hallmark card.

So how can I call any of these words mine?

In her own skin

"Alayna, do you think I'm fat?"

I stop whatever I was doing at the bathroom sink to stare at her reflection in the mirror. I call her "little Melissa" because she's my little sister... but also because there are a lot of other Melissa's in my life and I needed a way to keep them straight. To be honest, the nick-name doesn't really fit. She's already far taller than any of us were at her age (and we've never been 'short'), and it's even more apparent as she stands in mock nonchalance by the door frame.  

I have to answer her question, I know that, but I'm hesitant. I know that what I say in this moment -whatever my answer to her question is- could follow her through her life. That's just how girls work. I knew a girl of average weight and build (honestly, she might even be considered thin) who was insecure and self-conscious all through her tween and mid-teen years just because her family members teased her about being fat. I don't think that they were ever serious, but it didn't matter. The damage was done. 

I keep my breathing steady, trying hard not to let her see any extra hesitance or tension in my manner. You see, I never learned how to say something like this to a ten year old girl.

After the pause of another nervous moment, I say, "I think you are growing" in a voice so casual it borders on boredom. 

And really, it's true. It used to be that she wasn't very 'size conscious.' If a pair of my shorts ended up in her laundry basket, she'd don a belt and wear them around as Capris without being any the wiser. I guess those days are gone. I won't miss her days of poor fashion sense -packing her clothes myself when we went on trips because I knew what matched and fit her better than she did- but it's another phase of childhood that she's growing out of. And I remember it, too. I remember when I thought wildly patterned shorts with matching tops were the coolest things ever and that yellow socks completed every outfit. But eventually we all have to grow up and learn the ways of the world. Its just coming up a little quickly on me. 

She's still standing there in the doorway. Her dark hair -so different from my own- frames her young face and her recently cut bangs form a harsh line in the middle of her forehead. Her dark eyes -brown like mine were when I was young- are still trained on mine, so I know I have to say something else. I mean, I guess she has that 'childhood pudge' but she's also wearing training bras now... though I don't feel the need to mention that. Oh well, here goes nothing.

"Honey, there are a lot of different body types, none of them are 'right' and none of them are 'wrong,' and it doesn't really matter. Sometimes you can't control it, and most of the time, that's ok." I'm grasping at philosophical straws, and I know it. But I hope that somewhere in my pile of words, she can hear the needle of truth: You are a daughter of a loving Heavenly Father. He created you in His image. Your body is a Temple for your beautiful soul, and it's what's on the inside that counts. 

Be comfortable in your own skin. It doesn't matter what I think, or what anyone else says. Accept yourself and your body for the miracle that they really are.

This is what I hope she heard, though it isn't quite what I said. If I had said all that I probably would have freaked her out with my sudden seriousness, so I guess it's better this way.

I guess, I hope I said (or she heard) something right, because after another brief moment she nods, bobbed hair jerking, and walks back to her room.

I am nine years older than little Melissa. Sometimes I call her "Baby Girl," which once thoroughly confused the kids in the swim team I coached and she was in. Maybe it's time for, and maybe she's earned another name. But I think it should be of her choosing. 

And I think she'll be fine.   

Memes and LOTR

As a girl of very strong opinions, I sometimes find myself in passionate arguments. Recently, rather than totally stamping on the feelings of a friend, I decided to -as Elsa would say- "let it go."

But, if I had carried on an argument, I would have liked to do it entirely with internet memes.
It would have gone something like...

In conclusion...

Be good to the people who make you great.

My own words

Earlier this week an old elementary school journal appeared in my room. It was one of those flimsy paper things we did every month, a hastily colored print-out with too much large-lined paper stapled to it at the corner. The first few pages were half full almost illegible insect poems. Apparently I didn't know how to use spaces between words (either that, or I should be given partial credit for inventing the #hashtag) because sometimes I wasn't sure whether it said that moths ate "sweaters, cloth, and rugs" or "sweaters, cloth, an drugs." I finished flipping through it after only a couple of minutes, sure that every word (sandwiched together though they were) had been copied from a whiteboard. They were prescribed poems, and I'm sure that every single "journal" that month looked the same, as we wrote the words they gave us. 

But I write my own words now.   

July for Eliza

So it started with some cards, some pens, and a left-over print-out of Eliza.

And here it goes.

And it's coming along....

After I gave it to her, it sat on the couch like an altar for the dead. So I added some things to complete the effect.

Sometimes I am artistic. I am ALWAYS cheesy.

Imperfect Prism

I am a shape of many sides, 

some of which you must despise

since cowardice and cruelty hide

among my many faces.

Impertinence and anger too

stand to join the motley crew, 

but I would name them all for you

if I could make them sound like graces.

Someday I'll take you by the hand,

imperfect prism that I am, 

and somehow make you understand

the reason for these faces:

The world, this unforgiving sphere

helped put my ugly faces here,

but light through broken prisms near

throws color in far, dark places.

And maybe when you finally see

the many different sides of me,

you'll learn to love me honestly,

and fill my sad heart's empty spaces.

Three Weddings and a Funeral

Aria’s Vegas Wedding Reception

In some ways, it felt like it was more mine than hers (I made the playlist, both slideshows, 'oked' the final decorations, helped mom write the agenda, typed it up for the MC/DJ, and provided all of her accessories).

Actually when I say it like that, it sounds like I'm turning into the main character from my favorite rom-coms.

In which case I end up with James Marsden. And I am very much ok with that. 

Aria asked me what shoes she could borrow, and I graciously opened my hoard. But the thing is... Spencer is only slightly taller than Aria, so she was reduced to wearing my silver sandals (coincidentally, the same ones I wore to her wedding in Hawaii). 

Aria couldn't wear heels... so Eliza and I decided to both wear 4-5 inched ones. ;)

We sang "For Good." It was a little unpracticed, but still good. Ya. Still good. 

We danced. We talked. We partied and smiled. We didn't do a lot of clean up because many of the decorations would be recycled for Ari's wedding two days later. Instead I ended up talking with the Crists, a couple that was married the same day as our parents.

They watch Doctor Who. We geeked out.

She wants me to write her son on a mission in Portugal.

Arranged marriage number 5.

Ari’s wedding

I was the flower girl bridesmaid, protecting the bridal bouquet with my life. It was a LONG day. 

I know it was technically my second time being a bridesmaid, but it felt like the first. People asked me to DO things and be responsible for important wedding stuff. *Note to future people: Do NOT ask a bridesmaid to do stuff. Bridesmaids are busy taking pictures and looking pretty and anticipating what the bride needs before she articulates it. I say this in all seriousness. Ask me to keep track of vases? I'll forget them on the temple grounds (yes. That happened). Ask me to roll out the carpet for the isle? And how exactly am I supposed to do that when I'm walking down it 5 seconds later? Think about it.*

Holding the bride's bouquet? That I can do.

I really liked taking pictures as bridesmaids and with the groomsmen. We didn't really do that at Aria's because we were all just family. There were a couple of great ones that I hope to get eventually. *Note to future self: Brides are busy people and pictures aren't really the foremost thing on their minds. Have patience. You'll see them eventually.*

Grandma's Funeral

I saw cousins I haven't seen in years. It's amazing how much some people have changed... and how much some people have stayed the same. 

My mom often says that funerals bring people together in ways that no other event will. Not everyone will come to a wedding or mission farewell, but EVERYONE will come to a funeral.

I loved seeing everyone, and spent some quality time laughing and playing with some of my cousins. Others... I don't remember speaking to. Funny how that works out. The viewing was full of music and memories and family. It was good... even though it dragged on. 

The actual funeral was very much the same: full of music and good, even though it dragged on.

But I didn't cry.

Not even when we sang Aloha Oe and wheeled her casket down the isle. 

No, the only time I teared up was when I mentioned being hungry and someone accused me of being insensitive. So in essence, I cried because I wasn't crying, and realizing this made me cry even more. 

I was a mess that day for all the wrong reasons. Urgh.

We took a family photo, the most complete one ever, probably. My great uncle even photo-shopped out some of the headstones. Thoughtful of him.

We took age-group pictures. Eliza insisted that I join in on this one, even though it's her age group and not mine. Everyone in my age group is on missions. I never thought I'd miss Michael so much.

TJ and Roma's Wedding

We had car problems on previous trips to Utah, so this time we rented a van.
Sorry, I should have checked to make sure that you guys were sitting down before sayings something so shocking, but it can be safely assumed that you were, since you are probably reading this at a computer.

Thomas Blackham married Roma Marie. Different people know both of them by different nick-names, so no one knew what to call them or what names to address the card to. I guess I'm kind of glad that my name is fairly nick-name proof. ( Sorry Aria, 'Layn' is never going to catch on.)

But it was time well spent with people I love (and that includes our little jaunt to Fantasy Con with Marissa), and nothing is more important than that. 

We decorated the car, which Eliza and I instigated and was carried on with enthusiasm by about half the wedding party. There's no WAY they didn't notice when we all left suspiciously for that hour...
It was my third wedding in a week, but the ONLY one that had a decorated car. I'm glad we did it.

What did I learn from this fantastic flurry of events?

I learned that it is not impossible to request 10 days off of work, so make time for the things that matter. (It helps if your supervisor is recently married and part of your reason for leaving is a wedding.)

I learned that it all boils down to people. Bridesmaids are there to support their friend, the bride. The guests are there to honor a friendship between some member of the wedding party. The wedding party throws a gala to celebrate this special moment with all of their friends. 

In the end it doesn't matter if the car looks stupid or the wind blew down all the fake floral decorations. It doesn't matter if you cried for the right reasons, or that the Relief Society had 15 different types of funeral potatoes at the luncheon. 

At the end of the day, the person beside you is the only one who matters.
It's the person you'll be embarking on a new life with.

The person who held you up as buried a loved one.

It's the person who has been beside you time and time again.

These are the people who matter.
That's what three weddings and a funeral have taught me.

Almost Emmalie

I wrote a letter for my roommate's birthday this week, so that counts as my writing. But she asked me not to post it... so I guess this means that I'm just publishing this post to taunt you (Elizabeth Burdzy).
BUT sometime this week I'll do a "Three weddings and a funeral" post, and that will be super cool.
So stay tuned.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Emmalie just gave me permission to "do whatever [I] want" with her letter. So here it is.

Emmalie Arntz is opportunistic.

Most people wait for opportunity to knock… but you built the door. Do you want to know why I’m super convinced that you are going to be a successful musician? (Other than your remarkable talent and incredible song-writing ability, of course.) It’s because you create your own luck. You are a go-getter, a networking pro and unafraid to put yourself out there. 

Emmalie Arntz is loving.

You take the time to love. I was McKenzie’s roommate, but I don’t know if I was ever her friend. Of course it was a weird situation and she made it clear that Kaleb was her priority… but you still took the time to be her friend, more so than any of our other roommates could manage. This may come as some sort of a shock, but I’ve never had a boyfriend. (There are several reasons for this, most of them including my own inflated self-image and inability to talk to guys.) So it was a bit of a culture shock for me, having you in my life. You were beautiful, talented, and unafraid to mix and mingle. My idea of a perfect Friday night was watching Merlin (and not the person, I’m not creepy). You? You went hiking, stargazing, singing, dancing, and … eating. It was remarkable. And intimidating. No, I never came home crying or needed a hug like you sometimes did, it’s true. No, I was never hurt or dumped or … dated at all, really, so I was spared a considerable amount of heartache. But… I also never came home singing euphorically, bursting at the seams because of a perfect date, or a first kiss, or a DTR as you did so many times. You excel at living life to its fullest. It isn’t the easiest way to live, and you get just as much heartbreak as happiness, but it’s the perfect way for an artist such as yourself to be. Your loving nature fuels your creativity and adds truth and depth to your songs. It suits you. And it’s wonderful.

Emmalie Arntz is playful.

It was never very safe to wear sweatpants – especially my camo pajama pants – because you had a little bit of an obsession with pantsing people. Odd? Yes. But endearing. Remember how we laid down on the ground of the in the Young Hall foyer in opposite directions and watched each other’s mouths move, pretending they were upside down? It sounds stupid when I try to explain it, and it probably was. But I’ve almost never laughed that hard. Or remember when we started a Google+ Hangout, even though we were sitting right next to each other? We added silly hats and distinguished mustaches to the screens and our laughs echoed and multiplied through the tinny computer speakers? We were surrounded by an endless round of maniacal laughter and when people with worried looks came to check on us, we just laughed harder. And then there was that one time you wanted me to listen to one of your new songs, but you couldn’t stop hiccupping. I’ve never known anyone who could hiccup through a song and still sound so good. So props for that. Thanks for silly moments like that.

Emmalie Arntz personifies bravery.

I don’t think I’ve hiked as much in my entire life as you did in our first year of college. You are the adventurer. Remember that one Friday night, just shy of midnight, that you burst into my room and roped Marissa and I into playing Fugitive? I’ve pretty much never run so much in my life, and never hope to again. ;) We trespassed through a construction zone, hopped a fence, and almost made it to the Mazer building without being caught. Or that time you sang harmonies with your favorite band in an intimate concert and got invited to the stage? I don’t know a single other person who has the guts (or pipes) to do that. But you, my dear, had both.  

A lovely, fleeting thing

Did you see the double rainbow?
or the colors in the clouds?
It's possible you didn't,
they left as the sun went down.
And I know that you were busy;
Still, I wish you could have seen
because a double rainbow is a lovely, fleeting thing.

Old and new again.

And once again my blog will actually live up to it's name. A little.

Thought #1
If arranged marriages were still a thing, I could have been married like, three or four times over by now. (Seriously, I could give you their names and the level to which their families are "shipping it.") But as it is, I've only ever been on a handful of dates. Funny how things work out

Thought#2
People should pre-write their obituaries. It'd make things a lot easier for their families later on, and that way the control freaks among us can make sure that they represent us correctly in between the lines and lines dedicated to family history filler stuff.
No, I haven't started writing mine, but I've decided on a simple phrase that I really want in there. (It's already been approved by my friend Melissa, so it must be true)
She loved a good joke and told a lot of bad ones.

Everyone will laugh in spite of themselves and they'll know that I wrote it so they won't feel bad or offended or anything and it will be perfect.

Thought #3

I use my iPod to write notes. They range from thoughts to church talks, phrases to full-on poems, and there sure are a lot of them. Today I re-discovered one that I don't think I've ever posted (what is old is new again). Even though it's in direct contrast with a previous post on Sleep, I still like both of them, so I think it's time this one found its way onto my own little corner of the internet. 

An active mind is an enemy to sleep.

Thoughts throb like a raw nerve on the very surface of the brain. 

Sleep? How can I sleep when my mind is racing faster than my feet have ever run? 

Rest? How can I rest....

Physical fatigue can only help so much. Sleep isn't borne of desire. Sleep comes unasked and unplanned in a thousand inconvenient moments. But as I lay prostrate in bed, force my breathing rhythm down and beg, it leaves me bereft. 

Sleep is not my friend. It is my mind's unconscious enemy.

Apples to Apples Word Art

Timeless

Exciting

Graceful

Twisted

Cosmic

Easy

Dirty

Weird

Dignified 

Playful

Sensitive

Loud

Rare

Legendary

Squeaky Clean

Swift

Smooth

Painful

Shocking

Cosmic

This could be our song

When there is only one lifeguard on stand, we do half hour shifts. Half hour up, half hour down.
I finished "The Book Thief" in just over a week and a half, reading exclusively at work.
... but it's not like you can read on stand. That's just downright unsafe.
No, I did much more practical things: Playing the music game with myself, reciting every poem and soliloquy I've ever learned,  scripture mastery, singing every song I know from a certain artist... and then moving on to another artist (you find out how similar their songs sound), and assigning songs to all of my favorite TV couples.

And since I spent all that time perfecting my list, I might as well share it.

Amy & Rory (Doctor Who)

I had to choose two songs for this couple. It gets both sides of their relationship.
My Life Would Suck Without You (Kelly Clarkson)
This one is so much of a thing... someone already made it. A Thousand Years (Christina Perry)

Peter & El (White Collar)

They are my favorite married couple on TV. This song just made sense for them. Happy Together (The Turtles)

Sara & Neal (White Collar)

I think this one is perfect for them. Fine By Me (Andy Grammer)

Pam & Jim (The Office)

I love these guys. Beginning to end and everything in between. Marry Me (Train)
Also, maybe this one. Grow Old With You (Wedding Singer)

Merlin & Freya (Merlin)

"Where will we go?"
"Somewhere with mountains."

"A few fields."

"Wildflowers."

"A couple of cows."

"And a lake."

"And a lake."

This one only lasted a heart-breaking 45 minutes. And yet, I think it's the strongest romance in the whole show. This song is absolutely perfect for them. There's a Place for Us (Westside Story)

Charlie & Amita (Numb3rs)

If I'm being honest, these are just the two songs that had Numb3rs in them. (See what I did there?) But they're still cute. Count on Me (Bruno Mars) and 1234 (Plain White T's)

Gwen & Arthur (Merlin)

I really couldn't get a grasp on this one. But this is the best fit I could find.Love Story (Taylor Swift)
Though, after receiving input from a dear friend, I add the song I Won't Give Up (Jason Mraz).

Juliet & Shawn (Psych)

I chose this song not just because her name is actually Juliet... but because it has a childish flair that is just so Shawn. Check Yes, Juliet (We the Kings)

Leopold Fitz & Jemma Simmons (Agents of SHIELD)

I had the hardest time choosing a photo for this one. Because there are SO MANY that I love. I've pinned SO many gifs and clips and pictures and paraphernalia of them, it's slightly ridiculous. This is my OTP, I'll go down with this ship.
You think the statement in this photo is a bit excessive? Nope. It's the truth. 

First Child? Algernon. First Dance? Arms (Christina Perri) it's so insanely perfect, if you know them at all.

And let's not forget the bromance couples!!!

Merlin & Arthur (Merlin) / Shawn & Gus (Psych)

And because there will NEVER be a time when I am tired of seeing this video... BROMANCE!








Yep. There you go.

A Father's Day in Heaven

This morning I woke up to the phone ringing, though I didn't wake up all at once. I didn't even answer it for the first few minutes, looking instead to the clock on my bedside table. 4:30 am? Who would? There's a vintage spin-dial phone on the other side of my bed, just because none of the other phones upstairs actually ring (as we rather inconveniently found out at 3am the day of my freshman year biology trip. I had to call someone else to get me. I promise to get over that some day.) Anyway, I answered it.

"Is your mom there?" Aunt Melissa's shaky voice asked me on the line.
"Probably, let me get her for you." Wow. That was stupid of me. Of COURSE my mom is here, it's not like she'd sneak out this early in the morning

I rolled across my mattress and onto my feet. I walked the few steps into the darkened hall before entering mom's room. For the silliest split second, I couldn't remember which side of the bed was hers. But I remembered, and it didn't really matter anyway because Dad was in Utah for his sister's 50th wedding anniversary and wouldn't be back until tomorrow.

I approached the side of the bed. Usually mom has this weird sixth sense that alerts her to the presence of one of her children in the room, so she stirs. But this time I had to actually grasp her arm.
She jolted awake, which both shocked me and made me feel incredibly guilty.
I spoke evenly and pointedly, "Aunt Melissa is on the phone and would like to speak with you."
She reached for the phone and in a weak, breathy voice, uttered a greeting.

I walked swiftly back to my room. I had no intention of going to sleep, choosing instead to hold the receiver to my ear and listen silently.
"oh wow." My mom said. She said it several times.
In the seconds it had taken for me to cross from mom's room to my own, I had missed the big news.

But it didn't matter. I already knew.
Of course I knew.
I think I had known it from the moment the phone rang.

She died at 5:00 in the morning, mountain standard time. There was a nurse with her at the time, doing her hourly check up. Grandma was trying to get out of bed, something she has been unable to do on her own for the past year. But the nurse tried to help her anyway. Apparently, Grandma sat up, gave a single gasp, and died.

Aunt Melissa probably felt guilty because she hadn't visited her that day. Her final day on earth without a visit from a family member? It must have been unthinkable!

But she hadn't been alone. Because my darling, darling father had spent the previous night with her, his ailing mother-in-law. He'd driven the 30 minutes each way from Brigham City (from his sister's house) to Holladay. He visited her. He called us, and every single one of us talked with her. She was excited to hear that my mission papers were submitted and in Salt Lake. She laughed at something David had said (which no one can remember). She was... there. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. Present.
After we hung up, Dad sang a Hymn with Grandma (Sweet Hour of Prayer?) and recited his favorite scripture (1Nephi 1:1) because there were no English Book of Mormon's on hand. They closed the visit with a prayer.

Back to that morning in my mother's room, the remainder of the phone call continued in a fairly predictable, though emotional, stream. Who has been called, what else needs to be done, etc, etc. Eventually, the call ended.
I immediately rolled off the bed and was in mom's doorway within moments.
She started to say something, but I just hugged her and said, "I know, I listened in on the other end."

I don't know a lot of things. I don't know how to act at bridal showers or how to comfortably interact with former teachers. I don't know how to flirt or act around couples.
But I know how to be there for people. I know how to be a still, silent, comforting presence. I can play with hair, pat a back, or massage with a gentle thumb to calm the troubled heart.
So I sat there on the foot-end of the bed with my hand on my mother's knee. Every now and then, we'd say something or make some small realization.

"Mom's spending Father's Day with Dad this year."
"I learned 'God be With You 'Till we Meet Again' in Organ Camp and said that I could polish it if I had another week..."
"Dad used to wake at about 5am when he was feeling well. He probably came and got her."

Then Mom called Dad. I went to get the cordless phone from downstairs and a pillow from my room. I had every intention of staying the remainder of the morning with my mother in her room (my theory: I can sleep when I'm dead... though something tells me that I might be even busier in the next life).
Why? Because she needed someone. And 'Someone' is practically my middle name.
Dad told us about his trip. We weighed the pros and cons of calling Aria right then vs. waiting until later. Though it probably didn't matter, because she never answers her phone anyway (it probably runs in the family). It was a good talk. He's a good man. We hung up.

Then she called Aunt Nan. God bless Aunt Nan. She took the edge off. Yes, they talked about their Mom, her last moments, and what would happen next. But they also talked about... future job openings, receptions, their children... and other things. By the end of this last phone call (oh believe me, it had many false finishes and it only took four times of Aunt Nan saying she had to plan her Sunday School lesson for the call to end)... Mom didn't need me anymore. She never said it, but I felt it. The time was now 6:40 am.

I returned to my room, pulled down my light-canceling blinds, and slept until half an hour before church started.





There are a thousand little miracles.
1) Eliza and I (for different reasons) both have this Friday and Saturday off of work.
2) Aunt Melissa has been organizing Grandma's house, and the division of the assets and such was already well under way by the time the news came. She was trying to beat some sort of tax deadline for selling the house. But the timing is... impeccable.
3) If Grandma had died next week... we would have been in the middle of receptions and weddings and such. It would have been a scheduling nightmare. But now... it's just enough time to let people change their plane tickets for a little bit earlier than planned.
4) An Een isn't truly fulfilled unless he/she is doing at least three things consecutively. Three weddings (2 and a delayed reception) and a funeral? That's how we roll.
5) We ALL talked to Grandma mere hours before she passed. Closure.
And the list goes on and on. We have SO much to be thankful for.

Grandma's health has been up and down a lot over the past few years, and I've heard my mother mention (several times) that she must have some work still to do on this Earth... or she wouldn't be here. Which leaves me to wonder... what was it? Did it have anything to do with our last conversation?

My siblings awoke to the news that their Grandmother was spending this Father's Day in Heaven. David had new material for his talk in Sacrament meeting. We've had an outpouring of love and support from our ward family.

The Lord truly is in the details of our lives. All things considered, we couldn't have asked for anything more, or chosen a better time.












Today truly was what should have been an emotional time for me.


And yet I'm pursued by the nagging guilt of a single solitary fact
.... I still haven't cried.
And I don't think I will.
I don't know why I don't feel anything. I feel the need to be there for my mom, to defend Aria's radio silence, to look concerned, to smile, to share stories. I feel the need to live, to breathe, to move on.
But I don't feel ... grief.

And I don't know whether or not that's ok.
But that's the way it is.

This is my story. These are my thoughts.
And I guess that is it.

I never was the wanderer

I don't have problems with the doctrines or teachings of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. But for some small but specific reasons, I've never liked the parables of "the lost sheep" or "the prodigal son." From a practical standpoint, I thought it was absolutely ridiculous for a Shepard to risk his "ninety and nine" to track down the "one." I mean, what if 5 of the 99 wandered off while he was chasing the 1? It just didn't make sense to me. And I also thought that the good brother got the short end of the stick in "the prodigal son."

"I never was the wanderer

I never was the lamb

Who lost the way or left the fold,

That is not who I am.

I never was the prodigal,

The master's wayward son

Who squandered all his father gave
and then came humbly home.

The ninety-nine, the faithful child,

That's who I'll always be. 

But while we worry 'bout the wayward,
where's the parable for me?"



Now before you book me with doctrines and condemn me for being selfish, let me clarify. I know better now. I've taken religion classes that taught me different viewpoints on the "good" brother in the prodigal parable. And I know that the story of the good Shepard isn't about the 99, and that even when he goes after the 1... he doesn't leave the 99 alone.
Just a little thought.

Marissa Moments

Today is Marissa Farmer's birthday.
To commemorate this grand and unique event, I am writing a blog post, as I am sometimes wont to do.
I never know quite how to format these things (Pictures? Traits? Chronological? Like a letter?), but this time I think I'll go with

Marissa Moments 

All our lives are made of moments, and these moments are tiny testaments to the all around awesomeness of one Marissa Farmer. (That, and I love alliterations)

Marissa Moments: Grateful

Marissa is always grateful. She is grateful for packages from home. She is grateful for another can of tomato soup. She is grateful for her mission call. She is grateful that she had awesome roommates. Look at that face! It's a priceless Marissa moment.

Marissa Moments: Silly
Ugliest outfit at the DI contest? Straightened hair for a Capitol party? Video calling when we're sitting in different rooms... or sitting next to each other surrounded by an endless cycle of maniacal laughter? She's always game. 

Marissa Moments: Fangirl
I REALLY appreciate this side of Marissa. Remember that time we watched the Freya episode of Merlin? and as if that wasn't enough, we decided to catch up on Agents of SHEILD. It was the episode when Simmons jumped out of the plane and Fitz tried to save her... THE FEELS! Do you remember that it was about 3am? Good times. I love sharing pins with you. You went to a midnight book release and stayed EXTRA LONG to get it signed. That's devotion.
Thanks for sticking with me through Merlin, the only one of our roommates to sit with me through every episode... even though some of them ended with screams and your sobbing head in my lap. Now you are watching Doctor Who? I'm so glad someone will finally get all my references.
The rest of you? I'm so, so sorry.

Look! I stalked you and found an awesome photo!

 Marissa Moments: The All-knowing

I could always rely on you to quiz me in Psychology and explain things in a different way. And if I was ever in some crazy accident, you know enough about my family and, well, life, to totally be my double and stand-in for awhile. That's a really weird way of saying that you totally rocked at "Alayna Trivia"... it was a little scary, actually. But adorable.  

Marissa Moments: Friendly

"Friendly" is a word that is, I think, overused and undervalued. You are friendly. Not in the usual way people think of it as, a perky and outgoing bundle of sunshine. You take the time, the effort, and the love to be a true friend. That's a rare gift. You are a friend to the friendless, not just when it's convenient. I know at least a handful of people whose lives at college would have been empty and lonely without the stalwart hand of your friendship. From a bystander's point of view, I can honestly say that you made all the difference.
 Hearkening back to the Alayna trivia, I can honestly say you know more about me than any person (other than Eliza). Why? Because you wanted to. You took the time to, not only listen, but to ask and to learn. You are the first person who has ever read my journal... because you were the first person to ask if you could. You were the first person who really wanted to. So maybe you aren't automatically friends with everyone you meet, but the friends you make are devoted, caring, and strong. I'm humbled and grateful to be one of them.

Marissa Moments: Sincere

I always know that you care. I could barely stomach a couple of dates, but you handled three DTR's. I just have to respect you for that. You take the time to say what needs to be said. There is nothing fake about you. You are genuine.You are the same person in every situation, and that person is FANTASTIC. Living in a world gone plastic, baby you're so classic! (It's a cute song. you should look it up.

Marissa Moments: Zombie

Ok, this one is just a laugh. But you DO have your Zombie moments. Though, funnily enough, I've never been around to see one.  Keep binge-eating that junk-food and freaking out the roommies. ;)

In summary, Marissa is awesome, today is her birthday, and I hope it will be an awesome one.