Wisdom + Nonsense

When I was a little girl
I read fairy tales
and wondered if they could happen to me
Now I see this is my once upon a time
I am the daughter of a king
and with every choice that I make
I write the next page


I don't know all the twists and the turns
but my journey is clear
I'm a child of infinite worth
there's a reason I'm here
I'll follow the path that's before me
this is my story


There are days when it seems
the road in front of me
is falling apart and I can't find my way
But I learn how to rely
on the burning light
that I have within me
and I find faith to move forward
until I can see just where it leads

I don't know all the twists and the turns

but my journey is clear

I'm a child of infinite worth

there's a reason I'm here

I'll follow the path that's before me

this is my story

Through every chapter my Father's love

helps me know who I am

My ever after is a beautiful part

of His bigger plan 

I don't know all the twists and the turns

but my journey is clear

I'm a child of infinite worth

there's a reason I'm here

I'll follow the path that's before me

This is My Story

This is one of the songs on the EFY 2012 soundtrack and I absolutely love it. It is literally the theme song of my life right now. I'm taking everything one day at a time and not trying to see this whole picture. I was talking to my sister Emily this week about this poem, and it reminded me that I too need to not try so hard to see the finished product and trust the threads that are being woven today. 

In other, more casual news: On Friday I took care of a sweet baby girl at work, and her parents were eating Cafe Rio in the room. Basically the entire pod I was working on was perfumed with Essence of Cafe Rio, and it was killing me. So I got myself a tostada the next day to eat on my lunch break and it was heavenly. This story is insignificant in every way except for the fact that I want another tostada right now. 

Also, Camp Hawkins is a week long summer camp for kids with heart defects, and they are looking for a lifeguard for their camp this year. I did it last year and loved it, but because of work I can't this year. It is the last week of June, if you know of any lifeguards looking for volunteer hours/fun times PLEASE pass the word along.  Click here to learn more. 

And, I never thought I would be saying it this soon, but I miss Provo. Of course I'm looking at it through rose colored glasses because I've been away for a few months, but I miss it. I miss summer time in Provo and the happy/busy feeling in the WILK and the late nights playing cards or being silly and being able to walk to Jamba Juice and a free gym pass and how the air smells like productivity and potential. I am super grateful to not be in school right now, though. 

Report over. 

Now for some memes.

courtesy of BYU memes 

An Ode.

I would like to write an Ode.
About visiting teaching.
Not really but kind of.
You see, that one time when I was Relief Society president, I didn't look forward to visiting teaching.
But I will always be obedient, so I put a smile on my face and did it.
And then I wasn't RSP anymore, and I still didn't look forward to VT.
But I will always be obedient, so I still put a smile on my face and did it.
But Heavenly Father had other plans. He wanted to teach me about visiting teaching. And why it is so very important and beautiful. So He sent me these girls, to be my visiting teachers:

One of them married my cousin, and I adore her. But my ode today is for Kaitlyn. 

Kaitlyn. 

I think I would be a different person without you. 

You help me feel stronger and more hopeful. 

You are honest and trustworthy. 

Your faith blesses my faith. 

I love that I can be 100% myself with you,

raw and open. 

I love that you tell me when I'm being ridiculous

and you laugh with me every day. 

I love that my most importants are your most importants. 

I love that you "get it" about me and my mom

(because it's the same with you and your mom).

I love that we dream on the same wavelength,

of white picket fences

and vegetable gardens

and Primary songs

and early morning runs

and homemade bread. 

I love that you love Sam

and I love feeling at home 

with the Swain's.

So thank you for being who you are

(which is my dear, dear friend)

Tired + A Montage

I cozied up to my dad before Sunday School started today and said "Daddy. I am so, so tired."
And he said "Well, that is what today is for."
In other words, I am so grateful for the Day of Rest!

Also, grateful for all the happenings this week that have drained me of every last ounce of energy:

Went to work Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, in which I fell completely in love with a brand new baby and learned about Christlike charity and forgiveness, see previous post.

Bought some beauteous flowers and revolutionized the front porch.

Attended Emily's end of year choir concert in which she had a solo and sang like a deep south gospel singer.

Went to the temple in which I was in and out in 20 minutes and then lingered longer to snap some photos with my snazzy new camera, Floyd. I also creeped on the wedding occurring in which the groom did not seem very amused.

Attended Abby's 4th grade end of year "Show What You Know" in which I cried during the Armed Forces Salute.

Went on a date in which I overheard a high school boy on the phone say "Well how are we supposed to get your snuggie back to you?", learned to make pizza dough, met some really fabulous people, laughed very hard, and finally saw Toy Story 3 all the way through.

Went to Provo in which Emilie had a bridal shower, I attended EFY training, and then went to visit my dear Kaitlyn. Discovered I have an infatuation with little Provo married housing apartments. I especially love the ones with quirks.

Went to church with my sisters and Daddy (Mama stayed home with a sick Nater) in which I was asked why I don't attend the single's ward. The answer is: I don't know. I really don't.

Came home and made Congo Bars, in which I cooked them a tad too long but they were still delicious. I then passed out asleep for 4 hours and woke up at 9 p.m. Issues sleeping tonight, I will have.

Cue montage:

Soleil and Fleur

So, I acquired a few things today.

First:

His name is Floyd. I'm so super excited about it. Because I've always loved taking pictures, just not with my last camera because they all came out fuzzy. All of the time. (Lauren is my witness).  So I bought a little nicer one, to use in acts of breathtaking hikes or counseling youth at EFY or excellent slices of toast or Nathan. I have a feeling mostly Nathan.

 My beautiful Lauren. She had her wisdom teeth removed yesterday. You shouldn't look that beautiful the day after. 

 "Why am I all wet??"

 "Oh yeah...that's why."

Looking beautiful again.

And then, I wanted to document his gorgeous eyelashes.

 These are not eyelashes. These are pretty flowers.

 "Oh, you're funny Buphie!"

 My mom got crafty. 

And Andrew felt lumberjackish this morning. 




Oh yeah, and then I got some pet birds.

This one's name is Soleil, and is currently molting. So don't judge his bald head. 

This one is Fleur. She looks like the color of a cheeto.

And, that's all folks.

Pinterest Gripes

I really hate pinterest for a lot of reasons, the first of them being my auto correct keeps changing that word to 'interest' instead. (I know what I wanna say, so let me say it!) Anyway. The pinterest issue I wish to address today is: So called "Real Women"

Pinterest is full of all those quotes and memes about "Real Women". The reason I'm griping on about this today is I saw on a friend's Facebook wall (oh, excuse me, 'timeline') this quote: "Real men like curves. Dogs like bones." (No offense to the friend, this quote just opened the floodgates of one of my pinterest gripes.)

I don't like my own tone. Let's start over.

Every girl is a real woman. She is because she was created by God to be so. She's real because she breathes and lives and loves. Nothing in that description has anything to do with how she is shaped or what she looks like. I know many women who have been and will always be very, very thin. That is simply how their genes are. Likewise, I know many women who have been and will always be rather large, and I know women of all the sizes in the middle. They are all "real".

Being real comes from your actions and behavior, not from anything aesthetic. It comes from caring about someone outside of yourself with all your heart. "Real" is passion, creativity, service, selflessness, charity, and respect for yourself and others. "Real" is working hard and sacrificing.

So can we all stop validating our own insecurities by defining everyone different from us "fake"?

These are my beloved freshman year roommates. Not one of us is shaped like the other. In fact, there were scant items in any of our closets that we could share with one another. Exhibit A:

That's her holding up my pants and me holding up hers. 

If you want to be real, and want "real men" to notice you, get out there and serve someone. Love something. Get off pinterest. Real men want real women, and real women are not defined by their bodies.

Pinterest Rant #1 over. 

Seeing

My mom called me a few weeks ago.

"Bethie. Not that I'm asking you to do this....and not that I don't think you're a really fabulous writer....but K-Bull 93 is giving away free Lasik surgery for mother's day to someone who writes an essay about why their mom deserves it. And I'm not going to say anything else about it."

So. I wrote the essay. And then I learned that you didn't have to write an essay, just a measly little paragraph. And of course we didn't win. But here is the essay I wrote, anyway. I love you Mama.

What My Mother Sees

   I’ve been told that the first time my mother saw me, there was a little pink bow in my hair that let her know she had a daughter. She had missed the first glimpse due to anesthesia drugs, but her wise and loving gaze has stayed fixed on me ever since.

    My mother sees the stolen licks of frosting and cookie dough, even when I think I’ve smoothed it over and she’ll never notice.

    She sees the corners of the kitchen I didn’t sweep, the dirty socks shoved under my bed, and the spots on the counter I didn’t scrub, even when I think they’re invisible.

    She sees the time when I come home late, the scratch on the car I had hoped was inconspicuous, and the grade on my report card that showed I didn’t work very hard.

    She sees that I’ve outgrown or overused my clothes, and she sees when it is time to visit the doctor or the dentist. She sees the things that are my favorites and my passions, and she sees the way to make those things a part of my life.

    She sees the sadness in my eyes when my feelings are hurt. She sees when I’m drowning in meeting expectations and responsibilities. She sees what changes I need to make in my life to bring me happiness.

    She sees my potential, even when I cannot see it. She sees me clearly, when I feel so very blind. She sees me all grown up, but she still sees me at every age, shaping into the me she sees in front of her. She sees beauty when others see nothing.

     I have never known my mother at a time when she didn’t wear glasses. Everything she sees is dependent on them; as soon as she takes them off at night, she is nearly blind. I want my mother to continue to see the way she always has, with hope and patience and love for the subjects within her gaze. My mother deserves the Lasik gift, but she will go on seeing with her perfect gaze whether she wins it or not. 

I hope I can learn to see the way my mom can. She sees people the way Heavenly Father sees them. Happy Mother's Day!

Clarity

You all know me. You know what I want to be when I grow up.
You know I'm so, so close. So close that I lick at the heels of being a nurse every time I go to work.
And I love it.

But I've noticed there is something about it that is empty. Something about being and becoming a nurse that isn't quite good enough. Isn't living up to what I wanted it to be. And I figured it out. It isn't the nurses I work with that I envy the most.

It's the moms.

The moms that watch me come in with my measuring tools, my mask and my gloves, and I take their babies from their arms and start doing my business. I take their temperatures, measure the size of their tummies and their heads. I weigh them, change them, traumatize them for their own good by sucking all the RSV+ goobers out their little noses. I watch the data on the monitors and decide if their baby is doing well or not. I badger the sweet, tired mom's about how much the baby has eaten of breast milk or this formula or that, and what time did he finish that? I don't even let them change the diapers like a normal person, I have to weigh and analyze the contents of those as well, and give the yeah or nay on if it is right and good.

I impose so much on these moms, as if I know so much more about their baby than they do. And they trust me.

But after I've made the baby cold and agitated, I bundle them up as tight as I can and put them back in their mother's arms where they stop crying, because they feel safe again. And every once and a while, when the mother is out, I get the chance to be the arms that feel safe. And every time I remember that even if I never become a nurse, or even if I do and I work in pediatrics for the rest of my life, I will really only fulfill my dream when I'm a mom with my own babies who know who's arms are safe. Because that's really all I've ever wanted.

Waking Up with Thoughts on Love

I love the movie Hook.
I especially love the part near the end where Tinkerbell says "You know that place between sleep and awake? That place where you still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always love you....that's where I'll be waiting."

In the place between sleep and awake this morning, I was thinking about love. I was thinking about my parents, and my friend Kaitlyn who just married the love of her life, and how last night Nathan was in the tub and he yelled out to me "Bethie! I just can't stop telling you that I love you!"
    All these thoughts morphed into a prayer "Thank thee so much for love" and the prayer morphed into this thought: Life would be so difficult without love....NO, life would be IMPOSSIBLE without love.


Think about it. Why do people go to college and create a career? Because they love something, whether it be money or prestige or the actual career or their families that they want to support. Why do you wake up in the morning? Because you love food and need to eat or you love the morning sunshine or you love your children who need your attention.

Why do we feel joy? Because God loves us and provides us the opportunity to feel joy. Why do we feel pain? Because God loves us and wants us to grow and learn and become better, to overcome the pain, feel joy, and return to Him. Why do we feel love? Because God loves us, and God is love.

So what do you love, that makes you do the things you do?

Sorry if these thoughts are very abstract. They were, after all, from that place between sleep and awake.

For the First Time

I colored my hair.