Marry Him?

OH, there are oh so many things I want to say about this article and some of it might surprise you.

And I've typed and deleted half a dozen thoughts...
And I'm on the road and need to get to bed.
But, OH, there is so much to say about this.
SO MUCH.

(My fellow single chicks...you must read it and share YOUR thoughts. I'll share mine soon. We'll do lunch. Oh, & the rest of you can play too, I just don't think you'll enjoy the article as much.)

Better late than never?

(the following just transpired in my facebook inbox)

Laurel:

It's totally fine if you are too busy to write me back or even read this email, but I really need advice and I think you have the best help for me since you've gone through this.

One day my family was listening to your cd and you mentioned the fact that you had to move during high school. I will be a senior next year nad my family has to Texas because of my dad's job. This situation is tough...

I suddenly find myself very resentful towards my family. I'm doubtful I will ever see any of these people again.

I need your help badly. Everyday closer to moving is another devastating day that I dislike being with my family more and more. Each day I realize I will never see people that I just can't even bear right now to live without.

I'm a happy girl and I love life and the gospel, but right now this ia a huge trial I just can't seem to overcome.


Cute Girl:

I wish we could go to lunch...I would take you tomorrow! I read your email and feel like I'm reading an email from myself. I hear you...THIS IS HARD.

I was devastated when I found out we were moving. I think my biggest regret, though, was all the time I wasted being made about it. (I seriously didn't talk to my parents for the first 6 mnths after the move.)

So, I would counsel you to trust 2 things:
1.) Your parents are doing what they feel is best for the family.
2.) NONE OF THIS is a surprise to your Father in Heaven.

Now, if #1 is true, it needs to be the thing you cling to every time you want to be mad at your family. In the end, the only thing being mad will do will make it harder for you to feel the spirit...and right now you need the spirit more than you ever have before.

If #2 is true, that means the Lord is already preparing the people that you will meet and become friends with and have an impact on. There are experiences in Texas you would not be able to have in Arizona. There are people you need to know...and likely more people who need to know you. God is already ahead of you and is preparing it to be what YOU need in order to become the woman He needs you to be. I believe that with my entire soul.

To this day, I am dear friends with the girls I left in Kentucky. So many of my facebook friends are as a result of my family's move to St. Louis...people I never would have met if we hadn't moved. My best friend to this day I met my senior year...without her, I'd be lost.
College was easier because I learned to make friends easily.
My mission was easier because I could talk to strangers on a corner.
Dating is easier because I can keep a conversation going with anyone (grin).

If you can see this whole experience as an adventure...almost excited to see what God has planned and waiting for you...it will change everything. It's SO HARD to see it that way...but I promise you...as someone who has "been there"...your experience will be so much better if you do.
You will cry.
You will have days that you feel so alone.
But, in the end, it will be exactly what you needed because it's exactly what God knew would happen. He's so good that way.

You'll be okay.
You'll be more than okay.
It will be SO GOOD...if you let it be.

Go hug your mom & dad...chances are they are feeling worse about this than you can know...and they are praying for you that you'll be okay.
xoxo,
Laurel

P.S. You hug your mom and dad...and I'll hug mine. I think I just realized I owe them a "Thank you" & an "I'm sorry"...about 21 years late.

Book the ticket!

You know those Foundation for a Better Life billboards?

Have you seen the one with cute 95 yr old college grad Nola Ochs?
The billboard says:
LIVE LIFE
Pass It On.

One of my new favorite people works for this organization and she recently shared with me the the answer Nola gave her when my friend asked the question, "What is your one piece of advice you'd give someone at my age?"

Nola replied,
"BOOK THE TICKET."

In other words, when you have a life opportunity, you take it.
And that's exactly what I'm doing.

The parents of one of my dearest friends have been living for the past few years in Hong Kong. Her dad (who gave one of the best talks ever on "procrastination" a couple of years ago)has been serving in the Asia Area Presidency for the LDS Church. I adore her parents and have made her mother become one of my friends.

I've fallen in love with the Hong Kong trips of Erin & her sisters (Bri & Kara).
Erin and I have talked about going there for a while...but I was never really serious. Who has the time (not to mention the money) to take a trip like that?

And besides, we all know I'm way too married to my life (i.e. job & BlackBerry...more about that later.) to take 2 weeks off. Kara even told me she knew I'd never be able to actually do it.

And yet...

I'm going.
I am.
Erin & I have booked our tickets.
It's official.

And since I likely will NEVER do this again, what trip over in that part of the world would be complete without actually going to mainland China?
Beijing and The Great Wall (I'm going to walk on The Great Wall of China, people!)

Xian (the terracotta warriors. I want to do the Yoga "warrior pose" there!)

Guilin (you know those movies with the gorgeous China landscape? yep.)

Shenzhen (couldn't tell you a thing about it)
then a few days in the city of all cities...HONG KONG.

I did it.
I've passed up life opportunities before.
I've chickened out.
I've procrastinated.
I've been too slow.
I've not stepped up.

But, not this time.
Not this time.

THIS TIME...I booked the ticket.
LIVE.
LIFE.

(and yes, I'm hoping I'm not on some government list for my "not totally educated post" about this country last summer...ironic that I'm going, isn't it? I suppose I still have a few things to learn in this lifetime...grin.)

Just missing a little somethin'

It's been a great couple of days.
I love love love my family.
And my little heart and spirit have been filled to the brim with love & happiness.
But a couple of times, it just felt like a little something was missing...

We went to the Zoo (St. Louis, btw, has the country's best...and its FREE!). We sat around and played & talked. And we opened presents (well, my dad and Hannah did) We were silly


And the highlight?
My dad always takes the chance to teach a great FHE lesson to the grandkids whenever we are all together. It is one of my favorite parts of being home.
I love hearing my dad teach the Gospel...
I love his stories...
I love how the grandchildren seem to hang on every word.I sat there and watched and listened and soaked it all in. I even took some video of it.
And I cried a little.
I don't have many fears.
But, one of my fears is that my dad won't have the opportunity to teach my children like that...not because I won't have them. I truly believe I will. But I do worry that, if it takes much longer, those opportunities just won't exist anymore. I trust my hubby will come around soon enough to know my Dad...I just really want my children to get to as well. He's one of the finest men I know...
and I want them to hear his testimony...
I want them to experience him grabbing their heads and clenching his teeth as he says, "I love you."
I want them to know him.And I think that's what was missing...
just a little somethin'...
or a couple of little somethins'.

(My mom and sister Heather were here too. How I managed to not get a single picture of them, I don't know...but they both exist...and they were here. We missed Holly's family very very much.)

Happy Day 'o Birth

to my favorite old sweatshirt.
(Yeah, really.)

So glad you were born.

Springtime in Springfield (aka I keep promises!)

Oh, how much have I loved the last 24 hours?

a.) I've had a little break from my responsibilities.
b.) I've been able to be "Aunt Laurel"...one of my most happy life roles.
c.) I've proven that my "flaky Laurel" days were just a phase.

Two years ago I was in Missouri because my nephew Isaac was turning 12 and being ordained a deacon. It was a big deal. His cute sister Hannah was just certain that when she turned 12 it would be a whole lotta nothin. And the reality is that 12 seems to be a big deal for boys being ordained to the Priesthood and not so big a deal for cute girls "just turning 12".

I promised Hannah when she turned 12, we would do an overnight trip...just me and her...to show her what a BIG DEAL it is for girls to turn 12.

Now, keep in mind this was TWO years ago.
I was certain by 2009 I'd be married
or she'd forget
or Jesus would come.

But, here it is...2009...and she's remembered every month for 2 years. And, I just don't think she thought I'd actually do it (even Tuesday night when I flew in she said, "Is something going to happen at work that you'll have to fly back to SLC for tomorrow before we go?").

a.) wow that she would think that.
b.) of course nothing happened...nor COULD have happened to drag me away.
c.) Yea for Aunt Laurel.

Yesterday we drove to Springfield, Illinois. We talked and talked and talked. But, I think my favorite part was when Sara Bareilles "Love Song" came on the radio and we both said, at the exact same time, "I LOVE THIS SONG". I don't know if it made me cooler...or Hannah cooler (grin). We turned it up loud and I sang to every word...as I do everytime I play it.

We checked in at the hotel.OOOH. I love me the "cloud nine bed" at the Hampton Inn. (And feel the need to convert the world, obviously.)

We went to dinner at a midwest tradition.Hannah ordered ravioli.Then we left for the show...the whole reason Springfield was chosen.I wish I was smart enough (or brave enough) to illegally tape something. This will have to do:But it so doesn't do it justice. It was amazing though and I HIGHLY recommend it if the show comes to your city. I don't think I've ever said, "SHUT UP" repeatedly more times.
We went back to the hotel with a pint of Haagen Daz mint ice cream and painted Hannah's toenails sparkly blue (mine were already delightfully orange).
Then we eventually fell asleep.
So we could get up and do the other thing we went to Springfield for.I love that Hannah loves shoe shopping as much as I do. We each ended up with a pair (well, I didn't want Hannah to feel left out because she was the only one getting shoes on her birthday!)I kept my promise. I loved it as much as she did...and it was splendid!

Happy birthday, sweet Hannah. You are a remarkable young woman and I can't wait to see what the Lord has in store for you!

(oh, and today is my papa's birthday too...more birthday celebrations and trips to the zoo to come...)

Me. Myself. And I. Literally.

(the following took place this morning in St. Charles, MO)

Psst. Psst.

What? Who is that?

Get up. Get up!

What? What time is it? Hey, it's only 4:30 in the morning!

Not here. Here it's 5:30. Do you hear the birds? And the sun trying so hard to come up? Let's get up and go walking.

Spirit. Seriously. It's 4:30 a.m. in Utah for Body and she still needs some sleep. We've been really good about this for the past few weeks. But we've got at least another hour of sleep before we have to get up and work out.

Hey, don't bring me into this. This is alllllll Body.

Really?

Really.

Well, okay then.

***
Doesn't it feel good to be up this morning?
Yes. It totally does.
Don't you love this cd?
Yes, I totally do.

Track 4 is a great song.
I know. Love it.
You know, we're so over him.
I know. I finally feel that.
And calling a cab that weekend was the best thing we ever did.
I know. I'm a strong chick.
And you needed to know you were strong.
I know. I see the wisdom in all of it now.

Ah...now it's Track 5. You know what I'm thinking?
Yeah.
Can we run?
But we're not on our treadmill.
We can SO do this. You said your prayers this morning before we left. I specifically heard you ask Him to bless your ankles.
Yeah, that was weird.
SO, RUN.
Really?
Trust me.

Man it's getting hot.
That's cause we're running.
I think I need to take off my shirt.
Um, you're not alone in your house on your treadmill. You can't do that.
Really?
Trust me.

And thus went the morning...during the entire hour...running then walking...walking then running...I had these little conversations with myself (is it bad to admit I have conversations with myself?) and it was an amazing experience to literally feel my body stepping up and being in control...and actually WANTING to make this change. It's the first time that's happened. Ever. And I just really needed to know we are in this together.
FINALLY.

Doesn't this feel good?
Yeah.
Are we crying?
Totally.

And I did. I cried the last 10 minutes. I cried for what has been and what I've done. I cried for what I haven't. I cried for what's to be and what I'll do. I don't know that I've ever had such a physical/spiritual connection with myself. And I don't even know how to explain this body + spirit thing...but someday it will be time to share all that I'm learning and I know I'll be ready.

Hey, you know how we're speaking a couple times this weekend?
Yeah.
You know how there will be boys there...Can you "suck in" a little more than usual?
Totally.

Thanks for not giving up on me.
Thanks for not giving up on ME.
We'll get there.
I know. I finally know.

Awkward.

In the LDS Church we have a program called "Home Teaching" where each family is assigned a couple of "brethren" in the congregation to watch over them...check in...help out.

And me, myself and I just got our Home Teacher assigned.

Guess who it is?
Yep.
Awkward.

God's little voicemails

I'm a sentimental schmuck.
That's not huge news to anyone.

One of the things I do is save voicemails.
Now, I obviously can't save them all (I try...but then it gets full and I have to go through and delete) but the list of those I try to save keeps getting longer and longer. I've spent some time trying to figure out how to get them from my vm to an MP3 file but I can't quite figure it out (anyone out there know how?)

So, my narrative will have to do.

(and by the way, if you've left me a vm and I haven't saved it this whole time, SO don't take it personally. sometimes I delete by mistake...really.)

There's a vm from my best friend since high school Tam. She left this right after I dropped of my very first talk on CD to her. I was SO nervous about what she would think..."Wow. Wow. That's all I can say..." And then she went on to say all sorts of things I so needed to hear.
Tam, I have listened to this msg before almost every time I have gotten ready to speak somewhere for the last 30 months. (and, tragically, I just deleted it while listening! not kidding. Please leave another...grin.)

Then there's the vm from my little nephew Mark. I promised him a scarf...do you remember that? And his little voice from over 2 years ago is just beyond priceless..."If you get this message, I really want you to call back because I want to do this and I'll talk to you later. Bye. Love you."
Mark, this message helped me finally become "non-flaky Aunt Laurel"...oh, and you're getting a scarf for Christmas.

Then there's the vm from my Dad. I had sent him a little card right after Tim Russert died of a heart attack. My dad travels a ton and I begged him to slow down. He flew into Orlando a whole day early...."I'm slowing down...I'm wathching out for myself. Love you. Love the blog. Love you thinking about me. Pray for you everyday. Talk to you later, hon. Bye."
Dad, I've listened to this vm dozens of times late at night when I feel alone. Just saying that out loud makes me cry. Thank you for loving this screwball kid.

Right after my Grandpa died, when I was just about the saddest I've ever been, my sweet Jami (a 2nd grade teacher) had her class sing "You Are My Sunshine" (2nd graders! Does it get any cuter than that?)...ending with "Please don't take our Laurel away. We love you!" then Jami ended with a "We just wanted to cheer you up."
Jami, I've needed to that little song more times than you could ever know. And I listen to it more times than I'll admit.

Another little nephew, Peter, spent the first few years of his life not talking. His little brain had apraxia of speech, which means he understood everything but couldn't quite figure out how to say it...so he just didn't say anything at all. After a little bit of therapy, little words started to come and..."I....love....you." was left on my vm. Slow but crystal clear.
Karen, the fact that you would even think to leave a vm for me like that? Yeah, that glued me to you forever. Sorry I didn't get my masters in Speech Pathology so I could help out more (grin). (PS you'll all be happy to know that I now hear Peter is talking up a storm. won't shut up, in fact. just like his Aunt Laurel.)

Another vm from Tam. One of her "just because"..."i just love that we're friends and i just wanted to call and tell you I love you...and that you're so pretty. I think some of us are just late bloomers...."
Tam, you are one of the few people who could actually say that I used to not be so cute...and get away with it. I actually listen to this before every date. Seriously. And I always feel prettier.

But, I've been thinking about these voicemails...how much I love them...how much they help me...and WHY I even have them in the first place.

I have them because someone called me and I didn't answer the phone (fyi, sometimes I DON'T answer just hoping to get a great vm).

Which has gotten me thinking about all the other gems I've gained in my life...when God doesn't answer an immediate call or plea.

Sometimes what I hear...
what is learned...
what stays with me...
when He doesn't answer...
is what actually becomes the answer.

Like God's little voicemails.

Interesting isn't it?

(oh, and next time you call and I don't answer, leave me a good one, will you?)

You're going to be okay, Elder.

Spent the evening with a group of amazing youth.
All I can say is the world is in very good hands.

Old enough to be their mother aside (seriously, people. I am old enough to be their mother! How did that happen?), it was good for my little spirit to just escape my world and spend some time in theirs.

Do you remember that world?
I can't say I'd ever want to go back but maybe I would if I could go back knowing then what I know now.

Speaking of a world I don't want to go back to...

After we bowled a couple of games, we sat down with some pizza and just talked. I was talking to a couple of the youth about my mission when a family walked by.
Dad
Mom
Son & wife
Grandma
Grandpa
and the Elder in the suit.

He had literally just landed and they were grabbing some dinner before the meeting where the wide-eyed 21 year old would get released as a missionary.

And the next 3 minutes went something like this:
Me: Where did you serve, Elder?
Elder: Independence, Missouri
Me: Shut up! I'm from Missouri! Oh, you're not released. I shouldn't have said "shut up". I'm sorry.
Me: Did you ever serve north?
Elder: My first area was in Gallatin.
Me: Did you know the Youd family?
Elder (with family already sitting at their table): YES I did. I knew them.
(Elder so happy to talk to someone who knows his world, pulls up a chair)
Me: Did you love your mission?
Elder: Yes. So much.
(we talked for a few minutes about Gallatin and figured out I was there on a work assignment about the same time he served there)
Me: So you really just got home?
Elder: Yes.
Me: And it feels weird, huh?
Elder: (looking around) yeah.
Me: You're going to be okay. It will be weird for a little while and you'll miss it so much but you're going to be okay.
Elder: (silence but his eyes are getting all watery and suddenly I felt so impressed to say something)
Me: Let me tell you what's going to happen tonight, Elder. You're going to be released. There will be no big ceremony. You're just going to be released. But you are going to physically feel the mantle of your stewardship as a missionary leave. You're going to feel it. And it's going to take your breath away. And you're going to want to cry. And it's okay. We all felt it. It's okay.
Elder: (fighting off these tears, bless his heart) Okay.
Me: Really, you did what the Lord asked you to do and now that part is done. But there's a whole life waiting for you. He has things waiting for you.
Elder: (silence...he's looking at me with that "How did I get here? I don't want to be here" look.)
Me: I promise you're going to be okay (I said as I put my hand on his knee. Then quickly took it off when I remembered he wasn't released yet...grin).
Elder: (still fighting back tears)Okay. Okay. Thank you.

He got up and joined his family.

And I just watched him...
remembering...
that feeling of...
finally being with your family but feeling alone
wondering what on earth you're going to do with the rest of your life
hoping the Lord will still use you like He used you for the past 18 months (2 years)
praying that you'll read your scriptures everyday just like you promised you would.

Some people say about their mission:
"It was the best 2 years (or 18 months) of my life."

But I've NEVER said that.
I don't feel that way...

It was great.
Don't get me wrong.
And I'm so glad I had that experience.

But my mission was NOT the best 18 months of my life...
it was probably the best 18 months FOR my life...
but not of.

Because life got even better.
Did it ever!

And though nothing about my life is what I thought it would be that night I got home (and wow...do I ever remember that absolute physical change when I was invited to remove my nametag and I realized my mission was over. Over.)...
I was right in what I said tonight.
It really was okay.
There was a whole life waiting for me.
He had things waiting for me.
Better things.
Much. Better. Things.

You're going to be okay, Elder.
Life gets even better.
I promise.

WWJD wristband anyone?

I know...
I know...
and I promise I know what's really important.
I know I should be more concerned with Jesus...
and less with Jane...

(and I SO am)
BUT...lately...
Lately I've had reason to wonder "What would JANE do?"

For whatever reason, I have been a bit of a "Relationship Dr." the past couple of weeks which is SO ironic because...well, I've been in need of a "Relationship Dr." most of my dating life.

I have messed up a thing or two in my lifetime (and by "thing", I mean potential good relationship). Though, I'm finally to a place where I don't have regrets about it....it is what is it...I am who I am...and it's all been a key part of my life journey. I still kind of wonder what would have happened if I could have figured out some things a little sooner.

I've learned A LOT.
And apparently, I've learned enough to be helpful.

The thing that is so ironic/humorous about my latest "Relationship Dr." moment is that I've been sharing advice that I've never personally followed. BUT, it's the opposite of what I, still single, have done in the past.
And so logic would say that it just might work.
Well, logic would say that anyway.

Funny that I found myself listening to myself.
I heard a few things and as I said them, I'd say to myself, "wow. Laurel. did you hear that? that's probably exactly right."

And tonight it seems to have paid off.

No, not for me (sorry to disappoint)...but for my friend...who almost walked away from a situation I previously would have told her to walk away from (we girls totally realize Lizzy NEVER would have ended up with Darcy if she had listened to her friends, right? "Are you kidding me, Lizzy? You SO deserve better than that." "I'm sorry, Lizzy, but if Darcy is dumb enough to not realize a good thing when it's standing right in front of him at the ball in Meryton...")...well, I helped her through what would Laurel NOT do. And...now...

He told her that her consistency (i.e. "non-Laurel reaction") these last few weeks solidified for him what was right. Said he, "I've realized you're the girl that I want to spend the rest of my life with." (Austen "Darcy" translation: "I cannot fix on the hour, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun." isn't that just about the most perfectly amiable thing you've ever heard?)

Happy tears.
That's what these are.
Happy tears.

Why?
Because it works.
It does.
When you throw away all the "rules" and stop listening to everyone who tells you what they think they should tell you (well, except me...because I've figured it out and clearly I can help. You should SO listen to me...)
well, then...
it works.

When it's right.
When it's really deeply gushingly right.
And you LET it be right.
WOW.

And I know it's not a movie.
But...gosh. It seems pretty darn close.

WWJD?
Me thinks I need to get a wristband so I never forget.

Deeply felt Easter greeting

"May we stand by Jesus Christ at all times and in all things and in all places that we may be in, even until death. For surely, that is how He stood by us when it was unto death and when He had to stand entirely and utterly alone."

I don't know many things.
But, I know He lives.
I know it because I feel it.
Deeply.

That's my name

(I'm tired and can't fall asleep.
Sure, it's only 10:30 but i've been wanting to fall asleep for almost an hour.)

So, I'm up with my thoughts...
and my name.

When my cute mom was pregnant with me she was either the Laurel Advisor (teacher of the 16-18 year old girls) or if she just heard the name in a play when she was working with the Young Women...I suddenly don't remember tonight...but either way, that's how I got my name.

When I was younger, I just didn't love it.
I couldn't ever find pencils with my name on them.
Or those cool license plates (remember those?)
Or stickers.
Or shoe laces.
It was SUCH a rough life for a kid.

But, mostly I didn't love it because few people ever really said it right.

I was often Laura or Lauren or Laurie.
But, maybe it would be better to spell those names how they were said:
Lora
Loren
Lori

And so, even when they technically got the letters right, they still called me "Lorel"

It bothered my mom but it never really bothered me. I mean, I have friends who have known more for forever who call me "Lorel" (I know some of you are reading this and I've never mentioned it before and now you're trying to remember how you've said my name all these years).

I think my boss calls me Lorel.
One of my dearest friends calls me Lorel.

But, technically it's "Law-rel"..."Lawr"...not "Lor"...
and I've always kind of been a sucker for people (i.e. boys) who said it correctly. That's felt like a cue that they really know me.

And in the last few years, I've come to really like my name.
It's kind of unique.
There just aren't a lot of us.
And I really kind of like it.
It fits me.
It's grown on me.

And so when I realized on a voicemail from my sort-of-kind-of crush (that is kind of slipping because I think he's slow as molasses) that he doesn't actually know my name...well, it is kind of a bit of a turn off to me. Is that silly? I mean, at what point do you tell someone they are saying your name wrong? At what point have you waited too long? I think I've waited too long...but come on. He's heard me say my name. And I'm pretty sure I say it right.

My name is Laurel.
Law-rel.
It is.
That's what my family calls me.
That's how I introduce myself.
That's how it's pronounced in a dictionary.

And, really, if we've known each other for a while and you've called me "Lorel" this whole time, it's SO okay. I consider it a cute term of endearment.

But, if'n one wants this chiquita to continue with her crush...
call me Laurel. (call me "Laurel Anne" & you've basically sealed the deal).
Because, really...
that's my name...
Please wear it out (grin).

I've waited a long time to feel this way...

In 1997 I graduated from BYU and moved to Connecticut to try and get a boy out of my system. While there, I fell in love with another boy...
We became very close...
even shared a room.

He was 2 1/2 years old.
His name was Isaac.
He was my nephew.

He would get into my stuff and I would reprimand him for not staying on his side of the room. I realize now that it was I who was invading his space...not the other way around.

My sweet sister Heather would load up her 2 kids every morning into her little family's little Ford Escort Wagon and drive me 30+ miles one-way to my job (Heather, if it's been too long since I thanked you for that incredibly selfless period of time...THANK YOU). On the way, I would teach Isaac about things like photosynthesis ("what feeds the trees?" I would ask. He would respond, "fo-to-symf-isis") and that Heavenly Father loved him ("who's watching you today while I'm at work?" "Hev-ly Fa-der"). When they picked me up at the end of the day, we would do it again.

Those were totally treasured days.

That little boy is turning into a full-blown young man now. He's 14 and taller than me and has hair on his legs. It's crazy.

He and my parents arrived earlier tonight (oh...yesterday) and we've already had fun catching up. I told him it's like having my little brother David around. He reminded me that I'm old enough to be his mother (yeah, thanks, twerp.).

Little did I know...

He is a good kid...good to the core. He came to this earth with a happy disposition and my sister and brother-in-law have done an amazing job raising a deeply good young man.

I love him like my own.

Oh...is that what this is?

"Aunt Laurel?" I hear someone whisper in the darkness of my room earlier tonight. "I feel sick."
I look at my BlackBerry.
It's just after midnight.

"I'm sorry, kiddo. Do you need anything?"
(Um, because I'm tired and really, if you have to throw up, that's something you've got to do on your own.)
"No." He says tiredly as he makes his way to the bathroom.

Something inside me tells me to get up.

I go to the bathroom door.
"Can I do anything, Isaac?"
"No."

I hear that gagging sound that typically makes me want to gag just hearing it.
He clearly is trying to get rid of whatever it is that's not liking being in him.

I hand him a towel.

"You okay?"
"No."
"What can I do?"
"I don't know"
(Well, shoot. I don't either. I'm not a mom. And man, I'm tired. You don't need me then, right? I mean if you don't know what to do and I don't know what to do, I can go back to bed?)

He gets up to go sit on my couch.
He is SO tired.

"Just call my name if you need anything", I say as I go back to bed.

As soon as I feel myself drifting back to sleep, I feel that thing again tell me to get up. And I go out to the front room on the couch.

"I'm so sorry, Isaac. What do you need?"
"Nothing."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah."
(Hmmm. Something inside me tells me you do.)
"Do you want me to just sit with you?"
"Yeah."
(Really? Wow. I remember wanting my mom to sit with me in the middle of the night when I didn't feel well...but come on...Is that really necessary?)

I sit for a minute and it feels totally right.
(Well, okay then. I can do that.)

And then for the next...
hour+...
we go back and forth...

From the couch
to the bathroom
to the couch
to the bathroom

and I hear that sound and I'm okay with it (remarkable when the smell of baby spit-up sends me hurling)
and I scratch his back
and tell him "I'm right here"
and he says, "I'm so tired"
and I say, "I know you are"
but somehow I am not

and I want to stay up and help him feel better
and even though I have no idea what to do
I love that he needs me
and I want to be helpful
even if it's no more than being supportive and sitting there so he doesn't have to be sick all alone.

What's going on?
This single selfish-because-I-have-no-one-"forcing"-me-not-to-be girl actually has this strange desire to put his needs above my own.
Him feeling better so he can get to sleep is more important than me getting to sleep.
Even though I'm so tired too.

And yet, I don't feel as tired as I did just a little bit ago...
Because he needs me.

And there is this strange feeling...
a nurturing sensation I've seriously never felt before...
and a little part of my spirit reminds me I was born to be a mom...
I came pre-packaged to have this kind of capacity...
and OH how my little self has wanted to be needed like this...

And I want to make it all better...
even if all I can do is--
sit here outside the bathroom
while he tries to fall asleep on the floor.

"I'm so tired" he is saying as he's drifting off to sleep.
"I know you are, Isaac. I'm so sorry. I'm going to sit right here."

Silence.

"I love you..."
Just like you are my own.

I've waited a long time to feel this way.
And I'm so grateful to find out...
I can.

When screaming is funny...

A couple of weeks ago at our event in Orlando, I ran into Sister Krieger (now Shurtz), who I had trained while on my mission. She hadn't changed a bit. And I was okay with that. And she had five kids. And I was okay with that.

She was just one of those people you just LOVE.
And I was genuinely happy for her and her happy life.

And it was funny to remember our very first Preparation Day together...we went to get our car washed at the Shell Station in Perris, California. We hadn't even been together a full week. And about half way through the automatic car wash, I grabbed the steering wheel and just starting screaming at the top of my lungs.

She screamed too.

I stopped.
She kept screaming.

And then I laughed like I hadn't laughed in a very long time.
And she finally laughed (once she realized she had not just been put with a psycho companion).

I imagine my little brother, while in Venezuela on his mission, would have done that kind of thing too.

And so, Dave, this is for YOU.

Phantom-astic.

I have NOT been a fan of Phantom of the Opera.
I saw it for the first time in Los Angeles in 1993 with a boy I really really liked. He ended up throwing my uncle's chiuaua across the room the next morning (I slept on the couch. He slept on the floor. The chiuaua....am I spelling that right?...was very yippy. He deserved to be thrown.) Yep, he ended up a chiuaua thrower and I ended up going on a mission (so much more to the story that will find its way to this blog eventually).

But anyway...
I saw "Phantom" and I just wasn't impressed.
Sure, we had such bad seats we completely missed the "Masquerade" scene.
And the chandelier ended up getting stuck half-way during its fall.
And my 1985 chev cavalier died in the middle of the desert on the way home...but that's another story entirely.

Where was I?
Oh, yeah.
Phantom.

I'm sorry to say anything so sacreligious, but I am NOT a fan of Phantom of the Opera.
Correction.
Andrew Lloyd Weber's version.
There are all sorts of reasons for this but one of them would totally ruin things for my naive dad who loves the show.

Where was I?
Oh, yeah...
I didn't THINK I was a fan of "Phantom".
And so I didn't think I wanted to see it again.
BUT...
the version by Arthur Kopit & Maury Yeston?
Currently playing at Hale Center Theatre in Salt Lake City, UT?

Yeah, that?
AMAZING.
PHANTOM-AZING.

I saw it with a date tonight.
(Yes, I'm totally counting it as a date. I did not pay and he picked me up and dropped me off. That is TOTALLY a date, right?).
It was Phantom-credible.
It was Phantom-rrific.
It was Phantom-arvelous.
(yes, I said these puns the whole way home and I thought I was so funny).

But, this isn't about the incredible show or the really great guy who took me to see it.

This is about making time for things that matter.(which happily, I'm finally figuring out).
This is about recognizing how many truly perfect moments there are in life. (and there really are more when you recognize them.)
This is about being moved by really great music and deeply talented performances. (I'm such a sucker for live productions that will never happen the same way again.)
This is about feeling the power of true love and "you are the reason I was born". (or some other great line like that...from the show...not the date...grin).

I just can't even tell you how good it was for me to experience that show tonight....how much my little spirit adores great live entertainment when it teaches good truth. And how much I need to make more time for it.

I dare say I've come dangerously close to two pretty-darn-close-to-perfect days in a row.

And THAT is Phantom-astic.
(I know...I'm on a roll.)

(btw, the show is playing until April 18. Really, truly, go see it if you can.