Riley.

I noticed her right from the start and at the end when it was time for a few "standing ovations", it was crystal clear she should be one of them.

She was 12.
Taller and a little bigger than the other girls her age.
Something about her was very familiar.

I put my arm around her and said, "Riley is going to hate this. It's going to feel awkward. And that's exactly the point. I want you to help Riley see what you see when you look at her...what God sees when He looks at her. And give her the standing ovation of her life."

And boy howdy!
Did. They. Ever.

It went on and on.
And Riley cried.
Her cute little face got all red.
And she looked at me.
Almost asking me to save her from this experience.
But, I didn't.
Instead, I signaled the girls to get louder.

And Riley just stood there and cried some more.

Finally, one of the older girls came forward from the loud clapping, hollering, crowd.

And she kissed Riley.
Right on the forehead.

And the standing ovation continued.

I walked up to Riley and put my arm around her.
I leaned in and whispered into her ear, "God knows you, Riley. He sees you right now. He loves you and wanted you to know what that feels like. Don't ever forget this moment."

I finally had to tell the girls to stop.
They were THAT good at the ovation.

And cute Riley walked back to her seat and just put her little head down and cried.

We did a few more.
And then the leaders wanted to give a standing ovation to the girls.
And the girls gave a standing ovation to their leaders.

But, my eyes were still on Riley.

There are moments in life when God's world stops and He moves heaven and earth to give one girl the experience she needs to know God knows she exists.
I have seen those moments all summer long.
I saw it in Malad.
I saw it with Jordan.
I saw it in Wyoming when His world stopped for Riley.

She was the first one to get to me when it was all over.
She just fell into my arms.
"He loves you. Did you feel it?"
I felt her nodding her head.
"Don't ever forget that, Riley."
She nodded again.

We ARE daughters of our Heavenly Father who LOVES us.
He. Loves. Us.
I know that.
And because I know that, I know who I am.

And now Riley knows who she is too.

Wyoming: Take 2

I thought my first experience in Wyoming might have been an anomoly.

But it wasn't.

I know that because I had a aweet experience again last night with the girls in the Rock Springs, WY Stake. Perhaps one of the sweetest of my life (I know I said that about that last one too.)

What is it about that place?

Wyoming isn't flashy.
I mean, if you choose to live in Wyoming, you're doing it for a reason other than appearance.
As soon you cross the state line, you sense God got to Wyoming last.
And when He got there, He must have been tired.
It's like He said, "Ah, not many are going to live here anyway. This is good enough."

And there is something about that that I really really like.

Well, Wyoming is actually very pretty.
You just have to get off the beaten path to see that.
And it's worth getting off the beaten path for.

And not many people do.

But the girls there?
WOW.
I told them that whatever was in the water, they should keep drinking it.
They. Were. Sweet.
And. Good.
SO very good.
It was one of the easiest experiences I've ever had.
I knew the nanosecond I stood up that these girls were different.
And I was there to experience them.

No, God didn't spend much time on the land of Wyoming.
But, He's spent a lot of time on the girls there.
It's like they know Him a little better because they don't have the distractions of the world.
They love Him.
And He loves them.
That was crystal clear.
I saw it firsthand.

A little fortune cookie miracle

I'll be honest.
I was kind of secretly hoping "the new person I would meet in the next week that would be for my benefit" the the fortune cookie foretold was going to be a person of the male persuassion.
The single persuassion.

Well, tonight was the week mark.

Now, in fairness to the universe, I did meet a new person.
And he was of the male persuassion.

But very married.
And very much old enough to be my father.

My new hometeachers came tonight.
I wouldn't have called and asked them to come.
But, I needed them to.
How did they know to call? And to come?
Tonight?

I tweaked my back this weekend and I've been a bit discouraged about that.
I am working so hard to change my little life and my little head and my little self.
And I've made such good strides and so didn't need a set back.
And I'm supposed to be up in Wyoming again on Thursday for another camp.

And I've been praying for a little miracle.

So tonight
on the eve of the end of the fortune cookie timeframe,
I met a new person (two of them in fact).
They came into my home.
(do you men have ANY idea how good it feels when you are in our homes?).
They shared a message.
Then they asked me if I wanted a blessing.

They put their hands on my head
and said things that only God would know I needed to hear.

A benefit.

And though it's not quite what I had in mind,
as He has done so many many other times in my life,
God gave me what I needed.

A little fortune cookie miracle, if you will.
And a benefit of the highest proportion.

God loves Wyoming

It's so late.
I should go to bed.
But, tonight was...
wow.

It was one of those experiences where you're so aware of the awareness of God that you feel indebted in such a way that a repayment seems to require a public expression of appreciation.

I spent the evening with the remarkable girls of the Kemmerer Wyoming Stake.
It was my first time speaking to girls from Wyoming and they were some of the finest girls I have EVER had the privilege of meeting.
And tonight was quite possibly one of the sweetest experiences of my life.

The theme for the camp was based on this little project.
It was kind of surreal for me.
Each day focused on a different text message from the book.
The girls learned the accompanying scripture and were invited to do the "little" or "big" message at the end of the texts chapter.
This morning, for example, the focus was JST U W8.
And the girls created their "dream list".

Do you know that one of the girl's dreams included "standing as a witness of Christ at all time and in all things and in all places."

Yes, really.

I sensed it was going to be different as I began the drive.
And by the time I made the three hour trek to get to them,
I just felt prepared for something unique.

And. it. was.

I had the chance to talk to every girl.
All 100 of them.
We pinky swore they would take the "prayer challenge" before they drove down the mountain tomorrow morning.
They told me what their dreams were.
We did standing ovations.
We cried and laughed and committed to be better.

I couldn't have imagined, when these summer commitments began, how they would all play out.
I couldn't have dared ask that I would be blessed with these kinds of experiences.
And I certainly didn't expect the privilege of tonight.

Oh, Wyoming. I'm so grateful I didn't say "no".

Who knew I'd love you so much?
He did.
I bet He did.

God is SO very kind to us.
He is SO very aware of us.
He loves His daughters.
And I'm so grateful
SO grateful
to be one of them.

Oh, and God loves Wyoming.
I'm sure of it.

Still. Going. Strong.

But, if anything was going to get me too crumble after
SIXTY ONE DAYS OF CHOCOLATE-FREEness
it would be this.
Starbucks Signature Hot Chocolate Ice Cream- Swirled chocolate and vanilla ice creams with ribbons of chocolate fudge.
(please someone try it for me. PLEASE.)

OH. MY.

And did you people know you can order ice cream online?
Are you kidding me?
PRIVATE ice cream purchasing?

(but I'm not crumbling. I'm not. I know. I'm impressed too.)

The Praying Motorcyclist

There he was
early in the morning
on the side of the highway
the highway that cuts through Sardine Canyon
the open part of the canyon
where it doesn't curve back and forth
so you can see ahead for just a bit longer

He was stopped on the side of the road
helmet off
stopped
on the side
of the road
his head was down
and as I flew by at 75 mph
(too fast for Sardine Canyon? Perhaps.)

I saw that his head wasn't just down
it was bowed
and his arms
...were folded?

I looked back in my rearview mirror

Is he praying?
Is the motorcyclist praying?

And why?

Had the motorcycle died?
And he needed assistance?

Had someone he loved died?
And he was praying for strength for the rest of his journey?

Had he just broken up with a girlfriend?
And he couldn't even make it all the way home?

Or was he headed to meet her to tell her he loved her?
And he just needed some courage?
(that was the jane austen in me)

Had he been overcome by the beauty of the morning?
(my, it was beautiful)
And he just felt compelled right then & there to say "thank you"?

I don't know who he was
I don't know why he was stopped
I don't know why he was praying
early in the morning
in the middle of the canyon
I just know that he was

And I've been grateful for him all day

I saw the motorcyclist
on the side of the road
saying a prayer
early in the morning
and I found myself
saying one too

now THAT'S a fortune cookie

(I get to blog tonight because I've had two back-to-back 12 hour office days AND I've still managed to keep to my workout plan both days. Yay me.)

Remember my "luck" with Fortune Cookies?

Well, tonight I let myself get a healthy choice from Pei Wei on the way home for dinner.
And, as is customary, I got a fortune cookie.
Before I opened it, I sent a little "good vibe" out to the universe.
"Please be something good. I SO deserve something good."

You will meet a new person in the next week for your benefit.

Now THAT'S what I'm talkin' about.

You redeemed yourself, Mr. Fortune Cookie.
You really really did.

(PS I got rehired after the firing. Thanks for the support. The family is back in business.)

The world is shifting

I took a five hour nap today.
That was not a typo.
I laid down on my couch to let my little self rest.

And I woke up FIVE HOURS later.

I would be embarrassed about that.
But, something happened to me while I was asleep.
I'm not even sure how to explain it.

I think sometimes, after a really intense week
when there is more to do than hours in a day to do it
when you have seen the best of yourself and the worst of yourself
when you know the Lord has used you but you also sense He's left you alone
when you see how far you've come but how many steps there still are to take
Well, after a week like that, you can be left on empty.

I've been having a repeated dream for nearly a month.
The setting is always different.
The people sometimes are.
But the situation is always the same.

I explained it to some dear friends last night and asked them to interpret it.
Their thoughts were helpful and a few hit entirely too close to home.
I've been feeling overwhelmed by a combination of some events and situations in my life. This morning when I woke up, I was ready to just throw in the towel.
Translated, I was worn out.

So today during the Sacrament, I pleaded with the Lord to help me.
I knew I needed divine assistance to get me past this place.
And I needed more capacity to do all that I have before me.

He heard me. I felt it.
I took out a piece of paper and I began to write.
I made note of every impression and thought.
In some ways, it just overwhelmed me more.

When I came home, I collapsed (quite literally) on my couch.
I drifted off to sleep.
I awoke.
Five.
Hours.
Later.

And I was refreshed in a way I haven't been refreshed before.
My mind was clear.
My heart felt free.
My spirit was calm.

It's like the world shifted while I was napping (can you call five hours a nap?).
Nothing has changed, of course it hasn't.
But.
Something has.

I believe God can magnify our abilities.
I believe He can lighten our load.
I believe He can speak to us in dreams.

I also believe that He can shift the world in just a few hours.
Or He can shift us.
Either way, the world is shifting.

My alarm is set for 4:30 a.m. tomorrow morning.
And I'm ready.
With Him, I am ready.

Fired.

read the previous post if you haven't yet

I received the following email today:

Hi,grandpa and aunt laurel! guess what?! I have my own e-mail address! so now i can email you guys! could you guys email some of your friends for work here? and aunt laurel? Anya says that you can be assistant manager. do you want to? if so call or email me. my email is:xxxxxx.

thanks
love,mark.

PS:tell grandma will you grandpa?

And here was my reply:

Mark: I received your email. Every boss needs an email address so I'm so glad you got one! I would like to consider the Assistant Manager job. I think I could be a good fit. But, we probably still need to talk about Grandpa and where the best place is for him.

I'll try and call you later tonight. I'm SO impressed by your plans, Mark, and can't wait to see all your success.

I sure love you! (is that okay to say even though you're my boss?)

Then my dad sent this one:

Mark, as your assistant boss, I need you to consider the following:
1. I think you should clear all new employees with me.
2. all emails need to be sent to me also. add my address to your address book.
my name is Grandpa at xxxxxx
3. only discuss future employee positions with me, not Aunt Laurel. I am older and know who will be best.
4. do not develop too close of a relationship with family members when they are employees. Keep everything very business like. Especially with language like "love you".
Sincerly,
The Assistant Boss
Grandpa
(I love you)

So, I had no choice but to reply with this:

Well, I think this family business thing is just great and should be great fun as long as Grandpa doesn't try to take over (MARK: be careful with anyone who tries to set that many rules for you when YOU are in charge!)

xoxo

All was well, or so I thought.

The next thing I knew, this came to my email from my boss:

aunt laurel,YOUR FIRED!!!!!!!

That was it.
Nothing more.
I quickly emailed my boss back:

wait...

WHAT????

Seriously, how did that happen?
What did I do?
I think you just made me cry.

Turns out my boss...um....well...might have read my previous post...and didn't appreciate some of my inferences.

So, trying to make ammends, I sent this:

And I will be VERY CAREFUL about disclosing company information on my blog. Deseret Book has similar rules.

I serve at the pleasure of the president (that would be YOU...not Grandpa).

I love you.
Please can I have my job back?

Who knew this family business would be so intense?
Oh, and if any of you are interested in a position at the company (since Mark is soliciting), leave a comment. I'm sure he'll be back to check (and in case he does, send Mr. Mark a little note in my comments...maybe help him see why he should give me a second chance and re-hire me...but, please avoid the urge to apply for the Marketing Director or Anya's Assistant Manager. please?)

The new family business

I hope I can share this is a way that does it justice.

My nephews and niece have started a business.
Their concept is so compelling and their strategy so sound that it brought my retired dad out of retirement.
No, really.
He took a job as the custodian of the office complex just to get a piece of the action.

I won't go into details about the company, but let's just say that it's clever and unique and I'm so proud of my brother's kids.

Oh, did I mention they are nearly 10, 8 1/2, and 7?

So Mark (10) is the "boss".
James (7) is the First Manager.
Anya (8 1/2) is the Second Manager.

Mark and James aren't sexist or anything. They just started the company first and Anya got in on the action a little too late.

Apparently the company (and it's serious. There's a name, a dotcom, a list of things they own, a list of jobs they need to hire for. It's serious.) was a big secret. No adults were to be let in on the board meetings or plans. But, my dad somehow finagled his way in...convinced the kids that with that much office space, they needed a custodian.

And it was going to work just fine until Mark told their grandpa (my padre) about all the chairs and tables that would need to be moved every day for cleaning. Well, it's been a long time since my dad has actually had to work (retirement means he checks his garden daily, volunteers at the temple once a week and...well...we're not sure what else.) and it was just too much hard labor for dad.

So the custodian started telling the boss that it was just too much. No one could be expected to do that much work everyday. The First Manager overheard the conversation and came over to say, "Well, this just isn't going to work."

And the custodian got fired.
No kidding.
Now THAT would make a great story just on its own.

But it gets better.

So, my dad convinces the kids that they need a saleman. And that's what he did his whole career. Someone needs to sell all the extra office space and such.
So they re-hired him as the sales manager.
(Yeah, my dad is that good. Custodian to Sales Manager in a matter of minutes.)

As my dad is telling me about this interesting turn of events on Friday, he commented that he was kind of bugged though because when he was custodian, he had keys to the building but now that he's the Sales Manager, he does not.

"Um, dad...you do realize there isn't an actual building yet, right?"

But, because I'm a third child and I hate being left out, I told him that I would be the first tenant in the building.
"Why don't you tell the kids you made your first sell? They can draw up a contract and start the negotiation with me. I'll be a great tenant and it will be good for them to practice." (Yeah, I'm a good aunt like that.)

So, imagine my surprise when I find out that on Sunday my dad STILL had not called the kids to tell them about my interest?

Well, I did what any good aunt would do.
I called the kids to tell them that their "Sales Manager" wasn't doing his job.

Oh, how I wish there was a way we could have tape recorded that conversation.

Here's the low down:
I found out that not only was Grandpa put in charge of Sales but of Advertising too.
I quickly informed the kids that I have years of experience in Marketing.
Grandpa has none.
And furthermore, he had already shirked in his responsibilities.
"What should we do?" Mark asked.
"Fire him." I replied.
"Really?" Mark asked.
"Absolutely." I said.
Anya (who has always had a soft spot for Grandpa) jumped in, "But we can't fire Grandpa! He's OLD! He needs a job."
"Anya is right." Mark said.

The conversation ended with me being hired to be the Marketing Director.
Grandpa would report to me as the Sales Manager (with the understanding that Mark would tell him he needed to step it up) AFTER a proper interview just to make sure he was qualified.

I told the kids I knew it would be hard but this was the right thing to do.

I was quite pleased with myself.

So, imagine my complete shock today when my dad called me tonight at work (because we're totally nerdy like that) and said,
"I just thought you should know that I'm now the Assistant Boss. Whenever Mark is out of town, I'm in charge. You will report to me."

Grandpa had convinced Mark it's not proper for a dad to report to his daughter.
He's very convincing, my retired father.

But, this isn't over.
Oh, it's not over.

This is just getting good...

TO MY FATHER: GAME. ON.

(to be continued)

My new assignment

January 18, 2009 gave me a new assignment at church.

Today I received another one.

And I get to wear my heels again.
And I have so many more choices in skirts now.
Call me worldly, but I'm happy about that.

But, I won't get my fill of little munchkins.
And I won't get to play "naptime" anymore (I'm a good game inventor).
No more "The Wheels on the Bus" or playing "train" complete with the kids taking turns being the conductor and pulling the imaginary whistle and yelling "chug-a-choo-choo".

No more 3-minute lessons with a room full of kids who want to talk non-stop and answer questions even if they didn't understand what you asked.
No more fights over who gets to say the prayer.
Oh, I will miss those those little ones and their little cups they brought every Sunday that needed to be filled.
(Who knew it would be MINE that was filled to overflowing?)

Now I'll be preparing real live lessons and trying to find ways to engage them even when they don't want to talk. I'll have to be more focused on their insecurities than on mine.

You see, I'll be teaching Sunday School.
The 12-14 yr olds...boys and girls.

Something tells me this is going to be really good for me.
And I'm actually excited about it.

Elder Holland & the golf cart

It's time for another "Did you know" story.
(yes, the introspection on this blog is getting to be a bit much, even for me. there's been a serious lack of random lately. my apologies.)

In 1997, the Mormon Church celebrated the 150th Anniversary of the Pioneers entering the Salt Lake City Valley. I had the tremendous opportunity of being the Production Assistant for the Sesquicentennial Spectacular Celebration held that summer.

There are several stories I could tell from that summer.
How Martha Stewart almost got me fired.
How my friend and her husband almost got me kicked out of BYU.
How I nearly died running up to the top of the stadium.

But let's just start with one.

The night of the dress rehearsal, I had one oh so simple job.
My assignment was to transport Elder Richard G. Scott and Elder Jeffrey R. Holland via golf cart from the production trailers in the parking lot to the stage on the field inside Cougar Stadium.
Like I said, it was a simple job.

But, there were several problems with this assignment.
1.) I was a tich on the "awe struck side" by the passengers
2.) I had never driven a golf cart
3.) I didn't admit I had never driven a golf cart

As is customary, the senior one of the two sat in the front with me.
That left Elder Holland on the back seat (facing backwards, btw).
I remember Elder Scott starting a conversation with me.
I remember not knowing what to say.
I remember Elder Holland said something funny.
I remember laughing.
And then I remember my foot hit the gas pedal.
A. little. too. hard.

The next thing I knew I was making a sharp turn (to stay on the path) and I saw, out of the corner of my eye, Elder Holland nearly fall off the back.
I hit the brake.
Elder Holland caught his balance...barely.

And there we were.
Stopped.
I was mostly frozen.
Elder Scott said something like "Whoa there."
Elder Holland smiled.
I think I said, "I'm so sorry" a dozen times.

Somehow I got them to the stage.
They both got off the cart.
Even thanked me for the ride.

And that's the story of how I nearly threw Elder Holland off a golf cart I was driving. Pretty classic, eh?

PS It really was quite a spectacular celebration. I caught the production bug from this experience. I credit it for pushing me into events as a career. Here's the finale. 3,000 missionaries entered the stadium as a surprise. It still makes me cry to watch it.

How does the story end?

"You do not know the end of your story."

That's what I told an impressive group of girls today.
We were in the midst of one of the prettiest spots on the planet.
God was there.

The theme, "There Once Was a Girl", was planned to help them understand that they are writing their own story and the need to understand their potential to create the story they were meant to live.

I had them close their eyes and I asked them questions:
Raise your hand if you think you'll get married in the temple.
Raise your hand if you think you'll graduate from college.
Rasie your hand if you think you'll serve a mission.
Raise your hand if you think you'll be a mom.
Raise your hand if you think you'll return to God when you leave this life.

We talked about how easy it is to make assumptions about our lives. We see where we are in the middle of a story and we assume we know how it's going to all turn out.

But, we aren't the only writers of our story.
We are partnered with God.
And the reality is that HE is the only who actually knows how the story will end.

*****

One of my favorite stories in the Bible is the story of Joseph, sometimes referred to as “Joseph of Egypt”.
You know the story.
Joseph was the favorite son of his dad. He was so favored that his dad gave him a fancy schmancy coat and everything. Joseph was given a couple of dreams that let him know there was something special about him. He didn’t think twice about sharing his dreams with his brothers. They got tired of his fancy coat and his “I think I might be a ruler one day” dreams and sold him to a company of Ishmaelites going to Egypt (and then lied to their dad and said Joseph was dead). Joseph ends up as a servant in Potiphar’s house. Potiphar’s wife tries to get Joseph into trouble. Joseph is smart enough to run. Potiphar’s wife accuses Joseph of trying to get HER into trouble. Joseph ends up in jail. And then seems to get forgotten.

Now, that’s not the end of the story.
But, the thing I love about this story, is that although Joseph knew it wasn't the end of the story, he still didn't know exactly how the story would play out.

He could have thought the story was over when his brother’s threw him in the pit and sold him to the Ishmaelites.
He could have thought the story was over when he ended up as a servant to one of the Pharaoh’s chief captains.
He certainly could have assumed the story was over when he ended up in jail.
But, he didn’t.

He seems to have never stopped believing.
Sure he had dark times, but “the Lord was with [him]” (Gen. 39:2, 21) and we can actually read that in the story.
But, Joseph didn’t have the benefit of reading the story.
He was LIVING the story.
And He chose to trust God.
And look what happened.

So, wherever you are right now, whether you feel like your world has been turned upside down (like Joseph in the pit) or you feel like things couldn’t be better, what you must understand is that your story is still being written.

Every day.

*****

Funny.

As I was talking to the girls, I realized I do the same things they do.
I've spent my whole life making assumptions about how things will turn out.
I look to the end of the story when I'm still at the beginning.

But, I'm not the only writer here.
I am partnered with God.
And the reality is that HE is the only who actually knows how the story will end.

And I trust His ability to write a really great story.
I do.

Hello, me.

"Till this moment

I never knew myself."
-Lizzie to herself (Jane Austen, Pride & Prejudice)

I stayed up late last night reading my journals. (Something about yesterday's "anniversary" just drew me in.)

Looking for entertainment? Borrow my journals.
Looking for compelling drama? Borrow my journals.
Looking for great romantic comedy? Borrow my journals.

OH. MY.

But, looking for confirmations of God's existence? Read my journal.
Looking for evidence of His involvement in our lives? Read my journal.
Looking for a visual of His mercy and His love? Read my journal.

I think the thing I love most about my journals is watching my evolution.
My testimony.
My confidence.
My dreams.
My faith.
My heart.
My brain.
My needs.
My trust.

In so many ways I'm a girl now I've never been before.

I'm not naive enough to think that I've figured it all out.
But, I do have this sense that I know me.

I suppose on some level I always have.
You can read where I had inklings about how some things in my life would play out.
You can read where I had turning points I didn't recognize as such at the time.

But, I had impressions.

Some I chose to ignore.
Some I followed to the letter.
Some others chose to ignore.

My life has not played out the way I thought I wanted.
But it has played out the way God knew it would.
And I guess on some level, I knew it too.

I can finally say I wouldn't trade my life for anyone else's.
There have been times that I wanted to.
But not anymore.
Because I trust I'm right where God knew I would be.

And I know myself better today than I ever have before.
And I like the me I've come to know.

My first Independence Day

July 4, 1993

I'm almost scared to write this down--
writing and speaking seem to make things so permanent.

I can't remember if I've ever really mentioned my "mission struggles" in here [my journal] before. But it's been a struggle. I've toyed with the idea of going for a long time. I've partially wanted to but never wanted to say it. There have been a few times when it's felt good but I guess I've been waiting for thunder and lightning--outward signs. Kind of like "I don't want to go unless I have to." I know part of that was because I thought I needed to stay here to marry [name left out to protect the guilty]. Even when I didn't say it, deep down inside that's what I thought.

I went to see Jill Bell tonight. We small talked for a while and then I had to catch her up on the boy saga. About an hour later she said, "You know, Laurel, I think you should go on a mission."

I can't really describe it to do it justice but at that moment things changed. I started to cry. I knew she was right. And the more we talked about it the more peace I felt. I have not felt this peace in a very long time. And yet, I'm scared to death.

******

I've been a great journal writer most of my life (thank you, mom and dad!). It's interesting to read the entries before and then after that July 4 entry. I changed that day. You can see in the actual writing style.

I made my decision to serve a mission on July 4.
My papers were in on July 20.
I received my call to the California Riverside Mission on July 31.
It was a whirlwind.

But that was probably the first completely independent decision I had every made.
You see, I always knew I would go to BYU.
I chose my major out of peer pressure.
I always thought I'd get married before a mission was even an option. And since my parents didn't push a mission on me at all (and in fact, according to the later entries it took some doing to help them feel good about my decision), it was my first real experience making a decision that was just between me and the Lord.

17 years ago today, "Day of Independence" took on a whole new meaning.
It was MY Independence Day.

Me & my big mouth

I had a meaningful post actually planned for today.
You know, it's the 4th of July and all.
I've learned a lot about myself on a couple of significant "day of independence"-es.

But, that will have to wait.

Because last Sunday whilst teaching a lesson to the women at Church, I might have jokingly referenced (by name) the crush I almost had when I first moved into this neighborhood (but his wife wasn't in the room so that was okay, right?).

Well, remember how the almost crush was assigned to be my home teacher?

Should I be horrified that ONE WEEK after my public confession, I got a new home teacher assigned to me? Because today when the new home teacher introduced himself to me, I couldn't help but think about last Sunday and couldn't help but wonder if someone had "told" on me and couldn't help but wonder if I've been the topic of conversation this week? Like if I'm seen as some kind of potential homewrecker now? (ok, that's kind of funny when you actually say it.)

Because now that I'm home, I'm a little horrified.

Maybe I'll need to move.
Find a new start.
Reclaim my name.
Rid myself of my scarlet letter.
(okay, that makes me giggle.)

Me and my big-public-confession mouth...
(no, but really...should I be horrified?)

just what the dr. ordered

Friendship is certainly

the finest balm

for the pangs

of disappointed love.
(Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey)

(no i didn't have my camera. yes this is from a cell phone)

Well, friendship...AND Peter Cetera (pretty sure if Ms. Austen had known Mr. Cetera, she would have modified the quote).

Whether it was the first slow dance with the the boy I thought I was going to marry in 1986 (yes, I was 14 but come on, it was "Glory of Love", anyone else?) or the World Falling Down album that got me through BYU in 1992, no one does "love song" or "angst song" better than Peter Cetera. And seeing him last night, live, in concert (and it was seriously like someone had me write the set list and then handed it to him), surrounded by some of my favorite people on the planet, was good for my little self. I saw how much I love where I am in my life right now. Things are good.

Cetera night was just what the doctor ordered.

You know, sometimes you don't know how much your little self needed something until you get what you didn't know your little self needed.

(PS If you live in UT, see him LIVE in September. I will, sadly, be working that weekend. But, don't miss it. Seriously. No. Really.)