Symbolism

 

“Tell me if this is weird,” I said to Milks one warm afternoon as we talked on the front lawn.

She’s my kindred spirit, after all. Whom else could I trust for an honest answer?

“Shoot.”

I rolled my body over the soft fleece material of the blanket we were lounging on and stared up at the sky.

“Do you feel like you’re a deep thinker? Like, more so than other people?”

“Sometimes, why?”

“I don’t know. I feel like I think about things too much. I’m always trying to figure myself out.”

She nodded and said, “I do that too.”

“But really, I am always having like, personal revelations. And thinking.”

“Revelations about what?”

Then I gave it to her, the thoughts that have been formulating in my brain. Me, really, and the things I seem to constantly be learning about myself.

How this year I am feeling more confident and more comfortable with who I am as a person, and why I believe that is. Spiritual things about what I believe God wants for my life, and the path I see Him leading me down. Future things, like what to do with my summer. Internships, counseling, Africa, missions?

That’s the wonderful thing about my Milks. She listens, she hears, she advises, and when it’s all over, when the seriousness of conversation is weighing heavy, she begs for my famous Fake Laugh. Which she receives, because hello, did you read the topics I bogged her down with?

It’s give and take, though, because then I listened to her deep thoughts. (And tweeted, because my multitasking skills are out of this earthly realm.)

In the end, she never gave me a yes or no answer.

She simply helped me fold the blanket and zip it away in her backpack.

 

 

I am and did I use 'whom’ correctly? I haven’t a clue.

 

p.s. Have you met Milks? We’re silly. Introducing:

This Post Took Some Humility (my best quality)

Sometimes I pretend that I know it all.

Yes, I know how to change the oil in my car.

Yep, I sure do know how to get the static out of my hair.

Of course I can answer any question about Christianity.

Pa-ha!

Truthfully, I am not the most humble person I’ve ever met.

I often take pictures of myself with my built-in webcam. Dell made it so easy!

I do not post them on Facebook, thank you very much. That get’s annoying. Can I get a hallelujah?

I swear I was going somewhere with this post…

Like I was saying, I am not the most humble person, which translates into another endearing trait of mine: I am never wrong. And also, I know how to do everything.

Except, a few days ago I was having a rather deep conversation with my dad about faith and honestly, I didn’t have an answer for his questions.

And I hated that.

AND THEN (I’m getting worked up) I was reading through 1 Peter last night and got to a verse that didn’t make sense to me.

I re-read it three times in an effort to understand. Finally, I was defeated and had to open my ESV study Bible to look for the answer.

As usual, the good ole’ ESV provided the answers I was looking for, but my arrogant self was upset that I didn’t just know.

But I got the message loud and clear. I need to study more.

Knowledge of The Word only comes from studying it and searching for answers when I don’t understand.

That’s what I get for praying for humility.

GPOY!

 

 

 

 

 

I am Al and old habits die hard.

And It Came To Pass

A Mormon missionary called me tonight.

I got a rush of excitement and nervousness all at once.

Excitement because I love Mormons and I love talking to them about their faith. Their beliefs are a far cry from my very conservative upbringing as a member of the Church of Christ.

My nervousness stems from my fear of letting them down, because I know I’m not going to convert, and they are just sweet missionaries trying their best.

Putting those jumbled up feelings aside, I answered the phone with an open heart and eager ears.

We talked about our majors in college (she’s also in the Family & Consumer Sciences department) and our mutual love for Salt Lake City.

We giggled over Morm Monday’s (thanks for telling her that Kaylee) and I shared with her my interest in being a missionary in Africa.

She then said, “Kaylee told me that you know a lot about the Church.”

Well, isn’t that an understatement?

I once beat Kaylee in a Mormon trivia game.

Seriously, she asked me “What is our women’s class called at church and who founded it?”

I got that right.

Of course, I didn’t tell the Missionary that.

I just said, “Yes, quite a lot.”

“What is keeping you from becoming a member?”

I chewed on my lip for a minute. I wasn’t entirely sure how to answer.

But finally I did.

“I’m content with my faith and what I know and continue to learn about Jesus Christ.”

And isn’t that what we’re all trying to do? To know, love, and be servants of Christ, and to know that He loves us just as much?

So no, I don’t need any converting.

My heart is spoken for.

I'll Risk Everything To Save My Shoes

There are many perks to being born the day after Halloween.

Other than the obvious reasons of candy and caramel apples, I mean.

For one, it's All Hallows Day, or All Saints' Day.

How appropriate.

The day has also never left me high and dry when it comes to birthday party planning. When all else fails, a Halloween party will suffice.

Which brings me to All Hallows Eve, October 31 2009.

My friends and I got gussied up in sweater dresses and tights and dined at Chili's to celebrate 19 years of my precious existence.

We then decided to visit Little Rock's most notorious haunted house.

The location: an old, abandoned hospital for the mentally insane.

It was a dark chilly night. It was Halloween. It was a mental hospital. The setting was just right.

Chills chased their way up my skin as we walked up the sidewalk towards the entrance. The man at the door taking money was dressed in old patient garb.

Awesome.

We entered into a small room. There were people grouped up in anticipation. I stood behind my friend and fisted the back of her shirt.

"I'm standing behind you the whole time," I informed her.

Then the "tour of the hospital" began.

It was completely dark and I blindly followed my friend.

Half-way into the tour I decided it wasn't that bad. If I kept reminding myself that it "wasn't real," I would be fine.

People would grab my feet.

It's not real.

Objects would fly out.

It's not real.

We finally got to the end of the tour and I relaxed, releasing my friends shirt.

We were laughing at how scared we were when we heard a loud noise.

RRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMM!

I glanced behind me to see a man running towards us with a chainsaw. Terror I had never known filled my body and my feet started moving faster than they ever had.

Everything was whizzing by me.

I was aware of things jumping out to scare me.

Oh no, nothing was stopping me.

I was getting out of there.

My feet continued to propel me forward when,

WHAM!

I ran right into a glass door.

My body flew backwards from the force, knocking my shoes off and ripping my tights in the process.

In a flash, a friend picked me up and drug me as she ran.

"My shoes!" I screamed and ripped away from her.

As I ran towards the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, I realized that I am the dumb blond bimbo in horror movies that people throw popcorn at.

That's me.

I was risking my life (ha-ha) to save my pink flats.

My personal revelation didn't slow me down any. I had my flats scooped up and was back to my friend before the man hacked me to pieces.

We reached the car and looked at each other as the moment came rushing back.

We were breathing heavy and the October air was coming out in wafts of steam.

Then, we burst into hysterical laughter.

I never saw that door coming.

21 Before 21.

I love making lists.

And goals.

And cupcakes.
(More on those later.)

Today while watching TV I had a revelation. I am not living my life to the fullest. Let's be honest, I don't set a lot of hard goals. I set easy ones that I know I can quickly cross off my list. (Told you I like lists.)

There is a whole slew of things I would love to accomplish in the (almost) near future. But without a list, this girl won't get anything done! On that note, I made a list of 21 things I will do before I turn 21.

You should make one too.

In other news, I have not started the unpacking process.

Perhaps a list would help.

See what I mean?

If you make a 21 before 21 list,
comment and let me know!
I would love to see your aspirations!

Hiking, and a personal revelation.

Saturday brought allergies, sweat, aching muscles and holes in clothes. Further explanation? Happy to.

Bright and early found us in Provo, hiking Y mountain. Holy guacamole, hiking to the Y is no piece of cake. (Did you like the two food references?) None the less, I persevered, downing my water by the 4th switchback and thinking how much altitude vs. sea level sucks.

Mid-hike view of Provo

My wheezing stopped (well, lets be fair, it slowed down) when we reached the large concrete Y. The view was absolutely breathtaking. I felt like I was standing on top of the world. (Did you know the Y is 380 feet high, making it larger than the Hollywood Sign in California?)

Trivia brought to you free.

Sitting in the middle of the Y

After trekking back down the mountain we drove to the Provo Temple for picture taking purposes. See all the pink roses? I can't even begin to describe how sweet the air smelled.

And ok, I know the Salt Lake Temple is every one's crème brûlée, but I happen to think the Provo Temple is the prettiest one I have seen. Salt Lake? Surrounded by buildings. Manti? Middle of nowhere. Provo? Mountains, my friends.

Our next adventure (are you tired yet?) led us to Bridal Veil Falls nestled in the Provo Canyon. There was a nice paved trail to the very bottom of the falls. To get to the falls themselves was a different story.

My acrylic nails helped me scratch myself up all of those rocks to the very top. My pants were wet, Nike's drenched. I didn't care though. I just plopped down on a rock, let the waterfall mist me with fresh water, and snapped a ton of pictures.

Pants after all the hiking. Tore hole in butt. Not picture worthy.

Manti Temple at night

For added fatigue, we drove a near two hours for the Mormon Miracle Pageant in Manti. If you're Mormon, this is like, a right of passage. It's a big deal.

I'm talking about thousands of people gathered to watch the finding of the Book of Mormon, Joseph Smith's death, Brigham Young leading the Mormons to Utah, and so on.

Back to the story. We arrived really early to gurantee one of the 14,000 seats available and then walked the streets of downtown Manti. We ate dinner at a local diner and then splurged on chocolate covered strawberries.

There were Christian picketers there with a cross, passing out information of our/my Jesus vs. Mormon Jesus. I had never been around controversy like it. They weren't rude, demanding, ignorant or mean in any way. But you could certainly feel the tension.

And then I thought, would I be with the picketers? Is that the right approach? Do I belong at a Mormon pageant, being not of that particular faith?

Alas, I sat in my chair and watched the play. It was interesting. It was good. The picketers left and I had a personal revelation. I am not Mormon. I am not Church of Christ. I won't label my faith.

I am a follower of Jesus Christ. A lover of God. Someone who feels the Holy Spirit deep in my soul.

And that, my friends, was Saturday.