Misused opportunity

In the entire world there are many opportunities that pass us by. Many of which we make a choice not to take the opportunities by the throat. Sometimes we just miss them and don't realize it until a later date.

Now.

It has come to my attention that I had the opportunity and used it to the advantage I saw fit, but I didn't use it as I should have. As soon as I have this opportunity again...I vow I will not misuse it again.

On the cruise that me and my friends went on this last Spring Break, there were self-serve ice cream machines in the buffet kitchen area. We stopped by on a regular basis. Filling bowls or cones whenever we wanted (don't worry, I struggled with the consequence of that choice at the gym soon after) was a dream come true. As a small child I recall always wanting a soft serve ice cream cone whenever we happened to be lucky enough to stop at a Mickey D's.

There was a third option of consumption means that neither I nor my companions had thought to utilize.

Straight into the kisser.

Regret. *sigh* That is all I feel.

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Eggs-tra traditional paintings

As soon as the bubbling water finishes boiling the oval white canvases and the colors saturate their intended medium, the child within bursts out the seams. Endless possibilities rattle around in my mind with all sorts of color combinations, a myriad of patterns and designs. The visions begin to form one by one. Each unique and exciting.

Eggs plopping. Crayons silently scraping. Fizzing colors surrounding me. Masterpieces only after awkward transitions and strange beginnings. Exhilaration tingles through me as each egg comes out exactly or better than my imagination had concocted.

Easter eggs...2011

I may or may not have gotten my fingers dyed in this production...

All kidding and frivolity aside. This season always brings to me a renewed remembrance of my Savior, as it is a celebration of His atoning sacrifice and most especially for his resurrection. As my Friend, my Comforter, my Redeemer, my Brother, my Advocate before the Father, He has never let me down. My straying feet have been the cause for separation. Jesus is the Christ. He is risen again. I have no doubt. I look forward to the day I can be in His presence again. In His name, amen.

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Funny backpackers

Now being the human being that I am, I must admit that I do not run gracefully nor normally (assuming there is a normal way to run). My dearest older brother's wife wrote a post on people who run funny on their blog. It got me thinking about how people run...but not at the gym. Circumstances of normal everyday life.

Unless you are a small child (all of whom look absolutely adorable in this instance), running with a backpack produces all kinds of ridiculous arm swinging and off balance issues. Being a college student, I have been late to classes a time or two (maybe more but that's not the point of this post), so I've had to run with a full backpack uphill to campus which is even worse! Heavy-laden backpack flying in crazy circles behind me, arms pumping wildly to the side to counter balance the stupid swinging backpack, legs straining to keep the rest of my body upright...Let's just say I know I won't get attractive points for it.

a small (ish) child running in a backpack

Now running in heels only applies to women, but who really looks attractive running in heels? I mean really? (besides the mega-human celebs, who SLEEP in high heels) If you hit a bump or a rock you're sure to collapse an ankle or break your knee from the fall. The taller the heel, the greater the negative effect it has on your running abilities. Besides, the heels have a way of finding cracks to wedge themselves in, mud to get stuck in, unevenness to catch on, etc. No bueno my friends. 

apparently they have races, finish line pictures looked painful...so I went with this one.

Now it's unfathomable to me that anyone has the ability to run in poofy snow pants, clunky snow boots, and a huge marshmallowy winter coat THROUGH the snow! I know I can't. It's not graceful in any sense of the word. Plus, the possibility of falling flat on your face, in the snow might I add, spikes to almost 95%. And I'm not talking about Oregon 1" type of snow...I'm talkin 2" per minute Logan Utah type of snow! You have tunnel your way to places on the first day and no running or you would disappear...literally.

They're getting paid to look happy about it.

To go along with the snow idea...running on sand. Talk about frustrating. If you're on a beach and you're close to the water, the sand is relatively packed making barefoot running a paradisical exercise. However, move 5 feet away and you've got a running nightmare. Every step sinks, plummets, plunges, shifts, rolls, or dives under the impact of your feet. To run the equivalent of a marathon, you need only run the length of a football field, you'll take the same number of steps in a MUCH shorter distance. Super-duper tiring (especially when playing frisbee or football...ugh). The end.

See how slow they're moving...?

But...if you move 5 feet closer to (I really mean into...) the water, you have another problem. Water. Lots of it. Moving against you whichever way it's going. Now there are a couple different options for running in water. First: high-step running. You feel like a majestic horse (only animals look good running through water in real life...and Bay Watch...which isn't real), tramping over the water and gracefully plopping your feet into the watery depths (if you ask me...you look ridiculous if you're completely serious while doing it). Second: slosh-through running. Keeping your legs in a normal running rhythm and motion, you can only get a few steps before your upper half's momentum carries it way too fast for your lagging bottom half and you take a swim instead.  A much preferred mode of exercise anyways...

I know that as a normal human being, I've experienced these, each in their own awkwardness and ridiculousness. If you are one of those exceptional few who can sail through any and all obstacles presented here...don't judge.

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Scottish traveling

The rain splatters across my windshield. The wipers scrape a grating rhythm. Poor weather stripping makes loud air whistle to get inside. No sounds but for these, the rain and wind. Besides its setting, the sun has long been hidden behind inky wet clouds. Hills and mountains shrouded in billowing fogs.

My long drive from the "Welsh" city, made mysterious by the dark mists. Cars few and far between increase the stretch of darkness.

Misty Highlands from ancient times, feel close. Looking through the mist to the darkened hillsides, I can almost see long ago Scotsmen. Bagpipe reeds drone a melancholy melody through canyons and ravines. Kilts of various tartans and half cloaks blend in a bagand procession. A longing rises in me.

The lands of my ancestors. The British Isles where much of my heritage hailed from. There has always been a deep longing within me to see the green covered lands of lore. The luring pull of unseen places and beguiling stories of yore, entice my mortal existence to adventures.
 
To see my homeland, turned into such a place by spring rains, always turns my mind and heart to those lands that lie so far away.

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Glowing inside

I sit inside this decaying mortal body. I've been trusted with its care. It functions well. But every moment is precious. Although there is strength and physical hardiness to be found, my gift is fragile. Any moment could find me flying back to the presence of my God, leaving it behind.

My beautiful perfection has been marred by some of the things it does. I feel bits of me being chipped off by the sheer depression of a mortal mind and the weak faltering of a carnal nature. I try to stop it. To warn it but while I am in this body, my voice goes unheeded a lot. My voice. It used to ring through the halls of heaven, but now it's small and quiet, barely a whisper. 

Words of encouragement drizzle down on me like warm summer rain. There is nothing else comparable to this feeling. The voice of the prophet of the Lord carries in it the voice of my Savior. My Redeemer speaks to me through his servants, words composed to lead me through the darkness into His everlasting light. The love and light in their eyes reminds me of moments before this life. Of a Heavenly Father and Mother. I swell with happiness and fill the shell that holds me here.

First Presidency

These are the moments that regenerate the light within me. The channel that mortality hinders, opens up at their soft words. The more light my mortal lets in, the less I am pushed back. The abundance of light that this gathering and teaching has provided always stitches a part of me to my frame. This is why I'm here in this body.

To become what my Father is. Light.

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