Crumbling

When I make plans, I make them big (by plan I also sometimes mean that-scenario-I-play-out-in-my-head). But the problem I've found is that "plans" have little details that need looking after. It usually involves the agency of other people.

So it goes like this...

I run through possible scenarios of a situation that I'll soon find myself in inside my little noggin. Usually I have really awesome come backs or life-altering ideas for my end of the scenario and it is always performed with finesse and just the right amount of everything to make my responses perfect. The other person is either quite speechless with my verbal prowess that anything they say is flat out weak or they agree completely and wholeheartedly with what I have to say. So my "plans" are usually foolproof.

Until I get to the actual real-life play out.

Things usually go all sorts of wrong. I am nervous and shaky so my voice is too. The words I planned on using end up in corners of my brain that are only to be found when in fantasy mode. The surroundings end up skeewompus and so I am flustered. My perfect scene is to remain on the drawing board inside my own head.

Most of the things that end up interfering with my perfection, have to do with those other blasted people that end up involved in the real life situation.

So instead of saying or doing it the way I had imagined they said or did it, they use their agency and do their own thing. Gasp. Those wretches.

So one tiny deviation from my own imagined scenario and my whole "plan" crumbles into tiny teeny unsalvageable pieces. Then my plans are a moot point.

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The Path Ahead

I don't pretend to be a good writer. I just try to make things interesting once in awhile and if it suits me, I share the thoughts and feelings inside me. Feeling very pensive on this fine Sunday morning, this is one of those times.

Sometimes in life the path ahead is unclear to me. Things that happen along the way make me pause and overthink all sorts of nasty thoughts.

The destination is clear.

But there are times when the path has been overgrown by a thicket of doubt or a tree has fallen in front of me that takes much effort and pain to clear.

Since General Conference (2) is coming up this next weekend, I have been pondering a lot of things in my life. God has promised me so many great blessings and given me many blessings that I have done my best to appreciate. But what an impatient creature I am. I want these blessings now. I have not the patience it requires. Because of this impatience...I falter. I stumble. I doubt and fear what is ahead. That maybe I'm not going to receive those blessings after all. 

But God is great. There is no one more trustworthy than God. It is my weakness that bars the way. But it is through His strength that I will overcome.

I may not know my pathway's journey ahead but I do know that God knows it. He is the Master who loves me and will lead me through all that I may encounter. He knows and understands my pain and in Him will I trust. 

D&C 24:8

"These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation; but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world." -John 16:33

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A word on being cut open

6 am. That's when I have to be there. 

NOT when I have to open my eye lids to a dark world.

NOT when I have to awake myself and arouse my faculties. 

NOT when I have to take a shower to scrub the special antibiotic soap all over my bacteria-ridden body. 

NOT when I have to prepare myself for my doom.

NOT when I have to leave my home to get to the hospital. 

I'm the first 'case.' That's right. The lucky girl that arrives at 6 am. 

6 am. Oh how I haven't missed you. Lucky for me, I get to be knocked out for a couple of hours to make up for it. That's when they cut me open. Yup. Like in the child's game, Operation. 

Tools needed...true story

Only for real. 

Due to many hilarious stories of delirious post-anesthetic behaviors, I'm leaving my phone in the care of my beloved mother who will be sane and drug-free at all times. She will be in possession of the device whilst I am in a drug-induced craziness. Until such a time that I can coherently converse with you lovely peoples.

SO nothing too scandalous if you please. It's my mother who'll be reading them. Just sayin.

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Stress is like a hole in my stomach

Sometimes I want to scream like this.

And other times I want to go crazy like this.

But most of the time it ends up coming out like this.

Roiling and broiling in my little tummy. One little spot at the bottom starts to burn.

All the heat focuses. White hot fire lances everything around it.

Nothing wants to come into my mouth. My stomach clenches and starts to get all wrinkly like a raisin inside my body. Everything starts to erupt like Mt. Vesuvius. 

But I can't explode. Everyone else is keeping a cork on it and it looks silly for one person to explode by themselves.

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Woe is me...

Many days had passed since my grand adventure. Laughter, good company, and great stories would never fade from my memory. But there is a small amount of remembering that fades with time. Specific wording to a fantastic joke, complete conversations that changed my life, or merely the look on Betsy's face when Jacs told her to change out in the wild...

But wait! Pictures can speak a thousand words. Written travel logs can replace the memory that fades. Pictures of good times, taken in the confines of a cabin in the woods, taken at the top of cliffs, taken in the three hours it took to reach that place, taken on horses and saved to the memory card for later viewing.

Alas, I cannot blog on this wondrous occasion as I do not have the pictures or the travel log to do it with. I am sinking into the depths of despair and woe.

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And did not know it. What!

This little delight is me trying a hand at poetry. I spouted it out one day when I was feeling especially pensive about life and the "elusive future" (as Pres. Monson puts it) in store for me.  We all search for answers to what will happen to us as time goes by. Although I still sometimes worry about my future I know to whom I can turn for solace and comfort.

They say it like it's my choice. But how could it just be mine?
It can't be up to me alone, can it? That would be too easy.
The world isn't run on one girl's dreams.

And if it were up to me…would I choose the lighter road?
My decision weighs on the balance, not balances the weight.
Destiny doesn't change for one heart's high hopes.

In the divergence before me, I know what end I want.
Easy trails and smooth walking don't describe that road.
Life won't slow down for my feeble knees.

To take a step in one direction, I need to have courage.
But to reach that goal however, I can not walk alone.
He will walk beside me for my faith.

The world may not care for my dreams. He does.
Destiny may throw my hopes to the wind. He holds them in his own heart.
Life may push on without me. He won't move forward leaving me alone.

No matter the path I choose.

I usually have a hard time accepting the possibilities that life holds for me. There isn't enough solidity for me but that's exactly how God planned it. In order to progress I must take a step in the dark hoping to find ground beneath my feet. The solid ground of my Savior, who will always be there to support and succor me.

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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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Long-legged derby

On a regular day; just like any other; I find myself at the gym running to my heart*s content. Being very competitive by nature; I feel quite proud of my speed for running and my aloofness to the physical exertion. I glance to the man beside me. His is a higher speed. No need to hide my running prowess. I amp it up and drive my little legs to match his speed with ease.

My peripherals watch his easy strides and compare to my own quick short steps to conform to the speed that we both have set. I must lengthen my steps. My legs welcome the stretched out pace and slip into the new stride length.

Not more than a few seconds later the young man increases his pace. The nerve. His posture still suggests that the pace is easy and slow for him. Blast. The height to leg length ratio is vastly different between us two individuals. What to do? I gauge my energy reserves and decide that I can handle it...for a little while. I stack my courage and punch the button. The going gets a little tough. My legs are getting tired and wobbly like jello. Sheesh. He makes it look easy. His legs are as long as Ponderosa Pines!

My breath comes out in short little puffs and my energy quickly runs out. Now I consider myself to be quite in shape. But honestly those of us with shorter legs must produce more reps per minute in order to cover the same amount of distance. This long-legged young man continues to take a stroll while I struggle on. Of course the time comes that he leaves for another part of the gym walking nonchalantly and my allotted running time comes to an end, I fall off the edge of the treadmill barely maintaining equilibrium. 

Oh the woes of a short-legged life.  

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misericordia Domini inter pontem et fontent

The ground is hard. It hurt a lot when I fell on it. My mother had to let me go. I want to cry but I don't know how. I can't see her. I don't have eyes yet so life is dark around me. All I can do now is feel and listen.

My entire being shakes with the rumblings of the earth. Noises penetrate my protective shell. She gave me that protection when I was still with her. Days go by I think. I feel the warmth of the Big Light each passing day. He is essential to my growth. But I can't grow much right now. It isn't the right time.

It gets really cold for a long time. It's so hard to survive on my own. Luckily the Light still comes around. It's nice to have someone to rely on. Whenever He shines through the snow I know I can make it at least one more day through the bitterness. Sometimes I just wish that I could grow all the way and be done with this stagnation. But the whisperings of my genetic coding cautions me to continue my dormancy. I do not understand the world around me yet so in order to survive this frail existence I must abide.

I don't know how long that part of my life lasts but I feel the snow melt around me. The warming soil lets me sink down into its protective depths. The voice of my instinct nudges me and whispers encouragement for my future.

It's time to grow.

Time has no measurement in my life. But it is of the essence that I am timely. My size seems to expand and I press against the walls surrounding me.  The protection of my shell has always been such a comfort to me, but I must not be restrained. With all of my might I burst through and see warm darkness. The warmth is a promise of seeing my old friend the Light.  

My roots sink deep into the Light-warmed earth and I anchor myself here. I soak up the living water and essential nutrients that saturates the warmth. I can almost feel my body filling with light. I have so much growing to do.

The surface is near. I can feel the air touching part of my searching fingers.

I break the surface. I have eyes. So many eyes. To see the world and the Light and His brightness all around me. I can't take it all in fast enough. There is so much wonder. I stretch out my first arms and devour the brightness from the outstretched rays of the Light. My entire body leaps into growth almost like a fire burning! I grow as many arms and hands as I can. I want to be closer to Him. It seems like such a hard thing to do. But every little piece of my body yearns to get closer to the Light.

Sometimes huge creatures move past. I see them ingesting the bodies of some of my family. This scares me but I push past my seedling fears to keep growing. I can see that I am still smaller than my mother. Her familiar love provides a canopy overhead. I see in her my own potential. Can I really get that enormous?

The voice that is always with me, my guide and my protector, fills my tiny mortal with hope.  It tells me of my future. I look within and see...the possibility of Me.

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Gamers

The dating game is very much like the childish game of tag-you're-it. Both genders are playing and tagging one another, running around trying not to get tagged by the ones we don't want to be and hoping to get tagged by that certain person. Then if you're tagged you go for that person again. Sometimes two are lucky enough to find someone they like playing with alone and end up playing their own private game.

More often than not we all find the game gets really large. Tons of children come join the game and the entire schoolyard is our playing field. If only it were that simple.

The dating game has so many more rules and complexities. Most of the time the game starts with the male player making his move, followed by a reciprocated movement by the female player.

In my experience the game goes so much better when both key players are trying to win. If only the one is playing and the other isn't, the game goes nowhere, it is at a standstill. The one playing gets frustrated and the other doesn't understand why they are getting so emotional about a mere game.

But if the one competing is smart they will end that game and find another gamer. There's too much time wasted in trying to finish the game with them to the end knowing you'll come out finishing but leaving them behind.

The worst type of game played is when the time runs out and extenuating circumstances causes the game to end abruptly. Both players are left feeling unfulfilled and hurt.

A lot of times one of the players will decide that they need a break and leave the other sitting alone at the game. Or they will look around and see other games or other players and decide that they don't want to finish out that game they were playing and again leaving the other player alone.

Many times, there are female players aplenty, waiting and hoping for someone to notice their game set up, and come start a game with them. Sometimes, they are waiting a long time. The dating game is different than all other games played in this entire world because of one thing. The heart.

Anyone can play a game of tag and lose and still feel good about themselves.
Anyone can play a game of frisbee, lose and have hope for the next game.
Anyone can play a game of Canasta, lose by just a few points and still be happy.
Anyone can play a game of golf, hit the ball too far and have a good attitude.

But no one can play a dating game, lose, and still feel good about themselves, have hope for the next go around, be happy, or have a good attitude. Some are really good about getting over the hurt quickly. Others are really good about hiding their pain. A lot get discouraged and pack up their game, not willing to invest that part of themselves again.

There is more invested in a dating game than just time or effort, the heart is the biggest player. The heart is the end goal and the incentive. The heart is the means and everyone's biggest secret. Everything in the dating game revolves around the heart and affects the heart. That's why it isn't like any other game. We risk a lot more than we might get back. But then, when there is finally someone with whom we find our happiness, it all becomes worth it and the previous pain and hurt goes away. That is what the whole point of the dating game is. To find that happy ending. To get to the happily ever after.

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To the finish

Life is full of endings. It starts with an ending and we finish it off with the ultimate ending. Some endings are happy. Some endings are sad. Some endings are triumphant. Some endings are of defeat. And perhaps there are endings, that aren't endings at all. Maybe there isn't any such thing as endings but perhaps, merely chapters.

A book more often than not, follows the storyline of one hero or heroine. There are many characters along the story. Many come and go in the story's line of sight but that does not mean that that is their ending. We simply cannot follow their story at the same time as our hero or heroine's. And the end of the chapter isn't the end of the story by any means. Even the end of the book isn't an ending. It is where the story teller simply wrote a conclusion and stopped telling the story.

An even more drastic ending...a head stone to a grave. Sometimes they tell the story of the person that lies beneath them but always is written the start and stop of their time on the earth. We don't know the continuation of their story because the Great Storyteller stopped telling us their story. Instead of endings, perhaps we should call them finishes. It was the finish of the story at the end of the book. It is the finish of mortal life on the earth when we die. There is never an ending because there is always more to the story and there always will be.

Life is full of finishes. It starts with a finish and it ends with the ultimate finish. Some finishes are happy. Some finishes are sad. Some finishes are triumphant. Some finishes are of defeat. And perhaps there are finishes, that aren't finishes at all...

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