Family time!

          For the Holidays, my family and I played games, ate amazing food (and I think I gained a few more pounds than I would care to admit...), and shared some laughs. We also took our family pictures! This was long overdue since we have two new additions to the family, and the last family pictures we took were when I had not the most flattering bob haircut and two huge buck teeth. Let's not talk about it.

          I wish you all a Happy New Year! May 2013 bring you all the joy and happiness you wish. 

Two Coats.

          With working two jobs, I have had many encounters with many different kinds of people. A lot of those people have the biggest hearts and a good sense of humor.
          While folding little girls t-shirts with pictures of puppies and glitter on the front, I heard a woman's voice behind me, "Excuse me, I'm looking for a coat." I turned around and saw a grandmother in raggedy clothes. I thought she was talking about getting a coat for herself, but she went on to tell me that her two granddaughters were in need of a warm coat for the winter and she needed to buy one for both of them. After helping her find two little coats, I asked her if she wanted me to get her anything else. Without hesitation, this sweet grandmother looked at me, smiled, and kindly said, "No thank you. You have a wonderful Christmas." I watched her walk away to buy the two coats in her hand.
          I stood there awestruck at what had just happened. Here was someone who was in need of so many things, and yet she was very adamant at getting something someone else needed.
          I reminded me of the Savior. How He sacrificed everything for us. He died for us. And He gave us everything. So now it's the time of year when we get to celebrate His birth. Let's not forget the reason for the season. Give to someone in need.
          I hope that we can all remember what the Savior has done for us. Have a merry Christmas!

The Homestead.

Growing old is a bittersweet thing. Your hair turns gray, you forget things, but the memories that do stay with you are cherished things.

Today I went to The Homestead. A cozy little old folks home. The first stop was June's room. It was the first time I have ever seen her, but I could tell that as soon as I walked in with two of my roommates that her day just got brighter. She saw the guitar and ukulele we brought, and immediately asked us to sing for her. When we were done, she would ask us to sing one more time again and again. When the singing was done, we asked her about the old picture above her chair. In the picture was a beautiful young woman with a huge smile on her face, standing next to two horses. As June explained the picture of her horse Chauno, she seemed to recreate this memory in her mind with such clarity when she had lost so many others. Every now and then, while talking about her horses, she would drift off. Then, realize that she had to finish her story and would reluctantly come back to the present time. "The time I had with him wasn't nearly enough", she said as she thought about her cherished friend. She daydreamed out loud about giving him a big hug when she takes her journey to heaven. Before we left, she made sure that we sang one last song. We each gave her a tender embrace and left with a smile on our faces.

The next stop was Zeruah. She shared the story of a particular day she remembered from high school. They all gathered in the gym, and brought in a radio for everyone to hear President Roosevelt declare war. She talked about paying 25 cents at the movie theater to watch the newsreel. That was the only way they could get caught up on the war. She talked about living in the Great Depression, and waking up from nightmares about not being able to get food stamps. That was the only way to get food, and she was scared. No wonder that was one of her few memories. She too, made us sing and sing. With a big smile on her face, she reached out for a hug before we left.

Now, sitting in front of an open door feeling the cold night breeze against my skin, I think about my own memories. About the memories that I will make, and the memories I will try my hardest to remember when I grow old, like Zeruah and June.

The Walk.

I walk home with a warm feeling in my heart. Comfort. Peace. I'm walking with a spring in my step. The cement beneath my feet is hard and cracked. I walk with the words of Sara Bareilles flowing through my mind. I look over my shoulder at the sun that has turned into a hazy shade of bronze. And yet the sky around it looks overcast from the wildfires in the far off distance. What should be the smell of fresh air has now turned into the smell of campfire. I feel the breeze brush softly across my face and through my hair.

I walk and look at the cars passing by on Main Street. Wishing that they would all slow down, get out of their car, and take the same slow walk that I am taking now. Put all their troubles aside, and just walk. I daydream the impossible as I walk past the hair salons, ice cream shops and craft stores. Everything is just the way it should be. 

I walk into my apartment and look at the smiling faces of my beautiful roommates. Either doing homework or playing the guitar or laughing at something funny they found on Pinterest. I smile and think of how lucky I am to be surrounded by wonderful daughters of God. 

I walk into my room. I open my laptop. Turn on the song that was the names sake of this blog, and start typing. Hoping that the right words come out. And think about the walk home.

The Blue Dolphins.

This weekend, I went to Utah with my cousin and best friend. While there, I stayed at my aunt-in-law's house. (Yeah, try and figure that one out.) She and her husband have three children. Two little redhead twin girls Payton and Teegan, and an energetic five-year-old boy named Macrae. The second day we were there, Macrae had a soccer game with his team, The Blue Dolphins. I was really interested to see how this was gonna pan out...two teams of five-year-old kids playing soccer?

We drove out to a big field where tons of little boys and little girls wearing neon colored jerseys were playing soccer. Let me just tell you, it was one of the most hilarious things I have ever seen. These kids would run/waddle together in one big huddle, all trying to get the ball, and all trying to understand what their parents and coach were telling them to do. And no matter what direction it was, they would kick the ball straight in front of them. The parents and coaches were a little more enthusiastic than the kids. While Macrae's team played, one of the dad's was yelling, "Sienna! Get! The ball!" The grandmother next to us would yell, "Nice job number 16!" or "Yeah that's right Megan!" Seriously. They were like football fans. Then when someone would score, it was like they were celebrating New Year's for 30 seconds. These parents didn't mess around. The coach of the Blue Dolphins was a nice man who just wanted his little soccer team to win. One girl on the team had gotten her hair clip knocked off. She ran to the coach, waving the big blue flower in her hand and asked him to put it back in her hair. The coach quickly put her hair clip back in, and the little girl ran back into the game along with the coaches dignity.

Let's just say that I tried to hold my laughter in the entire time. You would too.

It's The Little Things.

I'm always amazed at how much of an affect the little things can make.

Turning up the radio on a hot day and rolling the windows down.

Looking at old yearbooks.

Laying in the sunshine.

Taking the train.

Putting on friendship bracelets you made when you were a kid.

Taking the dog out for a walk.

Listening to the sound of rain.

Going to the park.

Talking and laughing with Mom.

Reading a book.

Going to church.

Racing to the front door with your sister.

Walking around downtown.

Going to a Sounders game with Dad.

Seeing old friends.

Long talks.

Laughter.

Flashbacks.

I had a conversation with my sister the other day. We talked about maturity. About how in the moment, we always think we're being mature. Then years later, we want to punch ourselves in the face, and we realize how silly we actually were. This made me think on all my past years as a silly girl. 

Before kindergarten, I remember looking out the window at my older brother and sister as they walked to the bus stop. Longing to do the same. Yearning to do whatever they were doing. If I did what they did then that meant I was cool. I remember my sister getting frustrated as I always wanted to take part in her birthday parties. She would give a dissapointed look to my mom as I sat with her and her friends, copying everything they did. But every night without fail, after Mom tucked us in and told us to go right to bed, Kinsey and I would talk ourselves to sleep. She got the top bunk, it was cooler. 

I remember Junior High. We had a schedule. And each subject had a different teacher and a different classroom. I remember going to Orientation and seeing the friends I hadn't seen for 3 months during the summer. All the boys seemed to be a little cuter than I had remembered. Embarrassed by the metal crap pulling on my gapped buck teeth and overbite, I was an awkward little twig of a teenager. 4th period was gym class. I dreaded that class like none other. The first time we had to run the mile, I found a sweet girl named Krista who possessed the same amount of hatred I had for running. We soon became best friends. 

It was time for High School. I was 16, always wishing that one of the handsome senior jocks would somehow notice the timid sophomore girl waiting to find romance. It seemed like the halls were lined with couples. I soon realized the heartbreak that can come to a dramatic teenage girl after my own involvement in the dating scene. I was convinced I would never date again, and that I would end up with 17 cats. After graduation, I couldn't wait to start my new life as an adult. Livin' the high life.

What was once juvenile thoughts of cute, popular jocks and 17 cats, has now turned into dreams of a horse camp for special needs kids, learning how to play the guitar, and getting through college. But who knows? Something might change along the way.