when illness leads to elation

It wasn’t the "happiest" day of my life. Oh, I could, I suppose, lie and say that it was the most magical moment of my life, and that I will never forget it. But I don’t want to. I am a realist. And although I often crave a sappy romantic comedy on occasion, I am not much of one for corny so-called romance.

On this day, the most holy of holies when it comes to “love,” I am filled with the desire to reflect on the day that, although it wasn’t the best day of my life, changed my life forever.

Most girls I know couldn’t sleep a wink the night before their wedding. I slept like a bear in hibernation. It was all I could do to open my eyes and slam the alarm off once I awoke to its happy tune. “Ugh,” I thought. “Who wants to wake up this early on a day off work?” I rolled out of bed and headed home. On the long drive along the Wasatch Front, I was overcome with doubt. What if I am making the biggest mistake of my life? Once this happens there’s no turning back. Am I absolutely sure this is what I want?

You see, dear reader, I have been independent since I was three, just ask my mother, and a single adult woman for the last eight years. This was a change of life-altering proportions and I was leery that I wasn’t prepared to make it. I arrived at my apartment too late to go to breakfast with my roommates as I originally planned. It didn’t matter really, because I was too sick to my stomach to eat even one bite of the cinnamon rolls left over from the reception. As I prepared for this eventful occasion, my roommates taunted me with jeers about how the rest of my day would go. I wanted to run away like Julia Roberts. That horseback ride was looking terribly inviting. But I knew what I was supposed to do and I arrived at the temple just in time to rush through the doors and be swept away in a whirlwind of change.

My anxiety grew, however, when my mom was not there to greet me. I was sick. It was as though I had just consumed an oozing, disgusting 20 lb. undercooked hamburger (Thank you Matt for that analogy). I thought, “Who can get married without her mother there?” Thankfully, my dear friend Meghan Maxine stepped in and filled Momma’s shoes. While I love and appreciate Meghan for her sacrifice, someone at the temple actually called her my mother when she is, in fact, younger than me, this substitution did not help the churning in my stomach. Eventually, Mom arrived and Meghan was relieved of her duties. Together my mother and I continued the process as I continued to feel ill.

…

“Yes.” The utterance of those three minuscule letters changed everything. I felt as if an overweight wrestling champion had been lifted off my chest. I had just made the best decision of my life. As we were walking back to the locker room after the ceremony, a white-haired, grinning old lady stopped me and said, “Oh, good. You look so much better. I thought you were going to throw up before.” I have always been told I wear my emotions on my face and this moment, apparently, was no exception.

I walked out of the temple that day holding the hand of my best friend. The days that have since transpired have been the best of my life. I get to wake up every morning to the smelly dragon breath of my very own prince charming. Like a kid on the playground, I get to play with my best friend whenever I want. As I have always said, like Bailey from one of the greatest TV shows ever created, “I [wasn’t] excited about the wedding. I am excited about the marriage.” While I know it is probably tough for my husband to read how awful that wedding morning was for me, I hope he knows that now he is the center of my universe. I am blessed that he stuck by me on that rocky terrain towards marriage because if he had not, I would be the same cynical, unhappy twenty-something mess I was a year ago. He makes my days better. I love him more now than ever before. I am aware there will be ups and downs, that my days will not always continue to be my happiest, but I don’t want to look back on that one short event as the only happiest day of my life. I want to see it instead as a moment that was a gateway to an eternity of bliss, morning breath, dirty gym clothes all over the floor, breadcrumbs on the counter, nerdy face twitches, and all. The ups and downs and the person I get to share them with are worth more to me than that day. Here’s to many more "happiest" days.

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone. My how life changes.  

An Attitude of Gratitude

One day is not enough.
How can one possibly quantify the gratitude in a mere 24 hours?
I am aware that many argue that it is a scheme, but it's one that I am grateful for. You see, without it, I wouldn't be writing this post, bright and early on a Sunday morning.
I have sung her praises before, but I am going to do it again. As well as the praises of many women whom I love; who have filled the role many times.

She is the most loving soul I have ever known. She is also the most patient (bless you as you watch your roof come down all around you). Without her sure foundation and testimony in the gospel, especially the atonement, I would be a wayward daughter. She has taught me, temporally and spiritually, much of what I know through word and deed. She makes me laugh all kinds, especially when she tells the same story over and over again. And I could sit and watch her interact with her sisters for hours. They jiggle when they giggle and discuss the manner of slipping organs--it's beyond my comprehension, but I love it. She has more compassion than I think I will ever be able to develop. She has a love for all God's creatures (especially her grandchild). This clip from the Simpsons pretty much sums it up.

As I have said before, I am eternally grateful for my mom. No amount of greeting cards, flowers, literature from Deseret Book, or cheesy poems can express that gratitude.

But thank you, Mom. For everything. For the good times and the bad. For the undying and loving support. I love you! Happy Mother's Day.

And to the many other women who, though they did not birth me, have shown me motherly love...

• I am also thankful for the mother who made sure I had a birthday party when I turned 16.
• I am thankful for the mother who took me in--Oh, that small town charm-- when I wanted to go to college all by myself (even though I really needed a little help).
• I am thankful for the mother with a household of boys who has accepted me as the daughter she never had on her own.
• I am thankful for the many mothers who have taken me in during the summer months, so I can live rent free and teach youth the gospel.
• I am thankful for the mother who immediately loved me and took me in as her own, just because her son had a soft place in his heart for me.
• I am thankful for the grandmother who created four of these wonderful women.You done good, Bonnie Jean. 
• I am thankful for the grandmother whose fiery wit I have been blessed/cursed to inherit (not to mention my towering height).
• I am thankful for the mother who created my sage adviser, without whom I would be quite lost
• I am thankful for the young mother, with her house overrun with testosterone, who has always encouraged me to go after my dreams, and then listens to me when I fail (and when I succeed sometimes...)
• I am thankful to the mother who has raised my brother to the bar of fatherhood and created the most gorgeous and intelligent little girl I have ever known. 

To these women, and many more, I am more grateful than words express. I hope that if I am ever given the opportunity to be a mother, I can develop even half the Christlike attributes they all possess. Happy Mother's Day, Ladies! 

When Human Anatomy Meets Greek Mythology

What I am about to share with you are just a few of the many important reasons to keep sex education a part of the health curriculum in Utah.

This past week my students got the opportunity to take a test on a recently studied piece of literature. I asked the students if they had any last questions before they took the test. A hand shot up and asked, "What's the name of the Wind God?" I was prepared to tell everyone a hint without completely spoon feeding them the answer.
Before I got a word in edgewise (always gotta have a cliche) this student's friend blurted out, "That's easy, it's anus."
To which I replied, "Close, you got the 'a'."
I didn't know what else say. The entire class erupted in laughter, and that one I simple could not squelch.

But this was just the first class.

Later on in the day, the same question came up. I was busy taking roll as the students' anxiety built as they awaited their assessment. I overhead the following:
"What's the name of the Wind God again?"
"I think it's something like areolas."
I chose to take the high road and stay out of that conversation.

It is clear to me that a few lessons in human anatomy are in order. Mom, Dad, it's time to get to work, since you don't want the hooligan public school teachers leading your children astray.

Afforded Awkward Opportunities

People who have been married for many decades seem to think they have the cure for my disease. The problem is that they have been cured for so long, they don't remember how strangely awkward it is like being in the diseased shoes.I know they mean well, but nothing good can come from a mass blind date. That's right. Hundreds of socially awkward inept twenty-somethings trapped in a cultural hall subject to mass produced supper.
Imagine this: you get "asked out" through text message (and I use the term "asked out" loosely because I put my name on a list and was assigned to man who did the same. Furthermore, the text did not actually contain a question, negating the notion that he actually asked me out. But I will give him some credit. He sent a text, right?). Winner. Now go to a church meeting house and throw in some incredibly loud 80s music to the mix. Oh, but it gets better. Add a dash of over-talkative, non-listening companionship and you have the answer to all my woes.
This will not be an experience repeated.
My favorite part of the entire ordeal: the bribery of free ice cream to any couple who agreed to go on a second date. The priesthood leadership literally walked around afterwards and asked couples if they needed the coupons for the free ice cream (indicating that they would, in fact, be going on a second date). Afforded awkward situations. I love being a twenty-something spinster.

Hyped up on Hypocrisy

The following is a soapbox post about my sometimes considered extremely liberal ideals.

Seriously, don't keep reading if you think it might upset you.

You were warned.

Today was the national "spread the word to end the word" campaign. As I donned my t-shirt of support, I was struck with thoughts of intolerance, ignorance, and disrespect (oh, not my own. Actions I have witnessed). I understand being an advocate for activities you support and morals you stand behind. But there is a difference between being an advocate for conservative ideals and being cruel and, quite frankly, unChristlike.

Allow me to explain a situation that occurred today, which was not unlike an average day in the life of a middle school teacher. A young man was being interviewed about his love for dancing and a video was shown demonstrating his clear aptitude for the skill. As a student was was watching the interview, I overheard a suggestion in a derogatory tone that, of course, he must have a certain sexual orientation because of the things he loves. My response? His sexual orientation does not matter. He is doing what he loves, and he is incredible.

Furthermore, on any given day I can walk through the halls between classes and hear various students call each other retarded and gay in a teasing manner like it's no big deal.

I am in shock and awe. I don't understand. Why can't we raise our children to have respect and love for people if for no other reason than they are human beings just like us. Why is this kind of behavior tolerated? I don't understand how people can call themselves the followers of Christ and do and say things that blatantly hurt their brothers and sisters. (I know, I know. Aren't I being a hypocrite because I am judging others? I will not justify my actions other than to say that if my judgement leads to at least one person thinking twice about the derogatory terms that slip past their lips, and he/she determines to make a change, then I consider my sin a success in that I making the world a better place and bringing one soul closer to Christ). I feel that if we truly understand our relationship with our Heavenly Father-who we are as his children-we would never want to do anything to cause harm to any of His other children. Whether they choose to believe it or not, He loves all of us equally.

I would never suggest that people should be out advocating for things they do not believe in. But I am bold enough to suggest that if these people are true Christians, they would not let such hurtful and slanderous words escape their lips.

That homo you made fun of is someones child, best friend, or Auntie Jane.

When you poke fun at that retard, you insult a beloved child of God.

Don't get me wrong. It's not just sexual orientation or intellectual disabilities that I am an advocate of respect towards. I think all disrespect and intolerance for human life is deplorable. But for reasons beyond my understanding, these kind of disgusting remarks are tolerated in my culture. I hate it.

It is my sincerest plea that people contemplate the things they choose to say, and put themselves in the shoes of the people they choose to be negative about and towards. Respect should be universal.

Tomorrow's post is a trip back to the inspiration for this blog...assigned mass dating.

"You're almost 20, Alice. That face isn't going to last forever"

A title of a blog I never published. It made me chuckle on this holy day. Happy Single Awareness Day.

dedicated to the folks who birthed and raised me

Tonight I want to talk about the flip side of the coin. Although, as I have mentioned, this time of year is a tough one, at the same time, this time of the year in the life of this spinster is a joyous time of reflection. You see, my dear reader, my parents celebrate their anniversary on the eve of my least favorite holiday. This year they are supposed to exchange a pearl or a timepiece, which means, if you didn't click on the link, that they are celebrating their 31st year of marital bliss.

Tonight I got the opportunity to go home for Sunday dinner. As we all crowded around the "distressed" dinner table in the "cozy" dining room, I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. I have grown accustom to my very quiet and peaceful lifestyle in my spinsterhood. Without huge crowds and small children, my Sundays are usually quite calm. This meal was quite the opposite. There were times that there were at least three different conversations all intertwined. Children were laughing, crying, and mumbling on all four sides. At one point I couldn't help but study my father amid all the chaos. Since his is the quite type in social situations, it is often difficult to know what he is thinking and feeling as he is perched in the corner. Tonight, I saw signs of serene contentment. I could tell that through all the noise, tipped over glasses, and mounds of dirty dishes, he was delighted to be in the company of the legacy that he and my mother started together three decades ago.

My parents' relationship gives me hope and faith that the wonderful young man who will love me for who I am is really out there somewhere. They have loved each other through thick and thin (literally and metaphorically :D). They have been committed be they rich or poor. Through every trial they have triumphed together.

I do not doubt that there have been some bumps in the road, be they major or minor. But the childlike part of me idolizes their relationship. Allow me to explain why.

• In my one week shy of 26 years of existence, I cannot recall a time when my parents fought in front of me. I am so thankful for the example they have shown in this respect. In addition, I am fairly confident that my father rarely, if ever, raises his voice at my mother. This act has given me the courage to demand that quality in my future spouse. I want a man like my father who will not yell at me.

• As much as it grosses me out, and I say that with love, my parents still show each other affection. They still hold hands and cuddle when they watch movies (even as I am typing this I am gagging a little). I have seen them hug and kiss more times than I care to count.

• They have silly nick names for each other.

• My mother has shown me that patience is key in a healthy relationship (seriously people, she is the absolute most patient human being I have ever known). My father has shown me that restraint and a willingness to compromise is also essential.

• They have shown me that differences can be strengths. And if both are committed to the relationship, all hurdles can be jumped over together.
• Family vacations have always gone awry. And yet, they always find a way to laugh about them. A fabulous sense of humor improves all situations.
• They lack jealousy. They saw very awkward things at the dinner table like, "I can look on the menu as long as I eat at home." In reference to being able to find others attractive. (No joke, this line came up tonight. And unfortunately, it wasn't the first time I have heard it.)
  

I am so thankful that they have kept their vows to each other. They have shown me that despite the odds, two people can fall in love, love each other through the most difficult of circumstances, and create an incredible family and legacy.

Thanks Mom and Dad for all that you have done to show me how to love.
Happy anniversary! Here's to another fantastic, be they rocky or carefree, 31 years.