Nothing. And Romance.

I want music. But good music. Music that speaks to your blood. That makes your heart race and your toes curl. That caresses your skin and tells you fairy tales of men and places, people and feelings. That takes you through an entire story and at the end says "You've been here before." I want that kind of music. And I'm not finding it. I'm stuff about front seats and back seats. What my name is. Who my doctor is. How someones boyfriend is an alien. How the world is ending...but we are going to just keep on dancing. It's getting ridiculous. But what this is really about is my dream last night. My naked dream. But not in a bad way. I was totally aware of it. Some guy friends came by and I was all naky and they were like "Want to go to the store?" And I was like "Guys I'm naked." And they were like "Dude! We were thinking about going to the store naked too!" And it was decided. I would go to the store naked. And we walked. And I was holding a baby blanket, that was not covering the goods, and a lawn chair. Odd. And we were like, heading to Vons and I was totally cool with me being naked. Until I saw the bus full of children and my morals kicked in and I was like "Oh crap schools out. Guys I can't be naked in front of kids." And I was suddenly self conscious that they had clothes on and I didn't. And they were cool with it. They just shrugged and we turned around and I glided home on my cool lawn chair. And then something else happened after that. I think we went to...a theme park? Idk I just had clothes on in that part of the dream. Weird. My other dream, which I think is a total sign, was of a zombie apocolypse. And I was rockin it. And Preston W. was there. And he was not rockin it. He kept letting infected people in. I don't care if it's your gf she ain't coming in our makeshift hut! Gah! So frustrating. But yeah, I was taking down some peeps. On the for reals. Just come to my house when the Zombie apocolypse happens. It's cool.

Big happy smiley happy face

So I noticed going through my posts that I'm kind of a downer. Or maybe just that last post was super ridiculously sad and bitter so here comes a super happy happiness post. My broham (Charles) plays lacrosse and his team has been winning but wait for it....last game he scored FIVE of the...I think TEN POINTS. What what?!?! Yeah, the only athletic Hanshew. Represent. My mish. What what?!?! Yeah. Oklahoma better be ready! Cause I know I am. The fam bam. Craziness cuteness pie. They want to throw a going away party for me. Three months before I leave. The idea still makes me laugh. I think I'm holding them back pretty well though. I keep telling them I have ZERO friends. They laugh at that and say 'Then it can be a family party." Sweet. Work. Suck. Skip. Books. Yeah! I can read! And I love it! Succession of three days off. Yeah. Have to take it. Whatevs. Maybe I will go back to D Land. Yes ma'am. Running....you suck, skipping as well. Clothes. Oh what up?!?! I don't know how to dress for Oklahoma. It's kind of embarrassing. Whatevs they're all hillbillies down there anyway. I'll fit right in. Um....that is all.....at least on the happiness scale. I'm just a flurry of all things emotional. Cool. Keep it real people. Keep. It. Real.

One flew over the cuckoos nest

Sometimes I feel like I'm crazy.
And some days I feel like I'm the only sane person in the world.
And then there are days where I feel like everyone is crazy and all you can do is manuever your own craziness.
And then theres today.

Today is just a timecapsle of wth? People. You're the spice of life. I got it. But seriously, can't you just leave me alone? I don't want to deal with people, or see people, or hear about people, or have to talk to people. I'm tired of people.

Not all people obviously. My boss=superman. He's amazing. It's ridiculous.
My mom=Called me 'cool' yesterday. Actually I believe she said I was 'so cool'. I don't think anyone has ever just come out and said I was cool. It was kind of magical.
My fam=spice of life. My life at least.

But everyone else can go the heck away. On the serious. I'm tired of you. I'm tired of dramatics. I'm tired of craziness (especially if it isn't my OWN). I'm tired of manuevering around being nice and politically correct, or even socially correct, or even just correct. I don't want to be hurt that someone isn't talking to me. Or they're angry because I didn't talk to them as much as I did to someone else. Or simply because I was there.

HOW DO THE PEOPLE OF JERSEY SHORE DO IT?!?!?!?!

I wish I had a bunch of guy friends because honestly...they're so much better. Women are dramatic and crazy. Men keep it so black and white. And it stays that way with them. You never have to wonder if someone isn't talking to you because something that they said was about you and suddenly you have to wonder what you did that made them mad. No. If a guy isn't talking to you it's simply because he's busy. Or has nothing to talk about. It's amazing.

So please Tuesday, get uncrazy and awesome. For me. Thanks.

The Call

"Have you checked the mail box yet?" It just hit twelve. The mail was suppose to come at eleven.
"It isn't here." My mothers voice says to me. I pause. Something sounds off. Is she lying?
"You sure?" I double check.
"I don't think I can really screw up checking a mail box." I had to give her that. "When were you expecting it?" I sighed my heart dropping.
"Well I was hoping today but I didn't think it would come this early. Probably not til next week...or even the week after." I add as I count how many days it's been since my interview. Only twenty four. It felt like alot. My mother assures me it wasn't here and to be patient. I get back to work, my heart sunk for the week.
I get a call back from her within two minutes. I answered confused. We just talked. She rambles for a moment about my brother and picking up the car before finally saying.
"I lied, it's here. I wanted to surprise you but your brother is taking so long picking up the vehicle." As if the extra two minutes would matter to me. I jump for joy. Yelling and exclaiming my breathless happiness as quickly as possible. She is happy with me and wants me to open it immmediatly. We don't. I wait, somehow. Until after work. As I am driving home, I'm purposfully avoiding the white envelope next to me. The contents of which scare me, possibly to death. Or at least, denial. What will they say? Where will they send me? I'm scared and excited. But it is my fear that keeps me from ripping open the envelope and ruining the surprise for everyone.
I recieve a call from my father, who is at work, letting me know that we should hit the house at the exact same time. I slow my vehicle down. How am I suppose to open this letter? How am I suppose to face my fate? Where will I go?!?!?!? How will I do?!?!?! I immediatly decide I'm not ready for something this big. As to how I even got to this point is completely in question. I'm not strong enough for something like this. I'm not smart enough, I don't know enough. Every fear that I could have is filling me and as I enter my house I hide in my room.
Everything is the same. My house is the same. My family is the same. My mother is cooking, my brother is playing on the tv, my sister is skyping, my other brother is at work and my father hasn't gotten home yet. It appeared I was the only one freaking out. Like my world was being turned upside down and inside out. Like I might have to turn down this opportunity. I search for the strength that brought me to this opportunity and slowly crawl out of my room as my dad walks in.
"Alright let's do this. Where's mom. Okay, where's Kayla." I make myself known and take a seat. Everyone pauses their life and moves towards me eyes just as weary as mine. And in that moment I pause.
I forgot.
I forgot how much this will affect them. I forgot how much they share my fear and desire. I forgot that they want to see me happy. I forgot that they would be missing me as much as I would be missing them. And with my Dads eyes bright (he's the only one that went on a mission) I open the page and read out loud where I will be going.
"Oklahoma, Tulsa Mission. English speaking." That's all I can get out. I burst into smiles. My family cheers and applaudes. My Dad couldn't be happier.
"Perfect, I won't have to worry too much." Everyone agree's, copying his statement. I keep reading the letter.
"I report to the Provo MTC July 6th." More smiles, everyone agrees this is good and continue with their life. I walk to my room my mind spinning.
I was sure I was going Spanish speaking......I thought....I thought I would go out of the US....I wanted to go out of the US.....Why do I want to know Spanish so bad if it wasn't to prepare me for a mission lord?......
I don't understand why I would have such a strong desire to learn Spanish if it wasn't for this. And as I go through my papers I get this feeling. This perfect peaceful feeling that this is right. And suddenly I get swarmed with all of these thoughts.

I had always wanted to go visit little towns.

I had always wanted to get away from the city (see this post, and then this post, both of which seem completely ironic right now and yet so fitting).

I'm not ready to go outside of the US.

This is perfect for not only me but my family as well.

Baby steps.

I don't think I can properly state how badly I have wanted to go visit the sticks of middle america.

And above all else was that feeling. That perfect feeling that this was meant to be in ways that I can't even see. And then I got online and saw this:

Consider the deal sealed.

It's here

It's here. It's beginning. It's legitimate. It's great. It's scary. It's....amazing. I don't think there is anything I can't say as of today, including: I've never been so scared of a little white envelope before in my life.

I, Kayla Obriann Hanshew, have been called to the Oklahoma, Tulsa Mission, English speaking. I report to the MTC on July 6th, 2011 (five days after my birthday) and all I can say is; YES.

Hello mission area (Yes, it does cover FOUR states)

And yes it will be my home for eighteen months. I will be seeing lots of-

And even some

And I don't think I have ever been so excited for anything in my entire life! And I want to write why I think so but not in this post.

What?!

I'm crazy. I've simply decided that.



Reason being: I want things. Things that, if I got, I would have no idea what I would do with them.



That picture in the last post. I want it. Bad.



WHAT THE HECK WOULD I DO IN THE MIDDLE OF NO WHERE?!?!?



I love the city. I hate the city as well. But I'm by no means a freaking cowgirl. I LOVE the internet. I love people....and Del Taco. WHAT WOULD I DO WITH ALL THAT OPEN ROAD?!?!?



Nothing! I would stare at it....and then be like "Where's Del Taco?"

Saddest part? I still want that freaking open road. I want it for so many reasons. I want it as a symbol, not as actually being in the middle of nowhere (though I do still want that [just with a Del Taco]).

Crazy much? Well yes. Thanks for noticing.

Today

This is how I feel today.

A boy, a girl, and a graveyard

Weird title, no?

It's a song.

An amazing song.

To which lyrics are sung.

Amazing lyrics.

Which include:

Lucy takes the long way home.

Meets me in a field of stone.

She says I don't know how I'm suposed to feel.

My body's cold my guts a twisted steel.

And I feel like I'm some kind of frankenstein, waiting for some kind of shock to bring me back to life.

But I don't want to spend my time waiting for lightening to strike.



What?!? What?!?!?!!? Perfection? Why yes, yes it is. And because I like to share (and man is this worth sharing). You can find that song here. You're welcome.

Yuck

Today has not been good.

I woke up this morning and weighed myself WHAT WAS I THINKING?!?!?

I'll tell you what.

Oh it won't be that bad. I was down four whole pounds. I walked Disneyland twice in a row, that's ALOT of excercise. I didn't do THAT bad this week. I mean...I walked Disneyland twice. Pure excercise for a total of like....twenty six hours. That is ALOT OF WALKING. That would have counteracted the bad. Right?

Nope. Nada. Zilp....more words for no or none.

I had gained seven pounds. SEVEN POUNDS. Now I'm a big tall girl and honestly I can fluctuate ten pounds in a day pretty easy. Well gain ten pounds that is. I never lose ten pounds in a day....or atleast not yet. But I am pissed. And what's worse? I saw it coming. I was checking myself out and knew...just knew I've gained weight. And then today I saw the tell tale sign.

My ankles were gone. MY ANKLES. I love my ankles!! They've sometimes been the only thing that keeps me from thinking I'm past the point of no return on the obesity scale. AND THEY'RE GONE.

So I'm hurtin majorly right now. And I'm going to run. Because I have to.
This is the heaviest I have been in almost four years. Maybe this IS the heaviest I've been in four years. And that puts me at only ten pounds lighter than the heaviest I have ever been in my life. MY LIFE. So I'm going to go running tonight. I'm not going to go crazy or anything. Just see how far I can run in an hour. And then I'm going to run the next day and the next and the next. And I'm going to keep running until I hit the point that I am running ten minute miles. And until I get my effing ankles back!! I'm freaking out here man.

And I want to give up as much sugar as possible. Which really scares me. Cause I don't think I eat that much sugar. But that's because I've never had to cut myself off from sugar and see how much I actually eat it. I'm thinking of alot of things I need to change. I want my ankles back. :(
Pictures of said kankles/all things fat and nasty are soon to come.

Boys

I have two brothers. One Older than me, one younger. And I have a dad. And Uncles. And male cousins. So I know alot of boys...guys....males? And then there is just information out there for the world to find. Movies and books, television and plays. Boys are depicted everywhere. Sorry, males. I'm not trying to say that every guy I meet acts like a child, I'm simply calling males boys.

So I think I know boys....or can at least expect certain things. No chick flicks, don't get all emotional and crazy on them, they don't understand how women work, don't talk periods, don't expect too much sympathy, they aren't very good at being gentlemen, they're pretty immature, they're kind of crude and sexual, and very focused on the physical aspects of women and they really like to talk to other males. And a whole lot of other slightly bitter stereotypes.*

*Not to say that I think all men are pigs or sexist or disgusting or jerks I just kind of clumped them all together for some reason. My bad.

Well that isn't true at all.

I just got to spend a little over forty eight hours straight with a group of four guys, which isn't a lot, but they weren't anything I thought they would be. I was preparing myself for...farting and hitting on ladies and being ignored and rock music (they're all young guys). But I got none of those things. I met a guy who has a greater Disney collection than I do. Was I ignorant enough to think it made him slightly less manly? Yes. I'm sad to admit it but yeah. I thought it was weird. But then I got to know him a little more and I found....he just liked Disney. And soft music, and acoustic versions of songs. He was in the air force for a while. He's now a security guard. He carries a gun and threatens people for a living. So, yes, I was expecting some Rob Zombie. But I never got it. I got Pocahontas and Aladdin. And it was Heaven. Suddenly I wanted MY husband (future husband that is) to like Disney. I wanted to be able to snuggle to Little Mermaid without him thinking he was doing me a favor. I wanted to be able to listen to Disney soundtracks and not have him make fun of me for it. And this man, this amazingly kind man, was so sweet. I made fun of him, constantly, his music, his car, his....dad like accessories (Sunscreen? Really? Yeah I used some. So glad he brought it). And all he ever was, was nicer. He found music I would like, checking to see if what he put on was okay (I tried to not be too picky, I was just shocked he listened to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir so much). I changed into a Mumford & Sons shirt for the car ride home AND HE FOUND THE ONLY SONG HE HAS BY THEM AND PLAYED IT FOR ME (without saying anything. It was adorable). And it just got better from there.**

Another kid, whom I have known for FOREVER and love dearly, talked about how women should be dressed less skankaly now that it looked like it was going to rain. What guy gets GLAD about that? They were respectful and nice, they never became demeaning or perverted. And I don't know if they were on their best behavior for me and my friend but it was charming. Suddenly I became the only person that said the crude jokes (that's what she said?). And the line of respect between men and women grew. They were careful and secretive with us, they never got suggestive even in joking. They never pushed the line of (BIG SIDE NOTE I am so tired today I CAN'T THINK OF ANY WORDS. I'm like....sexuality?....What does that even mean?)...anything. They never pushed any line. They were careful and respectful. And I loved it. I mean they were still guys and joked about getting numbers but it was so....different. Suddenly it became M.I.L.K. Mother I'd like to kiss (KISS!! How adorable is that?!?). And M.I.L.T.T.O.A.D. Mother I'd Like to Take On A Date. They knew their lines, and they didn't even joke about crossing them.

So as we are driving back to Las Vegas, and I'm in this car full of Disney Music and one Mumford and Sons song, and Disney pins and cute gifts for girls they like and I see a billboard sporting a lady with no top on, one with no pants and then one with a girl dancing suggestively in short clothing and I....I just want to cry for them. I want to take all this away. I want to make it easier for them. I want to keep them so...sweet.

And my respect for them went through the roof. I sometimes forget exactly how hard a guy can have it in this insane world. How if they aren't ready to jump the next girl that crosses their path they're called gay or thought something is wrong with them, and then if they do act like a dog in heat they are considered perverted. It's such a hard line to walk and these guys aced it, in spades. So if I can just say, ladies if you are looking for a man to marry that is respectful towards women I have four.

**The reason his kindness was such a big deal is because....he wasn't into me, I wasn't into him. We're friends. And I found (especially in the singles ward) if they aren't interested in you as a mate...they aren't really that interested in you. And then their kindness and patience for you as a human being goes out the window. Sad, but true. So this is really my reminder about how hard boys have it along with how they restored my faith in males by just being nice, nothing expected, nothing wanted, just nice.

Disneyland

I was gifted the opportunity to go to Disneyland this week. I took it.

I love Disneyland. Who doesn't. And I don't get to go often (This would technically be my third time, but the first time I went I was like...two...so I don't count it) so I was extremely excited. Even more exciting was who I was going with, fun people. Funy boys and a girl, that I have known for years (and some I haven't ever known) and good times were to be had. And I was right.

We left late Monday night, very late, eight. Which wouldn't have been a very big deal EXCEPT I hadn't slept very well the night before because I was giddy as a school girl that I was getting to go to Disneyland. But Gary (my new friend) drove and I hung in the back and insulted his car, and then his music, and watched the lights of Vegas fade and the open road call to us. And we traveled and traveled. And then ate at In n out in Barstow. And then finally we were at the hotel.

Now the deal with the hotel was...well alot of things, we shared a room. SHARED. Four boys and two girls. It was hilarious. But not at first. I was nervous at first. Not because I thought anything would happen...well obviously I was nervous SOMETHING would happen but not anything bad. I just had never had to share a room with so many boys that weren't family before. (I'm going to blog about these boys on another post, this one is simply about Disneyland, but stay tuned, I have been completely wrong about men before)

We finally got to bed (at two) and were back up about six. We had breakfast and finally got to Disneyland about ten thirty (it takes a LONG time to get six people ready and fed when sharing a room). And I got on Pirates of the Caribbean. Can I just say what a great way to start Disneyland? It was simply magical from there. But my favorite part of the day? Well I have so many but I will list only.....four.....

4. Lochlyn Monroe-Have you ever seen night at the Roxbury? Well it's the best friend Craig. Yeah, that guy. We met him. Yep. He was in line at Toy Story. Celebrity spotting, holla.

3. Toy Story-That game is simply fantastical. I wish we could have done it more than once (hour long wait. FULL HOUR)

2. Spending all day with four hilarious guys-Just plain fun (see "Boys" post as to how they renewed my faith in huMANity)

1. Fanstasmic-I ALMOST MISSED IT. I went to World of Color, everyone else went to fantasmic, but by some almighty power that be I made it back and they saved me a seat and my mind was blown. Seriously. I even recorded some of it. It was the greatest thing ever.

Best part of day two? Easy.

Riding Big Bear Rapids ten times in a row at eight o clock at night to see who would get hit worst with the water....then freezing for the rest of the night. Totally worth it.

Did I have fun? Um Yeah. Would I do it again in a heart beat? Um heck yeah. Just another item checked off my mission bucket list. So amazingly fun. I miss it already. I would even share that freaking tiny room again.

Impatient

I'm getting impatient.



I want my mission call now. Right now.



And I think I still have four weeks to go. I'm dying.



I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop.



Okay, President Waite didn't say no. But Salt Lake will.



And every moment I don't have my call that thought grows bigger. I have gone through such a roller coaster of emotion through out this process, shock, denial, guilt, meekness, pride, courage, hope, inexperience-ness?. And now impatience. I've never been impatient like this before. My impaitience always follows with Well now you have more time to prepare. Well there is always the possibility you aren't suppose to go. More time to spend with family, friends, job, Disneyland, Mumford & Sons, LIFE.



But now my mind is changing, it's wrapping itself around this idea, this plan, and it's sucking it in completely. I'm letting my head and heart become attached because I don't think I'm going to back out of it, or that it isn't going to happen, or preparing myself for failure. I'm desiring it wholeheartidly.



Now when the call gets here who knows how I will feel, but I want it. Now. I want it in my hands, I want to know where I am suppose to go and when I will be leaving. And yes I am still terrified. But I'm excited now. So excited that being scared doesn't even faze me (right now at least) it's kind of just there. And it's probably always going to be there, and I'm okay with that.

Blind

Why do we demand that the other person say the first words? Why do we only proceed if the other person has given the okay?


I always feel like I'm the instigator.


That I make the first move (and even at that, I only do when I KNOW the other person likes me [or have a very strong inkling]).


And I don't want that today.


I want to sit back and let the other person do all the work.


I guesss I'm just better at keeping things light.


But not today.


Today I want them to charge ahead. I want them to spell it out. And I want to act surprised.


That is all I am asking of you today Universe.


Please let Mr. Hottie walk up to me and call me Mrs. Hottie.....And let Mission Prep be inspiring. But that one is more for you Lord.


Today I was called blind, but I'm okay with it cause he said Mr. Hottie is blind too.

"What's the worst that could happen?" I scoff. Did he really just ask that? What a married noob thing to say.

"What couldn't happen?! He could scoff at me or say something mean like 'Boys with butts like mine don't talk to women with guts like yours.' or Simply stare at me blankly before, you know, never talking to me again. I could get rejected in front of the WHOLE SINGLES WARD. Or I could simply lose his amazing friendship." But really it isn't his friendship but the fantasy of being with him that I'm scared of losing (whether by rejection or just really crappy reality, either or). And my boss stared at me before finally admitting "Alright, but your both still blind."

And two blind people never find each other.


Someone has to be the first to see. And today, I just don't want that person to be me..because this guy is different. I feel vunerable around him. Like, if this happened, he would have the upper hand. And that scares me. So I'm standing back, and letting him do the talking. Maybe one day I'll step forward and speak up, but definitly not today.


Maybe tomorrow.

My panic attack

I have had a problem sleeping lately. It's so odd. I like the idea of sleep, normally. Actually, the more I think about it....I always have a problem sleeping, I'm a very light sleeper. It's somewhat extraordinary since everyone else (excluding my papa) sleeps like logs (Do logs even sleep? Who comes up with these crazy sayings?!?!). But I sleep lightly, unless I am completely out of it (which has been happening a lot lately), and I am awaken constantly. Well in the past-oh i don't know-year or so, I have had trouble falling asleep. I either don't make a move towards the bed, because I see it as my enemy, or I just lay in bed and can't turn off. And you can't hate sleep, because it's sleep, and sleep is the nectar of the gods, but I hate the time before you go to sleep. Where you lay in bed and think about life. I used to not hate this time. Heck I used to look forward to it. Plan out how early I could go and lay in bed and scheme up awesome scenarios with boys and how they would rescue me. It was magical.



And then I got into a car accident.



It was a minor one, no one was severely injured. It was raining and my car was really really old and the tires were bald and I lost traction in a turn and hit a wall. Car was totalled though (i still don't understand how, I was doing like fifteen miles an hour) and I had to say goodbye to 'the boat' as we so aptly named it. But when I got home from said accident (and every day after for a good three months) every time I got into bed all I could think about was how I wrecked the car. And how scared I was, and how scared everyone was, and how mad my mom had been, and the fear and the cop and how my baby cousins were in the car at the time.



And then I hated the time before bed. Because suddenly the world came crashing down on me. I would feel like I was being suffocated by my mistakes and the things I couldn't do and my future. It was horrible. And so I started staying up late, ignoring my bed until I could barely keep my eyes open and knew I would get into that bed and pass out. No thinking, no guilt, no fear, just blissful sleep.



And I don't think I have ever really shaken that process. I still feel guilt about the accident but nothing like back then, it's more of just a stepping stone for me, a bad memory. But I still fight sleep. I play on my lap top, and ipod, and listen to music. Anything to keep from being empty and undistracted. It's a horrible habit to keep. I push all of my worries away during the day and then face them at night. It's horribly unproductive. AND it keeps me from sleeping.



So last night, I'm laying in bed, I had pushed myself as far as I could go (it was like twelve thirty [which is late for me]) and finally decided it was time for bed, i was ready. So I lay down, fully expecting to simply pass out and suddenly I thought about my mission. And how I was going to be expected to teach these beautiful people that wanted to learn about the gospel.



Their knowledge and entrance into a religion and truth that I believe in wholeheartedly rests on MY shoulders.



I couldn't do it. I wasn't a good example, I was flawed, I didn't know enough. I didn't have every story of the BOM memorized, or know why Jesus left himself out when he spoke of 'being perfect' in the bible because he hadn't been resurrected yet (obviously I learned it the other day) I don't know the history of the church backwards and forwards, I didn't know about the book of Abraham, or the persecution of the church in these latter days. I didn't know the exact difference between exaltation and salvation. And these are just the things I know I didn't know. I'm still learning about my ignorance every day. It's humbling and daunting, and horrible. I know I'm not a religious scholar, nor am I an apostle, but how can anyone honestly expect me to teach people when I am still learning myself? And I laid there and thought about denying my call, and what everyone would think, and wondering why I got myself into this situation when my ran circled around three things.



1. D&C 4:3- Therefore, if ye have desires to serve God ye are called to the work. Not if you're the smartest, not if everyone thinks you should go, not if you're really feeling up to it, not only if you want to. If ye have the desire, you are called to the work. I might get this tatoo'd to my forehead (kidding, kidding).



2. If you have fear, you are relying on yourself. When you rely on the Lord, there is no fear. This was just taught to us by a sub in mission prep. It's amazing how something so simple is so true.



3. If you love everyone around you, and everyone you are expected to teach, like the Lord does you will have no fear. It's more of a continuation of number two but it has been running through my head constantly aspecially after I was asked to teach in Relief Society. If I look at everyone with the love I know that the Savior has for them, I will only wish that they get to partake of the gift that I also have. I won't worry I'm not going to know enough. I won't worry they might make fun of my accent, I won't worry that they might think I'm stupid or that my testimony sucks, I won't worry that they might think I'm ugly. And even if they do, I won't care. I will know I did the Saviors work, that I laid the bait for them (another mission prep lesson, that mission prep class is amazing) and that If nothing else, I planted a seed. No matter how small that seed may be.

My Serenity

I'm calm. Oddly calm. It's wonderful.


I feel like my head is swinging in a hammock in the Bahamas. My body on the other hand wants to run and dance, sprint even, shake and tumble. It wants to burn some serious energy. I want to go and walk eight miles and go home and crash. That sounds blissful.


But back to the calm.


My head has stopped. It's simply empty. And I love it. I wish my body would catch up. Normally it's the other way around, my body is always lazy, my mind doesn't normally just give up like this. I honestly wish it would more. I have no....expectation. And I mean that in the best possible way. I normally drain every possible thought and action with wants and desires for more. But I'm so content with everything that...it's like I'm high. I could sleep for days, mentally, physically I'm eyeing my back door to see how far I could walk. The store? The church? The mountains? The desert? Where would I stop? Never. I love it.


I'm high off of my interview. It's starting to stick. I'm going on a mission (well there is still people that could say no. Or I could always get hit by that drunk driver [according to my dad at least]) but if all goes well I will be leaving on my mission the Tuesday after my birthday, July 5, 2010. A day after my grandpas birthday and the birth of this wonderfully free nation. Where could I go? Where will I go? But my mind doesn't spin at the possibilities anymore. It smiles at them. It's like my mind just birthed a child after being pregnant for eight months, it's all smiles and no worries, it's just glad the baby is out. I've hit the eye of the storm. ha ha I like that. I should really enjoy this peace. Man I love this peace. It makes me weepy though. All I want to do is cry, but from joy. It's so bizarre.


But even at the bizarreness I just smile, I don't think I can't smile. I hope I'm like this on my mission. High off the spirit. High off the love. High off the knowledge.


I want this for the rest of my life. I want to say something profound to make everyone understand how this feels. To spread some of this warm liquid honey gold love onto you but I'm not much of a poet. But for you, I will try:


My heart is warm
You'll see
My heart is warm
For thee
Keep it warm, make it last
For this moment, it shall pass
And when it does our heart will quake
And from this dream we will wake
And search again for what comes from within
But don't look far, for our sight is wrong
And man not so strong
But He holds it in his hands
With a smile oh so grand
And gladly He gives it back
For his love He does not stack
And warmth floods through you again
And you remember exactly why you love Him.

It happened

I did it. It happened. I went and had my interview. I want to say "it's done" but that is so far from the truth it is laughable. I might as well name this blog "it's starting" and I very well might so please do pay attention to the title.



I had my interview. And I laid everything on him. I mean everything....I really don't know what I was thinking. Probably something along the lines of "This guy can excommunicate me...right now." Or "I am so not worthy to be here right now." Or maybe, "I so have to poop." Which, I didn't, but you know...sometimes when you're really nervous...your body reacts in really odd ways. But he didn't excommunicate me or send me to the rest room, he was actually extremely nice. We talked, and talked, and he asked me some questions and I answered them as honestly and efficiently as I could.*



*Immediate Side note-Does anyone ever get in front of your Bishop or Stake President and want to talk their ear off? They could ask the most mundane simple Yes or No question and suddenly they also need to hear how you came to this decision and how your mom yelled at you one time and how you almost broke your leg at girls camp and how you got your job and grandma! don't forget about grandma! and it all pertains to why I sustain President Monson just give me a second I'm getting there. By the third question I finally just forced my mouth closed after the initial, premature, excited "...Yes!..." I'm sure I looked crazy, another reason I'm wondering why he said I was good to go.



Anyway, we are interviewing and I am acting crazy (at this point my excitement and my nervousness cancelled each other out and I was simply a numb twitching mass of flesh) and I'm trying to show my eagerness and my spirituality in each of these Yess's but I doubt it's coming through and he's kind of just staring at me (he has the BEST poker face) and slowly I'm building myself up for a "No.". I'm sure it will be kind, but it will still be a "No.". And just as I'm starting to wonder how much longer he can drag this on for he looks at me says

"When will you be leaving?" And I kind of take a second to think this through (after my vomit of the mouth I was actually thinking before speaking) and I tell him.

"My birthday sir, July 1st." And he nods.

"Four months? Good." And I kind of let that sink in. Good? Why is that good? Of course I don't say these things because part of me agrees with that. Yeah I need that time. I need to learn this entire freaking religion all over again. I need to shop. I need to save up that money. I need to get that other suitcase. I need to see Mumford & Sons. I need to figure out how I am going to say goodbye to my family. I may need even more time than that. But I just remain quietly twitching. He smiles a little.

"You're going to need that time. You need to prepare." And then he stands. "Sister Hanshew I think you are worthy and ready to go on a mission. I'm going to submit your paperwork to Salt Lake."



And I just remain sitting.



I don't want to act too surprised because...well because that just looks bad, but I was surprised. I was ready for a very kind but very firm "You aren't ready.". So I sat there. And he kind of stared at me. And then he started inching around his desk slowly, waiting for me to defrost a little. It wasn't until he was behind my chair that I noticed he was heading to the door. So I stood, probably too quickly, and thanked him, and thanked him again, and then bolted out of the room. I hit the hallway and almost repeated that I could go, just so I had witnesses. "You're secretary heard! You can't take it back!" But I didn't.



Now It was my turn to inch down the hallway. Slowly, scared that if I stayed around him too long my vomit mouth would return and I would say something and he would look at me funny and suddenly rethink if I was ready. Maybe even call me back into his office. But he was just so nice, he either overlooked my absolute insanity or didn't notice because as I was trying to escape he was telling me about the program and when my papers would go in and if I had the missionary handbook and how he knew my family and how he would give me a call after the paperwork was submitted and introduced me to his secretary (my witness) and I smile and smile some more and try to say as little as possible. Until he finally noticed I was almost in the main lobby and about to explode in contained freak outs. He smiled again and said "I sit at my computer and go through those on Fridays." And I smile and thank him again and head to my car, but can't get away cause now I see people I know and I'm still numb and freaking out but now I'm just excited too and I explode in a much too happy "Hi." And she says "Well Hi! What exciting things are happening in your life?" And I'm like BAM sign, vomit of the mouth here we go again.



And so it begins. I really hope I get this mouth thing under control before I enter the MTC, or give my farewell talk for that matter...

Losing it

This is it. I've lost my mind. I'm freaking out.

March 1, 2011.

Todays date, you say? No big deal, you laugh.

No. It is a big deal. It's a big deal to me.

I have a meating with the Stake President in t-minus six hours and seventeen minutes and counting.

Yeah, big deal.

He is going to talk to me and decide if I am ready and or worthy to go on a mission. Yes you heard me, a mission. A bonafide mission.

Which is just as scary as it is liberating. I'm freaking out.

18 months? Without my family? Impossible.

Freaking. Out.

I finally finished the BOM (and no that isn't some funky way of saying bowl movement, it's The Book of Mormon) and that was peaceful but now...oh now I'm freaking out.

Cause everything could go well, everything could go exceptionally well, and he could look at me and say 'Yep, you're awesome, and super cool, really funny, and smart, beautiful as well. You need to go on a mission.' And a little part of me (or maybe a big part of me) will die inside cause that means: 18 months of no family.

Might as well kill me.

Actually no, that was dramatic. But it is going to be hard. Really hard. I'm kind of a home body. And I kind of like my family. Are we crazy? Yes. Weird? Extremely. Perverted, disoriented, odd, mean, violent to each other(in a loving way)? I have the bruises to prove it. Yes. Does that mean I can go 18 months without them? No. I'm putting alot of faith in the lord, and a tiny bit of faith in myself, that everything will turn out okay. That I won't get out into the field and ten minutes later turn and say "Okay experienced it. Yep, great spirit. Lord you sure are cool. Now take me home."

......and yes i did do that at girls camp my first year.....

Can I go awhile without them? Yes. A week? No sweat. A month? Most likely. 18 months? Huh.

You know what is getting me through today? Either 12:27. Cause we all know I have alot of weaknesses.....but I'm still freaking out. It's just all inside now.