These are my last days.
These are my last moments.
These are the last pictures these eyes will see.
This is my last smile, to the last boy I will talk to.
The sun is brighter through my window, knowing it will die when I go.
And for this moment, this last fleeting moment, the world seems so perfect to me. So wonderful in all it's simple plainness I wonder why I wanted to leave it.
The pool I found boring, the pink sun kissed skin, splashes, all better than before.
The air is crisper, the time faster.
I love the art of dying.
But I love the art of living even more.
I, am happy.
Showing posts with label mission. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mission. Show all posts
Monday, June 27, 2011
Friday, May 27, 2011
Big Jet Plane
Monday, May 2, 2011
The World Around Us
I had a tough weekend this past week. On Thursday April 28, 2011 I found out that someone I love very very much could be sick, extremely sick, life changing sick. I cried. I did my homework, I checked life expectancy, I checked symptoms, I checked how it would affect that person and me and my family. And I cried some more. I thought about my Mission and what to do about that. I thought about my family and how things will change. I covered alot of ground. And we didn't tell anyone. We kept it to ourselves because we weren't 100% sure this person was really sick. We were waiting for one last, final, big, thorough test to tell us exactly what was wrong. And so I prayed. A quick prayer that asked Heavenly Father to help me, to get me through this, and to keep me strong. And I was okay. I made it through work, I made it through the weekend and on Saturday night I got on my knees and prayed again.
And I did something I don't normally do. I asked my Father in heaven something bold, something I knew he could do but I wasn't sure I was entitled to, I asked him to cure someone I loved, to not only grant me the strength to endure, if this sickness was his will, but if possible to take this sickness away, to move a mountain, my mountain. I cried, I cried because I wanted it, more than I wanted anything at the moment, but it felt selfish, and I knew that Heavenly Father doesn't give you what you want, but what you need. And so I cried because I thought I had already lost.
--Now I want something to be clear, when I got the news my mind split in two about my Mission, me going, or me staying. The sickness that this person had wasn't something that happened quickly, they could live another 20-50 years, but it was a somewhat unpredictable sickness in that it weakens you, so time wasn't always on your side. But more importantly was how my family was going to do with this sickness, could they handle such an important person being sick? And another thought hit me, it was something I had heard from alot of Sister Missionaries "It's amazing the things Satan will throw at you before your Mission to keep you from going." Was this a test? Was this Satan? And in that moment, with those questions, my mind snapped to one decision and clung with all it's might. I was going. Before I even said my quick prayer at work, through the tears and the wikipedia searching I knew I was still going. Nothing would ever change that.--
So during my prayer on Saturday night I did something I wasn't very proud of, I threw my Mission at The Lord, not an 'in your face' kind of thing but in a 'what about this?' way. A 'what about me? what about our plans? Why are you killing this person that I love and need?' and I fasted the next day. Keeping this person in mind and hoping for the impossible.
And I pushed all sadness away. I pushed away being upset and scared until we got the last test results back, until it was final. And I can say that I was....fine. Completely and totally fine. I'm not sure how I was going to be when I got the results back, when I knew that it was serious, that this person was sick and that wasn't going to change. But I was so....okay. I was also very sure and very ready to accept that this person was sick. That it was final. But I felt that my fast was already helping me because I was stronger, steadier. I was still sad, it was sad. But everything would be okay, honestly, looking back, I shouldn't have felt like that. At. All.
And then I saw this person this morning. Goll this perfect person, this person I love so much, and I talked to them and they told me a story about a sister missionary, and I cried a little as I drove away to go to work. And three hours later I got a call.
"Everything is fine. It was a false alarm. The Doctor doesn't understand what happened. He's pissed." And I was so relieved. Still am. I don't....I don't know how to explain it. I'm so....touched, amazed, inspired, shocked, awed, grateful for my Father in Heaven, for fasting, for prayers, for miracles, for my life, for my decisions, for my faith and at this moment, I'm most thankful for the ability, in two months time, to be able to share this gospel with everyone. To bear testimony to miracles, to faith, to moments in life when we don't think we can stand and to Heavenly Father who carries us. To moments when Heavenly Father moves mountains, and my faith, that is as small as a mustard seed. And the ability for everyone to have moments just like these.
And I did something I don't normally do. I asked my Father in heaven something bold, something I knew he could do but I wasn't sure I was entitled to, I asked him to cure someone I loved, to not only grant me the strength to endure, if this sickness was his will, but if possible to take this sickness away, to move a mountain, my mountain. I cried, I cried because I wanted it, more than I wanted anything at the moment, but it felt selfish, and I knew that Heavenly Father doesn't give you what you want, but what you need. And so I cried because I thought I had already lost.
--Now I want something to be clear, when I got the news my mind split in two about my Mission, me going, or me staying. The sickness that this person had wasn't something that happened quickly, they could live another 20-50 years, but it was a somewhat unpredictable sickness in that it weakens you, so time wasn't always on your side. But more importantly was how my family was going to do with this sickness, could they handle such an important person being sick? And another thought hit me, it was something I had heard from alot of Sister Missionaries "It's amazing the things Satan will throw at you before your Mission to keep you from going." Was this a test? Was this Satan? And in that moment, with those questions, my mind snapped to one decision and clung with all it's might. I was going. Before I even said my quick prayer at work, through the tears and the wikipedia searching I knew I was still going. Nothing would ever change that.--
So during my prayer on Saturday night I did something I wasn't very proud of, I threw my Mission at The Lord, not an 'in your face' kind of thing but in a 'what about this?' way. A 'what about me? what about our plans? Why are you killing this person that I love and need?' and I fasted the next day. Keeping this person in mind and hoping for the impossible.
And I pushed all sadness away. I pushed away being upset and scared until we got the last test results back, until it was final. And I can say that I was....fine. Completely and totally fine. I'm not sure how I was going to be when I got the results back, when I knew that it was serious, that this person was sick and that wasn't going to change. But I was so....okay. I was also very sure and very ready to accept that this person was sick. That it was final. But I felt that my fast was already helping me because I was stronger, steadier. I was still sad, it was sad. But everything would be okay, honestly, looking back, I shouldn't have felt like that. At. All.
And then I saw this person this morning. Goll this perfect person, this person I love so much, and I talked to them and they told me a story about a sister missionary, and I cried a little as I drove away to go to work. And three hours later I got a call.
"Everything is fine. It was a false alarm. The Doctor doesn't understand what happened. He's pissed." And I was so relieved. Still am. I don't....I don't know how to explain it. I'm so....touched, amazed, inspired, shocked, awed, grateful for my Father in Heaven, for fasting, for prayers, for miracles, for my life, for my decisions, for my faith and at this moment, I'm most thankful for the ability, in two months time, to be able to share this gospel with everyone. To bear testimony to miracles, to faith, to moments in life when we don't think we can stand and to Heavenly Father who carries us. To moments when Heavenly Father moves mountains, and my faith, that is as small as a mustard seed. And the ability for everyone to have moments just like these.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
A reasonably priced ticket
I am on the hunt for a reasonably priced ticket. Possible you say? Not. The tickets were originally $35.00 and that's how much I bought mine for. Well being the idiot I am I didn't buy a second. Why? Cause no one wanted to go with me but now well people want to go but I have no second ticket and the concert is now sold out. What that means for me? Triple prices on the tickets, if I'm lucky. I have now posted asking for a ticket for around $75 (not gonna happen) but I have also emailed people for tickets all around $100 (hope they still have them). So now I wait. Am I willing to go higher? Yes. Why? Because the ticket is for my sister and....well I'm a sucker for my sister. And everyone should have the chance to see Mumford and Sons in concert.
ALSO!!
I have a theory going. Wait for it.....I'm lucky.
No wrong word. I'm...blessed.
In the little things. This concert for one, remember this post?, and then I got to go to Disneyland and I was running late to church last week and I STILL made the sacrament (they usually get to that post haste) and just...well little things. I love it. So now I am on this little endeavour and we shall see how it all turns out. I'm so excited!
Hopefully I didn't just jinx myself.
ALSO!!
I have a theory going. Wait for it.....I'm lucky.
No wrong word. I'm...blessed.
In the little things. This concert for one, remember this post?, and then I got to go to Disneyland and I was running late to church last week and I STILL made the sacrament (they usually get to that post haste) and just...well little things. I love it. So now I am on this little endeavour and we shall see how it all turns out. I'm so excited!
Hopefully I didn't just jinx myself.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Unhealthy habit
Ever just say 'screw it'? Ever? Not even in a 'I'm going to forget about everything I have been taught in life and go on a drunken coked out murder rampage while naked' but in a 'let's go look at that one guys profile'. You know the guy. The one that "got away". I hate that term. It's dumb. And this post has alot of quotation marks, also unhealthy. Anyway I have this boy. I don't know if he ever got away because I really never got him. But he is very special to me because...well because I just really liked him. And I have this thing where if I liked you long enough and thought you were amazing enough, even if NOTHING ever happened, I will always hold that little part inside of me. That part that liked you.
So this boy Jason*, I liked allot. But we met in unfortunate circumstances (he was on his mission aka married to the Lord, literally. More unavailable than if he really was married) and so we were simply friends. But we were really really good friends. Like really good. As in...unnaturally good. Or maybe that was just me. But he came to our house A LOT. And we're members. So he didn't need to come to our house so much. But he did and I saw how funny and spiritual and nice and decent and amazing he was and I slowly grew a little crush that just kept growing and growing (because the Lord was in on it and he didn't move for FOUR FREAKING MONTHS) until one day I looked at him and well went all gooey eyed. And it was just bad.
So finally he got transferred well low and behold he was zone leader so he came by with the new guys. Nice thanks Jason. And then he came by again (and this was awesome because the new missionaries NEVER CAME BACK until this time) and then one last time and it was literally his last time. He came by to have us sign his journal because he was moving far away and wouldn't be able to visit. Well I was having a bad day and was held up in my room stinky, no shower, in bum clothes, didn't plan on moving for as long as possible and bam Jason's saying he won't leave until I come sign his journal. Well I was stubborn and said I wasn't coming out. And then Jordan called me out to the fact that you know I liked this guy and he was leaving and I could throw my email address in his journal and he could look me up after his mission. So finally after a couple minutes of inner debate (no, I didn't take the time to put on some make up or fix my hair I debated on going out there[and yes he really was waiting]) I finally went and he looked beautiful and I felt dumb but I signed his journal and I tried to make it funny and yes I did put my email address down. And my swanky mom managed to snag his as well and then he was gone.
And...suddenly I don't feel like finishing this story. It doesn't have a happy ending. It...he never got back to me. I emailed him and he never said anything and he never emailed me and then one day I found him on fb (yes I was looking) and I added him and he still, he never talks to me. And now I'm serving my mission forty miles from where he lives and I don't have the heart to tell him.
I had given up on him. Waiting and waiting, hurting, pining for him, hating myself because I thought I wasn't good enough. Until I finally said: no more, I can't keep hurting for this man. And then the dreams started. I never once dreamed of Jason while he was here or while I was hurting for him. It wasn't until after I gave him up that I had a dream and it was a bad one. He was mean to me. Horribly, horribly mean. Called me names and said what was wrong with me and why he would never want me. And it just opened up the can of worms all over again. I was hurt, hurt almost as much as if he would have said it to me himself, and then I was just mad. So mad I had half a mind to tell him off on fb. But I didn't. I somehow controlled the urge to throttle him and slowly I got over him again. I focused on my mission and where the lord wanted me to be. And life was good again.
And now! Now I'm forty miles from his freaking house! What. the. eff. Why?!?!? WHY!?!?!? And to top that all off I just had another dream. But this time it was a marriage dream. He wanted to marry me. He was engaged and saw me and decided to leave his boo thang for me. What is this?? Is this some sort of growing experience? Some sort of...torture? I mean if this is some amazing way of bringing us together than yeah cool awesome but if not....well than it is just rude.
SO the point of the story and then the rant is because this morning I woke up and decided a year a half of my life was pointless and checked out pictures of Jason. And he looked wonderful. And now I'm sad. The end.
*names have been changed.
So this boy Jason*, I liked allot. But we met in unfortunate circumstances (he was on his mission aka married to the Lord, literally. More unavailable than if he really was married) and so we were simply friends. But we were really really good friends. Like really good. As in...unnaturally good. Or maybe that was just me. But he came to our house A LOT. And we're members. So he didn't need to come to our house so much. But he did and I saw how funny and spiritual and nice and decent and amazing he was and I slowly grew a little crush that just kept growing and growing (because the Lord was in on it and he didn't move for FOUR FREAKING MONTHS) until one day I looked at him and well went all gooey eyed. And it was just bad.
So finally he got transferred well low and behold he was zone leader so he came by with the new guys. Nice thanks Jason. And then he came by again (and this was awesome because the new missionaries NEVER CAME BACK until this time) and then one last time and it was literally his last time. He came by to have us sign his journal because he was moving far away and wouldn't be able to visit. Well I was having a bad day and was held up in my room stinky, no shower, in bum clothes, didn't plan on moving for as long as possible and bam Jason's saying he won't leave until I come sign his journal. Well I was stubborn and said I wasn't coming out. And then Jordan called me out to the fact that you know I liked this guy and he was leaving and I could throw my email address in his journal and he could look me up after his mission. So finally after a couple minutes of inner debate (no, I didn't take the time to put on some make up or fix my hair I debated on going out there[and yes he really was waiting]) I finally went and he looked beautiful and I felt dumb but I signed his journal and I tried to make it funny and yes I did put my email address down. And my swanky mom managed to snag his as well and then he was gone.
And...suddenly I don't feel like finishing this story. It doesn't have a happy ending. It...he never got back to me. I emailed him and he never said anything and he never emailed me and then one day I found him on fb (yes I was looking) and I added him and he still, he never talks to me. And now I'm serving my mission forty miles from where he lives and I don't have the heart to tell him.
I had given up on him. Waiting and waiting, hurting, pining for him, hating myself because I thought I wasn't good enough. Until I finally said: no more, I can't keep hurting for this man. And then the dreams started. I never once dreamed of Jason while he was here or while I was hurting for him. It wasn't until after I gave him up that I had a dream and it was a bad one. He was mean to me. Horribly, horribly mean. Called me names and said what was wrong with me and why he would never want me. And it just opened up the can of worms all over again. I was hurt, hurt almost as much as if he would have said it to me himself, and then I was just mad. So mad I had half a mind to tell him off on fb. But I didn't. I somehow controlled the urge to throttle him and slowly I got over him again. I focused on my mission and where the lord wanted me to be. And life was good again.
And now! Now I'm forty miles from his freaking house! What. the. eff. Why?!?!? WHY!?!?!? And to top that all off I just had another dream. But this time it was a marriage dream. He wanted to marry me. He was engaged and saw me and decided to leave his boo thang for me. What is this?? Is this some sort of growing experience? Some sort of...torture? I mean if this is some amazing way of bringing us together than yeah cool awesome but if not....well than it is just rude.
SO the point of the story and then the rant is because this morning I woke up and decided a year a half of my life was pointless and checked out pictures of Jason. And he looked wonderful. And now I'm sad. The end.
*names have been changed.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Failing at life
I feel like I'm failing at life right now. I'm trying to accomplish three things.
Lose weight.
Prepare for the mission.
Finish your life here and don't screw up.
I'm failing at all three.
I'm not preparing for the mission as well as I wish I was.
I'm NOT losing weight.
And even though I haven't technically screwed anything up I'm not succeeding and that generally feels the same as screwing things up. AND I can't write to save my life. I have things I want to say but I just can't. I can't write happiness. I think I said that in my first blog. I'm just not good at it. The warmth that comes from happiness never seems to spread to paper/computer screens.
Fail.
Sucks.
Lame.
AND Mumford and Sons is coming on Friday and I'm not even as excited as I could be because I'm going alone. That's embarrassing. But I'm still going. Cause...well cause It's Mumford and Sons. I'm not going to throw that goodness away.
Lose weight.
Prepare for the mission.
Finish your life here and don't screw up.
I'm failing at all three.
I'm not preparing for the mission as well as I wish I was.
I'm NOT losing weight.
And even though I haven't technically screwed anything up I'm not succeeding and that generally feels the same as screwing things up. AND I can't write to save my life. I have things I want to say but I just can't. I can't write happiness. I think I said that in my first blog. I'm just not good at it. The warmth that comes from happiness never seems to spread to paper/computer screens.
Fail.
Sucks.
Lame.
AND Mumford and Sons is coming on Friday and I'm not even as excited as I could be because I'm going alone. That's embarrassing. But I'm still going. Cause...well cause It's Mumford and Sons. I'm not going to throw that goodness away.
My Wound
I have a wound on my hand today. My left hand to be exact. And this wound I wear with pride. Allot of pride. It isn't that much of a wound. The upper palm, right below my fingers, is swollen and tender. How did I get such a weird wound you ask. Easy, baseball.
Amazing baseball.
Baseball with my Dad. Baseball I haven't played with my Dad in years. It was magical.
So today I wear the wound with pride. And the second this wound is gone and I can catch balls again you will find me at the park playing. Because I'm 88 days and counting. And that my friend means baseball with my Dad, magical baseball that ended at the tender age of thirteen when I showed I was too wimpy to actually catch the ball, is back on. 88 days of the sport I didn't know I loved. But most importantly: 88 days with my Dad.
Amazing baseball.
Baseball with my Dad. Baseball I haven't played with my Dad in years. It was magical.
So today I wear the wound with pride. And the second this wound is gone and I can catch balls again you will find me at the park playing. Because I'm 88 days and counting. And that my friend means baseball with my Dad, magical baseball that ended at the tender age of thirteen when I showed I was too wimpy to actually catch the ball, is back on. 88 days of the sport I didn't know I loved. But most importantly: 88 days with my Dad.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Engaged
Is it wrong that I hate that word?
That it sends shocks of disgust and longing through my body?
That, since I have been called on a mission, it has become a word that I throw to the back seat? That I forget about, and instead think of skirts and books of mormon and spirit touched investigators?
Maybe I'll just pretend I'm engaged to my mission.
.....I need engagement pictures....
That it sends shocks of disgust and longing through my body?
That, since I have been called on a mission, it has become a word that I throw to the back seat? That I forget about, and instead think of skirts and books of mormon and spirit touched investigators?
Maybe I'll just pretend I'm engaged to my mission.
.....I need engagement pictures....
Monday, April 4, 2011
“Preach the Gospel at all times and when necessary: use words.”
St. Francis of Assisi said that. It blew my mind.
Watch conference people (if you haven't already).
Beautiful words are spoken there.
Have a great week.
Watch conference people (if you haven't already).
Beautiful words are spoken there.
Have a great week.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
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.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
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.
"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.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
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.
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.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
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.
Friday, March 11, 2011
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.
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.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
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.
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.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
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...
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...
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