The Gift of Trial

I was looking through some writing of mine and stumbled upon this.  Just thought I would share.

Oft times, the bitterest of trials

are but blessings in disguise.

For a time they drag us down

to unspeakable depths of pain

but can be a light unto us when reflected upon.

Lessons taught but unlearned

are brought to the forefront

of our memories.

Terrible occurrences

seemingly curse our lives,

bestow wondrous insight,

not to be gained otherwise.

And sometimes we realize

these seemingly impossible trials

are only for our good. 

Everything falls apart

for our own benefit. 

This is a gift

 from a loving Heavenly Father

who only wants our ultimate happiness.

It is his divine intervention

that puts the hard times on our path

so we are forced to travel through a refiner’s fire. 

But just as silver is made pure in such a fire

our trials teach us the ways of Christ

and we are made pure

by His love and mercy.

Thank God for Small (HUGE) Favors

Well, I just saw my life flash before my eyes.
Mom and I had been doing some shopping.  I had been driving , but since I was just going to run into Tjmaxx to get a book, we switched places.  We pull into the parking lot behind this massive truck, the kind of truck a guy buys when he's overcompensating for something.  He drives past a parking spot and decides to back up.  But he doesn't do so slowly.  Of course not.  He hits the gas. If it would have taken my mom another second to throw the car in reverse, well, he would have had to buy us a new car.
Thankfully I wan't driving.  Thankfully there wasn't anyone behind us either.
So Truck Guy pulls into his precious parking space and gets out of his truck.  If there was ever an embodiment of the term "tool", "douche bag", or "asshole", it was this guy.  Tight white tshirt, jeans that looked more expensive than my entire wardrobe, and a backwards cap.  He was completely unfazed. I don't think the tool even realized he almost hit us.
And to be completly honest, if we would have died four days away from seeing my best friend again, I would have been so pissed. I would have haunted truck guy for the rest of his life.  

Defy the Stereotypes: Beauty

I grew up, as I'm sure many other girls did, believing that the pretty girls were always vapid and the Hermoine Grangers of the world were frumpy and too smart to bother with frivolous things like fashion.  There is no in-between.  You're one or the other.  You can't possibly be both.  You can't care what you look like and be intelligent.  Its simply not allowed.

Well screw that.

I shall enjoy getting ready in the morning as well as reading a good book at night.  I'll watch vintageortacky's makeup tutorials and then watch John Green talk about the French Revolution on Crash Course.  None of this "Brains over Beauty" nonsense.  I will take pride in my body and my brain and not let one discount the other. 

Pardon Me, I'm Going to Let My Mormon Show Briefly

'Till Death Do Us Part'

Look at that statement for a second.  Let the meaning sink in.
Or how but this one:

'For As Long As We Both Shall Live'

I think these are some of the most depressing phrases.
When I think about the person I love and want to spend the rest of my life with, I do not want it to end at death. 
For me personally, heaven would seem a lot like hell without my family (present and future) there with me.  I can't picture any kind of afterlife were I'm just floating around with no familial ties. 
It makes me so thankful for modern revelation.  The knowledge that families are forever is such a blessing.  One that I look forward to having some day with my future husband. 
Honestly, I do not have the words to express what this means to me.  I think I won't have the words until years after I'm sealed to my husband.  But I know its true docterine and its something that makes me so happy.

May We Never Forget

I would like to share another poem with you in honor of today.

I was young but I remember

the shock on teacher’s faces,
the confusion and pain of so many,
the anger and pointing fingers,
and the closeness it brought America.

I was eight yet I remember

fear watching the Towers fall,
the horror on nameless running faces,
so many speeches and prayers said,
and the hope that followed.

 Years have passed.
and memory grows hazy,

But I've seen where the Towers fell and I've heard,

the solemn silence that lingers there,
a mother’s gratitude for a choir honoring her daughter,
tears of reflection,
and a song of hope for bright mansions above.

I've been to Ground Zero and I've seen

the mural on the wall,
and the pictures loved ones left.
I've seen the writing on the bronze,
and pray we never forget.



It's My Blog, I'll Complain If I Want To...

Remember when this happened?

Knocking on wood doesn't work apparently...

I'm currently taking a break from packing all my stuff for what seems like the hundredth time in the space of a year.  I really despise packing.  I'm half tempted to just donate everything to DI (Desert Industries.  Utah's equivalent of Salvation Army/Goodwill), but then I'd kind of be stuff-less and I kind of like my stuff.  Although, there is a nice little growing pile of stuff to be taken to DI.
Of course this pile is on the floor.  My room is a very unorganized mess right now.  There's a pile of boxes on the floor by my desk.  Clothes strung all over the extra bed in my room.  Honestly, I kind of looks like someone broke into my apartment and ransacked my room.  Maybe someone already did and its such a mess I just didn't notice.  That's actually kind of a scary thought.
And on that note, I'm going to get back to work so I can get a little bit of sleep.  I feel like I haven't slept all week.
*deep dramatic sigh*

A Poem: Creative Inspiration at 4 a.m.

The problem with staying up

later than any sane individual would

is not that I end up wasting the daylight hours

or yawning insistently all the next day.

No.  The problem is much bigger,

much more important than any of that.

The problem with greeting the dawn

before my head hits the pillow

is that there are no distractions.

Nothing but my thoughts

to keep me company

and occupy my time.

Not nice happy thoughts either

of laughs shared with loved ones

or accomplishments grand or small.

The darker it gets in the world outside my bedroom,

the darker the thoughts that flit around my head.

Thoughts of people who played with my heart

like it was a childhood toy.

Memories of lovers who left me alone in tears

and a bed far too big for one.

People who hurt me stand like ghosts in the room,

each wound they inflicted fresh as the day it was dealt. 

No longer content with the wrongs I’ve been dealt,

my thoughts start on my own imperfections.

The features on my body I wish I could change

if only I had the money and no one would judge me.

A list of failures big enough to fill a thousand tomes,

each seeming monstrous in size.

I finally concede to go to my warm bed

when I see my fears slithering toward me from the side.

But sometimes sleep doesn’t stop them

and they creep into my dreams instead.