Forgiveness

There's an old musical called 'The Slipper and the Rose' that's based off Cinderella. After the ball when the prince finally finds her, he takes her back to her stepmother's house to ask for permission to marry her. As they're leaving, Cinderella turns and says, "In my happiness, I forgive you all." That's the only thing she says in the entire scene. (begins at 2:00 minute mark. You really need to see the whole movie though, it's way funny with amazing music)

When Cinderella leaves the scene, she is perfectly happy. Her former abuse is gone and forgotten, and she has allowed herself to be happy. However, the stepmother and sisters are miserable and affronted by Cinderella's forgiveness. They are still burdened and angered by the past. Cinderella is free.

You always hear how forgiveness frees you. Though knowing it's true, it always sounded like a trite pacification. But by forgiving her step family, Cinderella was able to end the abuse in her mind. If she hadn't forgiven them, whenever that anger or pain flared up, her memory replayed that abuse. And memory is powerful. Remembering things well enough IS experiencing them again.

But now, Cinderella has moved on to her future. She can enjoy her prince and her life, and her memories of her father without a regret. Her step family is full of regrets.

Forgiveness is truly about releasing yourself from the chains of unhappy memories and unhappy emotions. If the other party is also able to change or let things go, it can enable future relationships in some cases.

Just some thoughts.

Cradled

Did you know an entire sun could fit in your chest? It doesn't feel like it could, but then it swells up and there's all this light and you're full of helium and you feel like floating, like exploding!

He has the ring. And he'll give it to me soon! I mean, he technically could wear it, but it would probably look just a little silly :) so he'll probably just give it to me.

I've tried to write poems for/about Mikel a few times, but I always struggle. I hate cliche things, you know, and love poems are a cliche by definition. But but I finally wrote one that I like, that I didn't have to force, it just worked. I already gave Mikel his Christmas present (I got him a sweater that fits, lol) at his family party, but I'm going to send him the poem on Christmas day. But just in case you'd like it, I figured I'd post it here so you could see it. Yep! So here it is :)


Cradled

My breath is gone again
Cradled in your arms,
the deep curve of your spine
Tucked beneath your chin,
dark scruff tickling my face

My skin prickles
It's too small
for the sun dancing inside my chest
Soft lips, warm lips,
touch my forehead
Fingers weave through my hair
and I know--
I am yours.

Too happy to speak,
the words eclipsed
in brown irises
that smile,
So beautiful
I have to cry.


So I hope you like it. I love you SO much, Brittney Balmforth! You're wonderful and you are a sweetheart, and don't you forget it! I hope your Christmas break is full of joy. Love you!

I think it only right to say that I am thankful and send it into the universe.

Despite how much I tend to whine and be self-centered, I am extremely blessed. I have beautiful shelter, more than enough food (and delicious treats!), I am surrounded by wonderful family that loves me, I'm getting an education, I have make up and clothes that I can use to make myself pretty, I'm doing fairly well in school, I have wonderful friends, my roommates don't intimidate the crap out of me, it's almost Christmas, and on Christmas, on Christmas, my love is going to be all mine :) God loves me and blesses me every day, even when I'm being thoroughly retarded.

So I want to say, to everyone that loves me and blesses me: Thank you.

Little Things!

Hi Brittney! I like our ultra-secret mode of communication, bwa ha ha.

Isn't it funny how big of an impact "little things" have on our lives? I believe it's because little things aren't little at all. Little things may be short and repetitive, but it is the little grinding day-to-day things that comprise the vast majority of our lives. Going to school, going to work, doing homework, pursuing hobbies, talking to family and friends, talking to strangers, going shopping, reading, writing, walking--all of things are crucial because they are where our time goes. That's why it can be hard to brush little things off.

Think about it. If you spill your food on your pants or trip when you're going down the stairs, it can throw you into a bad mood for hours. Conversely, if someone smiles at you or you find a dime on the sidewalk, you can become indescribably happy.

The other interesting thing about these "little things" is that they're additive. If lots of happy little things have happened to you throughout your day, tripping down the stairs can cause laughter rather than crippling frustration and untargeted anger. Likewise a bad day can swallow up a shining moment without a moment's pause.

Because of this interesting additive property, in order to be happy we must purposely shove happy little things along our way to balance out accidental bad things. Taking a little time to read your scriptures, to say hi to a friend, to laugh at a homework assignment, to notice the sunset--all of these happy little moments and countless others can be strived for and easily achieved. There's nothing wrong with adding a little extra weight to the happy side of the scale! So do some little things--even just NOTICE some little things--and then the mundane side of life can become joyful, rather than a stressful, frustrating waiting period in between the "big" moments of life.

Well my dear, since you said that this is for whining and not being logical, I think I'm going to whine for a bit! This introduction is to warn you so you don't read the rest if you aren't truly bored, because it's going to go Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike.

I miss him. I haven't seen him for six days, and already I can only picture him in pieces and snapshots of memory. Granted there are millions of those now, but still--he's gone back to living through my phone and I hate it. And I have no idea for how long we'll have to be long distance like this. He doesn't plan the way I do, he's so go with the flow that it's difficult for me to plan anything, either. All there is for me to do is to sabotage the flow ;) though I don't know how to do that.

By the time he gets back from Yellowstone, I'll have two measly days with him before I, too, am back in Cedar. Vacation was good because it reminded me of how I love the nights there--cool, breezy nights full of starshine and magic on the green, green grass. But to be there without him will turn the nights into melancholy silence as the wind moans for its lover. Why can't I just have him?

I understand, I know that he has a lot to do, and that college is long and expensive...I've never been poor, so it's easy to be brave and optimistic. His family has experienced very hard times, so he's probably more practical in many ways. Bah! It takes me a long time to decide, but once I have I want to act. Waiting is misery, because when I really want something I can't just do something else while I'm "waiting." Waiting becomes the active part of my brain and then everything drags into impossible slowness.

Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike.

If you actually read through this, I'm impressed! You deserve some ice cream or something.

Brad Wilcox

I went to a fireside by Brad Wilcox last night. He's a professor at BYU, and he's written some books--the most recent of which is The Continuous Atonement. I didn't have any paper with me at the time, but his talk impressed me so much that I was actually able to remember the important things he said. It was kind of funny, Bug was all impressed and jogged into thinking about what he'd said, and Mike was sitting there saying "that's the closest I've ever heard the gospel explained to how I believe it." Mike didn't articulate the thoughts as well, but he understands so very much! Anyways. Here is my brief paraphrase:

He started talking about the famous scripture in 2 Nephi, 25:23 "... for we know that it is by grace that we are saved, after all we can do." He said that a lot of people misunderstand this concept in the church: we remember the bike parable, where we pay what we can for the bike, and then Christ makes up the difference.

But the atonement is infinite! Christ already bought the whole bike. He has already paid the entire price for us: regardless of what we choose to do or not do in this life, we will be resurrected and be with God. God asks us to follow commandments and to do certain things not to pay justice, or to help pay for the bike. It's not to repay Christ for the atonement, which is His infinite sacrifice. The few coins He asks of us are to help us appreciate the bike. The reason why we must strive to be righteous is to become more like God, so that when we see Him again we are ready to be with him. If, when we see Him, we are unworthy, we will beg to leave His presence. But every one of us is already saved, and will be redeemed. The question is merely of who we will be when that happens.

However, God knows we cannot be perfect on this earth. Ether 12:27 says "And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them." Weakness is singular, not plural. God is aware of our individual struggles and faults, but our weakness lies in the fact that we are mortal. Being mortal means that we cannot be perfect, however hard we try. But God is a perfect and merciful being. He is more concerned with the offerer than the offering. And every offering made, no matter how small or faltering, is acceptable to God. He wants us to succeed, to become something better. He wants us to become like Him. So as long as we want to be different, He will give us another and another and another chance. There is always hope.

Socks

I, being somewhat distraught on the occasion of Wesley's farewell, ended up writing about it. Go figure! But instead of just ranting it turned into a piece of creative non-fiction (although the encounter with my brother was fictionalized, he never saw my socks today; though everything he said is almost a direct quote from another encounter lol). So, I present:

SOCKS

My brother was staring at me, giving me that face I hate. The one that combines condescension, disgust, and you’re-so-retarded all in one look, and that frequently comes before the sarcastic phrase, I don’t judge.

“What are you wearing?” he asked, looking pointedly at my socks. I hadn’t played volleyball in almost two years, but I’d dug out my old volleyball socks that afternoon—the long white ones that go up past my knees. Their splendor was clearly displayed by my basketball shorts.

I shrugged in response, trying not to give him any reaction. My brother’s like a mocking fire: any sort of reaction only fuels his sardonic attacks. “They’re my volleyball socks.”

He gave a dramatic, pained sigh. “Good thing I don’t judge.”

I so called that one. I rolled my eyes at him. “It’s just a Sunday afternoon, it’s not like I’m going into public like this. Deal.”

“No no no, Bug, you shouldn’t wear that. Ever. Unless you’re playing volleyball. That’s why they’re called volleyball socks. You really need to learn how to dress yourself,” he said with a disparaging glance up and down my entire ensemble. He’d been hyper critical of my wardrobe ever since we got home from college. I think he was just bored and needed something to entertain him, and I was close to hand. He would also tell me, as part of his brotherly duties, whenever my hair looked terrible or my make up was ill-conceived.

“I’m so terribly distraught that you disapprove,” I said dryly. He shook his head and walked away.

It’s really not that I have no fashion sense. I’m not as acutely aware of style as my brother, no, but I’m not hopeless either. High school and my best friend cured me of only wearing jeans and volleyball t-shirts years ago. But I had been depressed when I’d gotten home, and the next thing I knew I was wandering about the house in basketball shorts and long socks. Aside from the obvious want to change into comfortable clothes for lounging about the house, the socks reminded me of the six years I spent playing volleyball. They reminded me of long, exhausting tournaments, glorious victories and shattering disappointments. They reminded me of a time when my own effort was all that mattered, when I would push myself to the limit and beyond. They reminded me of pain and triumph, and of a time and game where I learned how to work and love working, and love myself. They made me feel strong and capable.

Earlier that day I’d driven for forty-five minutes north to my friend’s church. I’d only met him this past year at college, but he had already moved deep into my heart, and I counted him among one of my dearest friends. He’s one of those ridiculously happy people who make you smile whenever you see them, no matter what you were feeling before that. He was a little ball of sunshine. And he was leaving for two years, to go to Canada. I was proud of him. He had chosen to serve his God, to go and preach wherever he was sent. That’s a hard thing to do, and I had already seen how much he had grown and matured from making that decision.

But I would miss him terribly, and I had to tell him goodbye today. We lingered in the doorway for nearly ten minutes after I said that we should go. It was a hard thing to tell him goodbye. I cried for most of that long drive back, causing my eyes and head to throb for hours after. By the time I got home I’d calmed, but it was a numb sort of calm. I greeted my family a bit woodenly before going to my room to change—into my long volleyball socks, into happy memories and old strength.

Sometimes clothes are more than just fashion statements. But it’s not worth the bother of trying to convince my brother.