A Letter To You; To Brenda

Dear Aunt Brenda,

I’ve struggled for weeks on how to best form this letter, a letter in which I want to share and convey so much, yet find the inability to properly do so. I think about you every day, however, thoughts and feelings of you became ever more prevalent over Memorial Day when the family came together to celebrate life’s lived and life’s lost. Not only has it taken me weeks to write, it’s now taken me months to post. For some reason, I felt like I needed to keep this private between you and I before I was able to share it with the rest of the people I know we both love most. In September, it’ll be a year since you left us and that year has been filled with various emotions, experiences and learning. I thought I might attempt to put down into words some of those feelings I’ve had. And with that, I hope healing may take place not only in our hearts, but in the hearts of others. Although I don’t know exactly where you are, I know you’re in a wonderful, peaceful place and I hope that this letter, in whatever way possible, will get to you.

The first thing I’d like to share with you is how much I love you! If there’s one thing I regret most from what I didn’t do when you were alive, it was that I didn’t express that to you more. Oddly enough, however, that regret I have with you has been one of the largest lessons I’ve taken from your death; to love those I love and to tell them how important and how special they are to me. So many have learned from your passing how short life can be. It’s made me think: if you were to die tomorrow, will you've said all that you wanted to? Will you've loved all you could? What would your loved ones find? Will they see the person they think you are or find a stranger among your possessions? What legacy will you leave for others to follow in? What are you doing for others that will be so greatly missed when you’re gone? If you were to die tomorrow, would you be ready? I ask myself these questions a lot and I find that I don’t always have the answer; or rather I don’t have probably the right answer. When I ask these questions in the context of you, I can answer most of them positively. Brenda, you loved all you could. It’s no secret that you were a woman who sacrificed and gave all you could to your family, your friends, your clients, to perfect strangers. As your niece, as a young adult who looks up to those older than her, I would say the biggest legacy you left for me was bravery. When you wanted to make an improvement on your home or learn a new skill, you did it! You went to Home Depot, you bought the paint or pavers and you did it without asking for help or assistance. In my opinion, it takes a very brave human being to stand on her own two feet, make choices and stick with them. And most especially not only stick with them, but defend them. You constantly had a smile on your face and a laugh on the side. With the challenges that face each of us in the world we live in, having something to smile about is brave. You know that since I was born, I’ve been the “glass half full” type. As I get older, I find that the adversary is trying really hard to pull that characteristic from me. When I think of you, it helps put me on track again in where I want to see myself. I’m not the only one who thinks often about the legacy and person you once were: your parents, your brothers and sisters, your other nieces and nephews, your neighbors, and your many, many friends think of who you once were and the influence you left behind. It is not uncommon to hear your name mentioned followed by a pleasant story. If you ever question, let me reassure. You left your mark on this world. You left footprints in the hearts of many. You left joy in the minds of loved ones. You left examples for others to follow in.

You weren’t perfect. Nobody is though so it’s okay. After nearly a year of absence, we have discovered that there was another side of you we, or at least I, did not know. Still, even shuffling through the madness, I realize that we have something else in common; something I wouldn’t have expected. If you were to ask me while you were still alive to describe you, I would have said something along the lines of happy or funny or strong. While I still believe you have those personality traits, I also see now that there was a side of you that you didn’t quite want everyone else in the world to see. It was only a select few (and when I say few I mean perhaps only Dillon) that saw that side, that vulnerable side of Brenda that held perhaps fears or inadequacies or doubts. I have that side too. And like you, there’s only a few who’ve seen that side; the side that falls apart in the shower after a long day or the side that stares up at the ceiling after the lights are turned off and wonders how “such and such” will work out. I don’t know the reasons behind your wall and to be frank, I’m still figuring out the reasons behind mine. Yet, on those restless nights when I think too much, you come to mind and the experiences you had help shape the decisions I make for my own life. I think about what I want to do the same. I think about what I want to do differently. I think about what you might have thought about it. How would you have gotten through the difficult nights? Brenda, there’s still so much I don’t know about you, that I’ll never know about until I see you again on the other side. Still, from what I do know, you help guide me. I’ve been promised that angels would be my companions from both sides of the veil. I believe you are one of those angels. You are our family’s angel. Sometimes I wonder what you think of us when you see from above how we’re individually coping with our mutual loss. We haven’t handled it perfectly, but I think we all can agree on one thing: we love you. we miss you. and we all are anxiously awaiting that moment when we will be reunited with you.

It’s hard to find blessings from trials. However, they’re not impossible to find. If one looks deep enough and perhaps waits long enough, they can see the richness of the Lord’s hand in the good and the bad. In the loss we’ve all felt since your death, there’s been much sorrow, however, I’ve personally seen the hidden and not-so-hidden blessings come from it as well. The biggest being the closeness I’ve reached with our extended family. When I was 14 and received my patriarchal blessing, it said that I would have a good relationship with my family and extended family. At the time, I had no idea what that meant. To tell you the truth, the people that would come to mind whenever I’d read that verse were not those who I’ve grown to be so close to. Truthfully speaking though, you were one who came to mind. Since your passing, I’ve wondered if somehow I’ve failed because I didn’t have that closeness I feel I should have had with you before you left us so suddenly. In spite of this, I know our journeys don’t end when we leave this life. I know our influences are still felt after we’ve gone home. With that said, I promise to make a bigger effort when I see you next. And I apologize I didn’t make a better one while you were still here.

There’s one more thing I’d like to say, or really ask, before I let you go. Something else I’m learning the older I get is that every family has some manner of drama. Ours is no exception. Still, we have had good examples on love and dedication for one another. In those moments when we might forget, would you please remind us all that we must stick together for it is us who will be together for eternity? We’re a family. Heavenly Father has given us the greatest gift and that is to have our families forever, no matter how screwed up they might be. When we doubt or when we get frustrated, remind us to love each other. Second, I’m wondering if you would do me a favor when you have a spare moment. Let my dad know, along with your parents and other siblings that you’re still with us even if we can’t necessarily see you. I think it would go a long way for each of them. Let them know what they need to do, soften hearts, enlighten minds and bond us closer. It is then that I believe we will truly be honoring and remembering you.

I love you dearly Brenda. How much I miss you! I miss your laugh. I miss your hugs. I miss your jokes. I miss being able to tell you things and having my “cool aunt” understand and appreciate the corky story. I miss coming over to your house. I miss opening the front door to see you there. Above anyone, I think you understood by dad best and I know, whether or not he’ll ever admit it, he misses it dearly. Again, please watch over him. I’ll never stop missing you. I’ll miss seeing you at my wedding. I’ll miss you when I have my first child and not be able to put him or her in your arms. I’ll miss you when I graduate college. I’ll miss you when I can finally afford to have the family at my house for a BBQ. I’ll miss you always. Please never forget that there will always be people here who love you, respect you, admire you and above all miss you. We will live our lives with you close to our hearts. I still pray for you. As I’ve said, I know you’re in a good and happy place. Believe that He can heal your heart. Believe in the good things as you always have. Believe that you deserve as much happiness as you exuded to so many while you lived your life. I love you. May I make you proud until I see you again.

Love Much and More, Megan


Loves!!

Happy Father's Day

“Dad, your guiding hand on my shoulder will remain with me forever”



Happy Father’s Day! One year ago, I was asked to speak on father’s day in my home ward during sacrament meeting. During that talk, I discussed three “types” of fathers I’ve had in my life: father figures, my earthly father and my Heavenly Father. When it came time to talk about my dad, I certainly played the “bragging daughter” card. I’d like to share some of what I said during that talk in regards to my dad:

“Now to talk about my dad; I love him! I would like to tell you all a story. My dad is the oldest of 1 brother and 6 sisters. He married my mom and got 3 daughters and even lucked out on having one of the most high maintenance female dogs in existence. In the past year alone, these tender moments have snuck into his life by some of the women in his life: Melina traveled the world in a matter of three weeks, hitting the countries of Egypt, Jordan, Greece, and Turkey. She went to Pennsylvania for a week to work at a hospital and informed us that the hospital was guarded by well armed security and she was escorted to and from her taxi nightly. A couple weeks ago, she announced her plan to use her nursing skills on the people of Peru and will be spending a few weeks there in August. Melina is one of the brightest and most passionate people I know, but in that excitement, she manages to raise dad’s blood pressure in the process. Elise completed two of the most important things my dad has ever asked of his girls; she graduated from college with a degree in childhood education and married a fine young man in the Salt Lake temple. My dad not only survived and paid for the wedding, but also learned to let the daughter that always stuck up for him, supported him, and loved him, grow up and truly leave the nest. I’ve also had my fair share of moments this year. I graduated from high school, moved out on my own and completed my first year of college. Bringing my parents to the “empty nesters” stage was not an easy thing for any of us. While at school, I learned the valuable lesson of never letting your friends borrow your car. If you have questions, you’ll notice in the parking lot that the good ol’ Oldsmobile that served two Clegg girls is no longer in use and a car I don’t deserve was put in her place. In other words, my car Francine has been put to rest at the hands of Lizzie Van de Graff. Through my own choices, damaging consequences were brought on my health along with the diagnosis of Celiac disease. Because of the many trials of my health, grades which were consistent A’s in high school, turned into B’s and C’s as I tried to manage the sudden shifts and turns in my life. Dad, always proud of his little girl for being a 4.0 student, counted to 10 as he continued to take me to the hospital and sit through many disappointing and discouraging doctor’s appointments; one of which required me to be in something in the form of an MRI for three hours straight. I’ve seen my dad cry three times in my life. The second was when he was released as young men’s president. I am 19 years old and he’s been serving the young men of the church for the last 17 years. Essentially, my entire life I’ve been hearing about scout camp, sacrament bread, 14 and 15 year old teachers, those who can put up a tent, and those who can’t stay on the trail. I watch the pride in his eyes when he sees a young deacon finally take his bride to the temple years later, after faithfully serving a mission and striving for his education. I hear the joy in his voice as he speaks of the accomplishments of the young men in this ward and from our ward in Oregon. He loves these boys and still prays for them diligently and looks forward to hearing of their progress. Yes, you can say I’m a bit bias when I say my dad is pretty amazing.”


This is the person my dad is. He lives in a life full of women, but with every twist and turn (that happen so frequently), he’s apart of each one and there to lend advice, offer a prayer and perhaps even write a check ;) Although he lives in a life of estrogen, he loves us all, he gives his all and he works for us all unconditionally. My dad works terribly hard at his job, but he never misses the important things when it comes to his family. He loves each of us in his own way. He loves those he serves. He has made such an impeccable influence on the lives of young men and it’s a joy as a daughter to see these boys grow into men and later approach my dad with tears of gratitude in their eyes. My dad is strong-willed, intelligent and passionate. He looks after those under his stewardship, whether they be his family, his young men, his friends, or his co-workers, that is who my dad is; a man who always goes the second and third mile in order to see those around him happy; a man who gives and gives, yet finds pleasure in seeing the simple things take place. He is strong, He is brave. He is compassionate. He is my dad.





Until I was 9 years old and my family moved to Utah, we lived in Oregon. Sadly, my memories fad more and more come every year, however, one thing is positively certain when I look back on my childhood in Salem: my dad was there. I remember looking forward to Sunday evenings where dad would chase my sisters and I around the backyard playing “touch-you-last”. Without hesitation, I still think my dad gives the best “underdogs” on swings. On rainy afternoon’s, dad would set up the cuddle blanket on the floor and pretend to be “the bear” as Elise and I would wrestle with him. He taught me how to hold a bat and play baseball. He taught me how to ride my Barbie bike. Every summer, we would go daddy-daughter back packing with some friends. During those many trips, he would share stories and offer advice. All my life, dad has had an office at home. In Oregon, dad’s walls were covered with my dinky little drawings I considered masterpieces. I remember Melina teaching me the primary song “I’m so glad when daddy comes home” and singing it for him when he’d get home from work trips. I remember being put to bed and dad laying next to me as he sang primary songs and told stories. I remember running out the door to meet him at the car just so I could tell him what I learned at school. Growing up, my dad was my hero. He was so loved among the youth in our ward and I thought it was so neat that the man so many envied was my dad. He built me by far the best play house in the backyard. He would let me ride in the back of the trailer with Elise as we drove home from the Heder’s house. He sometimes even let me stay up late to watch Seinfeld with him. Yes, my dad was my hero.





After we moved to Oregon and our family started to consist more of teenagers rather than little kids, dynamics changed, but lessons and memories continued to be made. Dad has never stopped teaching me. When we moved to Utah, dad encouraged me to make new friends, thus teaching me how to branch out, be confident, be kind and be a good friend to others. When I was 12, he came to my Young Women programs and at 13, he watched as I accepted my personal progress medallion, showing me that church was and is important to him and living righteously was something I needed to constantly strive for. At 15, he let me have my first job and with that came more lessons on how to work, how to manage my time and how to appreciate the things I earn. At 16, he “let me use” his car and taught me the proper ways of driving. At 18, he watched me graduate high school and with that teach me that with hard work comes rewards and a diploma is one such blessing. Dad has always instilled in us girls the importance of education and for that I am grateful. I’m grateful that he loves and cares about us enough to overlook what might be a current struggle and see the overall big picture. Now being 20 years old, he’s still teaching me. As we speak, he’s teaching me that even when “your plan” isn’t working out and something you’ve worked so hard for doesn’t happen, it’s okay to be sad for a few days, but it’s even better (and more important) to pick yourself up, brush the dirt off your knees, and try again. He’s teaching me it’s okay to make mistakes, even when you’re an adult. He’s teaching me it’s okay to not be perfect, even when you’re trying so hard to be. He’s teaching me to always rely on the Savior not only when discouragement strikes, but also when you’re most happy. He’s teaching me the value of an education. He’s teaching me the value of a dollar and the value of work. Even simpler, I’ve found dad’s quizzes on music and Seinfeld have proven handy for me when it comes to those of the opposite sex. His advice has even helped with my training on running. I’ve always been a mommy’s girl. That role is not going anywhere anytime soon. Still, the older I get, I’m starting to see just how many of those lessons dad teaches me are coming up in my life. And I’m thankful for that. I’m thankful that he teaches them to me. I’m thankful he never gives up on me. I’m thankful he’s my dad plain and simple.


It has been my dream to go to BYU since I was a little girl. I was so worried about NOT getting in, that I had nearly convinced myself it wouldn't happen just to ease the disappointment. When the letter finally arrived and my dream of being accepted came true, I burst into tears and wanted to show dad immediately








A few weeks ago, I got a rare glimpse into a part of my dad’s life I rarely, if ever, see. However, this 2 hour glimpse brought on an entirely different perspective of my dad. When dad was promoted after moving to Utah, it forced him to work harder, as more responsibilities were pressed upon him. Right around his birthday (June 7th), he celebrated his 25th anniversary of working for Eli Lilly and Company. His boss and many of his colleagues flew out from every part of the nation to Salt Lake City to throw my dad a surprise party in which they invited my mom and sisters too. Mom has gone on countless work trips with these people so she knew them well. However, for Melina and I, meeting these people would be an entirely new experience. As we walked in the door, the men and women in the room immediately got up and asked if they could hug us. Why? As we were hugged, they explained how our dad talks about each of us at nearly every work function and they felt like they knew us because of how much our dad talked of his daughters. They told us how immensely proud he was of us. In addition, how proud they were of him and what an honor it was to work alongside him. Soon, dad and his boss would come into the room of the restaurant, where his co-workers were waiting for him; people whom he had spend a lifetime working with. Throughout the party, each talked with great fondness of my dad and the man he is and contributions he’s given to the company. Some said he was a role model, others called him a mentor, but all called him there friend. I had no idea when I originally walked into the room that these people I just met would describe my dad the same way I would. As I left the restaurant with my mom and sister, I was overcome with emotion and I find even now as I’m writing this and tears falling down my cheeks, I clearly still am. I’ve taken my dad’s job for granted too many times. I never quite understood what it took and who he was and the difference he was making. Elise wrote in her blog that dad would never admit the sacrifices he’s made on behalf of the family. It’s true. He never will. But he has. He spends so much time working in that office and going to meetings all in behalf of his friends, his coworkers, and for the support of his family. Dad, we are so blessed because of it. I know I don’t always appreciate it as much as I should, but I’m trying to now, especially after meeting all those spectacular people and seeing the footprints you’ve left in so many people’s lives, more than even I realized.

Dad, I love you. Thank you for loving me back. Even despite my blatant inability to do well in a stats class. Even despite my more darker (more dramatic) moods. Even despite the many phone calls you receive to hear me crying on the other end because of some silly something. Thank you for listening anyways. Thank you for coming to see me each month this year with mom. I don’t know if you’ll quite realize how much I literally needed those and how much better I felt every time you came. Thank you for visiting me at my apartment that random Thursday night after your meeting. I didn’t tell you then, but I was having a rough night and having you there to give me a hug made me feel better. Thank you for believing in me when I don’t think I can stay at BYU. Thank you for knowing so much about what’s going on with my health, even when I don’t. Thank you for understanding when I get upset over my past mistakes that seem to haunt me now. Thank you for seeing so much potential in me even and probably most especially when I can't see it in myself. Thank you for spending a lifetime to achieve the life you have now. I owe it all to you. I’m so proud of you. I’m so thankful you are my dad and you’ve instilled so much in me. You are my hero. I know I can come to you. I know I can come home. I know that just like you promised to not let go of my Barbie bike, you won’t let go of me. You have faith in me and for that, I thank you. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for letting me go, but staying close enough that I can still turn around and know you’re there. I love you, daddy! No matter how old I get or where I go, I’ll still forever be your baby girl!

Loves!

My 20th Birthday!

I apologize that my “birthday blog” is extremely belated, but I figure better late than never. This last May 15th I officially past through the teenage years (with no assistance to the teen pregnancy and drug abuse statistics of the world) and turned the big 20! I’m the kind of girl who actually loves to celebrate her birthday. I remember being in 7th grade and on my favorite teacher’s birthday, we had “Mrs. Buchmiller” day. We spent the entire day talking about her - learning more about what she was like in high school, her then very newly married husband and her goals for the future. It was on that day that I decided it was okay to make yourself the priority on your birthday and to celebrate your life with the people you care about. Thanks Mrs. Buchmiller!! I’ve tried to follow in your footsteps ever since.
My birthday fell on a Tuesday, but because I was going to be spending that evening with my family, my roommate Kelsey and her boyfriend Peter took me out to one of my very favorite restaurants: PF Changs (I’ll point out here that not only do they have fabulous food, but a superb Gluten-free menu. Win-win). Although Kelsey and I live in the same apartment, we can go days without talking or seeing each other. It was fabulous to spend an evening with her. While we were at dinner, the three of us made a “Birthday Rebellion” list I was to accomplish while I was still technically a teenager. Some of the suggestions were 1) kiss a stranger 2) get my belly button pierced 3) jump over a fire 4) get a tramp stamp 5) hike the Y at night. I can’t remember the exact number, but there was roughly 10 or so “challenges” to be done and I think I only did 1…maybe 2? Clearly, I’m really not that big of a rebel. Regardless, we had a fun time together.

It looks multiple, multiple attempts to get a good picture of Kelsey and I. After many failed attempts, Peter finally captured one we both were happy with.

Here's a little idea of what I mean by "failed attempt". In this particular moment, I was laughing so hard that I leaned over and ended up hitting my head on a fork.

A picture of the happy couple:

When we got home from the restaurant, Shelly and Keaton were there and the 5 of us had vanilla ice cream with freshly cut strawberries and chocolate sauce. It was yummy!! After some chitchat, we all settled down to watch “Monsters Inc.”

Some of us were more tired than others when the movie was over…poor Keaton…

Tuesday morning I went to lab where my TA and classmates sang to me and another gal whose birthday it was. When I got home, I went for a long run, took a hot shower, read my book, took a nap, ate some yummies and was perfectly content with spending the day relaxing. At 4 p.m. I went to my art history class to take a midterm which with a bit of birthday luck I did very well on. At 6 p.m., I met mom, dad and Melina at the Orem Chilies (my most favoritest restaurant) for dinner. If you don’t believe me when I say I love my birthday, listen to this next story: once we were seated and the waiter came up to us to get our drink order, I said “Hi! It’s my birthday. And I will need a sprite.” Are you getting it? I REALLY like my birthday. It was wonderful to spend time with my family. I am truly blessed to have phenomenal parents and a loving sister. The only thing that could have made it better would have been if Mark, Elise and baby could have been there. Hopefully next year :) When I got home from dinner, my good friend Haley Needs came over and brought me a GF cupcake from a bakery called “The Chocolate”. Because I haven’t seen her in far too long, it was a splendid surprise I’m still smiling over. It meant a lot that she came by to see me. Thank you and I hope to see you again soon! Later in the evening, my friend Katie took me to my favorite bakery in Utah County: Cocoa Bean. Not only did we get scrumptious cupcakes, but she got me a bright yellow shirt that says “REAL MEN EAT CUPCAKES”. Thanks Kate! I love that shirt probably much more than I should ;)

Wednesday night some girls from my singles ward came over with a plate of cupcakes for me. I’m not sure if the girls realize the magnitude of my love for cupcakes, but I was pretty darn excited. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Thursday night I went over to Sara and Jim’s for our now traditional birthday celebration dinner: Del Taco. Much to my dismay (and the dismay of Jim, I’m sure) I did not eat 20 tacos; on the contrary, I think I only managed 6 or 7. I guess that means I need to practice more for my next birthday. To my delight, they gave me a Taco Amigo gift card which will pay for a great many meals already consumed and shortly to be consumed. Thank you! I’m so grateful for their sweet family and how much they’ve opened their home to me. I can’t say enough “thank you’s” or enough kind things about them. I’m so grateful that we’re a family and we’re there for each other.

My life has been so deeply blessed. Heavenly Father gave me not a perfect family, but the right family. I know I don’t take the time to appreciate my family enough, particularly my parents, but it’s something I’m trying to do more of. I love both of my sisters and the examples they are to me. I’m thankful that Mark is a part of my family now and I’ve finally got a big brother. I am so unbelievably thankful to have family so close to me in Draper and in Orem. The Lord has placed people in my life that have and continue to help me dearly. I’m so grateful for the Dewey family I work for. 3 times a week I’m welcomed into their home and witness firsthand the love and faith that household is built upon and it is an example to me. Friends past and present uplift and edify my spirit every day. It seems like I’m constantly learning new things about myself, others, life and the Gospel through them. I’m thankful to go to BYU and get an education. The older I get, the more I realize that an education is not a right, but a privilege not to be taken lightly. Over the last month, I’ve felt so incredibly close to the Spirit and its presence in my life. I’m thankful for my Savior. I’m thankful to be serving in the Relief Society presidency and to have the pleasure of becoming better acquainted with the sisters in my ward. I’m grateful for the trials God puts in my life because they challenge me to rise above that which I believe I’m capable of. Those are God’s “gifts” to me. While some of them are not always wanted, they teach me what I need to learn and with time become the greatest treasures of all.

Here’s to another year of laugher and smiles! I look forward to what’s in store for me next. My only prayer is that the wonderful people I get to call my family will be around to celebrate with me next year!

Loves!

Happy Mama's Day!

When I was a little girl, I went to afternoon kindergarten so I could walk home with my sisters after school. I remember one day my mom surprising me before going to school. I remember playing in my room when I was told lunch was ready. However I was not directed to the kitchen, but to the downstairs family room. Mom had set up a tray with my most favorite meal growing up: top roman and she’d put on The Rescuers Down Under. I still remember being so excited that for one thing, I was actually eating downstairs and not getting in trouble for it and that my mom had surprised me with something so fun. I don’t remember for certain, but I’m sure I bragged about it the whole day to all my kindergarten friends.

A few years later when I was in middle school, mom and I took a trip just the two of us to her old home in Buell, Idaho {and yes, I’m crossing my fingers I spelt that correctly}. I didn’t realize it at the time how important that place was to my mom and the tender experiences that happened to her there that still live with her so many years later. We drove to her old home, to the home of her childhood best friend who still lived there after all these years. We drove around the tiny town and she shared the memories she had for every block and every street sign. That was the first time in my life I truly discovered my mom isn’t just a mom; she’s a woman too; a woman who had her own struggles, temptations, heartbreak, mess-ups and adventures. Before mom became “mom”, she was LuAnn; a cheerleader, a pianist, a grocer’s daughter who got butterflies when she saw the stud of Soda Springs high school {and bless her lucky stars she even married that stud muffin a few years later}, who struggled with math and disagreed with her own parents. She had to grow up too and experience life and its positives and negatives to become who I knew sitting in the car next to me. It was on that trip that my mom moved from being just a parent to my friend as well.

A few more years later after all my sisters moved out and it was only mama and papa smurf left at home with me did I see the true strength of my mom and how much she loves her family and the Lord. Pre-drivers license days, mom diligently picked me up at the “A” and dropped me off at Canyon View Dry Cleaners for my after school job. Then 4 hours later, come back and wait for me to be done. Except for few occasions, I would get home and my dinner would be waiting for me on the counter. Mom was who I went to when I needed ideas for my preschool bulletin board and it was her who did most of the work on it {oops – don’t tell Mrs. Crapo!} After Young Woman broadcasts or special events, mom and I would drive to Dairy Queen and get two peanut buster parfaits and a small fry and chat in the parking lot about our lives, but mostly mine and the silly drama I was experiencing at the time. Every night before going to bed, I would come to my mom’s room to find her reading her scriptures. Then she would look up from that sacred book, give me a hug and tell me she loves me. Mom and I spent probably too many nights consumed in episodes of “Criminal Minds” or “Law and Order: SVU” or “NCIS”. On Saturday mornings, mom and I would go grocery shopping and I’d usually make her buy stuff we didn’t need, but my sugar tooth wanted. Then we’d indulge ourselves in curly fries from Arby’s or a greasy cheeseburger from Artic Circle. Mom was patient with me and I liked to make her proud. I’m sure I did a lot to make her irritated at me {e.g. school night curfew was 10 p.m. – sometimes I would stay at Rachel’s house a little later than that. And then I would get the phone call – EVERY TIME- with a firm, but kind reminder that it was time to come home}, but mom was always loving and never made me feel inferior, unappreciated or less than I was. On the contrary, mom was constantly boosting me up and making me better.

The time came to graduate and eventually move out. On the day my parents and I left Vestry Road and drove to Helaman Halls, we had to take two cars {yes, I have a lot stuff}. They were in the Explorer and I was in the Oldsmobile. Although I’ve tried to keep it a secret, I’ll admit it now, the entire way I cried and cried not because I was leaving home necessarily, but because I didn’t want to leave my mom. Yes, this might sound cliché to some, but if many if not most know how much of a mama’s girl I am and how I didn’t want to relinquish my role as “baby” at home. Mom and I made many…many trips up and down the flights of stairs in the dorms and got me settled into my new home. As I walked them outside and we said our goodbyes, I held onto my mom and told her I loved her. Little did she know, little did I even know at the time, how much I would miss her from the moment I let go of her embrace. From that point on, mommy wasn’t going to be there with me every day and suddenly I felt like a little girl on her first day of preschool and I just wanted her to stay with me. One of the biggest gifts my mom has given me is teaching me how to let go and how to live in a manner she will be proud of. From the beginning, it was my mom who taught me to pray, who taught me to play, who taught me to love, who taught me to live. Everything I am is because of my mom.

There are things I’ve done that I’m sure mom wouldn’t be pleased with, but without hesitation I know she’d love me even harder. It was into my mother’s arms that I fell into when I was diagnosed with a disease that changed my life. It was my mother’s testimony that kept me afloat when I felt I was drowning. It was my mother’s wisdom that kept me at BYU. It was my mother’s love that taught me to forgive. My mom is my hero. In my eyes, she does no wrong. She believes in me, even when I can’t believe in myself. She trusts me which I’ve found is a gift not to be freely given. She is beautiful on the inside and out. She earnestly cares about other people and puts others before the needs of herself. My mom lives with courage and integrity. She is fun and knows how to laugh. LuAnn Clegg is not just my mom, she’s my friend; one of my best friends. Anyone can be a mother, but it’s the elite who become moms. And luckily, I have a pretty great one. I wouldn’t trade mine for anything or anyone because she is who I want and she is who I need. It is my prayer that as I get older, I will be even a little like my mom.

I love you, mommy! Thank you for loving me, especially when I least deserve it. Thank you for believing in me, especially in my darkest hours. Thank you for praying for me, especially when I forget to pray for myself. Thank you for being my mom and devoting your life to me and what I want instead of what you want. You are so special to me and every day I thank God that you are my parent, you are my mom and you are my friend. Please never leave me because I don’t want to know what it’s like to be without you. Thank you for giving me hugs, for wiping away my tears and for teaching me hope. You are who I hope to become.

Loves!

Happy St. Paddy's Day!

Happy St. Patrick’s Day, folks! I am one lucky girl, who has so much to be blessed for! The past week or so, two things have been on my mind: being spontaneous and my family. I am lucky that I have the support and resources to go out into the world and discover new things. That “luck” comes from having an incredibly supportive family that I can lean on no matter what. I’m grateful for you all! Thank you so much and loves!

When I was at work last week, Melanie asked me what I liked to do outside work. What should have been a simple question to answer completely took me off guard and I think the only thing I managed to squeak out before we were sidetracked by little Collie was something about spending time with my family and running. The reality that I was unable to answer her question by merely listing things off the top of my head was/is somewhat alarming to me. With this experience in mind, among others that have slapped me in the face over the last couple weeks have permitted my eyes to open to the reality of a dream I’ve been living in. I need to discover what I love; not what my family likes, not what my friends like, not what boys like, but simply and justly what I like to do solely and irreversibly for me. A few things come to mind when I think of things I like to do. I enjoy playing games (especially Disney Monopoly), watching movies and finding new songs I can’t listen to enough (yay country!), shopping, traveling, reading books and eating food. Some of my favorite things are the first sips of a soda pop (feel that burn), being able to run for a longer distance than I did last week, crossing things off my to-do list (even if I’d just put it on the list in order to cross it off) and looking up sappy love quotes on the internet. Despite my very “hefty” list of hobbies, when I look at them, I feel they’re a bit pathetic. I love to write, do well in school, eat food, watch movies, and be with the people I love. I want to make my list a bit longer. As a result to this, I’m making it my goal to expand my horizons this spring/summer. I want to do things I haven’t (or wouldn’t normally), I want to establish new habits, cross something off my bucket list, do something spontaneous, and institute a new relationship I’ve never had before. Right now, most of my boys my age are on missions. While I care about all of them in different ways, there are few who stick out in mind; some are like my big brothers, others my best friend, and for one in particular, he’s become someone I count the months until he comes home. It’s occurred to me that you can’t have a very long lasting relationship if only one person is clear of who they are. Therefore, yet another reason for my interest in discovering new things so I can either later say I love it, like it, or downright hate it! Stay tuned for my “updates” on how impulsive I will get.

A couple weekends ago, I was asked why I like to spend time with a certain group of people. While I’m trying my hardest to remember, I can’t think of my answer. Well, I’ve been thinking about it and now I have at least some little response for you. Why do I choose to spend so much time with my 7 and 5 year old Portyr and Maddy and my lovely aunt and uncle? While getting fabulous shakes from Jim every Sunday as we watch Once Upon a Time is a plus, getting “discounts” from Sara at Kohl’s helps my much budgeted fashion wardrobe, and getting hugs from my “niece and nephew” (yes, Maddy can’t quite wrap her head around the idea of me being her cousin. She only has cousins “her age” and I am NOT her age) can make me forget any bad thing that happened to me that day, there’s something a bit more that sticks out in my mind. In short, they’re my family. The older I get, the more I appreciate and earnestly want to be with my family. I believe that family is the people you choose. It’s not only those with the same genealogy tree as you; it is those who came and loved you for you; they drive you crazy, but you wouldn’t change them if you could. They make you laugh so hard your tummy hurts, but trip you on the way up the stairs. They may not always be physically with you, but they’re the ones who come and never leave your heart. People do and will come in and out of your life, but your family is the people who stay. And if they can’t stay by your side permanently, they stay in your heart eternally. I am lucky enough to not only have a spectacular family, but many of them I also consider my good friends; even my best friends. Melina is one of them. While I wouldn’t trade our different challenges or how we’ve both dealt with them, I pray every night that I can exude the same passion, dedication and love my sister has and exercises every day. In 3 weeks, mom and I are flying to Colorado to see my sissy and check on my unborn nephew. Elise was born to be a wife and mother and without hesitation I tell everyone who is reading this that she will be a great mom; better than I will ever hope to be! Elise loves children, loves the Gospel, loves to teach. She loves her husband and her little family she is making. I’m so proud of her. I am truly happy to be spending a few days with her, rekindling memories and preparing for new ones to come. The older I get, the more I love my parents. I love my mom and dad. They’ve given me everything and then some. They’ve taught me everything I need to know about how to get through this life alive and happy. I couldn’t ask for better parents for me. I wouldn’t want anything more than what I have. Since I’m writing this from Sara and Jim’s couch, you can probably assume that I kind of like them too. They’re so good to me; more so than I deserve. Thank you! Not only are you my family, you’re my friends and the people I learn from. Who else am I going to panic to or eat 7 Del Taco's with? I love you guys! I hope that my future family can be as happy as yours.

I am so incredibly blessed. I am lucky. I’m lucky that I have the opportunities to go out there and try new things. I’m lucky to have my family and my friends.

Loves!

Happy Birthday, My Dear Friend Whitney!

Last Wednesday, we got to celebrate Miss Whitney Steed’s 20th birthday. As her birthday lies on leap day (February 29th), we hoped to make it extra special for her. My fingers are still crossed that she had a good day.

In the morning, Shelly made Whit a fabulous breakfast before class. Throughout the day, we decorated the apartment front to back, top to bottom, including filling Whitney’s room with balloons. Side note for a funny story: as Shelly and I were blowing up balloons, Shelly suggested we put money in some of them. I saw some change on Whit’s desk and figured if we put that in the balloons, that would be sufficient (hey – we’re college students after all!) I successfully blew up my dime filled green balloon. As Shelly was trying to tie her balloon filled with quarters, it popped and the two of us screamed as though Audrey Hepburn walked back into the room (maybe this was a story you just had to “be there” for, but in the moment, it was really traumatic and then really funny.)





About 6 p.m., Shelly, Kelsey, Whitney Simons, Katherine, Kate, Tanya, Whit and I all went out to Chilies for a birthday dinner. I’d like to point out here that I think I got a few of those girls hooked on their chips and salsa – yum yum SO to die for! It was great to catch up with some of the girls I don’t get to see as often as I’d like. They are so much fun and I laughed until my tummy hurt. Chilies provided Whitney with a complimentary brownie and ice cream in which I think we had more fun taking creepy pictures with than eating (and don’t worry mom and dad – Whit wouldn’t let me near the Gluten filled dessert.)








At 8 o’clock, our party for Whitney started. We had invited a bunch of friends over for a dessert party. We bought a big ice cream cake from Baskin Robbins and Shelly made some cupcakes. We then asked everyone else who was coming to bring a dessert plate if possible. The party was a huge success. At one point, we probably crammed anywhere from 25-30 people into our little front room / kitchen area. About 8:45 p.m., we turned down the lights and sang “Happy Birthday” to Whitney. I hope her birthday wishes come (came) true. As far as our guest list was concerned, I think we all were quite pleased. We had a fair amount of people from our freshman ward come to visit, including our ever so favorite sweater wearing friend Hunter. It is always a pleasure to see the beautiful face of Miss Stephanie and meet her new beau. After hearing so many names from Whitney’s engineering classes, it was wonderful to finally put a face to said names. Many of her fellow classmates came to relish in her birthday and I must say they made the party. Those engineering majors may be smart, but they are surely fun as well! A big thanks to so many who came from our ward and for just the friends we know that came to wish our girl a big, happy 2-0!









I met Whitney a little less than 2 years ago. I remember thinking “I need to be friends with this girl!” I’m delighted to report that not only have we lived together the last two years; she’s also become one of my best friends. We’ve been through so much together, yet our relationship is still growing. I have no doubt in my mind that Whitney will stay a part of my life for years to come.



As cliché as it sounds, I mean it whole-heartedly. When I first met Whitney so long ago in our dorm hallway, I had no idea she would become so important and would make such a lasting impact on my life. I believe one of the things that’s bonded Whitney and I are our long conversations we have so frequently. We’ve sat at our kitchen table countless times between classes as she plugged away at her 5 pound cheese ball and I gnawed on my peanut butter covered celery sticks. So many times our “hey, how was your day” sort of conversations have turned into thought-provoking, uplifting discussions that encourages the both of us. She gives me honest, sincere advice. She is one of few who tell me what I need to hear, without me taking some sort of offense. She is truthfully, one of the most genuine, heart-felt people I have ever met. Not only does she believe in others, she believes in herself. She makes goals that most our age would never image not only pursing, but completing. Although she’s small in stature, she is not weak. She is undeniably kind, but expresses herself in a way that allows people to know how she feels; whether it’s good or bad. Her unfaltering testimony and inspired advice has opened my eyes to the potential I have as an individual, student, friend and daughter. I admire how much she cares and loves her family. Never, have I seen an aunt care for her nieces and nephew the way she does. She is an example to me of the kind of aunt I want to be. Whitney believes in people; she believes in me. She looks past my faults and sees a person inside that I haven’t even discovered yet. She has faith that I will succeed. She learns from her mistakes and wakes up each morning with the goal in mind to serve others and live righteously. I’ve never met anyone like Whitney Steed, but how blessed I am to have her part of my life! She is a tender mercy from the Lord. I could not ask for a better friend; a better person to be as involved in my life as she is in mine.
Happy Birthday my dear friend! Thank you for simply being you. I truly do hope that all your “wishes” come true.

Loves!

I Need Thee Every Hour

Yesterday, while my roommates and I sat in the MARB for sacrament meeting, our bishop stood up at the podium and announced who will be speaking to us. I didn’t know much about the first speaker other than she’d moved into the ward just this last January and Whitney, Shelly and I walked behind her on our way to church that very morning. Come to find her name is Nichole and she is a spectacular speaker in church. While she would appear to be quite shy, her testimony rings loud and clear and her witty remarks intertwined with sincere Gospel truth combined for a talk that became yet another tender mercy directly to me from the Lord. For those of you who don’t know, I’m a sound believer in tender mercies. I believe that the Lord is with us through each step we take on our journeys and He indeed sends little blessings and reminders of His infinite love He has for each and every one of His children.
Nichole talked today on one of the most basic principles known to every religion: prayer. I’ll be honest here – in most cases, I probably would have zoned out a bit as it’s such a common subject. However I was captivated by her words; more so how much she believed the words in which she spoke.
Under “prayer” in the bible dictionary it reads, “the object of prayer is not to change the will of God, but to secure for ourselves, and for others, blessings that God is already willing to grant, but that are made conditional on our asking for them.” This passage is something I base much of my prayers on. When Nichole quoted it in her talk, I perked up immensely. She began to list reasons why we may or may not pray. Her second point stood out most to me and is what I wish to talk about for the rest of my little blurb.
She discussed how our independence can either lead us to or lead us from our knees. Nichole expressed how our mortal independence is God given. We are direct sons and daughters from the most powerful deity. Because we have our agency, we want the independence to choose for ourselves and choose to be faithful; our spiritual bodies crave to do good and yearn to demonstrate our God-given qualities. This independence can either bring us to or push us from coming to the Lord. It can bring us to the Lord when we acknowledge that our independence comes from God the Father and when we display meekness, not to be confused with weakness, we are more prone to turn to who gave us our independence directly. It can push us from the Lord when we confuse spiritual independence to choose right with absolute independence from anyone, including the Lord. It is no mystery that given the choice, I’d rather tackle personal challenges on my own than with a crowd. While it’s an ongoing lesson to be learned, I’ve had to accept that I’m not going to get through every problem without help; and usually the company that comes with the “help” is much more comforting than when I’m by myself. As Nichole explained these differences in independence, I related to most of what she said. I’ve been on both sides of the fence on this one. I’ll submit that the words from her talk humbled my sometimes very puffed up heart. We were reminded of how much we are loved not only my Heavenly Father, but by His son Jesus Christ. As we talk to our earthly parents, it’s infinitely as important to daily talk with our spiritual ones.
I’m taking two church history classes this semester. As I’ve listened and read to so many different stories of early pioneer saints and their legacy of faith they left behind, I’m awed by the immeasurable love they demonstrated every day. One way in which they did this was persistently having a prayer in their heart and speaking prayers from their lips. From that, I’ve been trying to “pour my heart out to the Lord”. While I sometimes rationalize on late nights when I’m tired and rather jump in bed that He already knows what I want/need, what I’m thankful for, what I feel bad for, etc., I’m reminded of my passage in the bible dictionary. He must know what we desire if He’s already willing to give them to us, but are provisional until we merely ask for them.
I have a testimony of prayer. It’s one of those things that I came to earth with. I love to talk and express my feelings and as I get older, talking to my Heavenly Father through prayer rejuvenates my mind and soul. As it’s been said, I am a daughter of God; we are all children of God. He loves us all. He listens to our prayers. My cute 5 year old cousin (or what she would think, niece) Maddy gives some of the most honest, sincere prayers I’ve ever heard. After scripture study, we all gather around the bed when Maddy will list everyone in her family and how much she loves them and what a good girl she is and how she’ll do ANYTHING for Jesus. I can only imagine the joy our Heavenly Father feels when He listens to her simple little prayers that our so filled with sincerity. Her prayers are just as important as the ones her parents offer, I offer and some Joe-Smoo in Brazil offers. He listens to them all. He loves them all. He knows them all.
Thank you, Nichole, for your talk on prayer. While most we’ve all heard before, the message was loud and clear and at least for me, well needed.

I love all of you! My prayers are with you.

Loves!