2 Months of Busy!

Greetings! I apologize to those who take the time to read my blog faithfully. I realize I haven’t posted anything since August. My sincere apologies! The last couple months have been mere craziness. Last week, I resolved to get on top of everything I'd been putting off on account of “I don’t have time”. I'm happy to report I updated, color coordinated and “tabbed” all my Relief Society stuff and [attempted] to have a RS meeting with my activities committee (thank you to Katie for being the ONLY one to show up), I met with a professor I was desperately in need of talking to (don’t worry, mom and dad, not about grades; about Europe), cleaned out old files on my laptop and put them into new, cleanly organized, well descriptive folders, wrote to all my missionaries, read a chapter of my “leisure book” (yes, I've been reading the same book for about 3 months now. It’s not that I don’t like it. It’s just that I [surprise, surprise] don’t have time. Sorry grandma! Promise I’ll get it back to you by December!), successfully passed cleaning checks, wrote in my journal, and (I guess technically this was last weekend), I worked on my GF baking skills. Unfortunately that last one did not go as smoothly as I had hoped. Thank you Sara and Jim for indulging me on my “treats”! I promise I’m working on it. If I may say so, I am feeling pretty proud; especially because for 3 of those days last week, I was throwing up every few hours. Updating my blog is next on my grand task list. So here I am!

First, I guess we’ll get the day-to-day stuff out of the way. I’m head first in the middle of fall semester at the Y. Being an art history major is a blast! Generally speaking, the professors truly care about us as students and individual people. They make themselves readily available if and when we need to speak with them and they’re more interested in our health and overall well-being than anything else (with the exception of one particular Greek teacher. Err! Note to self and any other potential art history major-ees: DO NOT take a class from Professor Mark Johnson. Worst. Teacher. Ever! And that's putting aside his bias, favoritism, allows crying babies into his class, monotone, knows nothing attitude). My favorite class this semester is American Art, taught by my all-time favorite professor, James Swensen. I know I personally tend to overlook what’s right outside my door and head straight to Europe when I think about great art and architecture. It’s been a lot of fun to take a step back and appreciate the beauty that lies right in my own backyard. I know I say this a lot, but I want to reiterate how much I love and believe in the power of art. After I study a new portrait or altarpiece, it’s nearly a spiritual experience for me. The people who lived hundreds of years ago believed so much in the work that they were creating. They put so much thought into what and how they depicted a particular scene or individual and it was critical that the underlying message they were trying to implore was communicated. The hours, days and weeks that these artists spent on their work takes my breath away. Talk about dedication! When I look at art, I see God’s hand coming down on man. I’m so grateful to be studying these works everyday and gain a deeper insight and appreciation for the work and beauty of another.

I’m working on campus in the JFSB Child and Family Studies Lab; in other words, the BYU kindergarten and preschool! It has been one of the best decisions I've made in a long time. I love the people I work with! The other secretary is named Amelia. She is a doll! Not too soon after meeting, she dubbed me the title “mini me” and we've become good friends ever since; a friendship I’m so grateful for! The two of us have tried to make it a goal to go to the temple every Thursday afternoon after work. Unfortunately, the last few weeks have been crazy for the both of us so we haven’t had a chance to go. But before this little break, we had started to become regulars. I know this because as I went to be baptized, the temple worker shook my hand and muttered, “welcome back”. Yay! If you have to be a “regular” at something, I think temple attendance is a good one. The other preschool and kindergarten teachers, teacher aides and my boss, Anne, are fabulous! With the exception of a few random days that I felt like death, I have never not wanted to come into work. I truly do enjoy coming in each day. After 20 years, I've finally fulfilled my childhood dream of becoming a secretary. There’s always something new to learn and I’m grateful to be surrounded by wonderful people and such tender little spirits each day of my week.

At the end of my first week, Amelia and I celebrated with ice cream cones from the CourgarEat.

Before school started, we were working about 8 hour days. And sometimes those days got to be really long and that chair got to be really uncomfortable....;)

It’s safe to say that I have never been busier than this year. The one thing I miss the most is spending time with my family. Going from practically living with Sara and Jim to barely seeing them once a week is perfectly unacceptable. I miss them! A lot. I also have grown to truly miss and appreciate my immediate family. I am so thankful for my mom and dad. Call me bias, but there’s no one better, at least for me. They both work so hard every day. They exercise their faith and have instilled a firm foundation in my sisters and I on the Savior, Jesus Christ. When I went home for General Conference weekend, my mom made me lunch. This is what it looked like…

Jealous yet? I thought so. My mom rocks! She also provided me with a take home back of blue Doritos, IBC root beer, Halloween M&M’s and other fine goodies and necessities. I’d be lost without her. I’d be no where without my dad. Thank you both for your love and support. My sisters rock this world! Melina is working in Columbia Presbyterian Hospital in New York City. For those who don’t know Melina as well, this is kind of one of her dreams come true; to live in NYC and work at one of the best hospitals in the nation. I’m so very proud of her. Mom, dad and I will be spending Thanksgiving with her in the city. Yes, this does mean I get to mark off number 27 of my bucket list: “see the Macey’s Thanksgiving Day Parade live”. Yay!!! I miss her to pieces and I’m so excited to see her again. And I’ll be perfectly frank here; I’m really looking forward to my day getting lost in the MET too ;) Elise and her beautiful family are doing well in Colorado. As always, I’m so proud of her and her choices. I’m thankful she made the decision to be married in the temple and start a family. For those who don’t know, she’s also finally a BYU student. She’s enrolled in Independent Study to maintain her teaching license. Good work sis! I can’t wait to take a class together soon. Mark turned the big 3-0! Honestly I’m so grateful for him. Not only do I finally have a brother, he is perfect for Elise. I couldn't image a more perfect couple. As a sister, you don’t want anything less that eternal happiness for your siblings. I’m delighted that Elise and Mark may share that together forever. I’m still in love with a boy named Jacob Scott. I CANNOT WAIT until I get to see him in December. The days just can’t pass quick enough. Love you baby boy!!

Melina on top of the roof of the MET. I am so very thrilled to see her next month. And get my own picture in front of the New York skyline!!

I'm in love with this little boy and his chunky, little cheeks

In one of my classes last week, my professor posed this question: when you don’t have to think about anything, what do you think about? The question took me a little off guard. The idea had never crossed my mind before. What do I think about? Where does my mind wander? What do I daydream about? Who is sharing that dream with me? Sometimes at the end of a long day, when I finally get to turn off the light and snuggle under the covers, I close my eyes, take a deep breath and try not to think about anything. Inevitably, however, if I haven’t fallen asleep yet, thoughts, ideas and impressions flood my mind. Sometimes those thoughts are personal and intimate. Almost like a journal entry inside my head. Desires, fears, loves, insecurities, and hopes surface. Other times, I go to my own “wonderland” where the Cheshire cat are really scriptures, Ensign talks and prophets, the singing flowers are really John Mayer and Taylor Swift and the evil queen of hearts are really stat professors and drivers who cut me off. Paths are lined with freshly mowed grass and low lit lanterns. Pastries and teas don’t make me grow or shrink, but taste simply yummy to the tongue and slimming to the hips. It’s not too hot and not too cold. It’s a place I can go where my loved ones all live and I can see them anytime I want. School and making a living and meeting deadlines and worrying about “tomorrows” are not the main worry; just being together in a beautiful, calm, filled with love kind of world. When you don’t have to think about anything, what do you think about? I think about Jacob and who he’s going to become and who I need to be for him. I think about my mom and her strength. I think about Sara and Jim and how happy they are to be together and the life they've made for their kids. I think about what kind of life I want to have 10 years from now. I think about the boy I want to create it with. I think about a certain missionary who’s coming home soon and what might happen. I think about my amazing friends: who they are, where they've been and where they’re going. I think about what Heavenly Father’s thinking about when He looks down on me. Is He disappointed? Is He proud? Is He worried? Is He impressed? I think about what life would be like if I had done this or hadn't done that. I think about who I am and what I’m doing for others. Does it matter? Am I doing enough? I think about what kind of wife and mother I hope to be. Are my kids looking down on me saying “we’re screwed” or “she’s a good mom to have”? I think about my sisters and their happiness. Are they? I think about my dad. Am I making him proud? Is he taking care of himself like he takes care of us? I think about the beauty around me; the gorgeous mountains, the grass, the trees, the waterfalls. I think about who I love. I think about the people I want to be like and the people I don’t. I think about a clean house with Christmas music playing in the background and my kids sitting by the tree waiting for Santa Clause. I think about the temple and who will take me there one day. I think about Jesus Christ and the life He lived. How am I doing in comparison? Am I getting better the older I get or walking in the wrong direction? I think about what I need to do to accomplish my goals. I think about what I’m doing and what I’d really like to be doing. I think about how I can change that. I think about love. I think about friendship. I think about family. My professor pointed out to us that it’s the things you don’t have to think about, but do anyways, that matter most; at least, they’re what matter most to us. I believe it's really telling and can point us to the things or people we desire most. It’s an interesting idea and it’s a fun little experiment to play with yourself if you remember to think about what you thought about when you didn't need to be thinking (whew – that’s a tongue twister!)

It's been a busy, yet very fun, exciting 2 months of school. It's hard to believe it's almost November. Time goes by faster and faster the older I get. I'm grateful for my life. I hope I can get it under control enough to write more. I love you all!

Keaton and Shelly "finally" tied the knot! It was a beautiful day. I'm so happy for these two! 

                       It was also great to finally have Whitney back from Jerusalem. All safe and sound! 

Hailey had a ballet performance in mid-September. We made our way to the HFAC and supported her in her show. I personally can't wait to see what she's been working on day after day in January / February: "The Phantom of the Opera" and "Sleeping Beauty" !!

Miss. Aubrey Jensen, now Mrs. Aubrey Lisenby, got married on October 9th. Unfortunately, my camera died when I got there so I don't personally have the Night Girl wedding picture now, but we did indeed take one. It's just with the professional photographer at this point. The picture to come soon. Picture or not, however, it was lovely. Aubrey looked beautiful and the day was practically perfect. They are so happy and I couldn't be more thrilled for the new happy couple!

I have also learned that if I am ever approached by an attacker, I am essentially screwed. On one so random evening in September, we ended up watching a self-defense movie Taylor's mom bought for her and made her watch repeatedly as a teenager. We watched and then tried to practice the moves afterwards on one another. I didn't do so well...I've been trying to upload one of the videos to share with you, but it won't let me for some reason. I pinky promise to add it to the next blog (that being if I can figure out why it won't work). I'm just really hoping I'll never need to fend off any unwelcome acquaintances!! 

Loves!

The Dash

Recently, one of my Relief Society teachers referred to the talk “Always in the Middle” by President Uchtdorf from this month’s issue of the Ensign. Let me say here if you haven’t read it, I highly recommend it! Anywho, President Uchtdorf explains when we look at our lives against the backdrop of eternity; we are always in the middle. He says “being always in the middle means that the game is never over, hope is never lost, defeat is never final. For no matter where we are or what our circumstances, an eternity of beginnings and an eternity of endings stretch out before us”. As I sat in front of my Relief Society sisters, I contemplated what she and President Uchtdorf was saying and more importantly, what the Lord was trying to teach me. A few minutes later, Andy asked a sister to read the following poem:

The Dash by Linda Ellis

I read of a man who stood to speak

At the funeral of a friend.

He referred to the dates on her tombstone

From the beginning...to the end.

He noted that first came her date of birth

And spoke the following date with tears, 1964-1994

But he said what mattered most of all

Was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all the time

That she spent alive on earth

And now only those who loved her

Know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own;

The cars...the house..the cash,

What matters is how we live and love

And how we spend our dash.

So think about this long and hard.

Are there things you’d like to change?

For you never know how much time is left,

That can still be rearranged.

If we could just slow down enough

To consider what’s true and real,

And always try to understand

The way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger, 

And show appreciation more

And love the people in our lives

Like we've never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect, 

And more often wear a smile

Remembering that this special dash

Might only last a little while.

So, when your eulogy’s being read

With your life’s actions to rehash

Would you be proud of the things they say

About how you spent your dash?

I’m a lover of symbols. As I study my way through my major, I realize symbolism is one of the key components that unites all facets of art history, regardless if you are studying Egyptian art, the Renaissance or contemporary. In the matter of this poem, Linda Ellis has taken something as teeny tiny as a (-) and made a symbol for one’s entire life. I love it!

I’ve been thinking about this poem a lot since I heard it read for the first time a couple weeks ago. What am I doing with my dash? There are some things that I’m quite proud of. I’ve graduated from high school with honors. I’m attending a respected university and I’ve stayed in times when all I’ve wanted to do is leave. I’ve performed in front of the prophet on the stage of the conference center. I’ve overcome illnesses that in moments and even days of weakness, I thought I’d never come up from. I hope to say I’ve positively influenced at least one person in my life so far. I’ve done some things I’m not proud of. I’ve reacted when I should have stayed still. I stayed still when I should have stood up and said something. I’m far from being a life expert. In fact, comparatively speaking, I probably know very, very little, but I’m grateful for the little time I’ve had between my dash and I’m looking forward to the experiences and adventures that are still to come. It seems lately that this point in my dash is filled with immaculate blessings and love. It seems like everything has fallen into place and for this moment, my life feels calm and peaceful and above all, happy.

On June 25, 2012, my big sister gave birth to my much anticipated little nephew, Jacob Scott Berning. While I knew from the moment she and Mark told me they were pregnant that I would love this baby, I had no idea just how much. In my eyes, Jacob came just in time. My family drove to Colorado the day Jacob made his arrival into the world. As I held him in my arms in the hospital and later after we took him home, I saw how perfect this little boy was. He was a precious gift that God gave to my sister and her family; and to mine. As I held this baby, I thought where have you been? Have you been with Brenda? What did the Savior tell you just before you left Heaven to be on earth with us? I didn’t realize at first that this angel I was holding was really going to help me in just a manner of hours. The day before my family and I had to go back to Utah, I took Jacob in my arms and walked him into the nursery where we sat down in the rocker. Jacob and I snuggled together and for the next hour or so, had a good, long chit-chat. I told him who I was, what I liked to do, my goals and my dreams, what I hoped for him and above all, how much I loved him. It was in that quiet moment as I rocked my nephew back and forth that I realized he was what life was all about. Life is about the memories and love you make and share with your family and loved ones. It’s about finding the joy in the journey. It’s about dancing in the rain and finding the rainbow after the storm. It’s about Monopoly games that go until the wee hours of the morning and bike rides through the neighborhood and forts made out of couch cushions. Looking at his sweet face that afternoon, I realized that so much of the things I worry about or hold onto just don’t matter as much. The things that matter most are the people who God sent to you; the people who will never leave your side; your family. Jacob Scott came just in time because he helped me let go of something I’d been clinging to for almost a year. He helped me release the pain I didn’t know how to be rid of alone. Beyond the miracle he already is, he is a tender mercy God sent directly to me in that moment to help me with something I had been praying to let go of. Now, even just a month later, I’ve seen how much happier I am and how much that is because of my baby nephew and the Lord. Thank you! Thank you for answering my prayers! You’ve helped me breathe again from something I thought I was suffocating from. And now, in this point and time in my dash, I feel like I can surge forward with a smile on my face and warmth in my heart.

"Bragging Auntie" Moment: this little guy rolled over when he was only a month old! He is SO smart!

If you were to ask me a month ago if I had an inclination to move out of my apartment and into a new one, I would have said you were crazy. While I was going to be getting entirely new roommates, I liked where I lived. I’d grown to love my ward and adore my calling as 1st counselor in the Relief Society. I was ready for the New Year, but comfortable with staying where I was. My parents knew this too. So last weekend when I went home one late evening and told them I wanted to move out, they were shocked (to say the least). When I told them I wanted to move back in with a certain group of girls, they were past shocked and more in the realm of plain confused. Still, as I told them how much I had thought and prayed about this (a very, very true answer), they put their opinions aside, offered their advice and then trusted me with my decision, something I am so grateful my parents do. Although it is a big step and an even larger leap of faith to move into a new apartment with new people, it is an adventure I am anxiously awaiting to start in a few weeks. The girls I have decided to live with are not strangers to me nor I them. We have been through an awful lot and not all of it is positive. However, we have seen each other go through various illnesses, heartbreak, fights (yes, even food fights), triumphs, successes and joy. It’s been a roller coaster, but these girls are some that I have grown to respect and certainly enjoy being around. While things have changed for all of us in the 2 years we’ve known each other, we are not afraid to see where the third year takes us. We are excited to finally be back together again. Alpine Village – here we come!!

If you need proof, Miss Caroline and I Facetimed for over two hours this week and only stopped because her mom came in the room and told her she had to go.

It’s no secret that I am a hopeless romantic. I believe in “once upon a time’s” and “happily ever after’s”. I believe that true love can still exist, even when the world tells me over and over that it doesn't. I get hope when I go over to Mikki’s house and hear her husband call her on his breaks at Macey’s to check on his wife and baby. I get hope when I see the older couple walking around the mall still holding hands. I get hope when I see my aunt and uncle still get butterflies when Jim gets home from work and when, after 12 years of marriage and two kids later, they still rather go grocery shopping together. I haven’t found my sweetheart yet, but I know he’s out there. I will be overjoyed when the time is right and I get to meet him and discover why it is I love him. Some may laugh at my high hopes for love and my even “unrealistic” expectations. Here is my response: a few generations ago, men courted women by coming to their door and asking them on a date. They’d bring flowers and handwritten letters. They respected the woman in their life and regarded her as someone special and to be treasured and respected, not someone to merely make out with on a lonely Friday night or to be criticizing or demeaning. They’d ask their fathers for their hand in marriage. They carried her over the threshold of their first home. They continued to bring flowers home after work. They continued to hold the purse and shopping bags at the mall. They kissed them on the forehead after a long hard day and turned music on the record player in order to dance with their sweethearts in the kitchen. Sadly for me, I don’t live in this 1940s dream. I live now in 2012. I’m not asking for roses every week. As a matter of fact, I do love flowers, but I like chocolate more. I’m not asking for someone to hold my purse and bags every time we go to the mall or even to go with me to the mall every time (I realize this might be fairly boring for you), but I am asking you to notice the new dress I bought with you in mind or help me bring the groceries in from the car and unpack. I’m not asking you to give up your life and your hobbies and make me the center of your universe. Quite frankly, we’d probably kill each other within hours if we did that. However, I am asking you to make me the biggest part of your life and introduce me to other facets of your world I’m not familiar with. I’m not asking you to be Noah from The Notebook or Logan from The Lucky One (although I would not disapprove in the least if you were). However, I am asking that you might watch those movies with me every once in a while and look at me the way those characters look at them. Above all, I’m asking you to love me unconditionally. Kiss me before you go to work and kiss me when you get home. Play with our kids. Notice the little things and remember I like surprises too. Let me rant and rave when I’m upset and even swear because of a mistake I made. Just love me. And I promise I’ll love you back. President Uchtdorf says our “once upon a time’s” are now. I want the fairy tale. That’s something I’m not afraid to say. I hope my time spent between the dashes will have a lot of love in it created by my sweetheart and I.

I don’t know what’s going to happen to me in the dash that’ll be between my birth and my death (a date I’m hoping will be far, far from now). I don’t know what people will say about me when they read my eulogy. I’ll be honest, I have thought about it long before I heard the poem, but quite frankly, I’m not sure if I really want to know. However, I hope somewhere in there, people can say I spent my dash loving those around me: my family, my friends, my neighbors, my Savior. I hope they say I was kind and loyal and happy. I hope they say I was fun and hopeful in times of good and bad. I hope they say I was a disciple and a follower of Christ. I hope they say I was classy and smart. I hope they say that I loved and inspired and dreamed. I hope in my dash, I can make a family and a home with another. I hope I can travel the world. I hope to be a great aunt and assure my nephew and future nieces and nephews that there Aunt Megan always has their backs, as my aunts have shown me. I hope to prove to myself that I’m really supposed to be down on earth right now and I will make an important contribution somewhere along the way. I hope those who know me will feel like better people after I’ve gone. I hope to cross everything off my bucket list. I hope that when it’s my turn to go home, those left behind on earth will see me as someone to follow in, not someone to learn from because of bad choices.

What am I going to do with my dash? I don’t know. I guess the only way to know is to go out and experience life for all it’s got. For me, that’s one of the biggest lessons I could learn; to just live. To make mistakes, but to get up and learn from them. To do something crazy stupid and laugh about it later. To do something spontaneous. To make your own path. To live life wherever you go with whoever you meet. That’s what I hope to do with my dash.

Loves!

P.S. I thought I'd add some pictures from my summer. Add these to the "good memories" folder!

I've learned the most from this lady right here. I love you, mom!

The AMAZING girls I got to serve with in Relief Society. I'll miss you Michelle, Kira and Amber. Thank you for all you taught me!

Melina and I bringing "Teddy" to life for Jacob. *Please never mind that I am wearing zero make-up and had just come from a workout. At least Melina looks good :)* 

Jim took this picture of Sara and I at a boy scout activity. Then sent it to both of us in a text message. He-he I guess we really like our phones??

Finally, just want to wish this girl a great, big, giant HAPPY BIRTHDAY! YAY - YOU'RE 20! 

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!