The Sabbath is a Refuge from Daily Life

I have a game that I play...avoid speaking in church. It's not that I absolutely hate speaking in church, I just enjoy listening and thinking about what is being said more. I do enjoy the writing part, thinking deeply, trying to figure out what I can say that may or may not influence someone for the better. I failed at playing that game last week, so yesterday I spoke in church. Here's what I had to say: :)

Back in high school, I was in an AP art class. I was working on an 8x10 drawing on black paper of lilies. using prismacolor pencils for the first time. With these pencils, you can get the colors to blend using a layering technique. You build up layers of colors and blend the colors as you go. I was pretty close to finishing the piece, but I was having trouble with one of the sections of the flower with getting the color just right, so as I layered the colors, I began to notice little black specks on the drawing. So, I would just add more layers to try to cover them up, but what I didn't realize was the the black specks were from the paper as it began to come apart. Before I knew it, I had drawn a hole into this drawing and there was no fixing it. Obviously I was angry and frustrated with myself because I should have realized what was happening, but I had to start completely over with this drawing. If I had paid closer attention to what what was happening on my paper, I could have probably stopped, taken a break from what I was doing, and figured out a way to prevent further damage to the drawing.

Life can be very similar. We can be trying to do our best to be productive and make something beautiful out of our situation; we can work and keep working, adding more layers to our lives, but before we realize it, we have worn ourselves thin. We exhaust ourselves to the point where we can no longer function properly and the only way for us to get back on track is to start over, and start fresh.

This past week has been all over the place for me. I was a math tutor and then we had our epic coloring party for FHE on Monday. Tuesday, I did a bunch of landscaping. Wednesday, I taught my friend, Shirley (who is 90 ish) some things in Microsoft word. And if any of you have taught an older person how to use technology, you understand why that is so tiring. Thursday, I worked two jobs and then celebrated my grandma's birthday. Friday, I got a phone call from my mom, who was at work, asking if I could come teach her and the new manager how to use a program on their computer that I had never used before. So I not only had to teach myself how to use the program, but I had to teach them as well...and their old too :) and I went to the Weber Co. fair. Saturday, I went to work, baked brownies, cleaned the church, and did what any sensible country girl in the area would do and I went to the demolition derby.

I'm sure I'm not the only one who has had a hectic schedule, but by the end of the week, I'm dead to the world. With each new day that we live through, we get a few more black specks showing through.

But when Sunday comes, we can take a step back and look at those black specks or holes and figure out how best to fix them. We can rest from the struggles of everyday life and become rejuvenated on the Sabbath.

Elder Worthlin, stated in 2006 ("Sunday will come")
       "Each of us will have our own Fridays (or those busy weeks,). Those days when the universe itself seems shattered and the shards of our world lie littered about us in pieces. We all experience those broken times when it seems we can never be put together again. We all have those Fridays...But I testify to you in the name of the One who conquered death, Sunday will come. In the darkness of our sorrows (or trials, or exhaustion, busy weeks, etc.) Sunday will come."

The literal Sunday comes every week. Now what are we supposed to do with those Sundays?

I want you to think for a second. What is your general routine for the Sabbath? Are you constantly rushing like you do the rest of the week? Or do you treat the Sabbath as a separate day? Do you take the time to rest fro the world we are constantly being sucked into or are you coloring yourself thin? Are you spending more time on Facebook and Pinterest than you are with the friends and family you have around you?

Satan knows that we need Sundays. He knows how powerful and important the Sabbath can and should be for us. He tempts us with our weaknesses, hoping we will give in because he knows that the more time we spend being busy and distracted, the less time we have to focus on building up our relationship with our Heavenly Father and the Savior, and the less time we will devote to church or focusing on the importance of the sacrament.

Just like tithing, we can set apart time each week and give it back to Him. We can give the Lord equal time.

Even with the constant reminders of the Sabbath, we forget how important it is. Just like Jared said in his testimony last week, Sometimes we have to get caught in a rainstorm  while we are golfing on Sunday to help us realize what we have forgotten.

I want you to think of just one thing that you can do/do differently to improve your Sabbath day observance. Just one thing. It doesn't have to be huge. Now that you have, I want you to actually do it. Nothing will change if you don't do anything differently.

With each small change that we make to better our Sabbath day observance, we can become closer to Heavenly Father. We will find rest from the demands of the world and we will be able to face another hectic week without wearing holes in oursleves.

For one of my jobs, I mow lawns--lots of lawns. So I had some time to think about what I wanted to say while I was mowing and let's be honest, most of you won't remember this talk a month from now, and knowing that information, I was trying to figure out what I wanted you guys to remember. What would I want you guys to know. If I was to die tomorrow, what would I tell you? What would I want my last words to you to be?

They would be this:

• There is nothing more important than having a relationship with our Savior and we can strengthen it by keeping the Sabbath day holy.
• There is nothing the Atonement of Jesus Christ can't reach, fix, or heal.
• There are no rules telling us that we can't ask questions about the gospel, no matter how dumb we think they are.
• There is nothing that we can't pray and talk to Heavenly Father about.
• Last: The ONLY place that happiness can be found, is in this Gospel.

I hope that we can each remember to rest from the world on the Sabbath and remember to honor it. It is a great time for us to to focus on our Savior...

I shared my testimony after this. I don't remember what I said, but I know that the Savior loves me and I know that He loves you. I know that prayers are answered, because my prayers have been answered. I know that God lives because I have seen the tender mercies that have been placed in my life at times when I needed them. The Gospel makes me want to be a better person and it brings happiness into my life that I can not find any other way. It brings me hope through the Savior and through the Atonement.

Love Ya!

In honor of Valentine's day, I thought I'd share a few thoughts on the verbal/written expressions of love. Ever since my nephew died, I vowed to let people know that I loved them (only if I actually do, because love is not something that I will lie about). One of my favorite quotes says, "Don't tell me you love me unless you mean it, because I might do something crazy, like believe it." There are very few things that are as hurtful and soul-ripping as having some express their love to you, only to later discover that they actually weren't sure of what they were saying or having not meant it.

Now, if you think that this post only applies to romantic relationships, you're wrong. This post pertains to all types of relationships; family, friends, romance, and whatever else you can think of. As I have shown my soul to the people around me, I have learned that there are different stages, or levels, of love. They can be determined by an 'I love you', a 'love you', and a 'love ya'. Although all are good when truthfully said, from my experience, they come across as having different depths of meaning.

The 'Love Ya'
This is a casual term of endearment. It is the 'I care about you', but not enough to use more syllables to express my feelings kind of love. It can also be interpreted as the last-minute-thought expression of love; a quick add-on to a statement. It is the level 1 in love stages. Not deeply felt in the soul at the moment, but still has some feeling (maybe it is skin deep?)

The 'Love You'
This is a more heart-felt statement. Instead of the 'ya', they are emphasizing that they do, in fact, love YOU as a person, not just that they note your existence with a 'ya'. The 'love you' is a more a deeply felt love, because they are acknowledging that it is specifically you that they love. They are acknowledging that you are a human being with a qualities that can appreciate. It is a more personalized expression, without the commitment of adding themselves into the situation with the 'I'.

The 'I Love You'
This is the big one. This is the heart and soul of love.The one that takes the relationship, whether it is platonic or romantic, to the next level, and the one that is least understood by a most people, in my opinion. The one that everyone seems to be afraid to say to someone else. Adding themselves into the expression of love means that they actually need to feel something for the other person and be vulnerable enough to say it out loud, running the risk of not having the other person feel the same way.  This is the 'I care about you, and I am willing to prove that I do, in fact, love you'. It is putting you and that other person in the same sentence. It is creating a promise and commitment to another human being that you see yourself with them in any form of a relationship. There is something about adding one simple letter to an expression that adds so much more depth and feeling to it. Emphasizing that 'I' love 'YOU'. I (who I am) loves YOU, just as you are.

Now that I have these defined as vaguely as possible, this doesn't mean that if someone says 'love ya', they don't actually love you in an 'I love you' sort of way, because this is obviously just my opinion (which isn't worth much). I shout 'love ya' to lots of people as we part ways, when I do love them at an 'I love you' level, but I use it as a quick add-on to a statement.

Because I have now made you self-conscious and have made you think twice on how to express your level of love to your friends/family/significant other for the rest of your live, I wish you the Happiest of Valentine's Days.

Love ya!!! (mostly because I don't actually know who is reading this right now...maybe we can take it to the next love level on another post.)

Within

Within

Life is at times, a little bit rough
You gotta keep your chin up and play it tough
People are watching you; you can't let the know
That the demons within you are starting to show

Put on your mask to hide your fears
That disguise will camouflage all of your tears
Keep your chin up so they won't see
That your heart isn't beating' you are not free

The dark that's inside you is beginning to grow
But keep your mask on and they'll never know
Paint on that smile and a convincing eye flash
Just pretend you're okay, not turning to ash

Keep your mask on, and build up that wall
So your heart can't be broken or crushed from a fall
Suppress the shadows that try to creep out
Don't show them emotion or even your doubt

Pretend it is fine that you are alone
Brush off that hurt that you are unknown
Whisper a prayer as you lie in your bed
And hope that the demons don't answer instead

Hide the pain that seeps through your eyes
Put on your mask as you say your goodbyes
Don't show them your scars or the pain that runs deep
Put on your mask to hide the secrets you keep

Show them you're fine, prove that you'll breathe
Hide behind the disguise until the day that they leave
You can't let them see what lies under your skin
Even you can't run from the darkness you're in

Build up a facade to hide all the gloom
So all they will see is a flower in bloom
Tell them you're alright and keep your chin high
Be strong on the surface and reach for the sky

Your mask will protect you from all of the sting
It will guard you from the weight of the pain that they bring
But what if the facade weakens and you are left bare?
You demons are not something that you wish to share.

What if it slips and darkness exposed?
How will you keep yourself ever composed?
But what if it happens? What if they see
That you are not perfect, that you are not free?

Maybe they won't laugh, perhaps they might care
Maybe they've always noticed the demons in there
Maybe they've known, and can see how you've tried
And maybe, just maybe, they have their own demons inside.

3/29/2014

Broken Goodbye

I hate to watch us part,
but you see, I cannot stay.
Our lives have changed directions,
and our paths are night and day.

I have turned to face the east,
and you stand facing to the west;
our backs against each other,
the split's tearing at my chest.

I am sad to change my heading,
and it hurts to let you go,
but our fates no longer merge
into the future I hoped to know.

I thought we'd walk together
into a friendship, never ending,
but our paths divided sooner
than the promise you'd been vending.

So I guess this is goodbye,
but hopefully not for long.
Maybe I'll see you later.
Maybe I am wrong.

If our paths do forget to cross,
and this our final meeting,
know you bruised my heart,
but you can't stop its beating.

1/13/2016

The Day that Changed Everything

For the last few days, I have had the thought that I needed to share my story. The story that changed everything. It changed how I viewed life, people, love, etc, but most of all, it changed me. This story took 2 years for me to even to be able to start to write down, and still is hard for me to talk about, and most of this story has never been shared with anyone. Hopefully, this will show you why I am the way that I am. Hopefully, it will show you why I am trying to be better, why I care too much, why I try to let people know that I love them, and why I know without a doubt, that God lives.

4 years ago

Thursday, May 26, 2011

We got to babysit Brigham for a little bit, and I was headed to my ward’s activity at the fish hatchery and I was frustrated because every time I would hand Brigham to Stacie so I could leave, he would start being fussy and cry. Stacie kept telling me to take him back whenever he did it, and when I would take him back he was completely fine. I was so frustrated because I was going to be late. (Walking out that door, was and still is one of my very few regrets that I have, but how could I have know what was going to happen?)

On Friday, May 27, 2011
The next day, around 5:00 in the afternoon, I was in my mom’s bedroom looking for ribbon or something by her TV. The house phone rang and I answered and my Mom was on the other end. She asked me if my brother and his kids were at the house. I told her no and she proceeded to ask me again, almost pleading, begging me to tell her that the kids were with me. Again, I told her no and she mentioned something about telling her it was a joke or Ben playing a joke. I asked her what was going on, sensing that there was something very wrong. (My mom was not acting like herself. It was like she was having a panic attack on the inside) She told me Ben was on the way to the hospital in an ambulance with Brigham. Briana had put Brigham down for a nap and went in to check on him, he was blue and not breathing. She told me it wasn’t good and told me to pray when I asked her what I could do.

I don’t know if I have ever prayed so hard in my life up until then. I hung up with my Mom and ran to tell my Dad that we needed to leave immediately to go to the hospital. I was so hopeful at this point, I  had a feeling that everything was going to be fine. I was in shock, nothing seemed to really register to my brain quite yet. While I was waiting for my Dad, my Mom called back. When the phone rang, I knew it was my mom. I answered again, this time, whatever strength my mom’s voice had with the first call was completely gone.  All she said was, “Ben called…Brigham didn’t make it”. These were the worst words that I could have ever heard coming from my mom. I heard the pain. I heard the fear. I heard everything through those few words. Before she could say anything else, I told her to stay where she was and that I would be there as fast as my car would take me. I couldn’t bear hearing my mom in any more pain.

I ran downstairs and met my dad in the front room, and I told him mom just called again, Brigham didn’t make it. We need to get to mom. I knew she couldn't be alone. I’m not sure who told my brother Jason, but I called my sister, Stacie, who was at work. I couldn’t bear anyone else getting hurt, so I didn't give Stacie the option of meeting us at the hospital. I told her we would pick her up at work on our way. I didn’t want anyone driving alone to the hospital being upset.

Dad and I took my car and went to mom’s work. She was waiting for us outside the building. I moved to the back seat so she could sit up front by my dad. We were just turning onto 2^nd street from BDO, when my mom called my aunt Cathy to tell her what was going on, but she didn’t answer, so she called my cousin Tiffany. My mom could barely talk. She couldn’t get any words out to tell Tiff the news, she couldn't say it, as if saying it made nightmare real. So she handed the phone over to me. I'm sure my words sounded empty and hollow as I talked with Tiffany, telling her what I knew and asking her if she could bring our grandma up to the hospital. I was completely numb.  I was still in shock, slowly coming to the realization of this nightmare. It felt like I was living someone else’s life. I was in a movie. Things like this don’t happen to me.

On our way to the hospital, we had to pick up my niece and nephew, Aubrey and Tyson, at their neighbor’s house and get the car seats. Mom told me to run and get the seats and as I jumped out of the car and headed to the house, I was stopped by a police officer who told me I couldn’t go in the house. I remember feeling dumbfounded. Didn’t he know that it was an emergency? I needed to get into the house. I needed the car seats. He sent in one of the officers to get the seats for me. (I was so in shock that I didn’t even fathom that the police would have to be investigating the death of my nephew. It wasn’t a crime scene! But of course, rules must be followed and I remember being a little offended that the police would even think that this was anything but an accident. Once I was able to think clearly, I was able to be grateful for them and the work that they had done.)

Because my car only seats five people and we still had to go pick up Stacie, we realized that we didn’t have enough room in my car for all of us and the kids. Ben and Briana’s neighbor, who was watching their kids, and who also happened to be a police officer, offered to take one of us to the hospital. I volunteered. My family shouldn’t be separated from each other. I chose to ride with a complete stranger so my family could be together. I got in his truck and I think we followed my car to Macey’s to pick up Stacie and then on to the hospital. He offered me a tissue and tried to make small talk about me and school. I couldn’t really say much.

We pulled up to the ER parking and Ben and Bri met us in the hallway. I looked at them and wondered why they were calm. We all walked back to the waiting room. I’m pretty sure it was a room where they let families grieve. It was a small pink-ish hued room with couches that lined the walls and tissue boxes. I think after we sat in this room for a bit, it finally hit me…The realization of what was actually happening hit me, and I didn’t like it at all. Aubrey and Tyson were in the room with us, running around, being busy as usual. I think if they weren’t there everything would have felt much worse, much faster. I remember looking around and everyone, including Bri’s parents. I remember seeing my dad cry. I remember looking Stacie in the eyes and both of us crying. Everyone’s eyes were puffy. But I still wondered how Ben and Bri were so calm. I don’t remember seeing them cry that day. Ben and Bri went out into the hall way and I remember hearing Briana sob. That is another one of those things that was incredibly painful to hear. It echoed into our room and broke my heart. But when I saw them again, it was as if it never happened.

Tiffany brought my grandma up and Jason came too. I remember Tiffany’s eyes were red and puffy from crying.

A nurse or a doctor told us we could go say goodbye to Brigham and that we could hold him if we wanted. I shook my head and didn’t move from my corner chair, next to the table with a box of tissues. I wasn't ready to say goodbye. I knew I couldn’t handle it, but my mom said that I should go hold him. My sister and I were the last ones as we walked down the long, echoing hallway. When I reached the room that he was in, I glanced in and saw him. I never neared the doorway. When I looked in, my mom was holding him. He was so pale. So lifeless. Brigham wasn’t in there. His body had been intubated and wrapped in a white and blue towel-like blanket. It didn’t look soft or comfy at all. I took all of this in, in a matter of a few seconds and after those few seconds, I ran, stumbling back to the grieving room. I couldn’t take any more. It was all too much. I couldn't handle it. I was not strong enough for this. I think Stacie followed me.

After that most things were a blur at the hospital. We got home and everyone went into their separate rooms and stayed there. No one talked. No one spoke. I don’t think I have ever heard my house being so loud with pain and sadness through utter and complete silence. No one was sleeping. We were all awake the whole night, soaking in the dark. My mom wasn’t snoring. Stacie didn’t have a tv on and my dad wasn’t walking around the house like he usually does at night. It was so loud and yet so incredibly silent.

The last thing that I wanted was to be away from my family, even though we didn’t even sit in the same room and I didn’t really want to talk to anyone either.Two days later Sunday came (May 29th), I was planning on going to my parents ward, but something kept pushing me to go to my own ward, I didn’t want to go there. My family wasn’t there, but I went. I never thought that going to church would be so hard...I didn't let any tears fall...only because I wiped them away before anyone could see.

 I went to church and I don’t remember any of the lessons. I looked up scriptures about death and about the death of a child, anything to bring some sort of comfort to me. I told people who asked that I was okay, but honestly, I wasn’t. I was dying inside. My mind was peeling away from my body and peeling away from everything around me, but I wasn’t about to let anyone know that. I had to be strong for my family. I had to be strong for my mom.

Sunday night my brother stopped by and helped me to understand a little bit more as to what was happening. I didn't tell him that I was struggling. I didn't tell anyone. I think maybe I was trying to be strong for everyone else, and I guess I figured that if I told everyone I was doing good, then maybe I'd start to believe it too. Ben shared one of his journal entries with me that night that helped me to understand a little bit more about Brigham and the Plan of Salvation.

May 31, The day before the funeral:
 Jared brought us cookies and asked me if I wanted to go see the last Pirates of the Caribbean movie. We had already seen it and for some reason, I went. I didn’t really want to go; I just wanted to do what I had been doing for the last week, which was stay home. I think he was just trying to show me that he was there for me and that he cared. We went and there were only like 4 people in the theater, including us. Someone was trying to call Jared, but his phone wasn’t working, so he took mine and walked out to make the phone call. This was the first time that I had been left alone, with no one near me that I knew. I felt so alone and I cried. I cried in the theater until Jared came back.

Funeral/Viewing day: June 1, one week before my 21 birthday

I had never seen such a tiny casket, and I never want to see one again. I looked at Brigham in the casket and it looked nothing like him. I knew he wasn’t there. It was almost as if it was someone else’s child in there. Ben gave the family prayer before closing the casket and some of us knelt. Ben asked if he could kneel and said we didn’t have to kneel…I fell to my knees. They pretty much collapsed from under me and I hit the floor.

Ben asked if I would be the chorister at the funeral. It was hard being alone, sitting in front of a bunch of people that I didn't know. I couldn’t sing any of the songs and the tears kept flowing during the hymns. Briana sang the song ‘Be Still My Soul’. I had never heard a song sung with such heart and spirit. It was incredibly beautiful, and that song still haunts me to this day. I can’t sing it. All I can do is cry, although I am getting better at holding back my tears when we sing it at church. It is a powerful song and very beautiful, but it brings back memories of the funeral and the pain and sadness that came with it.

While people were giving their talks (and I sitting on the stand crying in front of everyone, wishing someone was sitting by me), I felt someone sitting behind me and to the left one seat. A large hand rested on my left shoulder a few times. I turned around to look, but no one was there. I glanced behind me a few more times just to make sure. I have no doubt that it was Brigham. I never really thought about it until later, but it was an adult hand, not the hand of a child on my shoulder. I had never thought about him being older. He was just a baby to me. I had only known him as a child, and yet I knew it was his hand on my shoulder.

My dad carried the casket. This is an image that I can't un-see. It is burned into my memory.

It is the smallest casket I have ever seen...

Cemetery:

There is that tiny casket again…Ben jumped in the grave to set the casket down in it. A few of us stayed behind and watched the tractor dump dirt on top of the casket. That is also something I can’t un-see.  My grandma Baker was sobbing and saying that it just wasn’t fair and that it was "too final". I hugged her and told her it would be okay, even though I wasn’t sure I believed it myself. I also told her that it definitely wasn't the end. I don't know why, but I did. Maybe it was something she needed to hear.

I hugged Briana for the first and only time at the cemetery and I told her that I loved her. I remember her face when I said it. I think she was shocked to hear me say it.

Beginning to heal:

For a few weeks, I stayed home, some days I just stayed in bed. I was lying in bed one afternoon, just thinking and crying. Asking why and praying for peace. That was the first time I prayed to feel peace. As soon as I prayed, I felt calm, I felt like my mind and body were one again instead of the mess that they were becoming on the inside. While I was asking questions and begging for answers, I asked why. Why did this have to happen? I couldn’t do this. It is too much. Why me? When I asked why me, the answer came. ‘Because you were chosen.” It wasn’t quite spoken out loud, but it definitely wasn’t silent. Those words were not my own. At all.

 Because I was chosen? That was definitely not something that I would not have come up with on my own. I was chosen to go through this trial. I was chosen to be Brigham’s aunt. I was chosen, just as Ben and Bri were chosen to be Briggy’s parents. Just as my Mom was chosen to be his grandma. I was chosen because I could do it. I would be given the strength to overcome it. It was all part of the plan of salvation. That was the first time that I had felt that the plan of salvation was an actual plan. It was real. There really is a plan, and in that plan, I was chosen. I was actually picked specifically to be part of that plan. Heavenly Father knew that He needed a family that would be strong enough to endure the trial of Brigham returning back home and that is why He chose us. He knew that we would grow and be strong enough in the end. He knew that Brigham's passing would hurt, but it would also bring us closer to Christ.

Ladybugs:

I had just finished mowing my Grandma Baker’s lawn and noticed that she had some weeds in her flower garden, so I started pulling them out, enjoying the sunshine and the feel of the freshly cut grass on my bare feet. As I was pulling, a ladybug came and landed on my hand and as I looked down on this beautiful creature, I smiled and without thinking, said, ‘Hi, Brigham’. It was just another one of those moments when I knew he was just stopping by to say hello to me.

There have been a few other times when lady bugs have randomly showed up. I had one crawling on my arm in my bedroom one night in the middle of the winter. A while later I found that same lady bug in my bedroom, but it had died and I started crying. Other times, someone else randomly shows me that a ladybug has landed on them and it always makes me smile, just knowing that he is here and that he still cares about me, just to stop and say hi. 

Losing a loved one who is elderly is completely different than losing one who has yet to experience life. I have lost many people that I love, and losing Brigham was the most difficult. It was determined that Brigham died from SIDS. Basically, he stopped breathing and they don't know why. I will forever be grateful for the lessons that I learned from this hard experience. I will forever be grateful for those people who held me together when I couldn't do it myself and for those who stood by me as I fell apart. I am forever grateful for my family and for my Savior, Jesus Christ for showing me how much I have to be grateful for, and helping me to become stronger that I thought I could be, for overcoming my impossibles, and for never abandoning me, even when I deserved it.

A letter to the World

A while back I was having a hard time sleeping. It was just one of those nights where you are so incredibly exhausted that your eyes feel like they are too big to fit in your skull, and where your brain has reached a point where it is so tired it can't even shut itself off. So I was laying in bed...trying to force my eyes back into my head and trying to calm my brain down enough to where I could begin to relax. It had been just one of those times where everything just seemed to be going wrong, everything was dark (figuratively and physically), I was questioning myself. While I was just trying to find someway to sleep, my mind began shouting/writing this letter of sorts, and for some reason, I knew it had to be written down before it disappeared from existence. It was strange because as I was writing, it didn't feel at all like it was me that was writing this letter/message, but someone else. I was writing down what someone was dictating to me. I thought I'd share it with the world because it not only applied to me, but it applies to anyone who is struggling, anyone who is going through a trial, anyone who feels alone, anyone who is having a hard time. So this letter is for you. Read it. Absorb it.

Dear You,

                I know it is hard. I know that you are hurting. I know you feel let down, disappointed, heart-broken, depressed, and alone. I know you don’t feel good enough to be loved or wanted, but one day you will see and understand why this had to happen and why you had to struggle so much. You are so much stronger than you give yourself credit for. You are incredible and the strength within you will grow and you will change the world with who you are. Be good. Do good. Work hard and even though you are afraid, keep going. Life is scary and your greatest accomplishments will come from your scary moments. Doubt not, fear not. Those times when you feel alone, just remember that even though you feel the darkness creeping in, you possess a light that can outshine and conquer anything that is trying to hold you down. Remember that even though you may feel friendless and feel like no one cares, you always have a Father and Brother who will always stand by your side as long as you reach for them. They will always be by your side and will always listen to what you have to say. Don’t forget about them. Allow them to hold you up when you can no longer stand. Watch for the hand of God in your life and find things to be grateful for, even when it is hard to do so. Trust them with your whole being. They are the only ones that will not let you down. They will always love you no matter how unloved you think you are and when you are alone in the darkness, they will be fighting your demons and protecting you from being consumed by the darkness; they will be holding you close with more love than you can understand. They know you better than you know yourself and they know what you need to become the best that you can be. Let them guide you, even when you must take a leap of faith into the unknown. It will be hard, but together with Christ and Heavenly Father, you cannot fail. With them you can do hard things. Have faith. Breathe. And keep smiling. Happiness will return to you again, I promise. And most of all, remember that you are enough.

Love, Me

The World's Standard of Perfection (The Body Image)

Everyone is obsessed with their weight; losing it, how much they have gained, how much they currently weigh, how much they want to lose, etc. The world we live in is always pressuring those who live in it to be the 'perfect' size. To look a certain way. To be a specific shape. Well, I am here to tell the world, that they are wrong. Not only wrong, but, dead wrong.

The world says that I need a thin waist, that my thighs shouldn't touch, that my stomach should be flat. I'll just say it right now, none of those things apply to me, nor do I think that it is important that my stomach be flat instead having a curve. Those 'standards' from the world are geared towards men and women alike. Men are to look toned, muscular, and to have rock hard abs. I am here to say that those qualities don't really matter. There are much more important things in the world than to be model-esque, which by the worlds standards is basically starving yourself, having a negative pant size, and legs that are as long a giraffe's neck,  basically flawless. Everyone has flaws. No one is perfect. No, not even me...or even you for that matter. Sorry to hurt your feelings, but you and I are far from perfect. Our flaws are what makes us who we are.

All of the images that are plastered in magazines, television, films, billboards, advertisements are fake. They photograph a starved model, someone who is supposedly perfect and beautiful by the world's view, and what do they do to them??? They photoshop them!!! They lengthen the neck, trim the waist, thighs, neck, etc. and extend the legs even more, give them bigger eyes, etc. So basically the images that we see ARE NOT REAL. They are not actually real people. The standards that the world of beauty has set are NOT REALISTICALLY ACHIEVABLE. They alter what is already beautiful according to their own standards. How does that even make sense??? Why would you try to perfect something that you have already deemed perfect. The world is never satisfied with looks. NEVER. You will never achieve what they are showing you. Why can't they just capture what is real?

What really matters is what you do in life, how you act, how you treat people. If all you have going for yourself and all you care about is looks-sorry, but you don't have much to offer me or anyone else really. I am tired of seeing the effects of this standard on men and women. It breaks down self-esteem and confidence. It makes you dislike they way you look, so much so in some people that is becomes debilitating disorder. Is that really the type of world we want to live in??? A world that is constantly telling us that we are not pretty or handsome enough to exist. Is that the legacy that we should be leaving for the upcoming generations?  A legacy that is shouting at them, telling them that how they look isn't good enough. Telling them that because they don't look like the people in the media, they need to change who they are.

We should be focusing more on what we can contribute to the world, our society, and to our communities. Being skinny doesn't help the neighbors who are struggling to feed their children. Having rock hard abs doesn't help fight abuse. Having thighs that don't touch doesn't stop pollution. Do you see my point yet??? If not, you may be a hopeless case.

Side Notes:

I want to point out that there have been some companies that are fighting to change this standard, which I applaud. (*claps), but is it enough? Can just a few companies change it all? You tell me.

I also want to point out that although looks don't matter, your health does. There is a huge difference between being healthy and trying to fit into the world's standards. One shouldn't compromise one's health for the sake of being skinny.