In the Morning

I have been told, I am in the morning of my life.

A few days ago, at about 10am, I wondered if I existed at the 10am stage of my time here. That particular morning I happened to have slept in. Although this wasn't typical for me, it still made me a little uncomfortable to think that I hadn't done anything with myself beyond showering and, if I was lucky, making myself appear presentable for the day.

In a brief laps of time I reflected on the earlier parts of my life and realized that these too were acts of waking up and getting ready. The typical child spends the majority of their time awake between the ages 5-18 (plus however many years for higher degrees) in school. But why? To learn, yes. But really, in a strictly applicable sense, to prepare for a job, raising a family of their own, etc. Or in other words, to prepare for the rest of their life.

When I turned twenty I went through this time of fixating on the fact that I had potentially concluded a quarter of my life. I felt overwhelmingly old. I know that may sound silly, especially to those significantly beyond their twenties, but it was definitely a reality check moment for me. I have a fairly poor memory, and I could only recall insignificant snippets from here and there of my childhood--an entire quarter of my life pieced together in a few random memories.

My earliest memory: Riding my tricycle around our small apartment complex and feeling as though I'd gotten lost because it took my short, three-year-old legs a lot longer for me to work my way around the building than I anticipated.

I remember my father purchasing me a 25 cent toy from a small candy machine in the hospital while we waited to see my mother and newly born little sister.

My mind swells with my earlier dreams and ideas of the world, as I recall the first time my mother helped me apply the lightest shades of eyeshadow and lipstick, so that I might wear makeup in public.

I can't help but relive the churning stomach and trepidation of auditioning for high school dance team in front of my more popular cheerleader peers.

I chuckle at the memory of moving away to college and realizing I needed to buy my own toilet paper.

And I daily recall the morning only a month ago when I woke up to the traumatic death of my grandmother.

This is a quarter of my life, in so many words.

Just as the beautiful pastel blues, pinks, and yellows of the sunrise fade into the warmth of the afternoon, so too does the novelty and magic of childhood fade into our background of life.

Inevitably, storms come and go unexpectedly or not, and life presses forward until we each hopefully glow in the rays of a brilliant red and purple sunset.

It's hard for me to fully grasp the duration of an entire life--so long and yet so short.

I find myself staring at women only a little older than myself, wondering how I will get there, but recognizing time's unfailing ability to push us forward.

A very eccentric but wise man once told me, the waves never stop moving. He explained how he had sat on the beach one day alone for 10 hours, until he realized the waves never stopped moving.

So it is with our lives. The waves are always beating against us. The water is always changing. Sometimes the liquid can feel cool, refreshing, and brilliant on the shore of a beautiful beach; other times we feel as though we are drowning. Over time, the water refines us, removing blemishes and rough spots. But the waves never stop moving.

I don't know what time it is in your life right now. I don't know what you've done with your minutes already spent. And I don't feel the need to give you some unasked for, cliche piece of advice.

I just want to let you know, I think wrinkles are beautiful.

Dead

We saw this man, well we saw this group of police officers first, then we saw this man--face first on the ground. The officers surrounded him on all sides. He was wrapped up. All we could see were his feet, and that's how we knew he was face down--his toes pointed to the ground. He was missing one of his shoes. The were brown boat shoes. Well, shoe, I suppose.

He was arrested for something, and must have really fought back at the cops. That's why they wrapped him up in that thing. Or at least, that's what I thought.

But when we told Rob, he said the officers wouldn't wrap him up like that to arrest him.

He had to be dead.

We saw a dead man in the subway.

That's not supposed to really happen.

Irresponsibility To Die For

• Over 2000 documented problems on this issue alone
• Over 1000 complaints about this issue alone
• Over 30 deaths as a direct result from this issue alone

Toyota, you really messed up.

Disturbing Audio of 911 call from one of the more recent accidents: ****This is not for everyone****

Congress is reviewing Toyota today.

MAKE IT STOP.

My Peace I Leave Unto You

Today is the one year anniversary of Shilo and Micah Edwards's deaths.

Life ends, the soul doesn't, prayer continues, and love grows.

A Prayer for Peace

Dear God,
"Friday February 13, 2009, just after 9:00a.m., a tragic accident occurred.” I have had a lot of mixed emotions about the deaths of Shilo and Micah Edwards. Everyone experienced such an overwhelming shock to discover that at nineteen and twenty years old they were taken from this life. I’m not sure I will ever fully accept their deaths; but they happened nonetheless, and many people want to know why. I know, what a classic question—why?
I’ve grown up with these girls, and they are the first young people to die that I have known so well. I can remember being nine-years-old and sitting on a church pew with Shilo only a few rows in front of me. She was all dress up in her baptism dress—so pretty in white. I remember that we didn’t like each other very much at that age, but we were young and grew out of the pettiness. When were just a little older, we would sit on the cold tile floor together and played with her dogs’ puppies. Micah was a little older than I was, but I still remember her. Mostly, I just remember them being there—image after image of their faces flash through my mind, them, in my life, there, and then not.
Heavenly Father, you were there when all of these things happened, and you knew all along their time was shorter than the rest of ours. You have the vision of the entire eternal plan, and you know why things happen the way they do. But the rest of us have been left to question: Why? Was this really necessary? Could there have been any other way?
For some reason you have given me a very cushioned life. I am constantly blessed. Sometimes this causes me to believe my larger trials will be just around the corner, but most of the time such comforts lull me into a passive expectation for ease. My testimony has never really been challenged, and although my life is full of stresses and difficulties, they pale in comparison to situations like this. Because of such a past, I felt very lost in my own religion when trying to understand death. I’ve come to the conclusion that most testimonies are just a compilation of words, and not a manifestation of beliefs. Too many members give lip service to thy word. I still know my faith to be of the true and living gospel on this Earth, but I have so many open ended questions.
My brother Josh has now been home from his mission for a year, and he has all of the missionary answers when it comes to things like this. But the classic image of The Plan of Salvation, the recognizable pattern of circles and lines just didn’t do it for me this time. No one could tell me whether Micah and Shilo felt lonely after dying. And I had never thought about trying to give a hug without a body, but now the need for Shilo and Micah to be able to hug each other was so great for my heart, I became angry that bodies were required to hug--is that silly? And the idea that the dead began to serve missions and teach the gospel was fine and dandy when it was my grandfather who died—someone who would have wanted to drop everything and serve a mission—but that didn’t work for them. They had too much life left to live. What are they going to do every day now? And how does time work in the afterlife? And will they get to stay together? And what happens to Drew? Shilo and Drew were going to be engaged Friday night, now what? If this life is so insignificantly short in comparison to the next, why will he have to move on and find someone else when he so badly wants to be sealed for eternity with his true love? They were perfect for each other! And now he just has to “move on.”
I don’t have the answers, but I’m glad that you do. Thank you for letting their sister, Shelby, see them in her dream. Thank you for comforting their family, especially their mother. Thank you for helping Dale to understand that losing his girls is a blessing as much as a trial. He told me Micah struggled greatly. But for the first time in a long time she was at peace with where she was at--in a sense, she was ready to die. And to die with a clean soul now, even though she is young, may have been the only way that they could be together forever as an eternal family. But that doesn’t entirely help me reconcile Shilo and Drew.
God, please don’t take anyone in my family. Please.

I Feel Your Pain and Wonder Why it Has to be This Way.

There is so much pain around me—pain that I cannot heal. I hurt, they hurt. And now I hurt from my own problems and from theirs. But I cannot heal them. Why does death take loved ones from us early? Why do illnesses debilitate the faithful, the righteous, and undeserving? But most of all, why can I do nothing?!

This week, more than ever before, the existence and prevalence of pain and problems in everyone’s lives has manifested itself strongly unto me. There are billions of people in the world, and yet we feel alone. People may reach out to us, but in fear we recoil back into our shells, our safe places—lonely, but not vulnerable. I now understand Christ’s willingness to give Himself for the pains of the world. If I could, I would. But even if our sacrifices could heal, I myself am not a worthy enough sacrifice to compensate.

I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I feel sick. Fat. Ugly. Tired. Empty. Hurting. Angry. Stupid. –Probably all feelings coming from Satan, but he’s doing a really good job at convincing me I’ve had enough.

I’M SO CONFUSED!

Life doesn’t even make sense to me anymore. I use to be so sure about who I was, where I was going, and who I wanted to become in the meantime. Now I just don’t know. Nobody has any answers!

“REMEMBER: THERE’S NEVER A PERFECT MATCH”

Says the bus driver. I’ve always know that life isn’t perfect and I’m not perfect and that’s not going to change. But why can’t I at least have a perfect match?!
If God has all of the answers, then why doesn’t he share them with me?? I know he is there, I’m sure of that. But then why do I still feel so alone?

I FEEL LIKE I’M GOING TO BE SICK!

My head an stomach are swimming so much, I can’t even think straight.

HELP!