Be Worthy Of Trust

I saw something the other day, I believe it was a commercial. I wasn't really paying attention to the TV and I was actually taking a glance at it before I was going to turn it off. Anyway as I glanced the commercial was ending and the words "Be Worthy Of Trust" came across the screen. For some reason I felt paralyzed. I thought what does it mean to "Be worthy of trust" and how does that feel? I started thinking of the different layers of trust you can have for another:

You can trust that the driver coming toward you in their car wont cross the center line and hit you head on.

You can trust your kids to be home alone and not burn the place down.

You can trust that your paycheck will come every week or two weeks.

We live each day in a certain amount of trust without thinking about being worthy of it. This is the easy kind of trust, trust that's not earned. This trust is free, no charge.

So what does it mean to BE WORTHY OF TRUST? I looked it up and what I mostly found were things talking about Trust-funds or Living trust, things that had to do with money and possessions and things. This is far from the trust I'm thinking of. I don't trust too many people and the one's I do trust it becomes a challenge to give in 100%. That expectation of failure is always looming present somewhere in the back of my mind. I know, it's a crappy way to be and it ruins friendships and relationships. But I found a new spin on the word trust and I hope this will aide me in doing a better job of accepting peoples sincere desire to be trusted and my own desire to be trusted as well. I'll try and simplify it.

The spin: The willingness of you to be vulnerable to the actions of me based on the expectation that I will perform an action important to you regardless of your ability to monitor or control me.

OR

The willingness of myself to be vulnerable to the actions of you based on the expectation that you will perform an action important to me regardless of my ability to monitor or control you.


In trust you expect to be able to rely on another's word.
If the person is consistent to their word then you recognize their integrity.
Does this mean you have to be consistent to be worthy of trust? I think in some cases, yes AND no. If someone is consistently loosing sight of their focus then you can TRUST you may not be able to rely on their word no matter how well meaning they are.

On the other hand if you consistently push others away in times of stress and struggle and take hard things out on those around you, then you can TRUST that you will be going through many struggles alone. * guilty*

Sometimes these situations become a pattern: you try to trust in the simplest way and even the simplest way you are let down. No harm was intended. No personal pain or detriment to your health was inflicted. You simply were let down. You try to let it go, however, now even the slightest let down that should be brushed away builds into the biggest mountain based on holding on to those let downs of the passed. Until even the smallest let downs ARE the biggest mountain to you. Discussing it won't clear it up, the other person has heard it before and you dwell on it because you feel it's more the norm than not. To you, it IS a big deal. To the other, it's another over site, no big deal. Are neither worthy of trust?
How does the cycle end?

Which brings us back to the Original Question: How Does One Become Worthy Of Trust?
*sigh* I don't know. I'm really struggling with this. I'm thinking of those around me, closest to me and actually debating who is worthy of my trust and why, and AM I truly worthy of theirs.
I don't know, on either account. And I can't stand myself for being this way.
It's the worse feeling, not knowing. Not knowing how or when or where to even start, and not shutting down when you do get let down because we all get let down and do our fair share of letting down others, sometimes intended, sometimes not.
Often we set ourselves up to be let down. Other times we believe and agree to things others present to us and are let down to no fault of our own.
*sigh*


I'm not sure of the answers but I'm on a quest to find them. I WANT to really learn how to trust, believe and believe in those around me. Not based on how I govern my own ideals of trust but realizing what each individual person's needs of trust are and determining if I care about them enough to provide those needs.

I bet Heavenly Father feels the same way about us, yeah?

Putting the Puzzle Back Together Again.

What was that tornado that hit me in July? And is it coming back in August.
So most of you don't know this but I rec'd a Job offer and accepted it.
The Job: Customer Service/Sales Manager.
Salary: Twice my weekly income
Location: Virginia Beach, Virginia
Starting Date: August 20th.

I prayed long and hard about this job. I prayed about Relocating in my daughter's senior year. I prayed about leaving at fully vested job of 12 years. I prayed about where I should be compared to where I wanted to be and the people and places and situations I'd be leaving behind. I felt good about my decision. There was no right or wrong decision, that was the feeling and the answers I got as I studied every aspect out in my mind I would flourish in Utah or Virginia. I didn't feel good or bad about the decision. I stayed up nights agonizing. Running my cell phone battery out 3 times a day everyday for a week speaking with family and a couple friends. So I made the decision. Virginia Beach... HERE I COME!

Then all hell broke loose. Seriously everything around me started to crumble and fall apart and I could not understand why. At first I thought wow, I'm getting out while the getting is good! And the more I started to pack up and make arrangements for this and that and the worse things got. Then the contracts came for me to sign and I saw in the contracts that which was not discussed in my phone interviews. 30 month position. That's what... 2.5 years? Hmm...Why would i leave a job I've had for 12 years the city I've lived for 17 years to go work someplace else for only 2.5 years. I decided not to jump the gun... and maybe see if they can negotiate a 5 year contract... which they did.

What to do? What to do? I continued to pack things and while I was making up my mind.... again, the more I packed to move, the worse things got. It reminded me of when I was going to put my daughter up for adoption... and all hell broke loose. Things felt eerily the same. So I decided I needed to address the situation again. As I did I developed a new understanding of where I should be and what I should be doing.

I can say I'm a little disappointed about having a new adventure in a new place. But Utah is where I need to stay, at least for a little while longer. When I came to that realization....hell was bound back to its original state in my life. And I slept for the first time in about 2 weeks. Also... I lost sight of some goals I created earlier this year.. and occasions to fulfill them have all but fell in my lap and knocked me on the head and said... "hellloooooooo!"
( This year I had decided to read my scriptures each morning and had been getting up about 5:30 each morning to do so. About the month of May, I haven't been able to wake up and keep myself up to read them. Until I recently. Since all this happened and I decided to stay in utah... I've been waking up... WIDE awake 5:30 AM for the last few days.)

So My house is a wreck, contracts are shredded, so long condo on the beach and nice income. My current condo sprung a leak at my washer dryer hookups. The shower broke, and the chain to flush the toilet in my bathroom broke,Dishwasher is on the fritz. At least I'm at peace with my decision.

"Honey, I'm home!~"

It's Not About My Broken Bedroom!

I woke up this morning after a sleepless night. I jumped out of bed at the sound of my sister's ring tone. I know I sounded like crap, she would just chalk it up to maybe me just waking up instead of having no sleep at all. We had a good conversation. One I've needed all week. I unloaded on her about people, places and things.

After we hung up I decided I needed to get going on some cleaning and packing of things that I no longer need or wanted, because the next 3 weeks are going to be hectic. I basically pulled everything from my closets so it's all currently on my bedroom floor. It looks like DI threw up. I noticed my matress & box spring wasn't level. Sometimes the bottom of the bed frame will come apart which caused the foot side to be slight lower. I Pulled off the top mattress and then went to pull off the box spring. As I pulled up the box spring it caught the left edge of the head board. That side of the had board popped off stripping the screws and breaking the surrounding boards around the screws. It could be fixed if I had someone handy around to reinforce the moulding around the screws. I get my little power screw driver and start to unscrew the right side of the head board. I can be salvaged. I love that head board, I wanna save it if I can. I take out 3 screws, no problem. But there's always the one stubborn screw. It wouldn't budge. It was even causing my power driver to do some funky kind of "clicking" as I tried to drill. And yes, men, my screw driver was was going the right direction. I let go of the power drill for a second and caught small splinter in my finger causing me to drop the side of the head board i was holding..... which stripped the last screw from the head board and broke the supporting wood around it. *sigh* Well at least the head board is now off. It's sitting by my couch in the living room.

I walk back into my bedroom and look at the bedframe and I was right, the bottom/foot supports were off. I sit inside the bed frame and begin to fit the thing back together. When I have it just right, I put on the clip and begin to screw it so the 2 ends of the bed frame secure themselves. Except it's not supporting. The tighter I screw the more the clip starts to slip from either the top or the bottom. So I get on my knees and hold the clip really tight with one hand so it stays in place as I twist the screw with the other hand. The clip still seems to slip from the top support or the bottom I turn the clip over and do it again with the same results. For ten minutes I fiddle and adjust and hold and screw and unscrew and start over again.

Out of nowhere I find my self shaking and not being able to catch my breath. I suddenly realize I'm on my knees doubled over head burried in my hands and I'm absolutely sobbing uncontrollably.

Inside I'm screaming....
"it's not about the screw! It's not about my broken bedroom!" "It's about getting no sleep! It's about making tough life decisions all year long, and especially this week! It's about doing it alone, no feed back, or opinion or advice. It's about feelin every whip of another person's pain and tears. It's about silence on the other end of conversations.
It's about being concerned about others struggles while being left with your own. It's about reaching out and being caught the wrong arms while the correct arms push you further away.
It's about needing a reason to visit someone or needing a reason to see and hear and feel them.
It's about them having other plans. It's about events and arrows and shields. It's about hammers and nails. It's about knowing what to say and knowing what to do or, not knowing what to say and still knowing what to do. It's about confusion, frustration, guessing and second guessing.
It's about not wanting to talk, wanting to scream, and wanting to talk and not being able to scream. Its about wanting to keep it all together but needing to fall apart so you can have a good look at what's really inside of you. It's about trying to provide what someone needs without ever knowing what they want. It's about being the best. It's about Investing with little interest. It's about not knowing if you have anything left to give and realizing that if you do, you'd willing spend that, too. It's about knowing when you have lost and walking away feeling broken, exhausted and defeated. It's about it being hard to leave, but it being even harder to stay. It's about not knowing if it's about you or me."

But it's NOT about my broken bedroom!

Fall out boy and Fireworks

It's funny but for a month now, I've had the latest Fall Out Boy album as back ground music in my head. It goes well with most things going on around me, video games, work, especially house cleaning. They're giving Def Leppard a run for their money in the cleaning department. When I get into house cleaning mode it's ALL about Def leppard or Totally Awesome 70's. ON them sad days it's all about the Barry Mannilow and Karen Carpenter. On those summer days when I'm feeling.... "frisky" as my Aunt Joyce used to call me (meaning mysterious and mischievous. Ms chi-vi-us!) I'm all about jazz. Radio stations 97.9 The BREEZE! There's nothing like the sensual slow moan of the saxophone.

Yesterday was Independence day. That's right July Forth. Unlike my father who could listen to Neal Diamond sing "we're coming to America" all day, or "God Bless the U.S.A" by Lee Greenwood all day I went a different direction. To be clear there is absolutely nothing wrong with Neil Diamond or Lee Greenwood ESPECIALLY on Independence day. More people prolly listened to them then what I listened to.

But I Gotta tell ya folks, I plugged in my Fall Out Boy Cd when the fireworks began and it was like Magic! I felt like I shot up like superman, the sky my play ground. Sparks of Red, white and blue popping off and shooting up as if through my finger tips. I could actually feel them tickle my skin as they landed and faded into the darkness. I've seen fireworks before, but never like this! The energy from the music and my freedom and independence radiated with each spark that hit the sky. FALL OUT BOY and independence. Hand in hand Like Apple and Pie. ON your next celebration with fireworks, Crank up the F.O.B and fly!

You, Me and Richard Marx. Part 1

Richard Marx is a musical genius. "Endless Summer Nights" and "Hold On to the Night" take me back to 2 or 3 specific Summers.

The Summer of 1988. I had finished up a 2nd year of Jr College. It was the bomb year in Rexburg Idaho. Go ahead and laugh. Those of you who know Rexburg are saying... how can anyone have "the bomb" kind of fun in Rexburg Idaho? Well I'm telling you, 2 of my favorite years on this earth were spent in Rexburg Idaho. Anyway I had been dating Travis all school year and had convinced him to go on a mission. It's one of those things you know is the right thing to do... right up until they do it, and then you wonder to yourself...
"why did I do that?"
Perhaps is was knowing he would be leaving for 2 years that made it such a great summer. We did some really fun and crazy things: Racing in the water fall fountains at the church office buildings. Rearranging the construction worker cones and barricades at construction sites at night. One night we jumped the fence at the beehive house and walked around looking in all the windows. That was eerie... because it was almost as if you could see the ghost of those who lived there peeking back at you. At one point we did see a shadow of a man cross one of the hallways to the room. You'd think that would be enough to scare us away. Nope, we just kept on peeping. It turned out to be a security guard who later creeped up behind us in the night and scared the crap out of us. He then gave us an official midnight tour. Later we found a small patio set up on the roof of one of the levels of the house and had a little picnic. That was a summer of college love and adventure.
The last evening we spent together we had gone to Liberty Park in SLC.
It was rather late but we wanted to squeak in those last few moments together, before he went home to Texas for a month. When he returned it would be with his Family: A father and mother who didn't like black people and weren't to crazy about him dating one. And he would have been set apart as a missionary. So it would be arms length and hand shakes when we saw each other again. I remember sort of walking hand and hand at the park, neither one of us saying much of anything. I think it was because if one of said anything we'd both break down and the goodbyes would then become real. We spread a blanket in the grass and had our little boom box. If nothing else the summer jams would fill the volume of the silence.
I sat there going through the passed year in my mind. He was a shy, quiet boy from Texas and I was a loud obnoxious girl from Michigan. I couldn't stand him when I first met him. He was put in my FHE group at Ricks and never said or did anything really. He was just there like a rug or end table or fly on the wall or something. One day I decided if he was going to be in our group he needed to liven up some. So I made him my project. I would do things just to get a response from him. If I saw him walking across the court yard I'd yell at the top of my lungs....

" Hey Travis, ya big stud! Come over here and gimme a sample of that Texas lovin!"

I'd crack myself up as he'd just blush and hurry along his way. After a couple of weeks of that he started to respond. I mean he responded in ways that left me jack-jawed and bug-eyed. Within about a month, Travis was like a suprize package waiting for me to open each day. Eventually we were always together. In our apt complex directory we were voted most unlikely couple: A loud black girl from Michigan and a quiet white boy from Texas who's parent didn't like blacks and grandparents didn't like blacks or Mormons. We didn't care, obviously. To everyone else he was still a quiet guy. But I knew better and it was fun.

I went over each detail of the year as to what brought us to this point. I thought it was funny how quiet we both were. We just sat on the blanket, side by side. Not looking at each other, not touching each other, not speaking to each other. I was sad. I knew things would never be the same. I knew he or myself would never be the same either. I wanted to memorize those last couple of hours before the world would make the needed permanent changes that go along with growing older and taking different directions.

Then it happened. Richard Max came on the radio:

And I remember how you loved me
Time was all we had until the day we said goodbye
I remember every moment of those endless summer nights.


How fitting. I looked over at Travis and he was choking back his emotions. I slipped my hand in his and he covered it with both of his and started playing with my fingers. I started to chew my lip as I do when I get emotional. He slipped an arm around my back and I laid my head on his shoulder and just breathed him in. He had worn my favorite cologne at the time: Polo and had a faint scent of Irish spring . I couldn't tell you how long we sat there not really saying much, just feeling each others thoughts and emotions. We didn't speak but we were in sync and not willing to break the atmosphere until the last possible moment.
When the moment finally came to say that last goodbye we had decided we were more concerned about losing the friendship then losing a boyfriend or a girlfriend and that we would each do what was needed for him to have a successful mission. He thanked me for getting him to this point. He said he never planned on a mission until he met me. And he thanked me for encouraging him to take that path instead of many others. He held me close. I finally couldn't take it I broke the hug. He was always telling me I broke away from our hugs first all the time. I had to this time while I still could. We got up, packed up our blanket and headed back to the car. I drove him back to his place. He kissed me one last time. Soft and long and deep. Brushed my tears away with his thumb. Whispered "I love you kare-baby." As he walked into the house, he became "Elder." to me...
Time was all we had until the day we said goodbye.

The Summers of 1993 & 94. My daughter, sister and I were living in Provo, Utah. We had been assigned Brothers Steve and Warren Jones as home teachers. It was Craziness from their first visit. They were assigned to us the fall of 1992. I don't know how we got on the subject but we got to talking about Pork and Beans. Why do they call it pork and beans when there's just beans and a one inch scrap of fat in the beans? Was that the pork?And why do they have the nerve to put the word PORK on the label first, as if it's the ingredient there's most of? We laughed about stuff like that for hours.

Their 2nd visit was around my birthday. They walked in with a 20lb restaurant size can of Pork and Beans for my birthday present! The label had been adjusted to say.. "Scrap of fat and beans!" This was the beginning of a beautiful friendship, I could tell.
By the next summer Warren and I were inseparable. We would remain that way until he would go to Washington DC for an internship a year later.. For some odd reason we became very popular in our ward. He and I would plan dinners and outing and it would literally end up being a ward activity. It got so crazy that the bishopric had asked to come to our outings and they would bring their families along. We had camp outs, trips to lagoon, the zoo and so on. ,We had made up nick names for each other: Since we laughed alot about Eddy Murphy playing Buckwheat on Saturday Night Live singing "nookin' pa nubb in all da wong paces" I called him Nook, he called me Nubb. We were both on the ward softball team, he in left field and I in center field. The two lefties. We hung out together on a daily basis. We both loved to cook so we were often in his kitchen or mine some portion of every day or evening. We were both interested in being cops and secret service personnel. We even made up code that he and I would only understand. Eventually he would be a cop AND is now in the secret service. Of course when he shares with me his adventures it's followed by... "you can't let this out of the bag, or I'll have to kill you."

A typical day would go as follows:
I'd receive a phone call about 10:am, It would be Warren...
" Just calling to check in, and see what's on the docket for later. Talk to you soon."

We'd go throughout our business of the day and then I'd receive a 2nd phone call that would say...
" Hey! Movie starts in 45 minutes, I've got tickets and will pick you up in 20!"
or
" Hey, I got a raw chicken, some onion and peppers. I don't know what to do with this thing, but I'll make some rice and you take care of the bird and we'll call it dinner!"

At least once a month I'd hear...
" We're doing a session at the temple 6 be ready!"
We would find new and exciting ways to exterminate the box elder bugs in his house, dig up dandelions roots in his yard with screwdrivers and spoons, lay sod, wash cars, pull up tree stumps, and he'd tell me the most fabulous stories about he and his brothers growing up in the different embassies around the world.

His family and my family loved the M*A*S*H series. I came on every night at about 10:pm. We each knew the other was watching so the first one to call the other with the favorite tag line of the show was the winner! If you were at my apt 10:pm at night and Warren was calling, you'd here me answer the phone screaming something like... "THE WIND JUST BROKE HIS LEG!" and fall out laughing! We'd then watch the show together via the phone with our famous commentations. We were closet Barry Manilow and Karen Carpenter fans. They both sing those old sappy heartbroken love songs perfect for a bad day. (yeah we went to see Barry Manilow when he was in town.) If he were having a bad day, he'd call and leave this simple message "Karen Carpenter" That was my que to pick up a half gallon of Mint choc chip ice cream, our favorite, and 2 spoons and rush over that night. My code for having a bad day was "Barry Manilow" and he'd do the same for me. His brother Steve was just as awesome. He was quiet but man was he HILARIOUS. I'd find out month after my birthday it was his idea to get the infamous can of beans that we passed around for years. It would show up as birthday and Christmas gifts, side dishes for dinners, camp outs, and even wedding gifts... Today, if one of us got an anonymous can of beanies & weenies in the mail, we'd know who it was from.
As the summer of 93 was rolling to an end, we had just finished dinner at his house. Ali had fallen asleep on the couch (she was only 3 years old and uncle warren had read her a story and she had fallen asleep on his couch.) I was sittin on the back steps to the porch watching meteors shoot through the sky. He turned off the porch light so I could see them better and sat next to me. We sat there shoulder to shoulder. And watched the Meteor showers together joking and laughing the way we do.
He sort of nudged me and said...
"you know, you have made this one of the best summers ever!"

I sort of elbowed him back and said..."It's all in the beans, man! All in the beans!"
We sat their laughing the rest of the night. So fitting for he and I. A year later before he left for an internship in Washington DC, He and I were asked to speak in sacrament together on what would be his last Sunday in that ward. I would speak first, he would speak last and we'd "end this thing early (our ward was notorious for EASILY going over 10-15 minutes.)
According to plan, when Brother Jones ended his talk, we had 10 minutes to spare. He returned to his seat next to me, looked at the clock and said..
."Damn! We're good!."
We did "our" hand shake and waited for the Bishop to "end this thing early."

We spent that night packing his car to go to Washington D.C. It was difficult. We had literally been together everyday for over a year and a half. We were best of friends and there were sparks that neither one of us acted upon until a couple years later. I'm a big chicken when it comes to acting on sparks. Yeah I know I talk smack about alot of stuff but matters of the heart is a whole new game. That night he and I sitting on the steps of his back porch as we had done some many times before, sipping down his homemade milk shakes listening to the stereo.

An older song of Richard Marx filled the air:
Hold On to the Night
Hold On to the Memory...

Warren slipped his arm around my shoulders and said what we were both thinking
"How and I supposed do every day without you?"

My mind flooded back to a few years earlier with with Travis and I sitting at Liberty Park. I wondered how come every time I have some sort of Goodbye with someone I care about Richard Marx shows up?
Wanting to keep the mood light, I took a sip on my shake looked at him and said..."don't worry, it'll be like you've never left." Little did he know at that time there was a 20 lb can of "scrap of fat and beans' hidden under all the luggage in the back seat of his car.


This summer, 2007 is already burning those same types of memories into my mind.


"And I remember every moment of those endless summer nights..."

Redneckishly Ghetto Fabulous!

Redneckishly Ghetto Fabulous! Some of us have been talking about going to the Midnight drag races for sometime.
Last night was the night! We started the night at the Flying J on 2100 for Steaks. The service was bad. The waitress was worse. But the steak when it game was good eatin. Afterwards we ventured west to Rocky Mountain Raceway, Home of the Discount Tire Midnight Drag Races! We traveled through the maze to get to the parking lot and found a space not too far away from the entrance. The ticket lines were long... and the people in those lines were Redneckishly Ghetto Fabulous! For 7$ you could do all the people watching and drag race watching you wanted. One of the things I liked best was the Local R&B/Rap Station was not only broadcasting live, they had a DJ set up and spinnin in a show room garage. You could dance til your heart's content.
My friends and I waited in line to purchase our tickets. While in Line we came across a Ghetto Fabulously Redneckish sign that said: Any children under the age of 8 not accompaniedby and adult will be evicted from the park at 1:00 am. I loved it! You gotta love an establishment that will make a six year old hanging out by himself jump on his bigwheel and peddle home at one in the morning if he's not with Mamma or Daddy.

On the same board a 2nd sign read: Due to West Vally City Curfew ordinance anyone under the age of 15 must be accomanied by an Adult. Does that not negate the first sign? I'm telling you, the night was full of it's Redneckishly Ghetto Fabulous self.
While standing in line for our tickets, I watched a family smooze their way into the stadium by paying off the security guard with a $20 bill. Let's think about this. It's $7 a person to get in. This was a family of 3. It cost them $21 to get tickets, then another $20 to get in. Just so they didn't have to wait in a 5 minute line. 5 minutes. it was actually 3 minutes because it was going so quickly. Do they realize they could have taken that $20 and added a 5$ bill to it and drag raced their own car all night long?
We entered the stadium and the night was perfect for a new adventure: The smell of burnt tire rubber and diesel in the air. A plethora of teenage kids scantilly dressed and hanging off each other. There were hairless grampies and legless grannies in wheel chairs. There were babies and babies daddies and babies mama's and even Baby Mama Drama! The Latino's and Asian and African- Americans and Polynesians and Caucasian were all there. And all getting along! It was a ghetto fabulously redneckish melting pot of diversity all coming together for the same cause: TO GET OUR DRAG RACE ON!

We made our way though the stadium to our seats. The air was thick with.....the sounds of engines revving up and tires squealing and alla that. The racing vehicles....were the most eclectic assortment of match box cars and trucks any small boy would be proud of.

We watched Chargers and Mustangs and Coupes. OH MY! There were Dodge Rams and F250's and Diesels dragging. Sentra's and Civics and Corolla's. Bullet Bikes and Old school Roadsters. There was no vehicle too proud to drag. I must say my favorite.... The VW Rabbit and the GM Pacer! I got a tear in my eye with pride for my country when these two cars stepped up to the mark to claim their place in drag race history at the Rocky Mountain Raceway Discount Tires Midnight Drag Races! Is this not what American is all about? Any car any where has the opportunity for success at RMR Discount Tire Midnight Drag Races.

There is no Vehicle too big or too small, to old school or new, too rusted or polished, to loud or quiet to Drag race at the "RMRDTMDR."

It was a night I will not soon forget. So if you find yourself sitting around on a friday on some summer night just remember, The Rocky Mountain Raceway Discount Tire Midnight Drag Races start at 11pm. (they go til about 2am.) Make sure your 8 year old is accompanied by an adult or he will get kicked out at 1am. Head on out 2100s west and follow the signs for a Redneckishly Ghetto Fabulous night out! You'll LOVE IT!

See you there :)

What WAS I THINKIN....??????

*sigh*

So one of my good friends got surprised yesterday and had family drive in from Oregon. She hasn't seen this family for YEARS! Aunty Faye and family has arrived in UTAH!

Basically when something of this magnitude happens (at least in my culture) we have a HUGE party and the Matriarch will cook up a huge feast for family and friends.

Oh it made me soo homesick for Grandma and Papa and the cousins. Aunty Faye cooked up a STORM! And every thing homemade! She called me into the Kitchen to sample! (cuz you know I know a li'l sum'n sum'n about cooking and stuff)

She made this fried catfish that was AWESOME! Restaurant Quality. It was sooo goood! The bone head part? I only took a small bite of it. And when I say small I mean it was about 1 inch by 1 inch bite. Why, might you ask, would I only take such a small bite if it was SOO good?
I have SEVERE reactions when I eat catfish. We didn't find out the link to catfish til about 2 years ago and then it was just speculation. Who would have thought that such a small bite would send my stomach inside out? When I say severe I mean my body VIOLENTLY reacts. To the point where even when your stomach is empty..... it's still trying to purge up to 12 hours later, leaving me sprawled out on my bathroom floor huggin the porcelain God begging.... "please, Oh great porcelain one... there is NOTHING left to offer you but the bitter bile! My stomach is empty! Have mercy on me, PLEASE!!!"

yeah, I love you Aunty Faye! And you can cook some catfish like God make it personally for YOU and you alone to cook!

But I'm NEVER touchin' that stuff again!

Does Everything Really Happen for a Reason?

I think it depends on what kind of reason you're looking for. Is the world truly a Merry-go-round? What you put out comes back to you? Karma, who is she? Or is she a figment in our imagination that we can inadvertently will into our own making?
Some friends and I were discussing this kind of thing. Some of them scoff at "everything happens for a reason." Others solely believe that everything happens for a reason.

Maybe it depends on events, patterns and experiences from our own lives? These are the types of things that shape our belief systems anyway. Someone once told me, if you recognize God in all things then you'll see God in all things? Is that how we're supposed to do things? Does God regulate coincidences and if so to what extent? Do you just happen to make yourself so busy that it keeps you out of the way of a horrible accident you may have been in had you not been behind in schedule? Does he actually block phones from ringing to avoid you making some sort of mistake had you answered it? Are those coincidences? To what extent to we believe the hand of God in all things? Or do we just believe the hand of God in largely hard to believe things?

I grew up with the Grandparents, Aunts and Uncles saying things like... " God is trying to tell you something, you better listen." Or "The Lord will throw pebbles at you to get your attention, then he'll throw ROCKS!" I tend to think thing happen for a reason. Do I think everything happens for a reason? I don't know. But if I'm trying to do something and I get some sort of obstacle each time? I'm going to pretty much figure that thing I'm trying to do is NOT supposed to happen for whatever reason. People call me crazy. For me, it's not a matter of what I'm doing and how it's being blocked, malfunctioned, debunked or whatever. I base that on the feelings I get. Some call it a sign. I do believe there are some signs. And I have forced enough situations and issues that should have been left alone that have been disasters. Do I believe everyone is governed this way? Nope. Because we are each hear to learn different things in different ways. But I know, the way things work for me. I know when something as simple as an email comes back for no reason failed 3 or 4 times, I need to stop sending it. Do I know why? Not always. But usually it would have been the wrong thing said at the wrong time and would have made matters worse. And those times I did ignore that "maybe God is trying to tell you something" feeling, I should have left well enough alone. So sometimes we scoff and laugh and roll our eyes when people speak of Karma and coincidences and happenstance and such. I've come to the conclusion, I do guess most things happen for a reason .We may not always know or even care. But if God, or Karma or what ever Creator YOU believe is aware of all things and has an order to all things do YOU think that most things come about just by happenstance and the world, earth or atmosphere around you is really uncontrolled for the most part? I believe we do sometimes create those situations and we are free to choose our actions, but we are not free to choose the consequences of those actions and it can have profound effects on people we're close to, just by default.
Lately I've been paying more attention to subtle details of things. (yeah, I think too much and over think and blah blah blah.) And in my observing of things... and I mean just by sitting in the back ground watching people and things and situations you can really get a sense or clue of the goings on around you. And there is a stronger sense, at least just for me that... "wow, that situation really had a master plan and was designed a certain way and those involved are sort of clueless." It's an amazing experience so actually SEE things happening for a specific reason. I think maybe I do believe most things happen for a designed reason. I'm willing to acknowledge that. I'm not saying that takes control or responsibility away from my own actions or behaviors at all. I mess up! I mess up BIG TIME at my own bad choices. But I also have been saved and restored BIG TIME and usually not at my own doing.



Anyway..... I'm rambling. I know I'm rambling. But it's MY Blog! And thoughts were playing bumper cars my head... and now, they've stopped :)

Weekend Crazinesssssssss

Those who know me know I'm ALWAYS on the go. This weekend, was crazy but it was great! A good portion of most of my weekends are spent in between Midvale and West Valley City. This weekend was no different. On of my friends got baptized yesterday.
I'll speak more about that on my other blog:Journal of a Black Mormon Girl. Just to touch on it lightly, it was amazing! I've had some pretty great experiences to feel the love and power of God. This was one of THE most powerful times.

I am in a position to be over some fairly large events. Or maybe it's fairly small events. Typically the events I have there are anywhere from 100-600+ people with a staff of only about 6 people (only about 3 of us show up though.) I'm grateful for those who come and are willing to help out when it comes to the setting up of and event and tearing down of an event.
Anyway, I have an annual talent show/pancake supper event that was yesterday. I tend to run high stress when we start late and people don't show up and come when they're supposed . Lately I've decided to just roll with the punches. To be all stressed out and ticked off before an event doesn't do anybody any good.

Yesterday was sooooooo much fun! I was able to recruit an Emcee which took much of the pressure off me. I figure as the event chairperson, much of the attitude and atmosphere depends on me. So I went for it. The stage set up was easy, but I also included an open mic at the rear of the room. So when the talent was setting up in between acts we had a 'bust a joke' segment. You know how it is sometimes when you go to a talent show and sometimes you wish... "dang I should have signed up to do something!" Well I had a "make me a star" segment as well. There was a sign up sheet and a karaoke machine. I had a back room with costumes, hats and such. Where any audience member could sign up to do a Karaoke song, we'd take them in back, outfit them and send them on stage to do their thing.
Off to the side were displays for those who had visual talents: Paintings, sewing, kite making... and such. We had talents of all kinds: One of the young men is sponsored by nike for his skate boarding and he brought in one of his video's to show. We had singers, dancers, jokes, poetry reading, guitars, piano soloist, rappers, beat boxer, story tellers.... we had it all and it was awesome! I am amazed at the little kids who get out there and just go for it. 1 little girl was so afraid to do her piano solo. She was number 2 on the schedule. She over came her fear and came back later in the show to do a "make me a star" karaoke performance. SHE WAS AWESOME! Everyone was awesome! I even did a couple of things in between my running around. I'm excited that much of it was video taped! Maybe you'll see us on You Tube!
I even made 5$ for the Relay for Life team!

I went from a choir practice at 9 to a baptism at 12 to shopping for the pancake dinner at 1:30 to setting up for the event at 2:30. It started at 5:45 the talent show started about 7:15. I was home and in bed before midnight! Normally I don't even leave from cleaning up until midnight.
I was tired and sore and did I mention tired?

Today we had the follow up conformation from the baptism in Midvale again and that was about 12:50 this afternoon. I got home by 6 and slept till about 10:30 tonight. I'm ready to go back to sleep. The work day starts in about 7 hours. Tomorrow is the busiest day of the month. And next weekend will be busier than what I just went through. But I'm looking forward to it!

Now, who says you can't have THAT much fun doing church stuff?

Is It Possible Reality Isn't Real?

Does EVERYONE feel like this at times?


You feel like your life is a series of failed 2ND chances and unanswered questions. You didn't even know you used up your first chance, and were never told you had a 2ND chance.

How often do you look to your right and see an empty seat just to look to your left and stare in the face of it's identical twin? No one understands your anger, sadness and fears. Your mind is searching for reasons, grasping at straws, coming up with possible conclusions to determine or justify. The reality is:
You are Angry
You are Sad
You are Afraid.
Is it the crackling in your lungs that makes the Dr say..."that doesn't sound good, we need to schedule further testing?"
Is it the lump in your breast?
The knots in your stomach that keep you from eating?
Is it the sharp pulsating pain in your chest that doubles you over every few days and has you sleeping sitting up or
the heartache reminding you that their "A & B" list are filled, you might have spot on their "C" list?

You look into your mind and search for hope in those friendships where you thought you could find comfort, rest, love. They mean the world to you and you realize it is possible that you don't mean the world to them. You feel like you don't even come close anymore and there is no one close that cares enough.

When is a good time for anyone to travel into your reality?

Is your reality just as important as hers? She has no food, she hasn't eaten for 2 days. She has a sick baby and no car.
Is your reality just as important as his? His family is ill, He's preparing for the worse. He lost his job and is having a hard time paying bills.

Your reality IS as important as hers and his, just not to her or him. OR, maybe it is just as important to her and him, but you're strong, you've always been able to handle things well. What could they possibly do to help you?
It's not a competition. So you push your reality aside.

What's it to you to travel a couple of hours and stock her shelves with food? Or make a Dr appointment for her baby and take her to that appointment?

What's it to you to try and be a listening ear or voice of support no matter what time of day or night? Or give him job leads?

You laugh when they laugh, you cry when they cry, not only that you cry for them and about them. You are even there when you don't know what to say or they don't know if they need you to be there.
You can't help it, it's your "calling" to be "that" friend:

You always travel outside of your own and venture into those realities around you, picking up hammers to help build. Laying down blankets to cover the cold. Going above and beyond what is expected and doing what you know and feel to do just to hear a laugh or bring a smile. You do this because the one thing worse than your own sadness is to witness the sadness of those you care about. Seeing them that way breaks your heart. You can't take it. You HAVE to do something to try and make it better....it's as if your own soul depends on it.

You feel good, because God said move and you moved. You feel hurt because you know you're going down a one way street. You feel guilty and hope the latter doesn't cancel out the former. The blessing and hurt and guilt mingle together, intertwined like the perfect mixture of sweet and sour with a grain of salt.

Reluctantly You enter back into your reality:
Your lungs
Your breast
your stomach
Your heart
your heartache.
It hasn't moved. They're the one's calling and waiting for you like old friends ready to hang out!

You sit in stillness and silence for answers, comfort and security. The quiet becomes so loud you cannot stand it so you force your thoughts to venture outside your own realm and back into the reality of others:

Did she eat? How's the baby?
Does he feel better? Did he find a job?

The great beyond sends you a reality postcard:

She not only ate, she threw a dinner party in your honor! She didn't mean to forget your invitation. Her baby is now well but had she waited a much longer it would have been much worse, even life threatening. They meant to let you know. But she and her know you are just happy to help. You know they mean their thanks.
(you are mentally strong and emotionally stable and glad to help. Thank you is enough! Your heart calls you "liar.")

He not only feels better he went out with some friends the other night and had a wonderful time! And his calling on your job lead went great and started a month ago. He and him intended to express their gratitude and thanks. But you know they meant to share their thanks so you'll be ok they didn't let you know.
(you are mentally strong, emotionally stable and glad to help. Thank you, when it comes, will be enough! Your heart calls you "liar")


Does it matter what led you to do those things? Your heart told you it should be done and you stepped up and answered the call. Why doesn't a simple thank you feel like it's enough? If it was of no great importance to them, then why did it feel so urgent for you to ease their discomfort?
They didn't ask or imply your help. Why do you keep doing that?

Because for some reason you feel you are supposed to.

Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends (John 15:13).

You turn quickly and peek back into your reality and sigh. You see yourself looking to your right, at no one, and to your left staring at it's identical twin.

You feel yourself slowly fading out of their reality, at least until they need again. Thats when you know you'll be remembered by them.

Your reality slings you back to your world. You lay down and curl into a ball blinking back tears of loneliness which turn into tears of selfishness, which turns into tears of anger for feeling lonely and selfish. You can't breath, because of the pain in your lungs and heart. You can't even cry without reality's reminder of the physical hurting. The irony makes you smile through the pain and tears. Again... the perfect mingling of sweet and sour with a grain of salt.

Reality reminds you.... hey look... A real smile! You are grateful and sad for it. Grateful because you still have it in you so, you grab it tight and hold onto it. Sad, because you know in your mind that sharing your reality and fears.... wouldn't change a thing.
Invitations will always be forgotten. Intentions will always not come. And you will always be "that" kind of friend to say "hey, that's what friends do, I'm glad I could help."
Inside your heart will again be screaming.... "LIAR! you tell them that you are afraid and you need them and you tell them how you need them! Tell them!"

YOU JUST CAN'T DO IT.
You will always ignore the screams.

In your fear, the words you want to say come out wrong. They attack, blame and accuse. They distort your vision and clarity. They chase people away like a pit bull protecting it's owner at all cost.
You can't ask for what you need because, when you do ask, the need doesn't come. You don't have it in you anymore to ask. It just reconfirms what your reality tells you every time: "They don't really care. If they cared you would somehow feel it, and they would somehow show it. It they cared they would make sure you KNEW IT!"

Will you always look to your right and your left and find yourself sitting in between the twins named "forgotten" and "unappreciated?" And will you always wonder if someone will hear and answer when you call? It feels like it.
At least until the shes and hes in your world check in with sadness or sorrow in need of a friend or with excitement and happiness and tell you how fabulous their reality is... without you.

Are some of us just meant to face things alone not by choice, but because others just don't come? Are some of us meant to face things alone simply because the lesson is in being able to face them alone?
The Lesson is : We are never really alone. There is ALWAYS God even if "she" and "he" never venture into your reality to hear the call.


****Repost*****

Into each life a little darkness must fall.

When life comes rushing at you from out of the darkness

who will you choose to face it with?

Will it be someone you trust?

Will they be wise?

Will their love for you help them to guide you into the light

or will they lose their way in the darkness

Will they make Noble choices

or will that person be someone untested,

someone new?

Life comes rushing at you from out of the darkness

When it does is there someone in your life you can count on?

someone who will watch over you when you stumble and fall?

And in that moment give you the strength to face your fears alone?

~unknown~ (at least to me)

Ok. Listen up I'm only going to say this ONE more time...

Can I just pose this to everyone:

No one needs to educate me to not say spic or wet back, I KNOW IT'S WRONG
No one has to educated me to not say chinc, I KNOW IT'S WRONG
No one has to educate me not to say cracker, howlie, gringo, red neck, honkey, etc, I KNOW IT'S WRONG
No one has to educate me not to say fag, I KNOW IT'S WRONG
No one had to educate me not to say: nigger, nappy headed, uncle tom, congo bunny, spook, etc. I KNOW IT'S WRONG.
No one had to educate me not to say F.O.B I KNOW IT'S WRONG

No one, especially in this day and age has to educate me on not saying racial slurs and racial slang BECAUSE IT IS WRONG and I KNOW IT'S WRONG.
It doesn't matter who says it, who "gets" to say it, who shouldn't say it, who refers to whom as those things within a race or outside of that race... BECAUSE IT IS WRONG.

If I say it, IT'S WRONG
If you say it, IT'S WRONG


So why is it that there is a focus on who needs to be educated on when to say something that WE all know is wrong?

Why is it so hard to not KNOW what is and isn't wrong?


Please don't assume that all black people are upset when other races say it and not when their own say it.


I dare say that What you see in the media, is NOT how it is worldwide. Of course the media isn't going to show the black people who HATE that term and discourage other blacks AS WELL as other races from saying it. To even assume such things is as asinine as me taking my Queues about white people from the likes of M&M and Uncle Cracker or even Jeff Foxworthy. or the movie "Deliverance" for that matter.


I am SICK of people accusing me of that very thing. I don't care who you are, black, white, green, yellow, red, purple, sky blue plaid. Those words....( all derogatory words of a racial nature) are offensive, PERIOD. And for anyone to justify another's use of it, in my book is WRONG.


I think "Racist" is an over used word. There's a world of difference in being an ass and using racial slurs on tv, radio, for ratings, comedy, music etc then there is in being racist. Not everyone who uses racial slurs are racist. I will say everyone who uses them are ignorant.

Imus is a jackass. Is he racist? Who knows? Seriously who amongst us knows? I surely don't. But I do know this:
HE IS A JACKASS! *thanks E.S*

ANOTHER THING:

Jessie Jackson and Al Sharpton are SELF APPOINTED. I didn't elect either one of them to think for me, act for me or speak for me. I'm sick of people feeling obligated to give me their opinion of them. I DO NOT CARE what you think of them. I really do not care. Nor do I feel I need to obligate you with my opinion of them. Other people make my life hell each time they open their mouths. I care when it is assumed they speak for all black people of America just because they appointed themselves to do so.



Do I make myself clear?


Don't make me have to come back here and repeat myself.

My daughter.... she cracks me up!

Seriously she does! She was supposed to write a paper today with a "Utah Flavor" to it.
It's so "Utard" you have to laugh. Anyway, I thought I'd share it....

Carrots In My Jell-O

You really shouldn’t ever try to pick the carrots out of your dad’s famous “Jell-o Salad”. You especially shouldn’t try to do this at your annual Pioneer Day family reunion.
My name is Sarah Young, and this is my story.
I awoke the morning of the reunion and started dreading the day. This was the Pioneer Day in which I would have to sit at the adult table. The table where I would have to answer questions about past prom dates, college majors, and BYU admissions. The table where I would eventually have to partake of my dad’s grody Jell-o salad.
Now, this was no ordinary salad. Sure, he starts with the regular mix but then he adds marshmallows, peaches, prune juice, and carrots. I don’t see what so wrong with just eating regular Jell-o but my dad, he’s a dreamer. You see, he imagines that everyone loves his flippin’ salad so he keeps making it. The dog, Moroni, wont even eat it, but its tradition that everyone at the adult table has some.
So I got out of bed, found my cap sleeve t-shirt and put on some knee length shorts. As I came down the stairs into the kitchen, I saw all of my dad’s ingredients laid out on the countertop.
“Look Sarah,” he said, “I’m making a double batch!”
“Great….” I mumbled under my breath. My mom came down the stairs then, asking me to take the minivan and pick my grandparents up from their rest home. I grabbed my flip-flop sandals and ran out the door. I started to drive to the rest home, and all of a sudden a ball hit my side mirror.
“What the fetch?!” I asked as I got out of the car. I soon saw my cousins (who were also my neighbors) running around in their front yard.
“Sorry Sar! Oh my heck! Is that a dent?!” My 8 year old cousin Matthew hollered.
“Ooo, Im telling uncle Carl that you did it, Matthew!” His little sister Megan taunted.
Walking into my grandparents apartment at the home, I heard my grandmother first. “Tom, what in the world is taking you so long? Sarah has been waiting forever!”
“I’m comin’ Berva, just help me find that celery phone thingie.” When we got back to my house Mom, aunt Cheryl, and Grandma took over the kitchen. Dad, Grandpa, uncle Dave, and uncle Pete took over the grill.
The women were making the side dishes and desserts; Funeral potatoes, chocolate chip cookies, something with cornflakes on top of it, pound cake, and macaroni and cheese. “Sar, grab the celery from the fridge for the Mac.” When I opened up the fridge, there it was. If it had eyes, I would say it was staring at me. But there it was, just chilling in the fridge on the top shelf. Dad’s famous “Jell-o Salad”, haunting me. Gagging, I quickly grabbed the celery and shut the door.
“Eatin’ time!” Dad called. All of my starving siblings and cousins rushed outside followed by the mothers, to greet the men of the family. “Sar, grab the Jell-o, will you?”
So there it was, just me and the Jell-o. I was left alone in the house with the salad…. I could drop it and claim an accident. I could say I couldn’t find it. Thinking better of those scenarios, I grabbed my dreaded fate out of the fridge and trudged to the backyard. Putting the bowl on the table seemed to seal my doom.
“Matthew, will you please say the prayer and don’t forget to give thanks for this wonderful food.” Grandma asked. After Matt’s prayer, the children all got their food. Like me, they had learned to bypass the carrot Jell-o. When it became my turn for the food table, the Jell-o had still been untouched. Trying to scoop my spoon around the carrots and marshmallows, I managed to get a small portion of Jell-o and peaches on my plate. All of a sudden there was a big plop of the Jell-o-ed mess on my plate. “Don’t be shy Sar, take as much as you want!” My grandma practically hollered. Feeling defeated and irritated, I walked to the adult table and plopped down in my chair. I took my napkin and placed it in my lap, trying to hide the carrot bits I was putting into it. I guess I wasn’t slick enough.
“Sarah Elisabeth Young, what the heck do you think you’re doing?” My mother yelled from across the table. She then proceeded to grab me out of my chair and march me to the kitchen with my plate and napkin of carrots. She then threw the carrots back into my Jell-o and yelled as she walked back outside, “You will not eat outside with us until you have finished everything on your plate. It is offensive to pick at the food someone else has made for you.”
Because I had been staring down at my plate, I never realized that grandpa was sitting right across from me. In fact, I didn’t remember even seeing him out at the table. “Grandpa, what are you doing in here. Everyone’s outside.”
“Eight years ago, I decided to pick out the carrots…”

BATTER UP!

Who knew hitting would give you such a rush! Went to the batting cages on Saturday and smacked the devil outta some softballs. MAN! It felt sooooooo gooood. I seriously could have been there a couple of hours. Out of 150 pitches, I think I missed only9. Not bad for not having picked up a bat in about 3 years. I think I found a new way to relieve some stress . The inside of my right hand is absolutely black and blue from hitting fast pitches with a slow pitch bat. By mid day you could see the bruising on my hands and thumb. My thumb was twice it's size. I had it on ice most of the day Saturday and some of the day yesterday. It's bruised on the front AND back of my hand but it works so all is good. Guess this week I'll be hunting for a couple of bats and hitting gloves.
I suggest the batting cages if you have any stress tension or anger to get out of your system. It's such a great release! It looks like the softball team I'm supposed to be on at work might fall through. Not enough women want to play for a woman's league or a Co-ed league down here in Utah county. My Midvale leagues doesn't look like its going co-ed either. Sigh! Will my softball experience for this summer be limited to the glory of the batting cages each Saturday morning? I can life with that if I can find someone to play catch with a couple hours a week!

Anyway...

....... BATTER UP!

Why My Job Is Better Than Your Job

All this week my company has been celebrating their 35th anniversary! It didn't even feel like work this week. We've done everything from Box lunches, Pinatas, Ballon sculptures, Cotton Candy, Pop Corn, Hot fudge Brownies, Money and Cruise give aways. Today, FRIDAY was the best. It was carnival day! We enjoyed a giant slide and blow up Obstacle Course. Thank you natures sunshine for the money, the cruise the pop corn and for 35 years of SUNSHINE! Here's to another 35 years.

TO DO LIST!

A few of my peeps have decided to give each other summer to do list! (Thanks Laura, I LOVE THIS!)
It's a list of things to do this summer. Fun things! Cheap things! Different things! Legal things! Moral things! Bring it on. This idea came at just the right time. I got news on Monday that I'll be unable to attend what was to be the Highlight of my summer. A Family Reunion in North Carolina, complete with dinner cruises and all sorts of other great things. *sigh* Although it wont be the same, the opportunity of doing some fun and different things is exciting.
I have a list of my own which I'll post, so that my friends doing the list for me won't duplicate.

Midnight drag races
Water tubing
rafting
Bonfire/Foil dinners in the canyon
write letters to my neices and nephews
Make and fly my own kite
Cosmic Bowling
Watch a movie on the side of building
have a cartoon & eat cold cereal party
Make a reusable grocery bag (paper destroys trees and plastic destroys the environment)
learn to do some kind of car maintenance.
Dance in the rain
have an all night movie marathon
Have a passionate kiss
find an old friend
learn a new song in sign language
catch a fish
sleep under the stars
go to the batting cages.
Share my favorite Jamba Juice
Glam out for no reason
Go to a dance club
shoot some hoops
make ice cream
bake pound cakes
get crafty
Go to the drive in ALOT!
find a new dish to cook
go to a grand opening
try the samples while grocery shopping. (that actually annoys me, but hey it's a new world)
Celebrate an usual holiday
Go to a county/ city or state fair.
RODEO
Play video games ( I typically don't like them, but hey... it's a new world)
play with fireworks
take someone's kids for the day and play!
Take a 1 day road trip someplace unplanned and new
find 5 state historical markers and learn about them
Put bubble bath in a public fountain :) (that's legal, right?)

Got any other suggestions? Holla!

When Hell Freezes Over....

When hell freezes over clean the snow off your vehicles!!!!
SERIOUSLY!!!!!
No one should have to spend their morning commute to work behind the abominable snow truck: The back, top and sides of the car totally plastered with snow while creeping at a painfully slow pace of 25 miles an hour in a 35 mile an hour zone leaving a blinding stream of a blizzard behind them. It affects the vision of everyone else. I’ve had sheets of ice fly back on my window and car as well as zero visibility all because some idiot is too lazy to clean their car off.
You can’t see through the snow unless you have X-Ray vision. And if you DO have x-ray vision use it to melt snow off your car!
Why these people would want to increase the danger of driving in already hazardous conditions is beyond me. It is Lazy. It is dangerous. It is selfish and you could be responsible for damaging or taking a life. IT IS THAT SERIOUS!!!

Read the following stories: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/02/17/AR2007021701370.html

http://abclocal.go.com/wabc/story?section=traffic&id=5038380

http://www.boston.com/news/local/massachusetts/articles/2005/09/14/bill_aims_to_clear_snow_ice_off_autos/


I’m in favor of a bill that fines people who are this kind of lazy. I’m also in favor of insurance companies getting in on this action too.

Now we all know that last night it snows, so take these points from the sources at cartalk.com:

“Now, if you haven't been smart enough to do so already, clean the snow off the rest of the car. Why? Because the rest of the snow will either (A) slide off the roof and cover your windshield as you're slowing down; or (B) fly off onto someone else's windshield and causing him or her to smash into you. That's not enough of a reason? Fine. Here's another: (C) it's the law in many states that your vehicle must be clear of snow and ice.”

And my advice? Don't wait til Hell freezes over to clean the snow off your car!

The Miracle that is MY daughter *Happy B-day Boppy!*

This is Alieshia Nikkole.

And this story is about how I became her mom 17 years ago.

Keep in mind, most of these events happened in the space of 7 days.

Well I won’t go through the good details of getting pregnant, as my story will be LONG and drawn out enough.

As sort of an Epilogue I’ll just mention: I had made a Dr's appointment to get an abortion. But received a telegram and a phone call from a friend in London England just as I was headed for the door to the appointment. The Telegram had been sent 3 days before. How it, and the phone call arrived at just the right moment, reminds me that I was NEVER in control of the events that would be taking place over the course of the next few months. By the time I remembered the appointment some 4 hours later, I also realized that 2 lives were saved.

I’ll start this way:

From the time I went into the bishop’s office and told him my situation, I decided keeping the child I was carrying was not an option. The church strongly suggests unwed mothers to give the gift of a 2 parent stable household and that’s what I was going to do, no questions asked. I think as part of the repentance process I disassociated my self with the child. Never felt it was mine, I always said "I’m carrying someone else’s child." I Didn’t want it, and was happy to be rid of this baby who was over taking my body. I worked with LDS social services about my options and choices. They never pushed me one way or another and emphasized the choice was mine to make. I had chosen adoption and had the adoptive family all picked out and waiting.

I was obviously in with the wrong crowd and doing things I shouldn't have been doing. I was introduced into the drug life and the thug life. Although I never touched the drugs or the guns and the other things that came along with that kind of lifestyle, I was trusted with some of the "in" type things that only a "homie" would be privy too.

By the time I decided I really didn't want to be apart of that lifestyle, it was almost too late. These people had labeled me as "one of their own" and were not inclined to let me just fade into the sunset. If they didn't see or hear from me 2 days in a row, they would come to my house... sometimes at 2 or 3:00 AM to make sure Me and their little cousin I was carrying was doing alright. We called that "good lookin' out." These day they call it "having your back."

Things got to a point where I realized I was in a little too deep with "the homies and was sort of stuck in a hole. My mother in her wisdom called my brother and sister-in-law in California and informed them of the situation. She got off the phone a couple hours later and announced there was a plane ticket in my name to San Diego, California. When my brother heard of the people I had been hanging with... which happened to be the ONLY people he wouldn't hang with in high school (and he hung with some pretty shady people back in the day) he insisted I needed to get out. So were sneaking me out of town so I could get my life back on track. I couldn't tell anyone I was leaving or the "homie posse and crew" would have retaliated.

I played them like a violin. Kept up the regular pretenses: "oh you know I'll be at the club this weekend and the after party!"
" No, I won't get into another fight...but if she shows up and starts some mess I won't hesitate to jump her again..." and so on.

Less than 1 week later, I hopped on a plane and was going to live in Oceanside, California.

In California I could spend the time I needed to make the important decisions that would soon change the course of my life and the life of this baby. My due date which was Jan 18th came and went. I was STILL preggo, would this child ever come? I had weekly appointments with LDS social services to make sure I was emotionally OK with my decisions. Boy was I ever. The decision I made 9 months ago had never changed.

Jan 22nd, a Monday, another Dr’s appointment.

Dr said we were :WAY off on the due date" I was no where near ready to deliver."

Tuesday Jan 23^th my LDS Social worker called and said she’d been called out of town for the weekend to a conference in Salt Lake City. Part of her job was to be at the hospital at the time of the birth as the baby would be discharged and placed with her to a foster care home until all the paper work for the adoption was finalized. Since I was no where near ready to have this baby, as the Dr informed me it would be another week or 2 before I was going to deliver. We couldn't see any immediate worry for her to go to the conference the upcoming weekend. She gave me the name & phone number of the colleague who should be called if I had the baby while she was gone.

The morning of Jan 27^th. It was a Saturday. I was getting ready to go watch my brother's marine battalion's all day long baseball tournament. I had become very good friends with a woman in my brother's office. Maureen Vipperman. We called her "Mo' or "Vipp." Vipp wasn't able to have any children of her own. So I had asked her weeks before if she would do the honors of being my labor coach and being with me at the time of the delivery. Something told me I wouldn’t make it game. As a matter of fact "Vipp" was the one picking me up for the game... (by way of the mall of course!)

I was having some annoying cramping that wouldn't go away. I didn't think anything of it because I has been having those types of cramps for almost a month. Suddenly about 10:45 am I got this power cramp that stopped me in my tracks! It's amazing how we can remember the exact moment of some things.
We called the Dr got his answering service, they said they’d call him and then call me right back. An hour later… we hadn’t heard back from him. So we called them again. They said to come on in because it sounded like it was time.

BOY WAS IT TIME. We got to the hospital and when the Dr, who had been on hole 6 of his 18 hole golf excursion said

“IT’S YOU???? Wow I wasn’t expecting it to be you, you were no where near ready when I saw you Monday!!!”

"well I wasn't expecting to be here either. It appears you'd make a better weather man because your forecast was totally off..."

My Dr was a nut case. I appreciated his humor and sensitivity during the prior weeks. It was like chatting with and old friend and He and the Nurses were aware this child was going to be adopted. They had instructions to take the baby from the room after birth. I didn’t want to see it or hold it or anything. I just wanted it out and gone.

People tell me I’m lucky I was only in labor for 3 ½ hours. Luck was not what I was experiencing I assure you.

It’s a blurry situation … the pain... ice chips... oxygen masks... breathing. OH, THE BREATHING THING! Lamaze? What is UP with that? When those pains hit your gonna get a breath the best way you can…. Lamaze goes out the window!

Finally... time to push. Push Number one: Everyone was was screaming in delight... the delivery room erupts with excitement!
“Look at all that curly dark hair!...”

Push two: I heard a couple of nurses gasping:

"Doctor!" one of them said in a panic.

Then they got serious on me... “Karyn, don’t push, be very still!”

Not what you wanna hear in while in pain. I told them I had to push... it hurt not to push.

My labor coach, "Vipp" doing her job, trying to calm me down, she came around bent down and got in my face and said...

“GIRL, don’t push, just breath!!!” She started breathing with me. That scared me but it had the required effect. I thought these people were CRAZY, but I stopped.

I felt this sharp PAIN, and wanted to scream:
“WHAT THE HELL ARE Y'ALL DOIN DOWN THERE???”

A few seconds later... (It felt like minutes, they later told me it was about 20 seconds) I was able to push again. Success!

IT WAS A GIRL!

I was tired and crying. She was crying. Everyone was saying how beautiful she was.

My crazy Dr said
“I'm not supposed to do this, but do you want to see her?”

I said
“no, no thank you”

He insisted I MUST

I said no.

He placed the crying baby on my tummy… the baby cried once… said “MAMA!” and quickly fell asleep.

The delivery room fell silent.

I hear it. The Dr, Nurses, and Vipp all heard it. They all burst out crying. It didn’t faze me one bit. So I pretty much ignored it. They took the baby away after that.

When I left for the hospital, my brother was instructed to call the LDS Social Service Offices before he left for his tournament to let them know so the social worker could meet us up there. My brother actually beat me and Vipp to the hospital and said he couldn’t get a hold of the social worker but would continue to try. He had called them all day and no one answered. Then next day was Sunday and the office would be closed. I was too tired to panic. I slept most of the day... I was frighteningly anemic yet they came and took my blood about every hours. Freaking vampires!

Sunday Jan 28th! Super Bowl Sunday! Discharge day. My Dr said if I was voting for the right football team I could go home today! He was serious too. If I chose the wrong team, I'd be staying. Back in the 90's was there anyone BUT Joe Montana and the 49ers?

We still couldn’t find the social worker. The hospital informed me that I had to take this baby home with me since there was no Social Service Representative to take the child. I was horrified. I had NOTHING, no diapers, no clothes, no food. Why would I since I didn’t expect to keep the child. I hadn't gone through the process of even thinking about names and I had paperwork, birth certificates and other records to sign. After I spent another hour trying to figure out a name and other options, I left the hospital... with a child and instructions to return in 2 or 3 days for babies check up. Luckily Social Services would opened the next day...... No, actually... they wouldn't.... for some strange reason... they were closed on Monday. *sigh* I did NOT like how this was working out.

Thank goodness my niece was only 10 months old so there were plenty of diapers and things like that at the house. Vipp picked me up and brought me home. I left her to handle the baby. I walked in the house and announced to my brother... "your niece is in the car" he jumped up and headed to the car and went to bed. I was still exhausted. (It was super bowl Sunday and the house was filled with my brother’s marine buddies in the midst of the bowl party).

I bolted out of bed about 4 hours later. I remember sitting straight up out of my sleep and saying... "There's a baby in the house.... and I'm supposed to be taking care of it!"

My sister in law pretty much took over the care of the baby and that was OK with me, I wanted nothing to do with her. We had noticed that when she breathed... she squeaked or gasped...like a little mouse trying to catch it's breath or something. It sounded like she was having trouble breathing and when she cried it got worse.

Tuesday Jan 30th. I took baby into her first check up. I informed her Doctor about her breaking and I'm sure he cold already hear. He felt her throat, said she was swollen around the larynx. Her weight had also come down a little she had lost some ounces. That meant she wasn’t eating right. He jumped right on the phone and called a specialist. The specialist was across town and said he wanted to see her right away. The office was closing in 10 minutes but they would keep it open until I got there. I was kind of scared for this child, what was wrong with her???

It took me 25 min to get to the other side of town. The baby was in the back seat crying the whole way.

When we got to the Dr’s office I needed to fill out more paper work. They kept asking me if I was the mother I kept saying she was being put up for adoption, the social workers were unavailable so I was forced to sign the waivers and all the other paper work. I didn’t want to sign any papers as being in charge of her care. I had to sign or they wouldn’t treat her. I did what was needed to get her taken care of.

They took us back into a room and explained they needed to feed a thin microscopic tube with a camera down her throat to look around. I needed to hold her in my lap while they did this. They assured me the baby would be OK but would actually be gagging and choking as they fed the tube down her throat. It was horrible! The baby was crying, I was crying, I was a mess. Afterwards, the Dr said it was really swollen and he couldn’t see much, but he wanted to schedule her for a Barium swallow and chest x-rays to make sure nothing more serious was going on. He set the appointment up for 3 days later, the next Friday.

Mean time. I still can't get through to the Social workers. And I was still pretty much ignoring the baby. I wanted “that child” away from me.

The next couple of days had come and gone and it was the night before I was to take baby to get x-rays. The instructions were the baby could not have any food or drink at least 12 hours before X ray time. I had decided since she couldn't eat, I wouldn't eat either. She had to be hungry enough to drink the Barium. New borns are fed every 2-4 hours, right? The x-ray was scheduled for 11 am the next morning. That night was the longest night of my life. I walked the floor all night sobbing. Trying to comfort a child who was crying from hunger and then would only stop when exhaustion over took the hunger…and would wake up crying again when hunger over took the exhaustion. I realized that I would never understand how people could be so cruel as to allow human suffering to prosper. It is hell to witness.

Next day February 2nd frazzled and worn I got baby to the Dr's Office. She was crying still and each inhale and exhale she took was like a gasp for air. I felt as if she had been put through the cruelest of things this last week I know she was as exhausted and confused as I was. They fed her the barium and took the x-ray. When they were finished, I pulled out a bottle and fed her. That was only the 2nd time I had personally fed her. I took baby home. We both slept most of the day and weekend.

Monday Jan 5th, Dr’s office called. They said the x-rays were clear but they wanted to put her under an anesthetic and do exploratory surgery and open up her chest to make sure. When I heard this a JOLT ran through me. * I had enough of this crap*

I declined, saying
“this child is not even 2 weeks old. I’m not doing this to her anymore”
and hung up.

I was peaked and felt as if I have been stripped raw mentally, physically, emotionally and spiritually. What the hell was going on with my world???

I called my mama. I don’t know about anyone else, but when I’m in turmoil…some thing about hearing mama’s voice breaks me down completely.

She answered the phone and all it took was hearing her voice say "hello..." and I lost it.

I became the baby girl who was hungry and tired and frustrated, confused and scared. Uncontrollably mess for about 5 minutes. No words, just tears and crying and fighting to breath.

Finally mama said... “Karyn take some deep breaths and hear me.”

I took some breaths and calmed down. She said...

“ In all of your counseling and doing what you've been instructed to do with your Bishop and case workers, when you asked heavenly father what to do with this child, did he confirm your decision?”

I said, “Huh??” What was she talking about? I could barley comprehend.

She repeated the question.
I told her

“well, the church says unwed mothers should consider giving their child up for adoption so that’s what I planned to do.”

She asked “so you prayed about that and if felt right?”

I responded “ummm.. No. I didn’t pray or fast or debate myself about it. I just decided that's what should be done so that's what I'm doing”

Mom said: “ you mean to tell me you made a decision this important that involves human lives and you never prayed about it.. At all in 9 months???” (Sounded stupid since she put it that way)

“um, Yeah I guess that's what I'm saying.” Why was she picking on me at a time like this?

All she said was... “When we are given instructions from our prophets and church leaders, there’s a reason we are taught to get a personal conformation and seek for personal revelation. There's a reason for everything your going through. You have some work to do regarding the life of this child and your own.”

I guess so, huh?

A couple of hours after hanging up with mom LDS Social Services called. As it turns out… they don’t know what happened to their phones Absolutely clueless there was even a problem until the last Friday. Their incoming lines had been out of Service for almost a week They were able to call within their own offices but outside called didn't come through. They're usually closed Mondays but now they were getting all of the message from the prior week and decided to open the office and play catch up. They were just getting all the messages left them. She asked how it was and how I was handling the baby. I told her not very well at all . We set up an appointment to meet in 2 days (Wednesday) to get things back on track.

I called the family and asked them to fast with me the next 24 hours. The thought of doing this as all was almost more than I could take. As I fasted I played out the last nine months and ESPECIALLY the events of the last week in my mind... cord around baby’s neck... Baby crying until laid on my tummy, then calling out "mama" before falling asleep... no social workers to take her home… all these freaky Doctor appointments forcing me to sign my name to her paper work as guardian/parent. Watching her suffer, crying, crying, and crying... why is it that what was planned perfectly to a “T” for 9 months was suddenly chaos, hell, and confusion. I was only 22 years old. No job. Living with my brother his wife and my niece. Why hadn’t I prayed about what to do? It was obvious I was in no condition to take on the welfare of another person. I had to find a way to take care of myself. It was obvious what to do wasn't it?

OR was it?

That night I got on my knees and wrestled with the angels. I cried first. All I could say was squelch out ‘father help me” and cry. I fell sleep on my knees. I dreamed of a little girl in a pink dress with a little afro puff pony tail walking alone and crying because she didn't know where to go. And her Savior Jesus Christ came to her side and comforted her letting her know all would be well. I Woke up 2 hours later, cried some more... and just listened and tried to feel... something in the stillness and quiet beside the ache I had in my side and knees from being on them. A total of 5 hours later. About 4:00 AM totally exhausted I jumped into bed. And slept. Still no decision as to what to do. I was silent and quiet most of the next day. Numb I guess. I had about 24 hours to figure this out. This was the longest week of my life. Different members of my family called during the day to check up. I got on my knees again that night. I figured I didn’t have much more to add to what I’d said already so I just basically asked heavenly father what is was he wanted me to know about this child and how would he have me decide how she could best serve him in this world. Then I got up and lay in bed, wide awake and listened. What I heard was so clear I had to look about the room to see who was actually speaking to me. Words of a blessing I'd recieved when I was 18 cam to mind. (My bishop had reminded me early in my pregnancy that the blessing was valid but totally up to me to keep it valid).

There was a reason the phones didn’t work at LDS Social Services for 5 days. Just as there was a reason I got a telegram from my best friend, a missionary in London, out of the blue, that made me miss a Dr. Appointment to have a possible abortion when I was 7 weeks pregnantnt. How come all this medical stuff was forcing me to try and bond with this child? Didn't they have things these days to detect when the cord was wrapped around babies in a dangersous way. Why hadn't they seen it? The only thing that WAS successful at was not bonding with this child and that suddenly became very spooky to me.

I found out later my brother had missed his baseball tournaments the day baby was born. He spent 3 hours looking at her in the window. She looked so much like his 10 month old daughter, all he could say was.”2 peas in a pod”. He had been inactive in church for years, now I recalled day my baby was born mentioned to me if I thought it was too late for him to have his daughter blessed at 10 months old. 2 days after my baby was born my brother also mentioned he wanted to go to church with me the next time I went.
Several Phrases of my blessing came to mind... but the main was... something to the effect that my missionary work would be gathering the family generations and be done through my children. It was already happening.

Things were becoming clear. OBVIOUSLY clear. Then next day I went to my meeting to Social Services and my social worker. She asked me what was going on. I gave her the details of the previous week. She asked me as she had so many times…if I was still firm in my decision to place for adoption. I told her for the first time in 9 months that I was not sure. It was weird… she gave almost a sigh of relief. I looked at her curiously. She asked me what my decisions were. I started to cry. She started to cry. I told her I never thought I would say this but I think I am going to be a mommy. She said she had strongly felt it should be this way but had to always support her client in whatever decision they were making, as did my family I found out a few days after.

2 hours later. I walked out of LDS Social Services with my daughter Alieshia Nikkole. I had never called her by a name, until that moment she was always "baby" or “the baby.” For the first time ever… I held her to my chest and closed my eyes taking it all in. What kind of mess was I getting us both into? I just held her. I looked at her, really looked at her for the first time. I kissed her, Her forehead, her tiny hands and fingers, her cheeks, her eyes. I smelled her hair and felt her little heart beat next to my own. I listened closely to her breath that little squeak she had. All it turned out to be was swollen larynx due to the cord being wrapped around her neck and it was gone within a couple of months. I carefully placed my daughter into her car seat and buckled her in carefully like some precious cargo Heaven had asked me to guard with my life. Little did I know she was just that... precious cargo. I jumped in the car and turned on the radio. My favorite song happened to be on… “Every little step I take... you will be there…” By Bobby Brown. I smiled at the song and wiped away a tear that escaped my lashes.
Ha, that song! Another coincidence in many that had happened that week? NOPE, NOT EVEN. Heavenly Father was giving me the thumbs up. I heard a voice that whispered... “You will have all the support you need.” And I always have.

(Sometimes people, laugh, scoff at me and roll their eye's when I tell them I can audibly hear a voice when I receive answers in situations such as these. Laugh all you want. The voice has not failed me yet.)

NOW....

It's 17 years later. Today at 1:50 pm Alieshia Nikkole will be 17. It's been the greatest experience of my life being her mother. It wasn't always easy. It wasn't always laugh and giggles as most of you see us. But every minute of it has been worth it and I can't imagine my life without her.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY GIRL, I LOVE YOU!