The New Digs

Well hi! 

As you might have guessed from previous posts, I have been in the process of moving. After seven years of living with roommates (all of them wonderful and interesting), I've started to really itch for my own space. So about 7 months ago, I started looking. I wasn't quite up for taking on a house, so yeah, I'm still renting an apartment, but buying my own house no longer seems quite so daunting now that I've done the getting-my-own-apartment thing. Maybe in a few years. ;)

Anyway, I moved on the 17th of February and I'm now officially all unpacked. It was a pretty quick process overall. The apartment was livable on the first night (thanks to my diligent friends), and I hate boxes sitting out, so I got rid of them as quickly as I could. 

And here's my new pad:

This is the front room. The window lets in SO much light and I LOVE IT, but I had to close it for the pictures. I have a third-floor private balcony, which will be put to excellent use when the first thunderstorms roll in. :)

Yeah, this front room is a little tiny. If I didn't have vaulted ceilings, it would be claustrophobically tiny, but all the natural light and space above keeps the room from feeling oppressively small. Little Brother had my entertainment center set up in the first 20 minutes I was in the house (the couches hadn't even arrived yet).

Remember that I mentioned I have vaulted ceilings? There's also a loft and a ledge (if you're brave enough to hop over the half-wall up top) above. So this is looking down from that. I solemnly swear that I will be up to no mischief, and I won't ever fall (the ledge doesn't have a railing, which is the one major "????" factor of the apartment design. But I'm relatively graceful and sure-footed, so I'm not too fussed).

But YOU GUYS if you ever come visit had better be careful. I keep going all Momma Bear on people who climb out up here.

On the flip side, anyone who comes into my apartment is a prime target for a nerf gun attack from above, so take that under advisement. (Note to self: acquire nerf guns...)

Oh yeah, and those couches are quite comfortable. :D

These are shots of the ledge. See? No railing. It is wider than it looks, and that wheely chair is a miserable excuse for a wheely chair. The wheels don't work, so I won't ever be pushing back from my desk and taking a shortcut to my front room.


I also like that it's harder to access, because this is my work zone. If and when I work from home, I'm not going to be easily distracted by dishes or snacks or my books, because it actually takes effort to get out there and to get back to the rest of the house.

So Lynnae will be able to focus.

Anyway, moving on with the tour.

Oh hello loft! And see what I mean about the effort? I have to hop over that wall if I want to get to and from the ledge. Little Brother gets to sleep in the loft when he comes to visit now, and the books that didn't fit in the front room have overflow space up here. All it needs now is a quashy armchair or something. I'll work on that.

And yes, I have little toy figurines set up by the lamp. Ben and Hyrum would be proud. 

Once you take a little jaunt down the stairs, we come back to the main living spaces. I have a darling dining room and a cute kitchen. (Ha! Alliteration)

The bedroom and bathroom are to the left of the stairs. Kitchen is to the right of the dining table.

LOOK AT ALL THE COUNTER SPACE!!

And then, at the very end, the bedroom:

I love this room. :) I also have the biggest walk-in closet. I'm so spoiled, and I love it.

So yeah, this is my place. It's perfect for me, and despite some of the oddities, the apartment is so unique that I can't get irritated by the little quirks. I'll probably never have a place that has such an unusual design again, so I'm enjoying it while I'm here. 

I'm also looking forward to many adventures and good memories made here. I've got a year to do it, and that's plenty of time to fill it with great memories. :)

What happens at night...gets posted on the blog

Once upon a time, Roommate downloaded this app that changes your voice. So you make a recording and then select a filter and listen to yourself sound all kinds of crazy. The first time she ever used it, she nearly scared the pee out of me. 

It was Saturday night, about 10:00. I'd just walked in the apartment from after my temple shift and noticed her door was closed. That's normal. She's often in bed before I get home. As I'm passing her door, I hear this super creepy, echoing, maniacal laughter, and the acoustics in our hallway made it almost impossible to pinpoint the sound, so it was alarming.

Before I could actually transition from confused alarm to genuine terror, however, Roommate couldn't help herself: she started giggling from behind her door. Ah yes. I should have known she'd be pranking me. Again. She'd recorded herself doing an evil laugh, and then applied a "Villain" filter to it to make it even better.

Anyway, we've played with the voice changer app several times, and usually, since we tend to only do it way too late at night, we laugh way too hard.

Last night, Roommate had had a pretty bad day, and I'd had a busy one, dealing with the stress of packing and prepping for my move. And, you know, Groundhog Day celebrations and all. So we didn't see each other much until around 11:00 at night. Frayed nerves, wacky hormonal levels, and lack of sleep set us off laughing our heads off. 

And then she sneakily pulled out the voice changer app and started recording us. This video is the clip she sent me, with the "drunk" filter applied to it. I promise, we were not actually drunk, nor did it sound quite this bad in real life. The filter is very good. She took a picture for good measure, I guess.

For reference (if you need it) I'm the one telling a story about a gob of spit.

Yes, that story is true. Roommate is mostly just laughing.

And I totally understand if this is only funny to the two of us. We were both desperately in need of a laugh, and my ribs ache a little bit today from laughing until tears were streaming from my eyes.

The reason I share it at all is because I'm deeply grateful for best friends, with whom it is perfectly acceptable to be a complete weirdo (also, apologies to Brian for calling him a weirdo in this video. We love him, really, we do).

And while I love change and I'm excited by the prospect of moving and getting a fresh start, I do end up carrying around a lot of stress and tension. If I didn't have an outlet, it would get pretty bad. So I'm really grateful for fits of laughter, stupid stories, and ridiculous apps that make us sound more punch-drunk wacky than we actually are.

Incidentally, I had one guy accuse me of being too serious and too intense. I think this puts that to rest once and for all. Although this might scare him off, too. Oh well. :)

Memories

So, in the process of weeding out my stuff, I also had three boxes of childhood memorabilia that my parents brought with them when they came up here for Christmas. Which means I am officially moved out of my parents' house entirely. I don't have anything left there.

Three boxes of stuff I can't use is kind of a lot when you're looking at moving into a new place that has limited storage, so I decided to weed out those boxes and try to reduce the number as much as possible. I'm pretty ruthless about this, which might be traumatic for natural pack-rats. Feel free to look away if you must. It gets a little messy.

Basically, I had two rules: If I've used it in the last year, or it's obvious that I could use it with my children, I kept it. If it triggered a strong memory, I kept it. If I didn't pick something up and get thrown back into my childhood by it, I chucked it. And I ended up with only one box when I was done. Like I said. It got a little gory. Many childhood nicknacks have been sacrificed to the D.I. bag (and the unsuitable ones to the garbage bag) here today.

But then I came across these two:

Go figure they're practically staring up at me beseechingly.

And I had a little problem. Because they're probably my most treasured stuffed animals from before I was about six. Simba has a weird little tube in him that makes him purr when you squeeze him, and Hayley the Bunny Rabbit was a gift from my great aunt that I took everywhere with me. And because I was an adorable little girl, Simba and Hayley were usually married and had a slew of children that were puppies, tigers, bears, dragons, and, once, a turkey (???). I've pretty much tossed most of my other stuffed animals, but these two have survived 10 or more purges over the years.

They're bedraggled, well-loved by a child who loved cuddling with them, and I have very, very strong memories associated with them.

But I didn't have room.

Everything fit in one box (including some less well-loved stuffed animals that my kids will probably love) except them. From my own experience as a kid, I didn't really like playing with my mom's well-loved stuffed animals from her childhood, so I can pretty much guarantee that my kids won't want them, especially when newer, softer ones are available (and I have a few of those).

So what do I do?

Making them into a scrapbook-style memory seemed the most fitting tribute, so here I am.

Of course, now that I've written this post, a part of me wants to go home, pull them out of the D.I. bag, and find a way to make them fit into my one box of childhood.

Oh, nostalgia. You're a hard one to beat.

I'm totally okay with change

You know what I actually really like?

Moving.

I love moving.

I like digging through my stuff, throwing things out, reliving memories as I open up old boxes to see if I still need anything in them, and reorganizing my life into boxes and rooms.

I also love unpacking and spreading out into a new home, watching empty rooms fill up with all the things that matter to me. I've even redecorated my room a couple of times in the last year, even though I haven't moved, just because I enjoy the refresh.

Maybe it's a really stereotypically womanly thing, but I really do love making my house a home. I love the idea of decorating, cooking things that smell good, and having plushy couches that beg people to curl up on them with a good book. And the older I get, the stronger that desire gets.

So yeah, as I may have mentioned, I'm moving. Roommate and I have been simmering over this decision for a couple of months now, and while we really do love living together, we've both been itching for a change. She's looking forward to living with someone new, and I've been dying to get into my own home. For me, it's time. I've had roommates long enough, and I'm ready to have a space that is 100% my own.

Hello, home office and guest bedroom. Little Brother is so excited to have a real bed to sleep in when he comes up to visit for the weekend.

Will it be tough, living alone? Maybe a little bit. I'll be more likely to get lonely, but I've gotten really good at dealing with that in the last couple of years, and I know that I won't hermit up and get depressed. In fact, it might actually be better for me because I'll have to reach out of my comfort zone and invite people over (or go out with them) in order to have company. In some ways, having my roommate around becomes a little bit of a crutch, because I get enough social interaction from her that I don't reach out to other people who might be in greater need of a friend than she is.

I also realize that I'm running the risk of settling into habits and getting used to doing things exactly the way I want them that might present an interesting challenge when I do eventually get married. But that's been a risk for years. My poor husband is going to have to spend the first year or so of our marriage trying to remind me to let him open the dang jars and reach the hard-to-reach stuff on the top shelf anyway. Poor man. :)

But remember? I like change. So maybe that won't be so difficult after all. ;)

By the way, do you know what I really dislike?

Being all ready to jump into action and having to sit around waiting. Yep. My apartment isn't available yet. So I have all this pent-up energy and motivation to get the ball rolling and I can't let it run free yet. So if I seem cranky or like I'm stewing, it's probably because of that.

Aside from that, life is wonderful. And I genuinely mean that. Yes, there are little annoyances and things that throw my mood off for a few hours (or a day, sometimes), but I'm still incredibly blessed, and I never entirely forget that.

Happy 2015! plus, Life Update!

Wow. I've been worse at blogging this year than ever before. Conversely, I've been better at journaling in an actual journal. You know, the kind that only you and your kids ever see. I rocked at that this year. It seems blogging and journaling have an inverse relationship for me. So, I need to do my annual year-in-review post and then hopefully fill you in on the rest of my life. So off we go!

ZERO, the number of roommates I'll have this coming year, since I finally got my very own apartment. I signed for it over Christmas! It's also the number of vacuums I have for said new apartment, though I have pretty much everything else I need. ;)

ONE queen bed, plus a bedroom set, that I bought for myself this year. Goodbye, cramped little twin bed! I'm sleeping in a bedroom that looks like it belongs to an adult, and I'm a little bit a lot happy about that. Also, bright side, I will have ONE guest bed for friends and family to sleep in when they come to visit me now!

TWO siblings on missions: Jess in Germany and Ben in Guatemala. We talked to both of them over Christmas, and I am so unbelievably proud of their faith and dedication in serving the Lord. It's so cool to have them both out at the same time. 

THREE months ago, I started volunteering at the Bountiful temple as an ordinance worker on Saturday evenings. It eats into my social life quite a bit, but I haven't once regretted it. The blessings I've received since I started have far outweighed any social inconvenience. I also have the opportunity to dust off my foreign language skills and learn the ordinances in Spanish to help with the Spanish session we have every Saturday. That's one of my New Year's resolutions. :)

FOUR days in Washington, DC for a business trip this last October. First, I have a job that sends me on business trips. How cool is that? Second, I haven't been to DC since I was five (and I vividly remember the giant fake penny that I got there that fell down a drainage grate after I got home--I stared mournfully through that grate for a few weeks after that, watching the mud pile up on that glint of copper at the bottom... wow, that is is a really vivid memory from 20 years ago...). Third, I got to meet my hilarious and wonderful team of editors (who are scattered all over the country) for the first time, and it felt like I'd known them for years. 

FIVE times five equals 25, which is how old I turned this last year, and it has been wonderful. From an excellent birthday surprise by Roommate to the insurance cuts that you get if you have a perfect driving record to finally figuring out a few more things about life and love, 25 has been an excellent year for me. It's probably been my favorite age so far. I almost don't want to turn 26, not because I don't want to get old, but because I'm not done being 25 yet.   

SIX Jacksons with full-fledged temple recommends (and Baby Brother super excited to do the same when he's older). When I was younger, I watched a lot of my cousins struggle and fall away from the Church, and I was always a little afraid that one of my siblings would, too. It's still a mild concern (enough that it keeps us lovingly bolstering each other's testimonies when times get hard), but my parents' incredible examples of faith and devotion to the Lord above everything else have clearly impacted me and my siblings and inspired us to set the same patterns for ourselves, including temple service. I find a lot of comfort in knowing that my brothers and sister can and will face difficulties with optimism and hope, no matter what comes their way. 

SEVEN months ago, I finally, finally bought my first car! Her name is Phoebe, she's three years old, and I have no regrets about the amount of time I spent saving for her, because I was able to afford an almost-new, very nice car. It also frees me up to do a lot of things I couldn't do before.

EIGHT hours (give or take a little) of incredibly uplifting conversations with a man who completely changed my mind about pretty much all of my dating fears. No, he's not still in my life, but he treated me better than I've been treated by a date in years, and he restored my excitement about dating in general. Go him! He was also proof that even a relatively tiny amount of time and effort can make a lasting impact on someone else. Little things can yield big results, even if you're not around to see them later. He won't ever know what he did, but I know, and my future family will be blessed by it. (Cheesy, I know, but it's true.)

NINE hours and forty minutes: the length of the drive Brian and I took to Sacramento for Thanksgiving, which marked Phoebe's first road trip (she did wonderfully well), AND the first time in five years that I've been able to spend both Thanksgiving and Christmas with my immediate family, since my parents and baby brother flew to meet us in Sacramento to spend the holiday with our Granddad, who lives in El Dorado.

TEN months at an incredible job. I know! TEN MONTHS! It's flown by so fast. I still love it as much as I did when I started, and I'm still content with the idea of working here for the rest of my life. That is a blessing I'm constantly thankful for. I love loving what I do for work. :)

Lesson Learned - This year has been a year of dreams come true. Yes, I've still had challenges and struggles (that's normal), but looking back over this year, I am overwhelmed by how many things fell into place this year. Last year, I learned that my happiness starts with me, and now, after another year of putting that into practice, I am amazed by how good this year has been! Dreams DO come true. They absolutely do. Sometimes, we have to work through a lot of pain and suffering before they do, but if it matters to us, it matters to God, and He'll help us make it happen.

And the other thing I've learned this is year is that my dreams (and yours) are worth the wait. Patience pays off. If it takes longer than you expect, then you'll appreciate it more when you do get it. My incredible job means a lot more to me because I worked through stressful, tenuous employment for two years beforehand. I appreciate my car more because I worked so hard for it (and even gave up the chance to buy a few times before I finally did). Don't ever give up on your dreams; the reality is so much better than your imagination could ever make it. 2014 was a fantastic year. 2015 will be incredible too, even if hard things happen.  It always gets better. ^_^

Dream a Little Bigger, Darling

Okay, so, as promised, it's time to get back to the normal stuff. :)

The most important thing: I HAVE A JOB!

A real, honest-to-goodness job. Shortly after my February post, I interviewed with a company that I'd been talking to for about a month and a half, and she pretty much offered me the job on the spot (though not technically, since that's not how it works). I knew about it when I wrote, back in February, but I didn't want to jinx it, so I didn't say anything.

Anyways, about this job.

The company is called KPMG. They provide audit, tax, and advisory services for a significant number of the FORTUNE 500 companies (and I believe they are one themselves). They're one of the Big Four such companies in the country. I'm one of only seven editors in the whole company (the U.S. branch, anyway). We handle almost all of the client-facing proposals, emails, presentations, etc. that the company produces. It means I'm crazy busy pretty much all the time. (I even have homework about half the nights of the week, because I don't have time during the day to edit everything by the deadlines.) Working for a financial services company might seem boring to a lot of editors, but it's pretty much where most editors end up. And you know what? It's not all that boring. Most of it is business writing (which occasionally makes me want to smack my face into a wall because it breaks half the rules of concise writing that were pounded into me all through college), and business writing is much less dry than some of the other stuff I've edited over the years. Every document is its own little treasure trove of grammatical mistakes that I have to dig up and correct. It doesn't get tedious because each one is also written by a different author, so there are distinct voices and syntactical quirks to each piece.

I probably can't convince most of you that any of this sounds like fun, but that doesn't matter. I love it.

I had my doubts about editing for a little while. After two straight years of proofreading (which is pretty grueling, to be honest), I was second-guessing my choice to be an editor for the rest of my life. I wasn't sure I was cut out for it. I also wasn't sure that I would get the kind of job that would make me happy. Editing jobs are few and far between out here in Utah. My original plan when my job with the Church ended was to find something well-paying for a year or two and then pick up and head out to New York City, where all the publishing jobs are. I figured that's when my career would start. If I still wanted it to start.

I'm glad that the Lord has bigger plans for me than I did for myself. I was dreaming small, honestly. And this job was definitely His doing. A friend recommended me for an admin assistant position in the Salt Lake KPMG office, so I applied, because I was applying for everything. One interview in, the recruiter was like, "Wait, you like editing?"

"Yes."

"We have a position posted for an editor in L.A. Let me send them your resume."

I didn't really want to move, but I figured it couldn't hurt to explore it a little, so I let him. Turns out that they liked my resume so much that they decided to open the same editing position in Salt Lake so that I wouldn't have to move (my work is not region-specific, so I could literally move anywhere in the country and still do the same job).

I found out after I was hired that this whole situation was pretty much love at first sight for both me and the editing manager. She thought I was perfect and spent the better part of a month trying to find something wrong with me. When that failed, she kept trying to figure out how to get rid of all the other applicants, because she didn't want any of them. On my side, from the first time I talked to her, I knew that I wanted this job. It sounded right up my alley as far as my background went, and I knew that the position would be well within my abilities and that it would push me to be better, too. It also offered the possibility to work from home, to move wherever I wanted, and permanence. Plus, the editors on the team tended to retire. That told me that they didn't get dissatisfied and quit. They stuck it out until they weren't working anymore. I wanted this job so badly. I've wanted it since about the second week in January, but I was terrified that I wouldn't get it, so I was very close-lipped about it.

Turns out, I didn't need to worry. This is exactly where I was supposed to be, and things just worked out. Right down to the fact that I kept coming in second place for all of my other interviews. I had so many interviews, and they all went really, really well. But almost every time, I found myself thinking, "Please don't offer me the job, please, please don't. KPMG hasn't called me back, yet." Since I was collecting unemployment insurance, turning down job after job would have caused me to lose my income, which I couldn't afford. But despite their obvious interest, none of those other jobs extended offers to me. (Well, one company extended me a frankly insulting offer to write out descriptions of bedpans for their website for $12 an hour, even though they knew I'd been making twice that before. I turned them down, obviously.)

So, after two months of unemployment, I landed my dream job. Seriously. If I had stuck to my original plan and gone out to New York, this is probably the kind of thing I would be looking for, because everyone wants the book-publishing jobs, but the positions like this are more stable and pay a little better.

So I got everything I never even knew I wanted from a job about two years earlier than I'd planned. And I can stay with this job for the rest of my life if I want to. No expiration date built in. If, on some crazy chance, I do want to leave it, it's an incredible thing to put on a resume, and I'll have a huge boost finding my next one, though, frankly, I don't ever plan on leaving. I want to build my career here.

So yeah. I'm doing what I love (and rediscovering just how much I do love it in the process), and I'm doing it in an environment that offers me the kind of stability that I've been craving ever since I graduated from college. I'm pretty happy with how my life has gone so far. It really does get better with time. :)

Why I Love Men (and why everyone should love them, too)

Okay, this post is going to be a little tougher to write. I'm thankful for men.

That's not the hard part. The hard part is why I'm feeling grateful for them right now. I'm going to try not to mention names, but there're a few men in my life who will probably figure out I'm talking about them by the time this post is done. This is not a love letter. This is a thank you.

I've been doing a lot of reading (of course) and I've discovered a few things. Some of them disheartening.

I have gotten old enough that bad things are happening to people my age. Horror stories aren't just limited to people I've never met or heard of. They happen to people I care about. A lot of them involve men. (There are plenty that involve women, too, but I'm setting those aside for this post. This is about the men.)

Some of the most beautiful souls I know have been abused by men.

Men are painted as animals and predators, and sadly, some of the ones I know personally have come to live up to that reputation.

There is a lot of ugly out there in the world. Horrible deeds done by men and women alike. There is so much of it that I stop and wonder sometimes why I'm not afraid to step outside my house every day. Why I'm not afraid to go on dates, to open my heart, and to trust someone unknown to me.

And do you want to know why?

Because I've figured it out.

It's because the good ones outnumber the bad ones. And it's because I've been incredibly blessed to know some of the choicest men placed on this earth.

For every ugly, horrible act committed, there are more unsung heroes who protect, honor, and respect those around them, treating them with the dignity that everyone deserves as a child of God.

My life has been blessed and protected by those men. They are the reason that I don't have my own horror story to bear. I understand that not everyone is as lucky as I am. Boy, do I get that. I am not writing this to look down on anyone struggling to recover from the horrors that other humans can inflict. I simply want to convey that there are good men out there.

There are men who hold doors.

There are men who offer coats.

There are men who look a woman in the eyes.

There are men who take responsibility for their actions.

There are men who know how to use the Atonement and use it every. single. day.

There are men who are devoutly faithful to the woman they love, even if they're still waiting to find her.

There are men who fight off the shackles of sins and mistakes.

There are men who defend life at all costs, even if it means sacrificing their own.

There are men who become everything we always hoped they would be.

Believe me. I know it. I know them.

I wrote recently about meeting up with an old childhood friend and how much it affected me. I was blown away by how amazing he'd become. This isn't the first time that's happened.

I have had the privilege of maintaining a vested interest in two different young men (from two different places I've lived) for well over half my life. Sometimes that meant I had a crush, sometimes that simply meant that I couldn't bring myself to weed them out of my contacts, even if I hadn't spoken to them in years. But these two young men are a major reason that I love and respect men as much as I do.

I always saw them clearly, even when I was young. I could see that they were good, kind, sensitive to the Spirit, and struggling to stand firm and unyielding in a world that attempted to bully them into submission. I've seen them face ups and downs, and yes, even make mistakes. I worried and fretted about them, even if they didn't know it. I was never as close to them as I would have liked, and I went through a lengthy period of no contact with each of them during our college years. In the last couple of years, though, I've gotten to spend some real quality time with each of them.

They. Are. Breathtaking.

I'd always hoped that they would grow up to be amazing men.

They have. In fact, both men, despite their vastly different circumstances, personalities, and hometowns, have far surpassed everything I could have imagined them to be. They are honorable, faithful, steadfast, and kind. They treat women with the most genuine respect that I've ever seen. They love their families. They love the Lord. They take care of their friends. They respect me.

I love them. I love who they have become.

And those two men aren't the only ones I know. My three brothers, my father, my cousins (I often tease that they all married women much better than them, but it really isn't true), my exes, my uncles, my friends' husbands, the list could go on forever.

My brothers spend what amounts to hours and days serving the Lord in their callings and at the temple. My last boyfriend respected me enough to tell me that he was taking his time dating me because he didn't want me to be committed to someone who wasn't 100% sure he wanted to be with me (he also paid me the courtesy of not making me wait at all once he was 100% sure). My best friend's husband makes loving her a priority over his other concerns and surprises her with little services and actions that show how much he pays attention to what she doesn't ask for. My best guy friend spent time, money, and gas picking up the pieces of my heart when I got it broken, even though it cut into his own dating life occasionally. My uncle faced the trial of losing his wife with absolute faith in the Lord. My friend confronted a pornography addiction head-on and beat it into the ground.

Again, the list could go on forever. And that's just in my own life, which is just the tiniest fraction of a percentage of the people in the world.

Yes, there are bad men in the world. But there are so many good ones, too. To those men, I say THANK YOU.

Thank you for honoring and respecting both me and the people I love.

Thank you for rescuing others from the bad things in life.

Thank you for being brave and admitting mistakes.

Thank you for putting the Lord first.

Thank you for inspiring me to be a better person.

Thank you for protecting me.

Thank you for giving me the courage to trust others, because you've never let me down.

I believe in Knights, Heroes, and Prince Charmings because of you.

THANK YOU.

Thanksvember: Cabin Fever

So why am I thankful for cabin fever?

Why, because I simply love that caged, roaring-to-get-out feeling, of course!

Kidding.

In a way.

I actually do appreciate it, but more because I have it than because I like the feeling itself. More specifically, that it kicked in after only two days.

See, here's the thing about me. I'm an introvert. Surprise! No way! An editor/writer who is introverted?? GET OUT OF TOWN! (Sidenote: I wish you could hear that phrase in Roommate's Scottish grandfather's voice, because it's fantastic.) In addition, I've struggled with mild depression for a few years now. Nothing that's like, "GET LYNNAE TO A DOCTOR!" or anything, but it flares up in the "I'm not going outside no matter what you coax me with" form. So it's not entirely uncommon for me to really want to spend a week or so holed up in my room.

This is usually in its most severe form when I get sick, which prolongs my recovery.

So I got sick this weekend. And I holed up, naturally.

But by the end of the day yesterday, I was desperate to get back to work. I missed it. Which, in and of itself, was a little shocking. In addition, the mindless, time-wasting things I tend to do when I'm in hermit-mode just weren't really all that fun or interesting, and I got tired of them pretty fast.

And you know what? I am so grateful for that. I'm grateful that I enjoy working. I'm grateful that I have discovered things that are more enjoyable to do than waste time on the internet. I'm grateful that, left to my own devices, I won't waste my life away doing nothing. I'm grateful that I like being around people and that I miss them when I'm not with them. I'm grateful that I have natural impulses to do good and fill my time with worthwhile things, because I've often struggled with whether I have those or not.

Luckily, my body cooperated with my desire to get out of hermit-mode, and I'm healthy enough to return to work. Another thing I'm grateful for.

Plus, it relieved my cabin fever. And I'm glad that I don't still have that, because it's a frustrating feeling, even if I'm glad that the urges that produce it exist. :)

Thanksvember: Mommy

 There's a line in the fourth Harry Potter book that I think applies to my post today. I don't have the book in front of me at the moment, but it says something to the effect of "Fleur greeted her parents and walked away, chattering in rapid French." That is so not the line. But that's the gist. Basically, Harry is bewildered and amused by the typically coy Fleur speaking so expansively to her family, and yet he can't understand a word of it.

I feel like a French speaker would think the same thing if they overheard a conversation between me and my mother. We. Are. Chatterboxes.

And it's awesome. I love it.

My mom came out to visit last week to help her mom with some legal and technical stuff, but of course no business obligations could keep my mother from spending a healthy chunk of time with her three oldest children, who all live in Utah.

I got her for both weekends.

Go me.

And I just love talking to her. I love being with her. Man, I just love her. All of her.

Yes. I did just use a How to Train Your Dragon reference. You're welcome.

I love my relationship with my mom. She's my best friend, and it's so easy to talk to her, but at the same time, she is always, always my mother, and that comes with wisdom, perspective, and counsel that I soak up like a sponge. I love that she works hard to understand that her children may have different sensibilities and cultural norms than she did growing up, so she's not constantly nagging at us for not doing things the way she did. My mother is probably the most graceful person I know when it comes to accepting change, including the changes in the world and in her children. She adapts without ever losing who she is, and that is one of the most beautiful things about her.

I'm pretty sure that other people may want to argue with me about this, but I'm convinced that I have the best mom in the world. And I really don't mean that in any generic, trivial way. I'm serious. More than an isolated few people have mentioned that they wish they could have a relationship with their mothers like I have with mine. And I have never, ever been jealous of anyone else's relationships with their mothers, because mine equals or surpasses the best of them. I don't mean this to brag. I am so incredibly blessed to have my mother. I don't deserve her any more than someone else does, but she's mine. Forever.

I will never stop being grateful for that.

Also, Happy Birthday in advance, Mom. I'm half your age for the next year. That feels special, somehow. :)

Thanksvember

Yes, I know. I'm terrible at this blogging thing. However, Roommate is doing NaNoWriMo (which is National Novel Writing Month, for those of you not up on the bookish acronyms) and apparently it's slightly contagious, because I got bit by the writing bug again (finally). I probably won't be formally attempting to write 50,000 words by the end of the month, but I'm going to attempt my own form of it by blogging more, journaling more, and probably pumping out a short story or two.

Oh, and I have letters to write.

Plus, it's November, and gratitude is a common theme, both in blogs and on Facebook. Sometimes, it seems a little hypocritical to see some of my highly opinionated and often-complaining friends suddenly switch to the things they're thankful for, just because it's November, but it's better than not doing it. I'm okay with my friends softening up and becoming more grateful, even if it's only because of the month. The world can always use a little more gratitude.

Which brings me to the purpose of my post. Because I'm going to try to keep up with things that I'm thankful for this month, and not just because that's what everyone else was doing. I've been sitting on this for a while, actually.

See, I got a promotion of sorts at work. It's not like I'm a manager, supervisor, or anything that sounds cool. In fact, my job description is pretty much exactly the same. I just get to be the team "mom," which means that I come in earlier, keep more copious notes on day-to-day tasks, and serve as the sounding board for the real supervisor's ideas and concerns. It's quite enjoyable, actually.

It came with an unexpected side effect, however, which is that my days are all blurring together. The earlier schedule takes a toll, and because I still (kind of) have a social life (which mostly involves just Roommate), I don't get to bed as early as I like. Somehow, I've been running around in a bit of a daze, stuck in a monotonous routine of work, home, sleep, work, home, sleep.

So where does gratitude come in? (Because it does.)

Well, the fact is that it needs to, because that's my problem. It's not like I'm out of time, or I'm wearing myself absolutely thin doing a million things. My days are usually quite pleasurably filled, but I haven't been appreciating them.

You know how, when you're really happy, you savor each and every moment? You treasure and replay the memories, over and over again, wanting to hold onto them forever? I hope you do, because everyone deserves to have days like that. I want to have more moments like that. Because I haven't really been doing much that I feel inclined to hold onto. Or at least, that how it seems, because I haven't been as grateful as I should be.

Because that's the fastest way to turn a seemingly mundane life into a memorable, wonderful one. It's not by changing everything and going out and doing memorable things (though that is certainly one method). You might be doing exactly what you can and should be doing, bound by schedules and the needs of others to seemingly endless monotonous tasks. But the joy of being human is that we are constantly changing. The world around us is constantly changing. Every day, we are a little different, and the people we encounter are a little different, too. All we have to do is take time to notice.

So that is my goal for this Thanksgiving and Christmas season. I want to notice those little things that are different or special about each day and express gratitude for them. I may not be able to change things up very much (one thing about adulthood: responsibilities and obligations must be met, no matter how much you don't want to meet them) but I can take notice of the things that do change.

And do you know what's cool? The more you notice and express gratitude for change, the more memorable and varied your life becomes. :)

Joy Is in the Little Things

So Little Brother is in Utah now.

:)

Wow, that emoticon is the biggest understatement of the century.

Better. Much better.

Roommate and I played Go Fish with tiny Disney Princess cards and got very... vehement about it.

I also read the children's book I wrote in high school to her in what she has now dubbed my "Bartok" voice and our very good (and male) friend walked in while I was in the middle of it. If I hadn't been laughing so hard, I might have been embarrassed.

I had a remarkably delicious hot dog for lunch today. While that's not making any progress whatsoever on my goal to eat healthier, it is still making me quite happy. Enjoy it, Food Baby, before I get rid of you.

My best friend needed my address so that she could send me a letter. Which means I get snail mail (which is a thousand times better than any notification or email). It also means that I will (hopefully) get to enjoy her wacky doodles again, since I'm pretty sure I've never gotten a letter from her that didn't have at least a few of them.

A friend of mine came over last night and vented about his frustrations. That doesn't seem like a good thing, but it was really nice to have a real conversation with him, since my roommate and I don't see him more than a couple times a year.

I watched a very attractive guy walk over to our bookshelves, pull a book down, and proceed to get very involved in the book while the rest of us talked around him. It was, well, really attractive to see a man get so absorbed in a book that he forgot anyone else was around. Guys, reading is hot. Plus, our books are there to be read. And nobody ever reads them except us.

It was really cool and beautiful on my stroll to the bus stop this morning, and my roommate had opened up the sliding glass door to our patio before she left for work, so I woke up to a lovely breeze and an apartment filled with fresh air this morning. (Don't worry, Roommate, I locked the door before I left.) That put me in a great mood.

I love that there is silver lining to every day, no matter how good or bad it is. Of the guys mentioned in my "Try and Try Again" post, all of them have closed the doors pretty much for good, so dating wise, it's back to square one. I'm surprised at how little I'm actually upset by it.

Perhaps it's because my roommate has been having a rough time at her job, and so, a few weeks ago, I got into the habit of asking her to tell me one good thing that had happened to her each day. She could always come up with something, even if it seemed insignificant. After a while, she started volunteering the information before I even thought about asking her, and it seems that I have adopted a similar pattern into my own life.

And you know what? For the moment at least (since emotions change all the time) I don't really feel glad to be crush-free. That's not to say that I'm upset by it. I just don't really think it's something that should be desired.

Be bold. Dare to wish for that crazy, happy, head-over-heels kind of love. If you don't have it, don't sweat it. There are a lot of other great things to be doing in the meantime. Savor them. Enjoy them.

Do you want to know the thing I'm most grateful for, and the thing that brings me some of the greatest happiness? I feel needed. I took the time and effort to open my heart and my home to people who just wanted a friend. In return, they have done the same to me. Friendship doesn't necessarily lead to romantic love (in many cases, that's a good thing), but romantic love isn't the only kind of love out there. You don't have to be in love to be happy. Sometimes it's enough to love and be loved.

That's what I've figured out this week.

And guess what?

I'm pretty happy.

Try and Try Again

Okay, I'm going to get real with you, here. Not that that is some huge deal, because I do it fairly often. I find it cleansing, even if it gets a little painful. But I'm up for some good catharsis if you are.

Sometimes, hope sucks. And dating definitely sucks. Not 100% of the time, but more than most of us would prefer.

Now, I've been pretty happy over the last several months. I've been chugging along, spending time with family and friends, saving money for big things (car, bed, furniture, tv, tablet, and maybe even travel plans, though the last one is only the tiniest of pipe dreams at the moment), diving back into large stacks of good books, deepening my devotion to the Lord, and rediscovering how much I just love everything about my life. 

My dating life was A-OK, pretty much because I didn't have one, and that was totally cool. Being crush-free is a delightful state, I'll be honest. My happiness didn't hinge on whether Mr. Brown-eyes (or blue, if you prefer) talked to me that day or not. I was happy all on my own. 

Then, suddenly, I fell in like. Not love. That's too strong. I was in like. 

There were a couple of guys. One that I was inclined to choose, and one who chose me. For the first time in my life, I actually wasn't sure which one I should actually decide to be interested in. Well, my choice was made for me. Guy A went for someone else; she was one of those girls that you totally adore because she's an angel, inside and out... and all the guys like her too. You can't hate her, because she's the nicest person you've ever met, but it still rips your heart out because every guy you know forgets you're there when she walks in the room. 

"Well, that's fine," I told myself. I've been through that routine before. 

I'd actually never met Guy B. He was a mutual friend. But we started to talk, and he was incredibly enjoyable to talk to. 

Cool. Maybe I can actually do this dating thing. 

However, this whole time, there was this insidious little voice at the back of my head that kept ticking off all the names of every One-Hit Wonder I've had in the last three years. Hey Lynnae, remember So-and-So? You really liked him, too, but he never asked you on that second date. Oh, and That Guy, he seemed interested, but he forgot about you, too. And let's not bring up Mr. Smalls, who actually ran away. Ever notice how you don't really get a chance to even try and see if something might be worth the risk?

But this is different. This time had to be different. I do deserve to be happy. Eventually, all the cards fall into place and it works out.

But not for you. Never for you. You just keep getting tortured, remember? It's like someone sets your favorite cake in front of you, but right as you go to take a bite, it gets yanked away and given to someone else. You can't take this anymore. It just might shatter you this time, right?

Shut up. It's going fine. Look, he wants to bring me flowers. And see that? He just told me I was beautiful. That's pretty awesome.

You'd better hope it's going fine. Because it's going to destroy you to be given up on again. Heartbreak's easier---at least then you feel validated for a little while. But if you don't get a chance with this one, you must be broken. Something must be wrong. You can't take another false-start relationship.

That whispering voice sounds familiar, doesn't it? That's because it's something we all hear. Maybe not about dating, but there's always something that challenges our conception of self-worth. And it always chimes in right about the time we start believing that we deserve to be happy. 

That's what happened for me. I managed to shut it up for a long while because it seemed like things really would be different. For once, I wasn't the one initiating. In fact, it occasionally felt like I was dragging my feet more than he was. 

But then, things out of either his control or mine happened. Plans got postponed. External pressure and stress was placed on him, and he started pulling away. Just like all the others. 

And I shattered. I mean, really shattered. 

It didn't matter that Guy B and I had never met, or that I didn't really know anything about him. We could have ended up having the worst date ever for all I knew. All I saw was that there was someone that could have been important, and everything was falling apart before it even started. Again. 

I got so frustrated. I got angry. I felt like I was being cheated. I'm a big girl. I can take it. I can handle heartbreak. I understand that relationships often don't work out. He might not end up interested in me, or I might not be all that interested in him. That's cool. That's how it goes. But DANG IT, I wanted to try. I wanted to take the risk, go for broke, and see if it was worth it. If it fell apart, at least I would know I'd given it my all. That's all I've ever wanted. 

But time and time again, I kept having the chance to try stolen away from me, like a precocious toddler who keeps getting pushed back from an interesting chemistry experiment by an impatient parent. "Stop that. You're too young. You'll hurt yourself. You can't play with that. That's for someone who's older."

It broke my heart. I think I cried harder over this than I did the last time I went through a breakup. Why was I allowed to get my hopes up if they would get yanked away before I'd even gotten a real taste? 

Okay, I'm going to digress for the tiniest second right here and make a seemingly unrelated confession: I've watched The Vampire Diaries. I'm not really that proud of it. In my opinion, it's only a few steps above Twilight as far as quality storytelling goes. But there's something that the show emphasizes about its vampires that will be relevant to my story: vampires can turn off their human emotions. Completely. They just switch it off, and they can't feel love, pain, guilt, sorrow, or compassion anymore. 

Got it? Well, that's what I wanted to do. I'd liked not being interested in anybody. It was easy. I just wanted to turn off the part of me that falls in love with people and never worry about it again. 

And the part that hurt the most was the certainty---accompanied by fear---that I never ever would be able to. I knew it. Sooner or later, someone else would come along, and no matter how hard I would try, I wouldn't be able resist getting my hopes up again. I will never be able to not do that. And I was equally certain that this cycle of losing out before I even got to try would also never end. 

I was even a little bit mad at the Lord for it. Did He enjoy seeing me grasping at empty air as each of the dozen or so Possibilities slipped away over the last few years? What was the point of hoping if this was all I was ever going to get for it?

I'm not proud of those thoughts. But I need you to know that I had them. I think we all have them at one point or another.

As I sat there, drowning in my own fear and frustration, I felt one of the worst things I've ever felt in my life. I realized that I'd drawn myself a line that I wasn't willing to let the Lord help me cross. Without even knowing it, I'd given Him an ultimatum and staked my faith on it. I wasn't willing to face this kind of circumstance even one more time, let alone possibly for the rest of my life. 

And as my sweet father asked me (yes, I was on the phone with him at the time---when am I not talking to my parents during these moments?) if I could face being alone like this for the rest of my life and still trust the Lord, I genuinely hesitated. In fact, I almost wanted to say, "No. I give up. I'm throwing in the towel."

That horrified me. For one tiny moment, I was staring into the awful blackness of who Lynnae would be if she didn't trust the Lord. It's the worst thing I've ever felt in my entire life. I will take a hundred heartbreaks, a million One-Hit Wonders or WorstDateEvers rather than ever have to feel like that again. 

It seems like such a trivial thing to have a crisis of faith over. People have stared death and devastating loss in the face without flinching, and I was breaking into pieces over dating of all things. 

But I learned something from it. And maybe others have gone through similar moments, which is why they face much greater trials without shrinking.

I learned that I could be pushed to the very edge of my own limits and still be okay, because the Lord, the one I had been angry at, had almost considered turning my back on, loved me still. His arms reached out and steadied me even as I pounded at Him furiously. 

Because that's how the Lord is. No matter how often we refuse His help and deny His offers to heal us, He still reaches out. Our happiness matters more than anything He receives from us in return. How can I expect to do any less if I want to become like Him?

My favorite quote about love comes from a philosophy book I was reading a couple of years ago:

"Love requires self-sacrifice, binds one's happiness to the good of another, makes one vulnerable to loss and grief, and strengthens one's commitment to the good."

I may not have found the kind of love that leads to marriage and family, but I've loved deeply enough to know that it is always worth it. All of those "missed" chances at love for me, well, maybe they're happy. I hope so. Because maybe at least some of them felt the same way. Maybe they were tired of dating and not finding the right person, too. But they had the courage to take a chance on me, even if it didn't go anywhere. Hopefully they've found women that they can build lives with. 

This wasn't Guy B's fault. If it hadn't been him, it would have been someone else. I was breaking long before Guy A or Guy B came around. I even still like Guy B, and that door isn't actually closed all the way, though I'm focusing my energy on friends and family who need me more right now. 

If anything, I owe Guy B, Guy A, and every other One-Hit Wonder or Almost-One-Hit Wonder (and even the WorstDateEvers) that I've ever met the most heartfelt thanks for being the kind of men that would make me want to try again and again, no matter what the risks are. It means that they are all exceptional, and well worth taking risks for. :)

I'm sorry for the long post. But I needed to share. People often commend me on my testimony and my faith. I'm grateful for such commendations. But I also know that many people struggle with their faith. It is to those people that I dedicate this post. I've been there. Our trials and circumstances may be different, but they all hurt the same. 

I love you all. The Lord loves you all. And unlike me, He will never falter or waver for even the smallest reason. Unlike me, He can lift you past your biggest chasms and help you break through your thickest walls. But I will always try.

Gratitude

I really am trying to blog more often. The writer in me enjoys this outlet, but I guess I'm too easily distracted to actually follow through with it. Try and try again, I suppose.

Well, my legally-required two-week hiatus from work turned into three weeks (aaaand there goes my car fund. Again.) but I'm back at work now (with a raise!) and I won't have to be scraping the bottom of the barrel to make ends meet. It's a blessing. Sometimes I wish it didn't come at the cost of my third attempt to gather enough money to buy a car, but a blessing all the same.

You know, a lot of times, I get caught up in all the things I wish I had, and I forget to be grateful for what I do have. So I'm taking stock today. Bear with me, and I apologize if this isn't interesting to you. Feel free to let your eyes glaze over if you want. It's not like I can stop you.

My job. Sure, I've complained about the instability and the constant threat of it finally ending and leaving me jobless and even the tedium of it (and if I haven't complained much on here, trust me, I've done it in person), but I'm so grateful that I have it. Despite all of the uncertainty, what was supposed to be a three-month job has turned into almost a year and a half, and I'm not being kicked out yet. Plus, I get to be working for the Church, my Church, the Church that has defined my life so profoundly that I can't separate my church life from my personal life. My religion has always been a part of who I am, and it's so rewarding to be giving back to it. Working on the scriptures has been, and probably always will be, one of the highest points of my professional life, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

The temple. My year mark for receiving my endowment is in a week. Despite all the ups and downs, this has been one of the best years of my life. There is tremendous strength in finding and experiencing peace, and there is no place more peaceful than the temple.

My roommate. We have our moments where the tension builds and we get a little snippy (it's part of living together, as anyone who's ever lived with anyone can tell you), but when all is said and done, she's still one of my best friends, and I know that she'll love me anyway.

My family. I love that I can call my parents any time of day or night and they will stop what they're doing to talk to me. I'm also grateful that most of the time, they don't tell me what to do. They just listen and let me sort it out for myself, though they are always willing to provide counsel and advice if I ask them for it.

Last of all, I'm grateful for my religion. I don't know where I'd be without it. I love the Lord more than any one or any thing else in this world. I don't care that I can't prove that He exists. All I know is that I am infinitely happier believing in Him than I would be if I didn't, and I have seen so many people's lives turned around by their faith in the Lord that it feels natural and obvious to follow their example and find the same kind of happiness that they did.

It's Okay

First, to preface this post, I am doing absolutely 100% great today. I'll be seeing my wonderful, soon-to-be returned missionary brother in about 24 hours, and as a result, I'm so up that it's probably been really annoying to my friends the last couple of days. However, I've been musing on the following subject for the last few days and I decided I wanted to share my thoughts with the rest of you.

Now, maybe it's because I can read the subtext in my own posts, but I notice patterns in my blog, especially in the moods in which I write my posts. And I've noticed that a lot of the time, I talk about being up as being the best thing, and when I'm down, it's because I have to fix something. Generally speaking, that's true, but I want to expound.

I had a crummy day a couple weeks ago. Plans got rearranged/canceled on me, my roommate was in a rare "Don't talk to me" mood, and I was just generally not so happy. I knew that I didn't want to be alone with my own thoughts, so I called my mom (because that's what I do---I'm so glad she's my best friend).

After my recent discovery that I can and do enjoy my life exactly as it is, I felt guilty. I had so much to be grateful for. If I felt down, it must mean that I'm forgetting that.

Thank goodness Mom snapped me out of that. "Lynnae," she said, "you can't be up all the time. No one can. It's okay to have a bad day."

Her reassurance formed an interesting contrast to the attitude of a friend of mine from several years ago. This friend used to say that she'd decided never to have a bad day again. I always found it an admirable sentiment, but I never felt like I'd actually be able to do something like that. And honestly? All due respect to my friend, but I don't think it's the healthiest attitude. I think we need to have bad days.

It's important for us to acknowledge that we're limited. Sometimes, we need to come face-to-face with our own darker emotions and recognize that they're making us feel guilty or miserable. We also need to realize that we can't make them go away on our own. Only then can we allow the beautiful power of the Atonement to lift us up. That's what humility really is. It's not beating yourself up for your bad thoughts or feelings, it's openly acknowledging those feelings and being willing to do what you must to make them go away.

We need to have bad days so that we remember to appreciate the good ones. I'm straying into territory that makes so many people groan and roll their eyes, because we've all heard it before. BUT, I'm reiterating it because it's true. If you had nothing but good days, don't you think that you'd get so used to them that you'd forget to notice? We see the trend every day. Think about the "First World Problems" idea. Your day sucks if your internet breaks down or your phone dies. However, there are other people who are so happy simply because they didn't die today. We have been blessed with so much that little inconveniences seem like major problems. If you only had good days, even minor annoyances would turn your day into a bad one.

Now back to the "I need to fix something idea." Did you know that pain is your body protecting itself? You probably did, you smart people. You experience pain because your body is basically telling you that something is wrong and that something isn't good for you, so knock it off. That thing is too hot and will damage you if you keep touching it. That object is sharp. Those germs are wreaking havoc and need to be gotten rid of. You learn from it. If you can, you break away from the thing that's causing you pain. Bad days and bad feelings are our emotional pain receptors. If we pay attention, we can identify what's upsetting us and do something to fix it.

Last but not least, bad days remind us that we're only human, just like everybody else. Like my mom said, we can't be "up" all the time. Other people have bad days too, no matter how happy they seem. You aren't alone. What makes happy people truly happy is that they are okay with having bad days. Rather than living in denial about their negative emotions, they recognize them, acknowledge them, maybe even indulge them a little bit, and then they let them go.

So remember, it's okay to have a bad day. Just remember that, even on your bad days, I love you, your other friends love you, and most importantly, your Heavenly Father loves you.

Love you!

Love, me

Random Things Making My Day Better

Aisley subbing in for my alarm this morning and pouncing on me because she'd gotten a text that made her really happy.

Free carrot cake at work. It had delicious, perfect, cream-cheese frosting and almonds on it. Heaven.

My dad texted me for no reason, just to say hi. I love when he does that. I can usually tell when he does, because he calls me by my pet name, which I also love.

My hand sanitizer that's supposed to smell like pomegranates actually smells more like bubble gum. Normally, that's not that appealing, but it makes me a little nostalgic for those Bubble Tape things I used to get when I was a kid. I loved them back then. Yay! Happy memories!

 Harry Potter movie night tonight, complete with brownies and friends.

Happiness

Watching Merlin with Aisley, who seems to love the show for everything that got me hooked on it in the first place. It's like watching it for the first time all over again.

Finally, finally getting to The Mark of Athena after having to reread the two books before it because I couldn't remember anything that happened in them. I read them too fast. I will take my time on this one, so that I don't have to do this again when the next one comes out.

A call from my dad (who's been my own knight in shining armor the last few weeks, if you couldn't tell) just to double check and make sure that I'm doing well.

A blind date recommendation from my best friend's dad. He's very picky about men who are good enough to date his daughters (or in my case, his surrogate daughters) and apparently this one has won his respect. That he wants me to meet him, well, that reminds me that he wants the best for me, which is always a wonderful thing to know.

My nap was refreshing and rejuvenating today. I'd been feeling a little bit fragile today and I curled up in bed, listening to some peaceful music. Next thing I know, I'm waking up and feeling a million times better.

A friend who is just as touchy/cuddly as I am and knows exactly how tightly to hug me whenever she sees me.

A Spirit-filled Sunday. Lots of little reminders that I'm loved by an incredible Father in Heaven, who never gets tired of telling me that He loves me.

An email from my wonderful missionary brother who, somehow, even though he's a thousand miles away, knew exactly what to say to make my day a thousand times better. I can't wait to have him back in six months.

A long walk and talk with a longtime friend and coworker (a few days ago) that reminded me that the Lord puts people into our lives to bless us, whether they're serving us or we're serving them. Usually it's both.

Venting pent-up frustration by singing at the top of my lungs in the car. I don't do it that often, but it feels good when I do. 

Job Hunting

Yes, in answer to the question that some of you may be asking after my last post, I do in fact have a job opportunity. More proof---as if I needed any---that the Lord blesses me far more than I deserve. I've been attempting to job hunt for the last couple of months (emphasis on "attempting"), but every time I tried, I found myself stopped in my tracks, or completely sidetracked onto something else. I kept pushing at it, but only got the feeling that the Lord was saying, "Lynnae. Relax. I've got this. Focus on the temple. I'll take care of the rest." (Incidentally, that exact same answer also applies to my dating life...)

So, with a little bit of grumbling and suppressed internal-freak-outs, I did just that, keeping an aloof eye on the job postings online, just in case anything jumped out at me.

Then, I happened to talk to the copyeditor at the Ensign (the beautiful Lia who taught me a ton about editing during my internship) and she happened to mention that, due to her soon-to-be-born daughter, the managing editors were accepting applications for her position. "You should apply," she told me.

Right at that moment, I felt like a huge flashing sign went off in my head that said, "YesyesyesyesyesyesYES! Apply!"

So I did.

After a couple of grueling tests that left my brain feeling more than a little mushy/sloshy, I finally have an interview. For today. So I'm all dressed up, squeaky clean, and praying desperately that I get this job. I can't think of anything else I'd rather be doing.

Whichever way it works out, this has been proof that the Lord is indeed at the reins. I'm just glad that I've been paying attention when He gives me an answer to the questions I'm asking. I'm not always good at that.

Peace

Peace is finding the answer that you didn't know you needed at the moment you need it most. And realizing that the answer is exactly what you need.

I'm grateful that the Lord gives us answers when we ask for help. It may not be what we thought we wanted, but it's always what we need. And I'm always surprised when a tiny sting of disappointment produces a feeling of overwhelming peace immediately afterward. That doesn't happen every time, but it did tonight.

I have been blessed in a million ways, with all the people and things that I need most.

Everything else is just icing on the triple-chocolate, extra-fudge, enough-sugar-to-send-you-straight-to-heaven cake.

Favorite Hymn

So, after many years of deliberation, I think I finally have a favorite hymn.



This is, incidentally, also one of my favorite arrangements of it.

I love this hymn for many reasons. For one, it brings back some very beautiful memories of Tunnel Singing at BYU (yes, yes, I did it. Just not as a freshman). For another, we sang a simply gorgeous arrangement of it for the Davis County Conference. I was singing in the choir, and we had the once in a lifetime opportunity to sing from the Mormon Tabernacle Choir seats in the Conference Center. Singing this song to all of those people was a sacred experience. That was also the day that the Lord let me know that it was time to go through the temple, so everything about that day has become so much more special to me.

Through all of my ups and downs, this song has always brought me peace. It has also always filled me with a profound sense of gratitude for a Heavenly Father who is constantly trying to draw me nearer to Him. I am so blessed.

Father's Day

Yeah, yeah, I know. Blogging is apparently not my strong suit anymore.

But I'm back again because today is Father's Day, and I like to get my thoughts down about it every year.

I'm always grateful for my dad. He's an amazing man whose example has helped to bring me to where I am today. I love that he's my best friend and that I can talk to him about anything.

Right now, especially, I am so grateful for him. I haven't written as much recently because I'm entering a phase of a lot of uncertainty, and the few things that I am certain of involve some changes that scare me a little bit.

I'm not usually afraid of change. My family has moved around so much that I'm accustomed to it, and I even, occasionally, get wanderlust and want to change things up. But I'm facing the first time that I may have to do a major move without my family by my side, and it scares me quite a bit.

My father, who has faced down far scarier things than I have, never fails to lend me some of his strength and conviction that things are going exactly how they need to be.

Words are honestly failing me right now. I can't begin to express what the example of my father has meant for me through all these years. I have so many treasured memories. Whether they involve curling up next to him during a movie (which, sadly, the new couch they have prevents me from doing) or our newer tradition of taking a long, peaceful drive along the prettiest roads we can find in his Mustang every time I come home. Other, more sacred memories come from the father's blessings, quiet nighttime conversations and counsel, and late night phone calls. I am who I am because of my dad. The strength that people see in me comes from him.

On a lighter note, I've been saving this particular comic strip for today, because I'm sure my dad is endlessly grateful that none of his kids do this to him, even though we may want to.