Advice from Senior Kelsey

I jotted down this list yesterday after taking my (gulp) final final. I can't believe it's over.

If I could sit and talk to Freshman Kelsey, I would tell her a few things.

-I would tell her to never sleep in and skip a class. There will be plenty of time to sleep, and never enough time to learn.

-I would tell her to go to bed at a decent hour. Staying up all night every night isn't cool and it won't help your GPA much either.

-I would tell her to worry less about dating and boys and to focus more on herself. That whole boy thing will work out on its own.

-I would tell her to take full advantage of all the benefits offered to USU students.

-I would tell her to make an effort to connect with professors. Some of them sincerely care about you and want to help you succeed at what you are good at.

-I would tell her to always carry that dang student ID card with her. You never know when or where you'll be able to use it to get a deal.

-I would tell her not to stress out about her future. Things will work out. They always do. As long as you're doing what's right and working hard, an opportunity will appear when you least expect it.

-I would tell her to get dressed for class in the mornings. Yeah, I get it. You have track practice in the afternoon. But that's still no excuse for not caring. Save the sweatpants for Saturday mornings.

-I would tell her to never worry about what other people think of her. There are lots of weird people at college. You can act as weird as you want and someone might think you are actually refined. So just be yourself. There's no better place to do that than at college.

-I would tell her to not be afraid of trying new things. They just might become your favorite things. And this is not implying to drugs or other illegal happenings. I am talking about stuff like taking an African Dance class.

-I would tell her to take every chance she could to lay on the quad or the grass on Old Main Hill and just soak in the beauty of the most magical campus around.

-I would tell her to believe in that football team, even though they can barely beat SUU at the moment. Just you wait. It gets better. I promise. Chuckie Keaton. Ever heard of him?

-I would tell her to stop complaining about the cold while walking around to classes during the winter months. Just embrace it. Sure, you can't feel your nose. So what, you might slip to your death on the icy sidewalk. But remember how lucky you are to be getting a good education.

-I would tell her to go out of her way to stop the person she knows on campus who pulls out their phone to do the "fake text message" in order to avoid conversation. Don't let them get away with that nonsense. You stop them and give them the biggest, friendliest hello and make sure they feel totally awkward in the process.

-I would tell her to always remember to call her mom. And her dad too.

-I would tell her to never eat the food at The Hub. Bad news bears.

-I would tell her to keep a better journal.

-I would tell her to always stick up for herself.

-I would tell her to soak up every second. You thought those four years of high school went by fast? Just wait for the four years of college to whiz by.

-And I would tell her to constantly be proud of being an Aggie. But she probably already knew that.

Whale Moments

Do you ever have those moments where something happens, whether you see something or hear something, and you tell yourself it was meant especially for you?

A couple spring breaks ago, I went on a cruise with a group of friends. I woke up early and didn't dare wake anyone else, so I decided to find a good nook on the boat and do some reading. The sun was not quite up yet, leaving the ocean air on deck cool and a bit demeaning. So I resorted to sitting on a little cushioned seat next to a giant window indoors. I read for quite a while until I noticed the sun peeking over the horizon. I set my book down and looked in amazement at the pink burst of sky. I remember feeling so tiny out there on the ocean, looking out to see nothing but water until it turned into sky. Instead of opening my book back up, I continued to watch the sun creep up over the water. I kept telling myself, in one more minute I will start reading my book again. Just one minute more. 

Then, just as I was getting ready to reach out for my book, I watched as something erupted from the glimmering water. It was a whale. I gasped and pressed my nose up against the glass of the window. I stared, unblinkingly at this huge and magnificent creature. Its tail waved through the air as if saying, "Hello and good morning, Kelsey!" Then, just as soon as it came, it went. It splashed back beneath the salty waves and I was left in utter amazement. I looked around, wanting to share this moment I had just witnessed with someone, but there was no one in sight. I was the only person in the whole world who watched that whale say hello to the earth that morning. No one else. Just me. I smiled to myself and decided that it was my special gift from God. That whale had been my whale.

source

I had another "whale moment" on Wednesday evening. I was dragging my feet, not wanting to go to my two and a half hour class. I knew the professor would not be there and we were just watching a documentary. It would be an easy class to skip. But for some reason, although every ounce of me wanted to play hooky, I still went to that class. And I watched the documentary. And the documentary moved me so much that I was almost brought to tears (which would have been really awkward and embarrassing for all ten of us in that class). You see, I have been praying and wondering what I can do with my life and with what I am studying at school that could be beneficial for others. I'd been feeling rather discouraged. But then I got a bright idea. But then I decided that bright idea was stupid. Then that documentary, the one I would have missed if I'd skipped class, made me realize my former idea was not stupid at all. That maybe, just maybe, I can eventually turn this idea into a physical thing. I felt so much comfort sitting in that classroom, knowing I just had a 'me' moment and that someone out there created that moment for me to experience.

 But I almost missed it. I would have missed that whale on my cruise if I hadn't gotten up early or if I would have been delving into my book. I would have missed that important moment on Wednesday if I would have skipped class like I so badly wanted to.

I know this post is so vague, and I'm sorry for that. I mainly just want to share that I know there are "whale moments" for all of us, and if we don't open our eyes and look, we just might miss them. With a little patience and faith, we might just watch that whale pop out of the water at the very moment we least expect it.

Sunday Best: Shaven Legs

top: F21, necklace: F21, earrings: F21, skirt: maurices, tights: TJ Maxx, heels: Kmart, bracelet: gift

When a girl picks up a razor for the first time to shave the hair off her legs, it's kind of a right of passage. It is one of the many steps we take to become a woman. I was the last girl in my grade to shave my legs. I remember how it happened, exactly. I was in the locker room after PE and as I changed alongside my female classmates, the discussion of leg shaving came up. I carefully listened as all the girls chatted about how smooth their legs felt and I glanced down at my dry legs covered with little stubs of hair. Those stubs told me I was still a child. A child surrounded by women. Suddenly, another girl shouted, "Wait. Do you all shave your legs?" I shyly admitted I never had. Turns out the other girl hadn't either. The rest of the girls went on to tease us and we stood together, surrounded by legs much smoother and hairless than our own. As I walked from the locker room with this other girl who had never held a razor in hand, I made a deal with her. That night, we would both ask our moms if we could begin the journey of shaving our legs. I remember being so incredibly nervous that night to confront my mom. I finally worked up the courage to ask her, and she led me to the bathroom to give me my first shaving lesson. 

The first time was so exciting. I took careful long strokes, feeling the blade against flesh. Watching as my childhood hairs dropped from the blade and whirled around in the tub water. And after I dried off, I applied lotion to my now hairless legs. That night, I think I fell asleep stroking the smooth skin of my legs. I was now a woman. If only I knew then what a pain it really is to shave legs. . .perhaps I would have waited a few more years to start. 

Today, I felt a bit like I did ten years ago in that locker room. Embarrassed of my childhood leg hairs. Both nervous and excited about growing up. Today my wonderful husband, Brian, was made second counselor in the bishopric of our ward. We are members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (Mormons). Basically different areas are divided into wards and the bishop is the one who oversees the people of each individual ward. As a bishop, you have two counselors to help assist you with all the work to be done. Brian is now one of those counselors. And if you aren't familiar with the LDS church and I've already confused you beyond measure, just know that this calling of Brian's means he will be gone a lot, helping people, and I will now hardly see him on Sundays. This means no more back rubs for me during sacrament meeting since he will be sitting on the stand (woe is me). I know Brian will do a great job, but as his wife, I feel sort of intimidated and inadequate. And young. I mostly just feel really young. So today I wore a black skirt and black tights (I rarely wear so much black) hoping that my outfit would say, "No, I'm not twenty-two years old and flawed beyond measure. I can handle this." 

But then again, my cheetah print heels probably jeopardized that motive.

If you have any tips on how to be more grown-up and mature, that'd be nice. This might be a little harder than leg shaving. 

Truth Tuesday

• My mind has been racing with thoughts over the last few days. Hopefully soon, those thoughts can be organized into words for blog posts. I can find the simple words to say that I am hurting for those in Connecticut that are suffering from the tragedy our country was faced with last week. May your families find some comfort in knowing that your babies are safe now and will never hurt again. I'm sure the Lord is holding them close. 

• Amid the hard moments, Christmas is coming! And I hope we can all take time to give to those in need who may be feeling heavy in spirit. 

• I decided over the weekend that sloths might be my new favorite animals. I mean, they like hugging things AND they always look like they are smiling. What sweet, strange looking creatures. I told BWell that we must one day travel to Costa Rica and pay a visit to their sloth sanctuary there. I will die happy once a baby sloth hugs me. 

• My new found love for sloths reminded me of that time Kristen Bell had a meltdown over a sloth.

• Does anyone else find it totally wrong and socially unacceptable to talk on your cellphone while in a public bathroom? I find it strange. So that's right, wait until you are away from the sound of flushing toilets to call me up and say hello. 

• After watching Miracle on 34th Street, I came to the conclusion that Dylan McDermott is a total hottie. Who cares that he's older than my dad? I don't. But I'm pretty sure Brian was getting real sick of all my comments about the man's electrifying blue eyes. Sorry about that, Bri.   

• There is snow on the ground, I'm wearing my Christmas onesie, and my Christmas shopping is finished. I'm content right now. I hope you are content too. Happy week before the holidays!  

I Love You to the Moon and Back

The last few days have been beautiful in more ways than one. In the last 24 hours I have felt both extreme happiness and also extreme hollowness. This happiness and hollowness are both direct results of this crazy thing we call marriage.

Yesterday marked year one of marriage for me and my sweet Bri Guy. Our celebration was a bit low key, but it was a good one. We had a family reunion in Wyoming over the weekend, so we went to that, and put aside a good amount of "just us" time while there. While traveling home yesterday, my grandma bought us "anniversary pie" when we stopped for lunch. Then when we got home, Brian surprised me with flowers and cheesecake. I guess you could say my calorie intake did some major celebrating. Last night, I just couldn't stop thinking about how much love I felt for my husband, and how grateful I am to call him mine. He's mine for eternity. I wouldn't say I love him more than I did one year ago when we became a Mr. and Mrs., but I do definitely love him deeper. I think there is a difference. I am excited for many years to come, and to watch that love I have for him deepen more and more.

I know the years will bring more trials as well as more happiness, and I'm ready for all of it. I went to sleep with a smile on my face.

This morning was different. While I had been celebrating one year of marriage with my husband, a friend of mine back home was saying goodbye to hers. After an amazing fight against melanoma, my friend's husband passed away. They have a beautiful little girl together. My heart is in shambles as I think about their sweet little family. I hate to think that every year during this time, I will be looking back on the wonderful day I married my husband while my friend might be looking back and remembering the day she lost hers. Life is hard sometimes and I hate that there can be so many questions with unclear answers. That's why it's so important to hang on to what you do know. I don't know why my friend's husband had to die when he was so young. But I do know that they will be reunited one day. I know that families are eternal. And I know our Heavenly Father is there to pull us into the light no matter how lost in darkness we might feel.

I just might hold onto Brian extra tight tonight and have him pray extra hard with me for all families who are losing loved ones.

Life Ain't Easy. But Easy Ain't Fun.

"Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get. But if you work really hard and you're kind, amazing things will happen."


-Conan O'Brien 

Well, I officially have my third year of college under my belt. Time sure goes by fast. It seems like it wasn't long ago that I was hauling boxes out of my parents' house at the ripe age of 18, anxious and excited to start my college career as an Aggie.

Yesterday I trudged up to campus before the sun was even up to take my media law final at 7:30 in the morning. That class was probably the hardest of any class I'll take for my degree. The final was a beast, but I think I did alright. We'll wait and see. I am not a very good test taker. It's something I don't like to admit, so it's kind of a miracle I'm admitting it on my blog. I actually get test anxiety pretty bad. All week before my media law final, I actually had nightmares about it. Usually when I sit down and take tests too, my mind just starts spinning and I can't even read the questions on the test. My freshman year of college I almost got help with it. I called the test anxiety experts and even set up an appointment. But because I'm so vain, I called the day of and cancelled.

I think I ought to give a little disclaimer for this post. This is not a "woe is me" post and I apologize if it also sounds like I'm bragging later on. I don't mean for this to turn into either of those things. It's just that I have learned so much in this past year of school; about myself, about people around me, about my degree and potential career, and just about life. And now that I have approached the end of this year, I have some thoughts on my mind and some feelings in my heart that I want to get out. . .before I forget just how I feel.

This is the year I really delved into all the classes specifically for my major. This spring semester I actually had all journalism classes. It was nice, and a part of me figured it would be easy. I was so wrong. The journalism department gets some crap from people sometimes because apparently we're the "easy major". From experience I will tell you that it's as easy as you want to make it. But if you take it easy, I guarantee you won't get a job. Broadcast journalism jobs are some of the most competitive to get. At a starting job, most of us who want to be field reporters (like me) will probably make about what we would flipping burgers. Not joking. And then it's all about working your way up the food chain. But I still absolutely love what I am studying. We are the watchdogs over the government, the tellers of truth. Movies like "All The President's Men" and "Good Night and Good Luck" make me excited about journalism and the potential impact we can make on history.

 I feel like I have an interesting experience being a married student. Lots of girls that "just want to be moms" so they are hurrying to get a degree will do journalism. I think this is what one of my teachers assumed about me. So he was hard on me and made me prove myself last fall. It was discouraging for a while. Then on the last day of the semester he pulled me aside and asked me if I was serious about my degree. I told him I wouldn't be here wasting time and money if I wasn't. So he told me congratulations and that he would keep being hard on me during spring semester and expect even more from me.

He started encouraging me to do spot news throughout spring semester, which I did. So this last semester, I stopped going to student events on the weekend with my camera (so easy to do stories on, but they are never interesting) and I started listening to police scanners, hoping someone would get in an accident so I could race to the scene with camera in hand. I know that sounds so awful, my major is turning me into a gruesome person. Doing this has been stressful and some weekends I was nervous I wouldn't end up with a story so I would really have to dig, which sometimes I did. But sometimes I came up with real gems for stories. Like the time I covered the Idaho lottery (almost all the people in line were from Utah), or the story on the news that the Logan zoo might close down, or the time a car in the canyon crashed into the river and I skipped class to go get footage and interviews, or the time I sat down and talked with an avalanche survivor,  or the time I got way closer than anyone else to the baby bears at Baby Animal Days. I get to do cool things and talk to so many cool people. I even sold a few of those stories to news stations in Salt Lake. And let me tell you, it's pretty exciting when you watch the 6 o'clock news and just wait for your footage to appear on screen. And then when it does, you dance around and call your mom (because she's watching too) and you celebrate your success. And even though no one else watching the news knows that some amateur girl from Utah State shot that all, you know and that's all that matters.

It's sweet moments like that which make all the hard moments worth it I suppose. This semester was tiring. I decided it would be a good idea to take a documentary class and newscast at the same time. So when I wasn't out shooting something with a camera, I was living inside a dark edit bay editing my heart out. Then add media law to that and it caused for many sleepless nights and more tears shed than I'd like to count. This semester was at times a mess. I felt like I was living in some sort of prison I couldn't escape. Many weeks one thing after another would go wrong. So many times equipment failed me. Once I lost my sd card the day before my story was due. . .all the footage for that story was on the lost sd card. It was awful. I cried for several hours straight (I'm usually not emotional) and thought the universe must hate me. I had to quit my job because I didn't have time for it. That sure made me feel like a failure and a half. I started going to the chiropractor once a week because I was having migraines every day and we discovered by back was jacked up (partly from hauling  heavy camera equipment around). There were times that one thing piled onto the other and I really just wanted to scream. And there were constant moments of me not thinking I was even good at the major I was studying. So many times of cursing my advisor for talking me out of switching my major to English so I could just be a high school English teacher, rather than have so many unanswered questions about my future.

I've heard it said that your first year of marriage is hard. I was sure this would be false for me and Brian. We know each other so well, I thought. Living together won't be hard to get used to. Honestly, none of that has been hard to get used to. We're naturals at being married to each other. But I'll tell you what, my school schedule has been hard on both me and Brian, and I have felt so guilty for that. There were so many nights I didn't get home from editing until after midnight, so many times I was an emotional and psycho mess, so many times I ripped myself apart thinking I was an awful wife. It's been a challenge for both of us. I know it's been a real challenge on my own confidence. But challenges are what make us better people. A girl in my class recently asked me, "How do you do all this and be married. I can't even imagine being married right now." I answered and said, "I just suck at being a wife right now to be honest." She laughed, but it was true. Things in my life have not been balanced, for the last few months I've been torn in all directions, feeling incompetent in both school and at being a wife.

A short while ago, that same teacher I talked about earlier was asking me if I would give a few little lines worth of speech at some banquet type thing about the broadcast major. He asked me what I would say. This was just days after I'd quit my job and my energy was shot. I started trying to say something and then my throat got all choked up. "I don't think I'm the right person to do this."
"Why?"
I tried answering back. I felt so beyond embarrassed because I was on the verge of tears.
"I don't know if I can do this anymore. I never make my husband dinner. And I don't even feel good at this?"
He looked nervous and confused, "You mean journalism?"
"Yes. I'm just so stressed all the time. I don't know if I can do this every day for the rest of my life. Maybe I should have just been an English teacher!"
Oh my poor teacher. He was concerned though. He kept me in his office for almost an hour, trying to convince me I was good enough.

Well, long story short, this semester has really tried my confidence and my patience.

But from all of these hard times, many rewards have been reaped. I have made so many close friends with the people in my major. There is only a handful of us, so I feel like we became a little family after being together all the time with newscast. The last day of our class it felt like the day in high school when you had everyone sign your yearbook. Totally cheesy but it's true. I'll miss them. The pictures above are from our last day of newscast. And look closely, you'll probably see a few of those faces on tv one day. They have some real talent. On our last day of class, we also did class awards. I didn't think I would get voted for anything. So I'd already come to terms with the fact that I wouldn't get an award. But I did! I got four of them, including best anchor (which I was totally shocked and confused about).

I also discovered a short time ago that I got a scholarship. I'm still wondering if maybe it's a sick joke someone is playing on me, so I've kept it on the down low. It's the Josey Barnes Wayman Scholarship. It's actually a scholarship especially for women in broadcasting. She was one of the first women in Utah to have a successful career in the broadcast world. I feel so blessed from receiving this great award. It really is such an inspiring scholarship and pushes me to want to do great things and prove myself. Plus, Brian and I weren't going to get much financial aid for this next year. It's nice to know that someone is watching out for us ;).

The last few weeks of school have been rejuvenating and comforting. Things have happened that assure me maybe (just maybe) I am good at what I'm doing. I have potential. And I have the greatest of people around me to push me to that potential. So thanks to you if you are one of those many people.

I apologize for the long, boring, mostly rambling blog post. I kind of want to erase it all now.But I won't and I'll instead leave you with a picture of me and my scholarship certificate. . .

 

Color Run

On Saturday morning, I woke up early and laced up my tennis shoes so I could go and run a 5k. This 5k was quite unique though. Throughout the course of the run, there were different color stations set up. While running through the color stations, volunteers threw colored cornstarch on all the runners. But that was only half the fun. After crossing the finish, all  us runners got to pick out our own color packet to throw around. The sky became clouded with bursts of color, and all us runners looked like we just finished rolling through a rainbow or something. It was fantastic. I took extra precautions and made sure to wear ugly clothes. I wasn't sure if the color would stain or not, so I decided to be safe rather than sorry. I also wore this ugly fisherman hat to protect my hair. It really just made me look ridiculous and made my head sweat a lot. Oh well.. I guess I'll just have to get into fishing this summer.

I just love running. I feel free while going on a run and I love the idea of competing against myself. Each run I go on, I am encouraged to better myself.

Not only do I think running is great for myself personally, but it can also be a great thing for others too! The Colors 5k was only part of a whole day event called "Colors for Tessa". Tessa is a young and very beautiful lady who is battling cancer for the third time in her life. You would think that would get a person down, but this woman stays positive and grateful. She somehow manages to still find the beauty and good in all things, even her own personal trials. I hope my little portion of what I paid to run in the 5k can help her precious family out. She really is such an inspiration. Just watch this video to find out for yourself. Grab a box of tissues while you're at it too.

Perfectly Alright

Today I realized that some days, it is perfectly alright to cry when you're feeling a little bit blue. 

I also realized it is perfectly alright to shed those tears in the presence of another human being.

And it is perfectly alright to let that human being set your head in her lap while she soothingly plays with your hair to comfort you and make the tears stop. Either that or let you know it's perfectly alright to let those tears out. 

And I realized it is perfectly alright to eat three candy bars in one sitting and not feel guilty about it.

I realized it is perfectly alright to walk around the empty apartment with hardly any clothes on because it is one of the few, if not the only, benefits of being home alone. 

I realized it is perfectly alright to not act tough all the time. 

I realized it is perfectly alright to miss someone you love. 

And I realized maybe it is perfectly alright to be apart from the one you love. 

Because I'm beginning to believe that what they say is true, about distance making the heart grow fonder.

I want to thank my lovely cousin, Megan, for reminding me that I am perfectly alright.

Everything will work out just perfect. 

And I'm alright with that. 

I am blessed.  

 

Since Boy Left. . .

I have kept the crying fits down to a total of two times, checked my email more times than I would care to count, and convinced myself the world was going to end for about two days. After the two days though, I realized life would go on and that life is such a sweet adventure. Even when Brian isn't right by my side to share it with me. After all, it is only a month. It could be much worse. And he is spending the month doing such awesome things. Still, it is strange not seeing him every day. It is annoying when I can't send him some wise remark in a text message that only he would get. And as pathetic as it sounds, I have even listened to old messages on my phone just so I can hear his voice. And I get giddy and laugh every time.

But the worst part is, it has only been a week since he left. How embarrassing.

Love is a gross thing. But once you're in such a sticky mess, you can't be held accountable.

I feel like the first week will have been the worst though. Already, the last few days have been just fine.

I mean, I've been in high enough spirits to skip right into the store and purchase a pair of converse shoes. Which Brian despises. He calls them clown shoes. However, I wanted a pair. And since he isn't in the country to stop me, I bought some.

And I feel like my number of cries is reasonably low. Only two. And they were each less than three minutes.

The first was three days after he left. I was at a work retreat. I had been trying to keep high spirits all day, but I was beginning to struggle. So as bedtime rolled around, I ran to the shower. I ran there to wash my dirty bare feet of course, but I mostly ran there to hide. As I felt warm water trickle down my back, I silently sobbed. I sobbed because I missed him, but half of me didn't even know why I was sobbing. I felt frustrated wondering why I was suddenly a roller coaster or emotions when regular Kelsey tends to keep emotions in check. I wanted to feel like myself again. Be comfortable in my own skin.

The second was the day after the first. I collapsed on my bed and realized I was crying again. It lasted for about twenty seconds when I suddenly sat up, stopped, and decided I wasn't going to act pathetic anymore. Since then, I've been better.

I am beginning to realize that I need this time away from Brian more than anything in my life right now. It is a blessing. A blessing wearing camouflage, but all the same, a blessing. I need to learn to hold my own, because the last thing I want is to turn into one of those wives that never leaves the house and can't manage anything without her husband by her side. That's not me. And that's what I'm afraid I'll turn into if we didn't have time apart. I am a strong, independent woman.

However, I still have a small soft spot for my pal. Which is why I gave him this book the day he left:

I wrote him a letter for every day we're apart. Cheesy, I know. I'm getting more cheesy with age. Oh dear. When I handed him this book, we were sitting on a grassy hill, overlooking Logan, with our temple right behind us. And I felt at peace.

I am still learning to accept this queasy, girly side of me. Forgive me for being pathetic in every aspect of the word.

An Elephant's Faithful. . .100%

I had the awesome opportunity to teach Relief Society on Sunday. Boy, was I scared! But at the same time, I really loved it! I love getting to prepare for things and teach myself more about certain topics, and it's super rewarding to get to pass on what I found to others. I swear the girls in my ward are all perfect, little angels though. So I felt extremely inadequate to try teaching them something.


Inadequate to the max.


I think all went well though. They didn't tell me never to come back, so that's a good sign. I really want to just share a few things I learned about on my blog though. Because I'm in LOVE with the topic I got to teach about. It's a topic that all of us use in our lives every single day! People that would like to think they aren't religious even use it.

It's called FAITH.


All those crazy LDS people like me out there probably remember singing that song in Primary,


"Faith is like a little seed. If planted it will grow. ."


There is also this scripture, which is quite nice:


Alma 32:21

And now as I said concerning faith—faith is not to have a perfect knowledge of things; therefore if ye have faith ye hope for things which are not seen, which are true.


Hmmm, so let's think about this. When we plant a seed, don't we expect that if we take care of it in the right ways, it will grow into a flower? Or maybe you planted a pumpkin, so it will grow into a pumpkin. Whatever the heck you planted, that's what you expect to grow. Don't you have faith then? Because you can't see it yet. . .but you hope for it. . .and it happens.

You wanna hear about the best Family Home Evening ever given? This is a little off topic, but not really, plus it's hilarious. Over the summer, my family had the chance to teach FHE to the old folk at the assisted living center. Brian and I got pulled into helping, but it was fun. He played the guitar and we sang together. Anyways, we were to teach them about faith. My mom had this cute idea of letting the old people plant their own seed in a cup of dirt, and then they could watch it grow. They would then have a flower to enjoy in their little rooms. Well, as you might know, these older people get various pills handed to them throughout the day. Some of them can't see very well, and maybe some are a little loopy (I hope I'm loopy when I get old). So as we handed out these cups of dirt, and then a seed, they automatically thought it was pill time. We had old folk everywhere eating their seeds. It was rather hilarious, I thought. You don't have to go around eating your faith though. But it is something you can develop. By working at it. You have to want it. You can't just sit and wait for it to grow. Same with the plant. If you don't water it and keep pesky bugs away, your seed might just die. To be faithful, you need to take action and do good things in the life that is yours.


I like Horton from the children's book, Horton Hears a Who. I think he's a very humble character. He is also very faithful. His motto is actually,

"I meant what I said and I said what I meant. An elephant's faithful, 100%."


Even when all the animals in the jungle think that Horton is a nutcase, he still sticks by his story. He knows something is on the speck he found. He WILL NOT deny it. Such a sad story this would have been if Horton would have denied what he had faith in. All the Whos in Whoville would have died! And I love Whos!

Especially this one!

I really would like to end this entry by sharing the following video. It is one of my favorite churchy videos ever. Probably because the people involved in the video are so close to my heart. It's a tender spot for me. After going to Ethiopia, I know I have a lot of things to work on. The people of Ethiopia have faith that could slaughter mine. Even though the man in this video, Anthony, has passed, I am forever grateful to him. I love him and hope I can tell him thanks for showing such an amazing example of faith. He made change in Africa possible. I'll tell him. Someday. . . Enjoy. Make sure you have tissues nearby. You may just cry.

Go out there and show some faith now. I don't care what you have faith in. Whether it be in a higher being, a flower growing, that you'll wake up in the morning when you go to sleep at night, that you'll accomplish all your dreams. . .just have a little faith. You can have faith that some Whos live on a speck even. Just find some faith and let it glow.

Now for that video. . . . . .