tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83472175618016583542024-02-18T21:06:39.571-06:00Lovell Me TenderRachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03867965332125363701noreply@blogger.comBlogger42125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347217561801658354.post-81554208891259681472013-03-30T20:43:00.002-05:002013-03-30T20:43:37.453-05:00Moved!Hey everyone!<br />
<br />
So, I have a new blog that I will be updating on a much more frequent basis. This one will still be around, but it will mainly have more personal and specific stories.<br />
<br />
Here is the link for the new blog:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://outracheousreflections.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">out-RACH-eous</a><br />
<br />
I decided I wanted a blog not specifically connected with my full name. As a therapist, it can be difficult to have a blog with your full name that is searchable on search engines. This is because clients and potential clients can search for your name and find out way more information about you than A) you want them to know, B) they want to know, C) is beneficial for them to know, etc. So, I've come up with a pseudonym for a new blog that can be open to search engines where I can more freely write anything I want, without being worried about only writing what I would be okay with clients seeing.<br />
<br />
I've kept my first name, but am using a last name borrowed from some ancestors. So, when/if you go to the other blog, please don't use my real last name anywhere to keep it completely off. I'm also trying to keep my actual location off the blog because how many LDS MFT therapists are there named Rachel in Houston. One. So, it says that I am from Texas, but please keep any location identifiers out if possible. :)<br />
<br />
I am incredibly excited about this new blog. It's focused mainly on reading and writing, with a dash of other aspects of my life as well.<br />
<br />
I'll update a little more on here as this blog gets going. But the new one is where my main efforts will be going.<br />
<br />
Join me?<br />
<br />
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<br />Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03867965332125363701noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347217561801658354.post-18616838718821792512013-01-23T08:00:00.000-06:002013-01-23T08:00:06.621-06:0030 Things - Relationship With Parents<br />
<h2>
#3 Describe Your Relationship With Your Parents</h2>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">For an explanation of 30 Things and past posts, click <a href="http://lovellmetender.blogspot.com/2012/04/30-things.html" target="_blank">here</a>:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><b><i>Childhood (up to 12 years old)</i></b></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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I have a horrible memory for my life when I was a kid. I
once told my brother that I didn’t remember him at all from my childhood. When
he looked upset by that, I simply reassured him that it was okay, because I
barely remembered <i>me</i> from my
childhood. So, I don’t really know exactly how my relationship with my parents
was. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I do know that, because my mom stayed home, I was very close
to her. Apparently, when I was a baby, I was pretty easy to take care of. All
Mom had to do was stand in the kitchen and I would play at her feet with the
pots and pans. One of my favorite baby pictures is me with a red strainer on my
head. I followed Mom wherever she went and happily played near her. I remember
her making me tuna fish sandwiches served with Cheetos every day for lunch
during kindergarten. I remember coming home from first and second grade and
joining my mom on her bed at the end of her nap and talking her ear off about
my day while we cuddled. I’m pretty sure I told my mom everything, I loved
spending time with her, and I felt better about myself when I was with her. <o:p></o:p></div>
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My dad worked hard and was in the Stake Presidency all
through this time. So unfortunately, he wasn’t around much. But when was, I
loved it. On days that he would get home late after we were already in bed, he
would come upstairs and cuddle with me for a bit, then with Sarah (we shared a
room) and stay with us until we fell asleep. As the baby in the family, I had a
tendency to get picked on. Dad paid attention and when he could see me getting
hurt by it, he’d make sure the big kids stopped. If I was just frustrated or
mad, he’d let them continue and maybe join in himself, but as soon as my
emotions crossed the line to pain and hurt, he’d step in. The thing I remember
most often was the sound of Dad locking the front door every night when we went
to bed. I loved knowing that not only was he providing for us at work, but he
was protecting us by keeping the scary things of the dark that wanted to hurt
us from coming in (or at least that’s how I saw it). I always felt safe as soon
as I heard that thud and knew he was watching out for us.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><b><i>Teenage years (12 – 18)<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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The first year or so of my teenage years was a little rough.
But after being grounded for 2 months straight once, I decided on my own that I
wanted to change, so my relationship with my parents improved drastically after
that. <o:p></o:p></div>
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During high school, I considered my mom my best friend.
There was nothing I liked more than sitting around and talking with her about
anything and everything on my mind. I valued Mom’s opinion more than anyone
else’s (well, of course as a teenager there were a few times I cared more about
other people’s opinions, but it was definitely not the majority of the time). Mom often encouraged me to serve a mission
when I grew up, emphasizing the fact that because it was the best preparation
she could have possibly had for life, she wanted me to experience that as well.
And she had faith in me that I could be a really successful, powerful
missionary. It was good to be believed in, with the expectation of triumph,
rather than failure. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Dad was no longer in the Stake Presidency when I was in high
school, and started having Fridays off, so I saw him more. He did what he could
to support me in my activities and go watch me in the marching band as often as
he could. I wouldn’t say we were super close at the time, a fact that I really
regret and wish had been different. I think this was partly because he didn’t
know how to relate to me and mostly because I didn’t really give him the
chance. I respected him and looked up to him, we just didn’t have much to talk
about. And that’s okay.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><b><i>Undergraduate and Mission years (18-23)</i></b></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Growing up and moving away definitely changed my
relationship with my parents, many times over. Of course there is the awkward
stage of trying to figure out how to have an adult relationship with your
parents. Then there is the part where you realize that your parents aren’t
perfect, which is hard in some ways but really good as well because you realize
that they are human too. It’s a confusing time, but I think my parents handled
it great. <o:p></o:p></div>
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With my mom, the first few years of college I did what I
could to stay as close to Mom as we had been before. I would call at least a
few times and week, sometimes every day just to talk or get her opinion on
things. Mom tried not to call me very much because she wanted me to see that
she saw me as an adult and didn’t want to force herself upon me, which was
good, but I also always wanted her to call me more and feel the desire she had
to talk to me. When I went on my mission, Mom sent me great care packages and
let me know how proud of me she was (actually she would say “greatly pleased”
to avoid the “sin” of pride, which I thought was cute). She wanted to know
everything I was experiencing and was so happy to see me experience what she
loved so much. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Dad and I didn’t keep in touch as much when I first went to
college. Any time I called and he answered he would ask a few questions and
then, assuming that I just wanted to talk to Mom, hand the phone over to her. Any
time I was in a financial bind or needed help flying home, he was willing to
help as much as he could. I was to be as financially independent as possible,
and only go to him when I really needed it, which I think I did well at not
abusing, and it was good to know that I could always rely on him. On my
mission, Dad really stepped it up and wrote me a letter every week. It was
mostly just his weekly journal that he would print and send to me, with a few
adjustments here and there. It meant more to me than he could possibly know. I
trusted in those letters, knowing that they would come every week and it made
me feel safe and loved, feelings that were semi-rare during those times. I
think I got to know him through those letters in a way I never had before, and
I loved seeing little bits of him through his writing. Some of my most prized
possessions are a few letters he wrote by hand when he was unable to type or
print. My dad doesn’t like to write and doesn’t like his handwriting, so to
know that he still wrote me anyway was so special. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><b><i>Graduate School (24-current)</i></b></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Moving back near home, only an hour away, has changed our
relationships again. I got used to not talking to Mom as often while on my
mission, so I no longer call just to talk, except in rare situations. Also, I’m
crazy busy, and so is she. But when we get together we talk too much and always
end up being together longer than we should (which usually ends in me driving
back to Houston at 1 in the morning). I value Mom’s opinion just as I did
before, but I no longer feel like I need it as much. I used to need to know
what she thought about anything before I could make a decision, but now I am
confident that I can make my own decisions and she will support me. Which is
such a good feeling. I think we are finally, after 7 years of me being “an
adult” and navigating the waters of emerging adulthood, I feel confident in
myself, I know that she is confident in me, and we are able to relate as
adults, rather than as parent/child. Mom cracks me up and I love spending time
with her (and wish we could see each other more). I know that she wants the
best for me and trusts that everything will work out. Though our relationship
is different now, I really believe that Mom was the exact right mother that I
needed; all of her strengths and weaknesses exactly matched to what I needed to
develop and learn to become who I am today. To see more about my relationship with Mom,
<a href="http://lovellmetender.blogspot.com/2012/04/to-mom-on-your-birthday.html" target="_blank">here</a> is a letter I wrote for her birthday last year.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I think my relationship with Dad has been much better and
closer since my mission. Though we are completely different and often don’t
understand each other (nuclear physicists and marriage and family therapists
are on completely different wave lengths), I know that he loves me. Even though
he doesn’t always remember exactly what it is I am doing with my life (but
really, do I?) and gets uncomfortable around too much emotion (which I thrive
on), I know that he is interested in me and cares about my life and success.
Just like he did when I was a kid, he knows when he can tease me about things,
and when he better back off and he sticks to it. I think he probably knows me
better than I realize because of this skill he has, which I just realized
tonight while typing this. I am glad he is my dad and proud of the heritage he
has given me as a dimple-chinned Lovell! (The first thing Dad checked on all of
us when we were born – to see if we had the Lovell chin). And, Dad gave me the
BEST Christmas present ever this year, so he’s pretty much the bombdotcom.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I love my parents a ton, quirks and all! Parentals, thanks
for everything you’ve done for me, all the support you’ve given me, and all the
love you’ve shown me. I couldn’t be where I am today without you! You are the best! Love you!!!<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Sorry for the lack of pictures recently, I got a new computer and haven't transferred everything over yet. </span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03867965332125363701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347217561801658354.post-54602194894721266632013-01-22T21:42:00.000-06:002013-01-22T21:42:17.472-06:00Finally! I made a page titled Book List <span style="font-size: large;">LAST YEAR </span>in January, put an "Under Construction" note on it, and haven't touched it since.<br />
<br />
Well, in one of my attempts to avoid studying (which will end FOREVER in a mere 15 weeks when I graduate), I thought, "hey, I should update that..."<br />
<br />
So I did.<br />
<br />
Enjoy!Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03867965332125363701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347217561801658354.post-48334888435505312832013-01-19T19:48:00.001-06:002013-01-19T19:48:25.459-06:00This I Know
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<br />
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Do you ever feel like you forget who you are? Like there are
so many different things smothering you for time and attention that you slowly
lose yourself. You can see pieces of you slowly leaking out and away but
there’s nothing you can do to stop the continuous draining. Until it feels like nothing is left. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve been feeling like this lately. Probably because of my anxiety-ridden
licensure exam coming up in 3 weeks. But for many other reasons as well, I’m
sure. I do know the main reason I feel like I’m losing myself, unsure if I’ll
ever get those pieces back, but I’m not quite ready to talk about that just
yet. It’s coming though. It’s the main reason I haven’t written anything in 7
months. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Did I mention I’m sorry about that? Not only for those few
of you who care about what I write. But also because I’ve had plenty of ideas
to write during my hiatus, but I didn’t record them anywhere, so now they are
lost to me. And that’s sad. And so I am sorry. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But really. 2012 was a very hard year for me. I am so
relieved it’s over. And desperately hoping 2013 is better. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What do you do when you feel like you’re losing everything
that makes you, well, you? It’s an incredibly unsettling feeling. Especially
when you’re trying to become a therapist and help others only to realize that
you need so much help yourself. That’s okay though, right? I’m allowed to be
human, too, aren’t I? Sometimes I need that reminder. That permission to be
fallible. To make mistakes. To feel those emotions I help my clients deal with.
But still… it’s hard to give yourself that permission. Especially when you
really haven’t given yourself permission for much, ever, which is my
unfortunate tendency.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The only thing I can think of right now is hold onto the
pieces of myself that are still there. That I can identify. That feel real. And
true. That make me happy, despite everything. And since discoveries, especially of the self- variety, are what I really
like to share here, this is what I have come up with so far. This I know about
me - myself - Rachel.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1. Maxi skirts. Who knew that such a simple article of
clothing could come to feel so right to me? I feel so comfortable in them. So
free. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I really hate clothes. Especially when they constrict. And I
especially hate pants. I made it all summer with only wearing jeans once. To
me, that is a beautiful thing. My discovery of maxi skirts helped free me, once
again, and in another way, from society’s expectations for me. Or my perception
of society’s expectations. Whatever. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I hope to one day have my wardrobe full of maxi skirts. Other
skirts are nice too. And maybe someday I’ll break down and get some leggings to
go with my boots. Cause I sure feel great in boots too. I think that if you had
to define yourself in terms of clothing, I would be a maxi skirt. Comfortable.
Free. But classy. And flowy. Cause what better word to describe yourself is
there than flowy? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2. My hands. And how I adorn them. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For some reason, I am at peace with my hands lately. I bite
and tear at my nails incessantly. I’ve tried to stop. I can’t. I don’t really
care to anymore. I have owned my short, sometimes jagged nails. They like to be
painted fun colors, but have been sad because I’ve been to busy, or lazy, or
both, to give them the color they like. Sorry nails. I’ll try to do better. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve not worn rings since I was pretty young, except for a CTR
ring. Until I lost my CTR ring and the others I had didn’t fit comfortably. I
always wanted to wear rings more, but I got my dad’s hands and my fingers are
just thick. Which makes it very hard to find a ring that actually fits and
looks good. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This summer at West Yellowstone I found the ring. The one
ring that actually flattered my fingers. And excited my eyes. And brought a
smile to my face. It was a big turquoise stone with the most beautiful veining.
And a small-ish silver band. I can’t do just small bands because then my finger
looks huge. But a small band with a large stone on it? Oh yes. Yes, that I can
do. And I have loved it ever since. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I finally got my eagerly, and not-so-patiently waited upon
ring from my beautiful Grandma. She collects them. And got enough for all her
granddaughters to have one of her rings. My sisters and I were among the last
to receive ours, but only because we live so far away. We semi-hesitantly
trusted Mom to pick our rings for us when she was on a trip to Utah. She called
me to discuss the options, but I had to go off descriptions because her phone
is ultra-ghetto and won’t send or receive pictures. I was unsure how they
looked, and nervous that the picks for the 3 of us would not quite suit us. Finally
it came. And suit me it did! Large smoky
quartz stone in a beautiful antique-esque silver band. I fell in love with it
the moment I saw it. Sarah and Becca’s were beautiful, too. Geez, my grandma
has exquisite taste in rings. I hope to glean more of her ring knowledge from
her this summer. Because this is knowledge I need. Desperately. One of these
two rings is on my finger every day. Except when I forget them and upon
realizing my mistake, curse myself and feel naked and so un-Rach-like all day
long. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have also recently added a charm bracelet to my left
wrist. It was also bare since I lost my CTR ring in March, 2011. I had the most
perfect watch that I would put the ring on for safe keeping when I wasn’t
wearing them. Well, the gremlins in my mom’s van stole them after my MFT
interview at UHCL. I hate those gremlins. No matter the searching I did, I
never found any watch, or other decoration, that accurately said “I am you. I
make you more yourself. You need me. Right there, on your left wrist.” And so
it’s been naked. And alone. And sad. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
James Avery had a sale on their new bracelets. Buy two
charms, get a bracelet for free. Sign me up, I declared! I looked at the charms
for probably an hour. Because picking a charm is no light business for me.
Especially the first charms. Finally I found the ones that not only called for
me, but fit within my poor-grad-student budget. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A music note. Because few things affect me like music does.
My dream life is still playing French Horn in the pit of broadway musicals.
Please, if you ever see a charm with a French Horn, get it for me. I’ll pay you
back. You know how most people, especially girls, always have something on
their minds that they are thinking about and planning? That doesn’t happen for
me. When I don’t have something I’m actively thinking about, I have music
playing in my head. It’s completely unconscious. And completely beautiful. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Also, a dove. This was a more abstract pick. I wanted
something for my chosen-if-not-exactly-dreamed-of profession. A marriage
therapist. But what would a charm for that look like, exactly? A couch? No. So
I thought about what my purpose would be in that profession. To help
people. To pull marriages up through the
muck of pain they’ve been slopping through. Or. To give hope. To give peace.
Which is what a dove represents, after all. (Not to mention the religious
significance of a dove, which is also important to me). <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have two more charms ready to be added. My best friends
forever half-heart that fits together with my
thank-goodness-she’s-still-around-and-loves-me-cause-I-love-her-so-much best friend,
Malorie Leyva, given to us by her mother at my graduation. And my Texas heart
charm. Because my heart is always in Texas. And Sarah is getting me a nativity
charm soon, which yes, will be on the bracelet year round, because what more
could I want than a constant reminder of Christmas and that amazing and dear little Baby
who saved me?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
3. Reading. Oh, reading.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am consumed by it. In a wonderful, coming-alive sort of
way. All my worries slip away as the story weaves through me, lifting me to
something higher. I am changed, yes, but in all the right ways, by the books I
read. I think more critically, feel more deeply, desire more strongly because
of being swept away to new places. Places I could never explore if not led by
the hand by these authors with the most beautiful gift of words. I find myself
in those pages. In those words, between those lines and through those experiences
of characters so different from myself.
And what have I found?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A desire. A desire that has always been there, but never
came out into the light for me to really see and examine. It was there, but out
of focus and blurred differently each day. But it has stepped out into the light.
I’ve seen it, felt it, studied it. And now this I know:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I want to be a writer. An author. I want to lead people by
the hand, as I have been led so many times before, and take people where they
could never go without my help. Into the recesses of my music-filled mind. Into
the nooks and crannies, shadowed corners and vaulted ceilings of my
imagination. I haven’t even really been there myself, but I want to go. I want
to make a record of my journey and share it with others. For no other purpose
than enjoyment. Fun. Hope. Peace. For me and for them. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And can I share a secret? I’m terrified. This desire (which
was brought into the light by Veronica Roth and Divergent, by the way,) scares
me to the core. I don’t know how to write a novel. I’ve never written more than
25 pages in one work. I’ve never written more than what has been required me by
my professors. Never once have I written creatively, with the exception of my
blog. But that is all based on life experiences, not pulling a story out of
nothing. I only ever took one literature class, which I loved, but wasn’t even
in the genre I plan to write in. I don’t know the first thing about any of this
writing business. AND I’m about to get a degree in therapy!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And somehow I have the audacity to think that I can do this.
That I can (with plenty of practice, mind you – I don’t expect this to come
easy or naturally) write a story that other people would be interested in,
maybe even pay money for. I partly think I must be having delusions of
grandeur, because this desire seems so unlikely, so impossible. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I want it. I want to write. And read, because every
writer knows you have to read at least as much as you write. Maybe I won’t ever
get published. Maybe I won’t ever get past a short story. Maybe the only people
to read it will be myself and those few friends I trust to share in the
intimacy that comes with writing from the heart. But I want to do it. I want to
try. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t really know how to work this out with school and
licensure and a profession looming. But I’ll figure out a way. Because somehow,
I feel like the only way to find myself again, after losing so much, is to
write. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And read. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And so that is what I plan on doing. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Love,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rach<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And thanks for patiently waiting for me to get my act
together. I do hope I can do better in the future. <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(What is your favorite piece of clothing that makes you feel
<i>you</i>? What are your accessories that
scream at you that they belong with you, on you?)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(And for the love of all that is holy, AM I CRAZY? Those of
you who have read my writing, is this possible? I need some encouragement cause
like I said, I’m awful scared.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03867965332125363701noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347217561801658354.post-8282887555148146952012-06-17T18:12:00.001-05:002012-06-17T18:12:16.079-05:00Happy Birthday to ME!Is it conceited to do a blog post celebrating your own birth? If so, then I am conceited!<br />
<br />
Today I turned 25 years old. TWENTY FIVE!!!! How did that happen?<br />
<br />
I had a little moment of fame the day I was born - my birth made it into the newspaper. The nurse at the hospital that helped my mom through labor, c-section and recovery had something special happen with my birth. I can't remember exactly what it was. Either I was the last baby she helped deliver before retiring and had been there for a long time, or I the 8,000th baby she helped birth or something (I made that number up, in case you were wondering). Her, my mom, and I were in the newspaper. Pretty neat, huh? I knew from that day on that I was meant for greatness!<br />
<br />
There is one aspect of my birth that my family will NEVER let me live down. I was breach. The doctor tried THREE TIMES to flip me around into the right position, but me the stubborn person that I am, I flipped right back. Sometime in there my mom's water broke, so she said that all the flipping around in a dry womb was excruciating. Sorry Mom! Didn't mean to hurt you! I was just dead set on doing things my own way, rather than how everyone else wanted me to do it. I think personality trait has stuck with me - though not as much as you might think. I just wanted to come out bum first! But, that's really dangerous. So, the doctors decided to do an emergency c-section. Again, sorry Mom! Ever since then, my family feels the need to remind me of my stubbornness pretty much every time we all come together. I was such a butt-head, apparently. They all think it's hilarious. It's really quite old to me, though. :)<br />
<br />
Another important thing about my birthday is that I was born somewhere around 9 pm. The doctor wanted to set my mom up and do the c-section the next morning. She screamed, "NO!" See, my sister's birthday was the next day. She did NOT want to have to deal with two girls having identity crises of having the same birthday but not being twins. So, she forced the doctor to do it that night. It's funny though - she wanted so much to not have us share a birthday, but every birthday I remember, we have celebrated both on the same day anyway. So - Happy Birthday tomorrow, Sarah!<br />
<br />
Here are some pictures from some my birthdays over the years. All but the first are just since I got a digital camera. I have pictures of other birthdays, but they are all prints, darn it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjScokWdDKjmOCT9-_Qe9CYRDA0-8cxso551lpWQp68Q_YXCqRNCc5aO35rKcFnpSGw6iBx0dx4phcG1501liIbX30z32OYjZqOFBaANK-PyBLHZyXxquH2zo5vKatZ8RUc60TggQuZfWro/s1600/rachel's+pictures+119.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjScokWdDKjmOCT9-_Qe9CYRDA0-8cxso551lpWQp68Q_YXCqRNCc5aO35rKcFnpSGw6iBx0dx4phcG1501liIbX30z32OYjZqOFBaANK-PyBLHZyXxquH2zo5vKatZ8RUc60TggQuZfWro/s320/rachel's+pictures+119.gif" width="253" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">I was such a cute baby. I'm kinda obsessed with myself as a baby. :)</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZbtJiev9ONt6fIQZB-Ct_Hdn6OpmKWFEjPUKRPbCr6e9rEcaT4L8LvBPlDMPZPBZOAkjfCoBU8G1Wm0fPJAMbxvFdTXvZwc1jiOQg_IeGzvmkVKT7SZAv5vW1o1nLF143R7znnPTTWlW2/s1600/rachel%2527s+pictures+052.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZbtJiev9ONt6fIQZB-Ct_Hdn6OpmKWFEjPUKRPbCr6e9rEcaT4L8LvBPlDMPZPBZOAkjfCoBU8G1Wm0fPJAMbxvFdTXvZwc1jiOQg_IeGzvmkVKT7SZAv5vW1o1nLF143R7znnPTTWlW2/s320/rachel%2527s+pictures+052.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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First birthday with Mommy and my presents!</div>
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Yay cake!!! Gosh, I was cute!</div>
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And now....skip forward to 2006. When I got a digital camera...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwk5M9EZo2w1Ix7_iJJevasygmyb_Ci_atl56kY1jD8Xp51XB-q5q-kByIqmvkGfSlEWO-7UOb44b2yQFAsUfug3iFShAvuqTsClsz6DHAVnANXnO6ruXQ9ceQsko3auMbm-2BzWpWIuff/s1600/End+of+Summer+098.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwk5M9EZo2w1Ix7_iJJevasygmyb_Ci_atl56kY1jD8Xp51XB-q5q-kByIqmvkGfSlEWO-7UOb44b2yQFAsUfug3iFShAvuqTsClsz6DHAVnANXnO6ruXQ9ceQsko3auMbm-2BzWpWIuff/s320/End+of+Summer+098.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I don't know if this was for sure my birthday - but it was that summer of 2006. So, I guess that means I turned 19 that year. That's Malorie, me, and Sarah.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiYNK-z9tR6sd2X4xMJ_nwwQ80OpiiJGK3wkpGw_RWl6ElH6YJNdNQmAN0xU3kINS8czetY59QB1bYKusll5q07iSnYm4p1cctaGUqt6D99yGeW8MyH7RqgDIYTRSvRTLcdSsOHjuddkB5/s1600/summer+07+023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiYNK-z9tR6sd2X4xMJ_nwwQ80OpiiJGK3wkpGw_RWl6ElH6YJNdNQmAN0xU3kINS8czetY59QB1bYKusll5q07iSnYm4p1cctaGUqt6D99yGeW8MyH7RqgDIYTRSvRTLcdSsOHjuddkB5/s320/summer+07+023.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I think we probably celebrated all of our birthdays together this year, 2007. I was 20, Becca was 30 and Sarah was 22. Becca's birthday is 11 days before mine. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFwzC5mKN6-gVx3qPkhhYg0NnwSlExHpCt2Iqh1YShz9BvqeU-upXgcbiiI-oGichB33IOB8nbqB2mYvB9UkY01gYadZYrI-ioNxWaLmjYSNBOF9t_dP8U-CE3-Z8inBbZTfiZidpHn56b/s1600/Seattle+191.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFwzC5mKN6-gVx3qPkhhYg0NnwSlExHpCt2Iqh1YShz9BvqeU-upXgcbiiI-oGichB33IOB8nbqB2mYvB9UkY01gYadZYrI-ioNxWaLmjYSNBOF9t_dP8U-CE3-Z8inBbZTfiZidpHn56b/s320/Seattle+191.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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This was at my 21st birthday party. I was in Seattle with the Flourishing Families Project - my first birthday to spend with no family around. I made a TON of cake balls - they were so yummy! Somehow I didn't get a good picture of that day at all. Oops!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipWEe69ShkJZB-ZHYZPlBPrcDC55JvJWaRThueWjduMjd_e3o3TOXej4kyPufIoS2IIi1WEAtqrF0yzPFJTipytZc8-hrT0woya112e2J9FRnyKWWwhyxzoZXjBcA5OLfunrtUjgkCvIfk/s1600/Seattle+154.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipWEe69ShkJZB-ZHYZPlBPrcDC55JvJWaRThueWjduMjd_e3o3TOXej4kyPufIoS2IIi1WEAtqrF0yzPFJTipytZc8-hrT0woya112e2J9FRnyKWWwhyxzoZXjBcA5OLfunrtUjgkCvIfk/s320/Seattle+154.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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This wasn't for my birthday, but it was in Seattle and is one of my pictures of me! I think it was my facebook profile picture while I was on my mission. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV5nXZ0CW1BTqof8FKKcL_u2K7ctVyw45IJWsT8k3Vl3K5uHTS-z8uZTZLU8EWwNAPszS4Hb9uE_W0vrTilCTD86neN5iHsNZ_mj9-med3v2KGHMcHM9Vu_WlqI6sRgbyL1xrmt-pDmVMZ/s1600/Mission+pics+card+1+461.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV5nXZ0CW1BTqof8FKKcL_u2K7ctVyw45IJWsT8k3Vl3K5uHTS-z8uZTZLU8EWwNAPszS4Hb9uE_W0vrTilCTD86neN5iHsNZ_mj9-med3v2KGHMcHM9Vu_WlqI6sRgbyL1xrmt-pDmVMZ/s320/Mission+pics+card+1+461.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I turned 22 on my mission in Jacksonville, Florida. It was my favorite birthday by far, despite the fact that our district ended up fasting for the second half of it. Here we are at Sonny's eating the best BBQ I've ever had. Around the table from the left is Elder Udy, Elder Atherton, Elder Terry, me, Sister Johnson, and Elder Price. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhktszMS4XZCLSEP1TvgvkOlDMiOH23SULSeQtxukhQOtKu3FkOl4mv3b47-nH5ZZuDLoo9Y27dVGR7NPVikA7SF-UoE12QTICHaAfCTVNBDaAf87dlcSQfGd9YL0NGtkti5HZVklMm9E86/s1600/Mission+pics+card+1+465.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhktszMS4XZCLSEP1TvgvkOlDMiOH23SULSeQtxukhQOtKu3FkOl4mv3b47-nH5ZZuDLoo9Y27dVGR7NPVikA7SF-UoE12QTICHaAfCTVNBDaAf87dlcSQfGd9YL0NGtkti5HZVklMm9E86/s320/Mission+pics+card+1+465.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Between the last picture and this one, my amazing friend Ta'Keshia got interviewed for her baptism. It was such an amazing experience and took a lot of hard work to get there. I have great pictures of us after, but she doesn't like her picture to be accessible on the internet, so I left it out. But believe me, it's a priceless picture. :) But this one is me showing off my birthday packages.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_D_e-E7smsZ2diu3Zr1RQeuRJsCjO8BchG2-U5F1-cO8MILV3Hw1mk1yyGJbmBTtA4N0wPZm__SLNbYzEaLb0Q8Y216akhImjQUiMX0sP6QLQLB3vKiNMEi5jtiweJcJGqO1EpsU-ZF8V/s1600/Mission+pics+card+1+493.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_D_e-E7smsZ2diu3Zr1RQeuRJsCjO8BchG2-U5F1-cO8MILV3Hw1mk1yyGJbmBTtA4N0wPZm__SLNbYzEaLb0Q8Y216akhImjQUiMX0sP6QLQLB3vKiNMEi5jtiweJcJGqO1EpsU-ZF8V/s320/Mission+pics+card+1+493.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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And this is everything I got! Yay!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtK7y9J7upOze5Ds0KGVVCWlqpDr3iruEYboJ9P1_-YFEMd7D5rykx2CkplPo0WfZ3RqDopTljsbDH-HmxxhmrYuK8ihPngMC3SAsncz9-KvWDdgONcYB0HVef5aW5JhHVKZepct9dg6Rx/s1600/Mission+pics+card+1+496.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtK7y9J7upOze5Ds0KGVVCWlqpDr3iruEYboJ9P1_-YFEMd7D5rykx2CkplPo0WfZ3RqDopTljsbDH-HmxxhmrYuK8ihPngMC3SAsncz9-KvWDdgONcYB0HVef5aW5JhHVKZepct9dg6Rx/s320/Mission+pics+card+1+496.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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We had cake that Saturday I think. (Remember, we fasted after lunch, so no food or drink, and definitely no birthday cake!) Elder Price celebrated by sitting on Elder Udy. I miss those two!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxSpsFGXKa9C5063nXp6OgPwcl23ze5gx8e7auUx9KWzjOvT09kfRFt1lCJGQ-_bG2HDOBgNS3NgzbuDugCjTZeGzqDCPZqnxJt2dqblQIWpnfj-7Bu1dD9RlShRMu-qXvBw7ZqL7Qf8V9/s1600/Mission+pics+card+1+501.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxSpsFGXKa9C5063nXp6OgPwcl23ze5gx8e7auUx9KWzjOvT09kfRFt1lCJGQ-_bG2HDOBgNS3NgzbuDugCjTZeGzqDCPZqnxJt2dqblQIWpnfj-7Bu1dD9RlShRMu-qXvBw7ZqL7Qf8V9/s320/Mission+pics+card+1+501.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Here I am holding my cake. The expression on my face is what happened when I realized that Sister Johnson was recording the birthday singing and blowing out of the candles on her camera instead of mine. Don't worry though - she got me the video later. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgetUnn-x5leJ5loXXG_7kHz3xDaV_RKlAjfqdr1xmKFZnErCDO63RN1tPsGjyMpNDrkyS4WWL6cd65WWy4JrOBNOSvMa91E9VUPCxtAqYHMbrv0i_NKI877imCXKvg2ZFzmHD2VHxWBh1j/s1600/desktop+6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgetUnn-x5leJ5loXXG_7kHz3xDaV_RKlAjfqdr1xmKFZnErCDO63RN1tPsGjyMpNDrkyS4WWL6cd65WWy4JrOBNOSvMa91E9VUPCxtAqYHMbrv0i_NKI877imCXKvg2ZFzmHD2VHxWBh1j/s320/desktop+6.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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My 23rd birthday. We were all still very giddy about me being home from the mission, even though I'd been home for 2 and a half months. Again, we celebrated all 3 of our birthdays together. I love my sisters soooo much! I am so blessed to have them!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgszkfasmVhva5XhPymPmBXryfDqcXE5FMKah2fXI-u8ha-VqiuNLykQLvSIgqWzKo6AIpbplRVxi5muPltAyAFVqwkZp7UZExOXx4lpcjGhj4veg9U-kto4lQoC0fYEy3Z573We_zvnGoU/s1600/desktop+9.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgszkfasmVhva5XhPymPmBXryfDqcXE5FMKah2fXI-u8ha-VqiuNLykQLvSIgqWzKo6AIpbplRVxi5muPltAyAFVqwkZp7UZExOXx4lpcjGhj4veg9U-kto4lQoC0fYEy3Z573We_zvnGoU/s320/desktop+9.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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And we love to laugh together!! Yay!!!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwrFzlwLuZPFCW2Td7IoSbD-A4un-TIp1o3diJmgZUgu30fRFX7jqpPY6-KOscIrLCHcq-rWnCiNSD-evqfMXMi7EsF0lska1FLHQCjfR2ML2kbkOzTGafz_c63EWhSA9haNzrS02dPZVN/s1600/July+2011+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwrFzlwLuZPFCW2Td7IoSbD-A4un-TIp1o3diJmgZUgu30fRFX7jqpPY6-KOscIrLCHcq-rWnCiNSD-evqfMXMi7EsF0lska1FLHQCjfR2ML2kbkOzTGafz_c63EWhSA9haNzrS02dPZVN/s320/July+2011+005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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This is on my 24th birthday. I got dressed up because I had to finally renew my driver's license and I wanted a good picture. I got it too! Most people are surprised at how good my license pic is. The secret - SMILE! Even if they tell you not to!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQyLRL-cY1WbMpFzsAt7hlxplV1LZ4w05o2H1BZ28rrkg3g3RT2_rugCctQVDYnHKB570UxmNWpSE6hanVHrSdIrYS8BYw7Lqnag66b6x3nrDBIh8H_Q3hqjWuUi2Fe_YDz2e4mBzS_e9n/s1600/July+2011+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQyLRL-cY1WbMpFzsAt7hlxplV1LZ4w05o2H1BZ28rrkg3g3RT2_rugCctQVDYnHKB570UxmNWpSE6hanVHrSdIrYS8BYw7Lqnag66b6x3nrDBIh8H_Q3hqjWuUi2Fe_YDz2e4mBzS_e9n/s320/July+2011+006.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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We went to see Malorie later that day. I love her so much!</div>
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And Allie!!! My favorite little girl in the whole world!!!!</div>
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Here I am turning 25! We had church today and I got an extra present! Due to sewage problems at the chapel, church got cut from 3 hours to 2! Not that I necessarily want church to be shorter all the time, but it was nice for today.</div>
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We all know I like to make faces by now, right?</div>
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I love my sister!! Happy birthday tomorrow Sarah!!!</div>
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<br />Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03867965332125363701noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347217561801658354.post-60117513610933869022012-06-07T19:44:00.001-05:002012-06-07T19:44:38.013-05:00Everything I Need To Know I Learned In Band, Part 1<i>Marching band. Concert band. Four years of blood, sweat, tears, and pain. Incredible joy and crushing disappointment. Pride. Mostly, it was four years of learning how to succeed, learning how to work, and developing incredible friendships. I learned so much. </i><br />
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Being in band in high school has had such a huge impact on my life. I literally cannot go a month without having some kind of band-related dream. The content is always slightly different, but always anxiety provoking. I either have to learn a whole marching show in one day, lose my instrument and have to go on a mad search to find one, show up at region auditions only knowing one of the three songs, decide to switch instruments right before a contest, etc. These dreams are so stressful! And they make me miss playing and being in band SO much!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeKR8GYKKKaj-0EznGvx2cCPl3wycfRaEggZp0ONMFCVSZiL9crwBHZE5kJRKyiFoszfHF0LckxgsqOnBKOVB-xUP2nbbla_FwJWoL3ahHBmzgFjJV8IAmiUUzNAGAy35C-I0fsRSi7Ias/s1600/rachel's+pictures+039.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeKR8GYKKKaj-0EznGvx2cCPl3wycfRaEggZp0ONMFCVSZiL9crwBHZE5kJRKyiFoszfHF0LckxgsqOnBKOVB-xUP2nbbla_FwJWoL3ahHBmzgFjJV8IAmiUUzNAGAy35C-I0fsRSi7Ias/s320/rachel's+pictures+039.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Oh how I do NOT miss wearing that wool uniform. </div>
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But that's beside the point. The point is that I have a work party tomorrow. My sister is coming with me (because "significant others" are encouraged to attend. I am the only one without said "significant other," so my awesome sister is coming with me). I have a client just before so I won't be able to drive there with Sarah. She'll have to get off work and meet me in League City before we go. Which means we might be a bit late. I was a little worried about it. Then, I remembered this piece of wisdom I learned my first year of being in band...<br />
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Each year, marching band practice started two weeks before school started in the Fall. Last week of July we'd start waking up at 7 to get to practice at 8 (I think - it has been almost 8 years since my senior year). We'd be in the Texas heat and humidity of July/August for 4 ish hours, have an hour and a half off to go home, eat, and shower, and then come back for the same amount of time of practicing the music inside. I never once put on sunscreen for all that time outside in the sun. And I never once got burned. I still wonder HOW that happened. We all had beautiful tan lines on the ankles, thighs, arms, and neck. Somehow, as grueling as it was, I LOVED summer band!<br />
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The last Friday before school would start, we'd have the band pool party. Our fearless leader, Mr. Koch, would talk to us when we all came together for announcements at the end of the day. This is (not verbatim, but close) what he would tell us about the pool party:<br />
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"I know we are all excited about the pool party tonight. All you Freshman, eager to please, wanting to make a good impression, new to the game, will probably show up 5-10 minutes early. Sophomore's, you've got a year of this under your belt, you're a bit more confident, you know you can take it a little slower, and you'll all be there right about on time. Juniors, you know what it's all about, you're cool, you've got a reputation of knowing how to take it easy; you show up about 10 minutes late. Seniors, you're the one's everyone looks up to, you know you've got better things to do than be on time to a party, you know how to grace everyone with your presence and you know the importance of making a grand entrance - you'll be there 15-20 minutes late."<br />
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Here is most of the Senior Class of 2005 at Medieval Times on our trip to Dallas. </div>
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Mr. Koch is on one knee in front. </div>
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I have taken this advice to heart! I used to be late to everything, important or not. Oops! I've since changed my ways and I'm mostly good about being early or on time to important things. But when there are social events, I still like to be there a little late. Cause its just so awkward when you're the first one there! So, I use the wisdom given me through Mr. Koch and marching band, and show up to social events late.<br />
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So my work party tomorrow? Though I'm not going to be late on purpose, I am going to let myself not worry about it. Thanks, marching band!<br />
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I must also say that my favorite thing about band was meeting my best friend, Malorie. </div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">She is the best friend anyone could ever have and I am SO grateful for her!</span></div>
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Without band, we never would have met. In fact, we met in the band hall!</div>
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These pictures of Malorie and I were all taken just before I went to college at BYU. We had to get a picture with my car, the "Lovell Land Yacht" - it was infamous among the band while my siblings and I were there. </div>
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<br />Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03867965332125363701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347217561801658354.post-26892985262904019382012-06-01T23:38:00.000-05:002012-06-01T23:38:01.682-05:00Graduation ReminiscingPeople are graduating all over the place here in Houston. I drove past a graduation, called a client during a graduation, saw that Reliant stadium is hosting 4 graduations this weekend, and have seen tons of graduation excitement on facebook recently. All of this reminds me of my graduation last August. I never posted pictures anywhere, so here are some of my favorites from that glorious event.<div>
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I do love that Cougar. </div>
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Aw. My family, minus Becca. </div>
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Shoes? who needs em?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQy0k2dZ3ytHtbGHIQ4c9yo8oE_-dQe1f56OlK2ADRUL0KZSbHz9JQKRG0S_Wri_41GjQ4x8Wd5QEDFZBKXlEX_KUfCg-F0pSTIlVlXcf_pWL57Ry1voOU9T07ucc47ZGcs0xzML0CyQNP/s1600/march+2012+download+347.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQy0k2dZ3ytHtbGHIQ4c9yo8oE_-dQe1f56OlK2ADRUL0KZSbHz9JQKRG0S_Wri_41GjQ4x8Wd5QEDFZBKXlEX_KUfCg-F0pSTIlVlXcf_pWL57Ry1voOU9T07ucc47ZGcs0xzML0CyQNP/s320/march+2012+download+347.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I'm a little spunky sometimes. ;)</div>
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Nice photobomb, bro!</div>
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The world is MY campus. I just need more money to travel it. Wanna help? </div>
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Go forth to serve? Sounds like a plan! </div>
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Wish that camera was mine. </div>
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This place was my haven Senior Year. Would not have survived without the wonderful friends I made in this room. And I learned so much to help with being a therapist now. I will be forever grateful for the opportunity I had to work in the coding lab!</div>
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:)</div>
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Strike a pose!</div>
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Did I tell you about the time when I walked in the JFSB fountain? No? Well, I did! SO much fun! </div>
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I was a little afraid of slipping, but I survived. </div>
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I LOVE that top! I had to show it off. </div>
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Hehe. :)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxHs-1_ZB3w14tV6dDnak2ViMuXIzNXMsPsvWAzvznEEChVPnTwHxVa2LVbb4O30A56DWfuRZ9dUOxS_xchcY67arVCSTQ3nZA3rxlCyCxsrAEMoASXgWJxB-18Sq5uxFF7tEfVmtFMGko/s1600/march+2012+download+392.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxHs-1_ZB3w14tV6dDnak2ViMuXIzNXMsPsvWAzvznEEChVPnTwHxVa2LVbb4O30A56DWfuRZ9dUOxS_xchcY67arVCSTQ3nZA3rxlCyCxsrAEMoASXgWJxB-18Sq5uxFF7tEfVmtFMGko/s320/march+2012+download+392.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Cute little footprints. </div>
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Love this picture. </div>
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And love my sister!!!</div>
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Me and the Y. Somehow in 4 years I never hiked the Y. Sad story, huh? </div>
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Sarah pulled a face before me! It's a miracle!</div>
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But I fixed that quick. And seriously? Impressive lips, Sarah!!! </div>
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So there you have it. I graduated. It was thrilling. Then 10 days later I started grad school in Houston. And now, 9.5 months later I'm doing my internship and seeing clients and acting like an almost grown up. WEIRD!!!!</div>
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<br /></div>Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03867965332125363701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347217561801658354.post-89069951252385625182012-05-31T22:49:00.000-05:002012-05-31T22:49:10.709-05:00The Search for Purpose...in a Blog...Remember how I said a while back that I was going to actively blog for 3 months? Ha! That, obviously, didn't happen. There are a few reasons why:<br />
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I've been SO busy! I recently started my MFT internship. Oh man, I am loving it! I already have 10 clients - how is that even possible?! Granted, only 3 of them am I seeing on my own, while 7 are with co-therapists, but geez! I was not expecting that! I am really enjoying it thought. I really feel like I have come into myself as a therapist over the past few weeks. And let me tell ya, that is a wonderful feeling.<br />
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Because of I've been so busy, my time off has been reserved for rest, relaxation, family, and friends. I've been trying to stay busy on the weekends doing things that make me happy <i>(and yes, sometimes staying busy actually means doing nothing all day on purpose, cause sometimes - that just makes me happy!).</i><br />
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I once read that blogging can be difficult for someone with an addictive personality. I DEFINITELY have an addictive personality. <i>(Hello, have you heard about my obsessions with Supernatural and Cafe Rio? No? well, don't worry - you will!)</i> The reason for this is that it is easy to become obsessed with blog stats and comments and all that jazz. And I noticed myself checking to see how many people had viewed my blog, hoping for comments. And well, there weren't as many people looking at my blog as I had hoped for <i>(delusions of grandeur and all...)</i>, and there weren't as many comments as I had also hoped for. So I got a little frustrated and gave up in some regards. I understand people not commenting - I never used to either! <i>(I have only recently started to comment on other blogs because I realized how much I craved it with my own blog).</i> So, if you haven't commented - I'm not calling you out or anything. If you don't want to comment, that's just fine and I don't blame you! I have recently realized that writing is really therapeutic for me if I let it. I am getting to the point that I want to write for me, and not just to see how much other people like what I have to say. I just offer this point as a way of explanation for my lack of posts, not as a call to repentance for my readers. :) However, I would like this blog to be a bit more interactive - so if you have the desire to comment, please do!<br />
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But really, I think the real reason I haven't been blogging as much is because I want this blog to have a purpose. I want to write about things that matter<i> (with a pleasant smattering of non-important, but fun things as well)</i>. I have that purpose in mind, but I'm having a hard time getting myself there. The initial explanation of that purpose is taking me forever to write out. Mostly because it's painful. I want to talk about some things in my life that are hard to even let myself think about, let alone write about them and share them with the world. But I know this is what I want to do, what I need to do, what this blog is meant for. I'm just having difficulty using the little time I have available to face my demons and write the hard stuff instead of relaxing while watching House Hunters. But the hard stuff needs to be written so I can get to the good stuff.<br />
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I'm on a journey that I want to share. I want to share it with as many people as I can. I don't know where that journey will end up and I can't guarantee the path will be fun all the time. There are lot of ups and downs, and lately a lot more downs than I would like. That is another reason I haven't been able to write - I have been in a negative place lately and didn't want to bring others down with me. But I am starting to have a little bit of an up. The path is trying to pull me back down every day, but I am trying to fight it and stay up, stay in the light. Because there is some light, I feel more ready to share. I want to be real in this space - share the good and the bad and be okay with that. But I also know that I don't want it all to be bad, which is probably why I haven't written in a while. The purpose I want for this blog is to share my experiences with as many people as I can. I hope that my experiences can help others in their hard times, whether those trials are similar to mine or not. We all go through hard things. I truly believe that pain needs to be acknowledged, even if for a short time, and I intend to do that here. But the beautiful thing is that, even when there is pain, there is room for joy and hope and growth as well. That is what I want to chronicle here. The bad with the good and the good with the bad.<br />
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But, I am still working on writing my story at this point. It may not be here for a while, but I am working on it. In the mean time, you will all just get to hear more about me! Because as much as I want this blog to express my story, it needs some lighter material as well. So don't worry - you'll get to read that, too. If there's anything you'd like to see me write about, let me know!<br />
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And now that I have been so very vague about my "journey," I am going to bed! Stay tuned!<br />
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I am in desperate need of a vacation. This is me last summer while on vacation. But since I can't take one til August, I go to Yellowstone and our cabin in Island Park, ID in my mind ALL the time! Can't wait to for that beautiful relaxation!Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03867965332125363701noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347217561801658354.post-42003630298779160592012-05-07T23:24:00.000-05:002012-05-07T23:24:27.656-05:00Catch-Up<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Well, friends, it's been a while since I've posted. Let me tell you why:</div>
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The end of this semester was CRAZY!! Definitely the most stressful end-of-semester-rush I've ever had. Not only did I have presentations, papers, and beastly take-home finals, I also was getting started with my internship. Less than a day after I had my last assignment in, I saw my first client in internship (it went great! Thanks for asking). Plus I got really, really sick. Plus I wanted to hang out with Malorie (my best friend). Plus I went to Austin for a wedding. Plus I slept. And watched TV. So, I was quite busy. And it was stressful. And I am still stressed with Internship...it's crazy getting started. </div>
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Anyway - less talk, more pictures!!</div>
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Sarah and I decided that with our new apartment we would paint our names to put on each of our walls. We bought the letters in October, maybe November. We just painted them Saturday. Yes, that is how busy we both have been. But we finally did it and I LOVE how mine turned out! So if you ever come to my apartment and forget my name, don't worry! It's on the wall!! :)</div>
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I mentioned some time back about how we planted some Oregano and we were really excited about it. Well, our little Oregano's are growing so big!! I'm so proud of them! They are so cute!!</div>
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We also finally planted more herb-garden-like-stuff the past little while. Basil, parsley, chives, lavendar, forget-me-not, impati..something that looks like impatients, and blue bonnets. Some of them aren't growing as fast as we want them to, but we talk to them everyday to make sure they know they are loved. (Remember how I explained my talking to the Oregano guys? Baby voice, eyebrows furrowed, lips puckered and lower lip sticking out. It's a sure fire method to help little plants grow. Promise! Try it! This method also works with dogs and babies. Not necessarily the growing part, but definitely knowing they are loved part). </div>
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So on Friday I was telling Sarah that Becca had texted her. Only...it came out all wrong. Somehow my brain switched the words and I said, "Oh by the way, did you know Texta Becca-ed you?" And then I started walking away. Then I realized what I said. I cocked my head to the side (you know, like dogs do when they're confused - at least I think they're confused - cause that's what I am when I cock my head to the side) and pulled my eyebrows together. I then proceeded to laugh so hard that I immediately made no sound, other than my typical this-is-so-funny-I-can't-make-any-noise-other-than-a-weird-sounding-wheeze laugh. My face turned red. I buckled over and rested my hands on my knees for support in my fit of laughter. I couldn't support my weight anymore because all my energy was going to laughing, trying to breathe, and trying even more to not wet myself (I didn't by the way - though it was a close call) and collapsed onto the floor. Luckily Sarah was quick on her feet and snapped this gem of a picture while I was dying on the floor. Good times!</div>
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Remember? I mentioned a wedding? In Austin? It was my cousin Jeremy's wedding. He married Kit. They are such a cute couple - perfect for each other. So glad we got to go and be a part of such a wonderful weekend! Welcome to the family, Kit! Here they are, cutting their cake. </div>
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We don't see these cousins very often (which is sad since they only live a few hours away). But of course, we took the time to get fun pictures. Here are Sarah and I with Emily. She made a face in the picture we took right before this, so we got her back in this picture. My jaw looks quite disconnected, yes? I owe that weird face to my rather large bottom lip. Yes!</div>
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Here is Sarah with Jennifer. Somehow we didn't manage to get a picture with me in there too, which I am quite sad about. I guess we'll just have to bring Jennifer down from Oklahoma to fix that problem. I really enjoyed getting to spend more time with Jennifer as adults. As kids, with her being so much older than I, we weren't close. But now, I think this weekend laid the groundwork for a good cousin-ship!<br />
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Here's Sarah, Katrina, Andie, and I. Sadly, this off-center picture is the last and best of about 10. Sarah is usually very skilled at the self-portrait, but this pose just would not cooperate. Sorry you only have half a face, Sarah!</div>
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This one was off too, and I cut Sarah out of it because I knew she would be upset if I left her in. She looked great with her pouty-face, but she doesn't think so. Can't do a day of picture taking without at least one kissy-smirky picture! :)</div>
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We were SO SO SO excited that Grandma was able to come down from Utah for the wedding. Thanks so much for travelling with her, Aunt Lori!! This was originally just a picture of Mom and Grandma, but I photobombed them! It turned out quite successfully, I think. Grandma looks like she's glaring at Mom, but I'm sure they're are still on friendly terms. </div>
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Oh goodness, I love my Grandma!!! I'm glad we got a picture together! Normally our pictures are of us sitting down, so it's nice to have a standing one. Now if only we can get Grandma to not complain about taking pictures while the picture is being taken so she'll be smiling! But even though she was talking here, I still think this is a great picture! I might even put it on my wall! Hows that, Grandma? (Oh yeah...speaking of pictures on walls, I still need to get you one, Grandma. I'm working on it, I promise! Sorry it's taken me, oh 2 years to get that to you, but I will soon!) Love you, Grandma!</div>
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I'm pretty sure my Mom has the best mother-in-law around. I hope I luck out that much someday. These two have a great relationship and have given me a high standard of what to hope for with my in-laws. Sorry both of your eyes are almost closed! But you both still look fabulous!</div>
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This picture of Grandma and Sarah is pretty much the best ever. I think it might be the best picture that was taken all day by our cameras (not better than the real wedding pictures, just the ones on our phones). Sarah needs to put it up in her room! Grandma - you're gorgeous!!!</div>
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I still cannot believe my little baby niece is 13. And a half! She is growing up so much (sometimes way more than any of us want or are ready for). But Andie and I are becoming very good friends. Though she gets on our nerves sometimes (like any 13 year old - I sure know I got on people's nerves - I even got on my own nerves quite often!), I look forward to any time I get to spend with her. She's a pretty cool chic. Love you, Andie!</div>
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Of course, I have to pull a face while everyone else is smiling. I just wouldn't be me if I didn't. :)</div>
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I sure do love my sister! We are so dang cute! Especially in our boots! Yee-haw!!</div>
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Yeah, we're cute! And glowing. And awesome. And more fun than you can even handle. It's true, just ask me! </div>
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I am always impressed by my ability to make faces in a split-second. I saw Sarah point her phone at me and pulled this face with basically no warning! I crack myself up! </div>
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And now that things are less crazy I will be back to blogging on a much more regular basis. YES!Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03867965332125363701noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347217561801658354.post-20248532656980303362012-04-17T00:16:00.005-05:002012-04-18T07:47:03.715-05:00Best Weekend EVER<div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><p class="MsoNormal">I had a fabulous weekend! I’m still basking in the joy it brought me! It may seem pretty normal to some, but it was definitely not for me.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Weekends are typically pretty boring for me. They include doing homework, feeling bad for not doing enough of said homework, and feeling exhausted from the side effects of 2 medications I take on Friday nights. That’s about it.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The past few weeks have been especially busy and the weekends especially boring. Though I am proud of myself for all the work I’ve gotten done, I’ve been way too busy and way too stressed.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Well, I decided that this weekend, even though I had a paper to write and books to read, I was just going to have fun and not stress myself out. And that is just what I did!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Thursday after class I finally bought myself an iPhone. (yes, it is amazing. Yes, I am so glad I bought it. Yes, I have a super cute teal otterbox. And, surprisingly, no, I am not completely attached to it.) Then Sarah and I went to my best friend Malorie’s house. We brought Taco Bell (cause it’s her favorite). We watched the new Three Musketeers (which is so so good!). We played with little Allie (who is the cutest little girl in the world). We talked about life (the good and the bad). We looked at the picture book Malorie is making of Allie’s first year (I made it in a few times! YES!). We stayed until 12:30 (and would have stayed longer, but Sarah had to work). It was wonderful! (and I can’t think of anything else to put in parentheses for that one…)</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Friday I went to the Temple with Mom. I love going to the House of the Lord, leaving the world behind and worshipping God. I was able to feel the Spirit, pour my heart out to my Heavenly Father, and feel so much comfort that even though my life may not be going exactly how I want it to, my Father knows what He is doing and everything will work out how it is supposed to. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">When I got home, I read the new book, Heaven is Here by Stephanie Nielson. I don’t want to say too much about it now, cause I’m planning a whole post based on it. But it was such a good read! Check it out! Though I didn’t love waking up the next morning with majorly puffy eyes from crying. It was definitely worth it though.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">THEN the best part. Saturday Sarah, Malorie, Allie, and I went to the Zoo! I don’t think I’ve ever been to the Houston Zoo, even though I grew up an hour away. Maybe I did for a field trip or something when I was younger, but I definitely don’t remember it. It was so fun! We stayed for 5 hours. We saw almost everything. Later in the afternoon most everything was asleep which was a bummer, but it was still fun. We’ll have to plan better next time.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">My favorite parts were:</p></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBn3rovlIQov5hyphenhyphenJfZx8bCkP4e6hftV6OtEjbmWppe2YHc36qUvrye0b8NfSuGAk920nlVavnMszilo7FiVLTJKr3UrAMR878j2u00FSX92c92r9B8-LO6EhohQQJZ5YA0VoW5n3cTx19M/s1600/P4140771.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBn3rovlIQov5hyphenhyphenJfZx8bCkP4e6hftV6OtEjbmWppe2YHc36qUvrye0b8NfSuGAk920nlVavnMszilo7FiVLTJKr3UrAMR878j2u00FSX92c92r9B8-LO6EhohQQJZ5YA0VoW5n3cTx19M/s400/P4140771.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732236601749312914" border="0" /></a><div><div style="text-align: center;"><p class="MsoNormal">The Otters (and Allie)</p></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbQFzr1H96gUKQQpE_PzjWcFe43vDmIgbW-2Myk7CVrKwU3allIkJSAQMT_Xyq__VN-j0GiiX9ch4x28tf8FYlF_7LwDwqGGxHSZX3dIQ64mizDpmjln2ZO7Qt4YwoxxeEo-BD9NY-VMxv/s1600/P4140777.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbQFzr1H96gUKQQpE_PzjWcFe43vDmIgbW-2Myk7CVrKwU3allIkJSAQMT_Xyq__VN-j0GiiX9ch4x28tf8FYlF_7LwDwqGGxHSZX3dIQ64mizDpmjln2ZO7Qt4YwoxxeEo-BD9NY-VMxv/s400/P4140777.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732236447086208402" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwWkhQ8Azmut3UuQCh1doKiE5uwTt78K6hT1cKwoX79itvz2VteheFu6e6Sl6c-7INUVZV2oKHAWKBxpDJSV8U6Bd9nrjraq3cIWzNNol3w7KcJ_H7hKvRY2NGQZI-00U6ktru7K5_Ct7T/s1600/P4140773.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwWkhQ8Azmut3UuQCh1doKiE5uwTt78K6hT1cKwoX79itvz2VteheFu6e6Sl6c-7INUVZV2oKHAWKBxpDJSV8U6Bd9nrjraq3cIWzNNol3w7KcJ_H7hKvRY2NGQZI-00U6ktru7K5_Ct7T/s400/P4140773.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732236444566969794" border="0" /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Holding baby Allie</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYAIt5eHYFi-cyody5RaqQgD1sczkBL4uW6tSx5m-7cKmIWJrorinLGmSw7cFB6VWySWFIP8P-XQSsyecWo9bzXpTv8kYw51vNvycYOqIhF9kvIws8-WVLkmm3ZhzlNa65xvX7FbMwNeBP/s1600/P4140795.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYAIt5eHYFi-cyody5RaqQgD1sczkBL4uW6tSx5m-7cKmIWJrorinLGmSw7cFB6VWySWFIP8P-XQSsyecWo9bzXpTv8kYw51vNvycYOqIhF9kvIws8-WVLkmm3ZhzlNa65xvX7FbMwNeBP/s400/P4140795.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732236431193668050" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguzFBxG8cj5yBb_e06PNtB38jaPGAyplh9E-Gg8odKD4tz_ygPOdhT0DwIOyMIJCFLAEa4srEUQsmSlGYvMJ3-U36NFbwmIN2BdOj_P2E1atBWYMZcfwJ3zt8oy4iTnxT23foA-6VILdZe/s1600/allie+and+sheep.jpg" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguzFBxG8cj5yBb_e06PNtB38jaPGAyplh9E-Gg8odKD4tz_ygPOdhT0DwIOyMIJCFLAEa4srEUQsmSlGYvMJ3-U36NFbwmIN2BdOj_P2E1atBWYMZcfwJ3zt8oy4iTnxT23foA-6VILdZe/s400/allie+and+sheep.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732236426290916866" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Petting the Sheep-y! (though I was sad he wasn't fluffier...)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span><span style=" margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto;font-size:100%;" ><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgF-WeH4TOQDfxT2EUaaNacv3kK8r9FzH_cHV8WlxRiPEHIuLCMDA88U_IqD5ypoucP4HiqwYtQU0i_Wka9bMesLlIpH4xs_A1v9PdOZj9k1a3Ptae9veuj1hGbyLT0As5kidYxHcvo7Fn/s400/P4140838.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732235617460909554" border="0" /></span></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Seeing Cosmo the Cougar while wearing BYU gear (Ok, he wasn't Cosmo, but he was a cougar! He's hard to see, but he's up there!)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMeHI_Obj_WYmup6z0pDEwJxUJHRzaZVPj3xAU8dMDDS7SKjxaGRIfAcv27iMs2gpHv816HgMatHnb3c9ZAnZVn-XULIiC_fJdKRqrNmfPey6FN8k5MjxGJxM1tMhJpZWX28-kZ7Hjzqrq/s1600/P4140845.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMeHI_Obj_WYmup6z0pDEwJxUJHRzaZVPj3xAU8dMDDS7SKjxaGRIfAcv27iMs2gpHv816HgMatHnb3c9ZAnZVn-XULIiC_fJdKRqrNmfPey6FN8k5MjxGJxM1tMhJpZWX28-kZ7Hjzqrq/s400/P4140845.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732235615773580226" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Holding Allie some more</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTD72PyU6J14v_2T1Skuy7gLAYt2a8T2r5WE2XXtfNlb2xhFQbXF_J12s7sPYejWfQ2jL73l7vE_2vrl1QidAksH8NoqPqjGOxcokzagYg4T_VBADKkTlFSo-qqMW8mXeLMJArFetVMhIo/s1600/P4140868.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTD72PyU6J14v_2T1Skuy7gLAYt2a8T2r5WE2XXtfNlb2xhFQbXF_J12s7sPYejWfQ2jL73l7vE_2vrl1QidAksH8NoqPqjGOxcokzagYg4T_VBADKkTlFSo-qqMW8mXeLMJArFetVMhIo/s400/P4140868.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732235607671735698" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwk9IV7k9jlw7WpqoBVAroEIb6d-FAtC1laj_86ufMv3uJ17X6LAdgEVCg-V0Z4CGpkB-ZmE1IEghnZybJB0Oujf6ReTx_Nf2EMgp6CLasKuL4FF87pl9nj1wUr-PZjRgV5LtLj9BcRsHQ/s1600/P4140873.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwk9IV7k9jlw7WpqoBVAroEIb6d-FAtC1laj_86ufMv3uJ17X6LAdgEVCg-V0Z4CGpkB-ZmE1IEghnZybJB0Oujf6ReTx_Nf2EMgp6CLasKuL4FF87pl9nj1wUr-PZjRgV5LtLj9BcRsHQ/s400/P4140873.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732235601101972274" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfDRnT8fgD6UpMIcVQq1iscQhS-l0qM1THHL1stmECZYwoK8Diw5hzVMQbMnEa2OcF_p09GLx0F44U2OLSw0YSXA86YunxS1cQKy9nSSUmppW_f9blO2jSp5J2JEB29AgJaFjDtzlr6k7W/s1600/P4140875.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfDRnT8fgD6UpMIcVQq1iscQhS-l0qM1THHL1stmECZYwoK8Diw5hzVMQbMnEa2OcF_p09GLx0F44U2OLSw0YSXA86YunxS1cQKy9nSSUmppW_f9blO2jSp5J2JEB29AgJaFjDtzlr6k7W/s400/P4140875.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732235596031707346" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Our oranges lunch break</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq05aSgJloF9ycQX37DrzWitHugZNPBJA2QrBnXlX55lie1ieqBywIQu0DNd0rdQITPpk0Vfp9wSDHkwrIvNnTk74uR09ke19eVgk1O4221QqHJCcjXxpyLspv38dtliA8poCp-kEcgRWU/s1600/P4140904.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq05aSgJloF9ycQX37DrzWitHugZNPBJA2QrBnXlX55lie1ieqBywIQu0DNd0rdQITPpk0Vfp9wSDHkwrIvNnTk74uR09ke19eVgk1O4221QqHJCcjXxpyLspv38dtliA8poCp-kEcgRWU/s400/P4140904.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732234797860653650" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimyMdOWeIWPbwwfNnlDlt1WafybCm5a6urHYnDPX63zZrrOCYZXi7J97khFV393M5emj1Z3Snhlpu_0BIfdD7nMPz0L9FnwKTZ5lVbGgbYWmzaP0UjXftziLUQ-Q3jY2l18-C-TaSYUCVv/s1600/P4140906.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimyMdOWeIWPbwwfNnlDlt1WafybCm5a6urHYnDPX63zZrrOCYZXi7J97khFV393M5emj1Z3Snhlpu_0BIfdD7nMPz0L9FnwKTZ5lVbGgbYWmzaP0UjXftziLUQ-Q3jY2l18-C-TaSYUCVv/s400/P4140906.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732234784136260114" border="0" /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">The little monkey! (I was very excited if you can't tell!)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjthbEAsj8hi7YOfqW8zeowhIqunRjzqdbwkRnvGStXq_YikQjWkReYhaTYWQGhr5PGxinGvtDIv2PpzZr2P7ixYZf94xOs0kBXv4wS4eCYSft8XvWLdr81gc_7R-zafbtWwK_hT7Bz9Dj/s1600/P4140916.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjthbEAsj8hi7YOfqW8zeowhIqunRjzqdbwkRnvGStXq_YikQjWkReYhaTYWQGhr5PGxinGvtDIv2PpzZr2P7ixYZf94xOs0kBXv4wS4eCYSft8XvWLdr81gc_7R-zafbtWwK_hT7Bz9Dj/s400/P4140916.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732234780198968450" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">The elephants (poor Allie was a little scared)</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"> <p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span>We had so much fun!!! We came back to the apartment, ate Chick-fil-a, took a nap while watching Anastasia, and I held Allie for an hour and a half while she slept (really is there anything better than holding a sleeping baby? I don’t think so! And I was so proud of her for staying quiet with me so her tired mommy could sleep. She is growing up!). We spent another like 3 hours together, just hanging out. Not doing anything in particular. It was so wonderful. I don’t think I’ve been able to spend that much time with Malorie since she got married in 2008. We were together for 12 hours! I have the best, best friend in the world and I love spending time with her more than almost anything else. I am so grateful for her and our friendship. I don’t deserve it, but I’m glad she sees something good in me. I’m pretty sure we should have been sisters. I love you, Malorie!!! Thanks for being such a wonderful friend!!</span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span>Another particularly wonderful part of the weekend was hearing Allie say my name so much. She’s been saying it for a little over a month, but I wasn’t sure she knew who went with the name. But she does! Malorie had her practice saying our names on the way to pick us up. Then she said our names a lot throughout the day, which was wonderful. THEN later in the day I was in the bathroom and could hear her saying, “Where Rachel?” I about DIED!! It made me so stinkin’ happy! Then apparently she screamed our names on the way home. AWW!! I love that little girl so much! Thanks for sharing your beautiful daughter with me, Malorie!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span>I love my life! I had such a good weekend. And because I was doing things I wanted to, I didn’t feel bad for not doing my homework. Normally I just waste time and then get mad at myself for being lazy. Not this time! I loved every second of it! </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span>And I’m also proud that I forced myself to stay on campus to write my paper until I finished it today. Yay!</span></p></div>Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03867965332125363701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347217561801658354.post-65768320138929880052012-04-11T23:34:00.005-05:002012-04-12T08:09:51.694-05:002/30: Fears, Tonight’s Thoughts<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; ">To know what I'm talking about, read <a href="http://lovellmetender.blogspot.com/2012/04/30-things.html">this</a>.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; ">Describe 3 legitimate fears you have and explain how they became fears:</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; text-indent: -0.25in; "><!--[if !supportLists]--> <span style="font-size: 100%; "> 1) </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in; font-size: 100%; ">I’m pretty freaking scared to death of spiders. I’m not really sure where this fear came from. When I was a kid, there was a huge banana spider outside my bedroom window and I wasn’t afraid of it. Now, if that happened, I’d die. I don’t know what changed to make me scared. But oh boy, I am! I have too many scary spider stories. I can’t even type them cause they freak me out. Some of you have probably heard them. Please note: I just typed some key words about them to explain how horrible they are, but got too freaked out and deleted it. A friend of mine convinced me to let a tarantula climb on my arm (for moral support – she wanted to for a specific reason but needed someone to do it with her and because I love her so much, I agreed). Fortunately for me, she never got it set up, so I got out of it. Thank goodness. I probably would have had a heart attack and died. Just talking about this gives me the heebie-geebies! I think I need to take a shower after typing about this…</span></p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; text-indent: -0.25in; "><!--[if !supportLists]--> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; "> </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">2) </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in; font-size: 100%; ">I’m scared of crazy bridges. Not just your normal, run-of-the-mill bridges. I can handle short ones or straight ones just fine. The ones that get me are the super long or super curvy ones. For example, most of the on-ramps for Beltway 8 in Houston freak me right out. I have to focus on my breathing and tell myself repeatedly that I’m not going to die. For some unknown reason, I always think that something is going to happen to the car and I’m going to lose control and careen over the edge of the bridge and die. It’s kinda horrible. I also always get just a bit anxious when I drive to Galveston on those long bridges. It’s not too bad, but I am a little hyper-aware on bridges like that. The worst example of this was when I was driving to Florida. There’s this huge bridge through some swamp in Louisiana. It’s something like 50 miles long. It takes an hour to drive on. Nothing but swamp for miles and miles. I couldn’t help but think about how the bridge was surely going to collapse and then we’d crash into the water but we wouldn’t die in the car – we’d be able to get out but then we’d have to swim to land, but that wouldn’t be for another 20 miles so we’d definitely either drown or get eaten by alligators. And with my luck it would be either my mom or my niece that got attacked first and then I’d have to fight off the gator and…and…and…</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in; font-size: 100%; "> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in; font-size: 100%; ">So many horrible things went through my mind the first time we crossed it. The second time – it was even worse. EW! I’m never driving on that bridge ever again.</span></p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; text-indent: -0.25in; "><!--[if !supportLists]--> <span style="font-size: 100%; ">3) </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; "> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in; font-size: 100%; ">I’m afraid of leaving this life and it being like I never existed. I’m afraid of being forgotten. I’m afraid that when I die hardly anyone will be at my funeral.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in; font-size: 100%; "> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in; font-size: 100%; ">I’m afraid that there will be no mark left behind because of me. Now, I know that these things won’t happen. But my fear of being irrelevant drives a lot of what I do with my life. I want my life to have meaning, not for my own benefit, but for others. I want to do things that influence other people for good. I want them to feel the love of God because they knew me. I want to help them in their hard times. I want to life them up and give them hope. And if I’m successful in doing that, I don’t have to be afraid of my life having no meaning. In some ways as I’m writing this I feel incredibly narcissistic. But mostly I realize that because I value helping others so much and want so badly to do that, I’m afraid that I will fail.</span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; text-indent: -0.25in; "> In other news...</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; ">Today I had a cool experience. I got to observe some Emotionally Focused Couple Therapy. I’ve been really interested in this model of therapy for a while, have read a book, seen some videos. But I’ve never seen it live until tonight. It was SUCH a good session. Amazing things happened. I could not believe how much progress I saw in just one session. I already thought I wanted to use this model, but wasn’t completely sold yet. After seeing tonight, I am 110% sold. I loved it! I was glued to it! I cried, I laughed, I thought deeply. I can’t say enough wonderful things about this session. A lot of people may say that emotions don’t matter that much. I don’t buy it. They matter so much. Beneath everything, there is an emotion that affects us. We learn to ignore it and deny, but it’s there. And when we let it out – oh man! That’s where the magic happens. For various reasons, I almost didn’t go tonight. I am SO glad I did. My experience was invaluable!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; ">I also took the MMPI today. It’s a personality assessment. It’s 566 questions or something ridiculous like that. It took me an hour. I thought my hand was going to fall off. Seriously. It was insane. Don’t ever take it, unless you enjoy the feeling of immense pain in your hand from meticulously filling in over 500 stupid little circles til you go crazy. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; ">Also – I’ve been boycotting Glee since the episode in the Fall about the characters all having sex. I don’t think we should encourage sexual activity in teenagers. Some may disagree, but I feel pretty strong about it. However, my sis and I found out that Matt Bomer was going to be on last night. We absolutely adore him. Like, I’m fairly positive he is the most attractive man that has ever lived. So, we gave in on our boycott for one night. And let me tell ya – it was the best decision ever. Matt Bomer on his own is pretty fantastic. Add him singing and there is just nothing better. If you didn’t see it, you should look up the song he sang on youtube, Somebody that I used to know. SO GOOD! I love me some Matt Bomer!!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; ">Night!!</p></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSb2LMDjTwsblAzKbkeAg39kKiVvZYBV_q1Qyi9FAE5c59DVZqSD6xkNYyILyGC7pB_pZ6hyphenhyphenb1RWHlxWmVUMGZ7EG9BMxLutgsh5H7s8alz5XW-RT0dp-zyGGri6xr6i32B52xsZu55VMw/s1600/006.JPG" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSb2LMDjTwsblAzKbkeAg39kKiVvZYBV_q1Qyi9FAE5c59DVZqSD6xkNYyILyGC7pB_pZ6hyphenhyphenb1RWHlxWmVUMGZ7EG9BMxLutgsh5H7s8alz5XW-RT0dp-zyGGri6xr6i32B52xsZu55VMw/s400/006.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5730368271562038946" /></a>Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03867965332125363701noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347217561801658354.post-42941475570792163682012-04-08T22:40:00.005-05:002012-04-27T10:21:51.300-05:00Procrastination<div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: 100%;">Words, so many words. And none of them fun.</span></div>
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I’m trying to do research for a presentation I have Tuesday at 1. My brain is having a very hard time staying focused. If I’m gonna look at pages and pages of words, I want them to be fun. This is boring. Boo. I am so distracted! But at least it's with something much more entertaining - me! </div>
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Why yes, I do sometimes take breaks from homework by taking pictures of myself in a dang-cute hat with my face and hair lookin’ fantastic while neck down I’m in my purple, starry nightgown. Don’t you?</div>
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In other news, have you seen the new edible Easter basket grass? It’s blue and pink and green. It’s especially Green because it reduces plastic waste. It takes it away from the landfills and puts it instead in our little tummies (the waste and the grass part, not the plastic part – I would never recommend eating normal, boring, tasteless, plastic Easter basket grass). Sarah added it to our surprise Easter baskets this year. Partly because we had both already said we were curious how it would taste and partly because silly Target ran out of the normal, wastey Easter grass. I was pretty excited to try it. I ripped off a piece of the pink grass and shoved it in my mouth as fast as I could. Then I pulled it back out to look at it closer thinking, “wait, this is the edible stuff, right? Cause I don’t taste a thing!” It mostly just tasted like paper. Which is I guess a little better than plastic. I realized I would never know this pink grass’ true identity unless I tried it again. I turned the corners of my mouth down, shrugged my shoulders while raising my eyebrows and popped it back in. <i>Paper, definitely paper. Oh wait! Its dissolving. Ohhh, there’s the flavor. </i>Turns out it has to dissolve before it lets the light flavor seep out. It’s okay, but nothing to freak out about. I’m glad Sarah got some cause otherwise I would have wondered for the rest of eternity what the edible grass tasted like. Now I know. Where was this stuff when I was a baby and would often eat dirt and grass while my parents videotaped me (rather than stopping me)? It would have come in very handy. </div>
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My Easter morning surprise! Thanks, Sarah!</div>
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Sarah also got us fun new herb/flower gardening stuff! 8 new packets of seeds! I can’t wait til this presentation is done so we can plant them! As you can see, the pots and patio table are all teal. So is the little owl planter decoration thing we have so loving named Owlie. He's a hoot and a half! (did you catch that? hehe) We have such a skill for giving personalities to cute inanimate objects.</div>
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I’m not the kind of girl who claims to have a signature color because what does that even mean and what makes them so special they can claim a color anyway? But if I was one of those girls, teal would mine. I think this arose out of my love affair with the color green while I was married to blue. Blue was my favorite color for as long as I can remember. Then all of a sudden green started growing on me and I felt like I was cheating on my blue-hued love. Then I realized that (unlike in real affair situations which I highly discourage) I could combine my loves and make teal. And what a glorious epiphany that was! My life will never be the same. </div>
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Thanks to my friends Stephanie and Brianne for feeding me delicious dinner. The steak was perfectly cooked, the candied yams were delectable with their marshmallows, cinnamon, and oats, the green bean casserole provided the perfect dipping for my roll, and the pretzel salad made my heart sing. Thanks for being such great friends. <span style="font-family: Wingdings;">J</span> I’m super excited about our season tickets to the Hobby Center. I feel all kinds of cultured at the mere thought of the theater productions we shall see. </div>
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And now, back to the no-fun, make-me-want-to-do-anything-but-read-them words…</div>
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G’night!</div>
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</div>Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03867965332125363701noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347217561801658354.post-76037554179093022262012-04-08T11:00:00.003-05:002012-04-08T12:47:27.594-05:00He Is Risen!<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; ">I love Easter Sunday.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">I love that my sister surprised me with an Easter basket full of candy and fun new gardening stuff. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">I love all the Easter candy that can only be found this time of year (jelly beans, Cadbury eggs and mini eggs, peeps - YUM!). </div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">I love Easter dinner and how it usually consists of something a little special (a few years ago I had asparagus for the first time ever on Easter - now it's one of my favorite veggies). </div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">I love the bright fun colors that people wear (today I'm wearing a pink blouse, white skirt - and my cowboy boots). </div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">I love the sun shining lightly through my window. (Did I just say that? Normally I hate the sun - I must really be in a good mood).</div><div style="font-size: 16px; font-family: Georgia, serif; "></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">I love seeing pictures of little kids doing Easter egg hunts (get those up on Facebook, friends!). <div><br /></div><div>But more than anything else, I love that I get the time to think about my Savior Jesus Christ and all He has done for me.</div></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">I love that Christ loved me enough to pay a ransom for my sins. I love that He suffered for me in the Garden of Gethsemane. I love that I know He not only suffered for my sins, which are many, but that He felt all of my pain, my loneliness, my despair, <span style="font-size: 100%; ">my fear. He suffered everything I will have ever felt and ever will feel so that in my darkest hours, He would be able to be there and say to my spirit, "Rachel, I know this is hard. I know you are hurting. I know exactly how you feel right now. I know this because I suffered for you. I love you so much that I never want you to feel alone with your pain, so I felt all this for you. If you trust in Me, if you lean on Me, I can help you carry your burdens. I can comfort you and put my arms around you so you know you are not alone. I have graven your image in my hands. I did it all for you, Rachel. I paid the price for your sins. Turn to me and I will forgive you. Together, we can me it. I am here for you. Do not despair. Someday you will be able to see me again, and hug me, and cry with me. I can't wait for that day! But until then, turn turn to me. You may not see me, but you can feel me. I am right here. All this Rachel, because I love you!"</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span ><br /></span></div></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">I love that because He rose from the grave, so will I. So will everyone I love. I will get to meet my brother who was taken from this earth before I was born. I will get to see my 3 grandparents who have passed and get to know them so much better than I did here. I will get to meet my ancestors. And we will all be together forever. This life is not the end. This life is just a moment in our eternal lifetimes. I am so grateful for that knowledge!</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">I am teaching in Relief Society today about the eternal nature of our souls. I know that we lived as spirit children with our Father in Heaven and Jesus Christ. <span style="font-size: 100%; ">I know that we chose to come to this life to grow and progress so we could return to live with Them. I know that we have existed forever and we will continue to exist forever. I know that because of the Gospel of Jesus Christ we can be forgiven of our sins and we can live forever with our families in the presence of God.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">I am so eternally grateful for my Savior Jesus Christ. I am so grateful for His Gospel that teaches me how to live my life as He has asked. I am so grateful for the knowledge of the Plan of Salvation, that God loves us enough to allow us to grow through trials, and that He has provided a way for us to return to live with Him again.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">When I think of these glorious truths I want to climb on my roof and sing praises to my Savior! He loves us! He is Risen! We will live again! We can be forgiven of our sins! We can have eternal JOY! He is glorious! He is perfect! He is the definition of Love! He is my Savior and Redeemer!</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">Click <a href="http://www.lds.org/">here</a> to see a beautiful video of the Atonement, death, and Resurrection of Jesus Christ. It's the video you see first on the page.</div><div style="font-size: 16px; font-family: Georgia, serif; "></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">Click <a href="http://mormon.org/plan-of-happiness/">here</a> to learn more about the truths I've expressed here. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">I know some of you believe differently than some of what I have expressed here. Some details may be different, but I think we can agree that Jesus is the Christ. He died for us and He lives again! Praise to the Lord, the Almighty!</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">Happy Easter Sunday, all. Remember the reason we celebrate.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-size: 16px; font-family: Georgia, serif; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbyqyZzYF3kUJwsrPNWXVTxDavSY_Cq_cqg30AL-WeUXjuJUBiLKDtxR6ymuvhDZ3p7x6oJxPY9YO-RF6yX0A3_O1zaxYd1-zYYj1stO6tdfRsS1URaBuauT82A_wja84YCYDuVnMiGe4r/s400/Christ.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729087266332029938" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 187px; height: 270px; " /></div>Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03867965332125363701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347217561801658354.post-60456868333624159782012-04-07T15:31:00.003-05:002012-04-07T19:28:59.464-05:001/30, Random Things<div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span style="font-size: 100%; ">To know what I'm talking about, click </span><a href="http://lovellmetender.blogspot.com/2012/04/30-things.html" style="font-size: 100%; ">here</a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span>List 20 Random Things about yourself:</span></b></p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; margin-left: 19.5pt; text-indent: -0.25in; "><!--[if !supportLists]-->1.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; "> </span><!--[endif]-->I sleep diagonally across my bed. My sisters often ask me what I’m going to when I get married and have to share the bed. Well, I hope my future husband doesn’t mind curling in a ball and sleeping on one of the corners, cause even when I fall asleep normally, I often end up diagonally anyway. </p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; margin-left: 19.5pt; text-indent: -0.25in; "><!--[if !supportLists]-->2.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; "> </span><!--[endif]-->I love the sound of the french horn. No other instrument comes close to its beauty. Hearing good french horn brings me more joy than almost anything else. In high school, on a band trip to Disney World, I told my friends that when I die, I want to be listening to a french horn. Still do. True story. </p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; margin-left: 19.5pt; text-indent: -0.25in; "><!--[if !supportLists]-->3.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; "> </span><!--[endif]-->I have lived in 5 states (born in New Jersey, grew up in Texas, went to college in Utah, spent a summer doing research in Washington, served my mission in Florida, and now am back in Texas). I also like to claim that I lived in England, though really I just visited my parents for extended periods while they lived there. While in Europe we visited Scotland, stopped at an airport in the Netherlands, spent a few days in Germany, drove in Switzerland, Austria, and France, and toured part of Spain. I LOVE travelling and want so badly to do more of it. </p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; margin-left: 19.5pt; text-indent: -0.25in; "><!--[if !supportLists]-->4.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; "> </span><!--[endif]-->I greatly aspire to have a huge library in my home someday. Wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling, dark wooded bookshelves full of mostly books, but also some knick-knacks and accessories. A sliding ladder to more easily access the top shelves. Dark green walls (for the bits that aren’t covered with bookshelves). Huge, dark red leather arm chairs, love seats, and ottomans. Fluffy pillows. A globe on a stand. Side tables and coffee tables to match the bookshelves. Antique table lamps that don’t match, but compliment each other. A huge, soft rug. A big ceiling fan. Can you picture it? Cause I sure can! Someday when I’m able to build a house, the most money will go into the library. <i>Sigh…I want it now! </i><i><span style="font-family:Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-char-type:symbol;mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings">J</span></i></p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; margin-left: 19.5pt; text-indent: -0.25in; "><!--[if !supportLists]-->5.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; "> </span><!--[endif]-->I have never dyed my hair. I won’t always be able to say that because I know I will in the future. Those pesky white (not gray) hairs have got to go!</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; margin-left: 19.5pt; text-indent: -0.25in; "><!--[if !supportLists]-->6.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; "> </span><!--[endif]-->I have three scars on my legs. One from kneeling on a jack when I was a kid, one from sliding down a rusty, broken slide on our swing set that used to be in the back yard, and one from being sling-shotted off a golf cart while on vacation with my best friend. </p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; margin-left: 19.5pt; text-indent: -0.25in; "><!--[if !supportLists]-->7.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; "> </span><!--[endif]-->I am currently trying out gardening. And by gardening, I mean growing things in small pots rather than in the ground seeing as I live in a 3<sup>rd</sup> story apartment. And by things, I mean one planter of Oregano. That’s all we have so far. If it works well, we will graduate to more herbs and maybe flowers. Right now there are little tiny sprouts just barely coming out of the soil. I talk to these little sprouts in a high-pitched, cutesy, baby talk manner every day – lips puckered out and eyebrows furrowed. I am sure the little sprouts enjoy hearing my voice and are glad to know they are loved. </p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; margin-left: 19.5pt; text-indent: -0.25in; "><!--[if !supportLists]-->8.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; "> </span><!--[endif]-->My bathroom is decorated in sage green and lavender. The perfect color combination for a bathroom. </p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; margin-left: 19.5pt; text-indent: -0.25in; "><!--[if !supportLists]-->9.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; "> </span><!--[endif]-->Christmas is by far my favorite holiday. I can’t wait to have kids to celebrate Christmas with. There are so many traditions that I can’t wait to do with my future family! Here’s one that I am really excited about: I have a book called The Autobiography of Santa Claus. It’s genius! There are 24 chapters. I plan on reading one chapter a night to my kids starting December 1 and going til Christmas Eve. It’s a story based on service, not on presents, which I think is great and so relevant to our day. And though it is about Santa Claus, it is very religious. I love it and I can’t wait!</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; margin-left: 19.5pt; text-indent: -0.25in; "><!--[if !supportLists]-->10.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; "> </span><!--[endif]-->My favorite sound (other than the French Horn) is wind blowing through pine trees. I feel peaceful and happy just thinking about it. I could spend a day in a grove of pine trees and do nothing but listen and think and be perfectly happy. My next favorite sound is waves crashing on the beach. </p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; margin-left: 19.5pt; text-indent: -0.25in; "><!--[if !supportLists]-->11.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; "> </span><!--[endif]-->My favorite thing to do while at the park is swing. I plan on having a huge adult-sized swing-set in my backyard some day. It will probably have a large, comfy seat on it so I can swing for longer periods of time without my bum falling asleep! Have you gone swinging lately? If not, you should!!</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; margin-left: 19.5pt; text-indent: -0.25in; "><!--[if !supportLists]-->12.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; "> </span><!--[endif]-->I lived in Utah for four years, and somehow never went skiing. How did that happen? Future husband, whoever you are and wherever you are: you best plan on fixing that little problem!</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; margin-left: 19.5pt; text-indent: -0.25in; "><!--[if !supportLists]-->13.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; "> </span><!--[endif]-->I almost constantly have music playing in my head. Mostly instrumental music, though songs from the radio often get stuck in my head too. I still randomly will hear my 8<sup>th</sup> grade trumpet region music for hours at a time. I often hear soundtracks, such as from Narnia, the Lord of the Rings, How to Train Your Dragon, etc. I love music so much. I used to get annoyed at the music in my head because I felt like I was wasting so much time that I could have used to be thinking about important stuff. Now that I have more important stuff to take up my brain space, the music is a welcomed guest. </p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; margin-left: 19.5pt; text-indent: -0.25in; "><!--[if !supportLists]-->14.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; "> </span><!--[endif]-->I am horrible at keeping up with planners. The only time I successfully used them was on my mission when I was basically forced to. I always buy them and use them for two weeks and then they don’t get touched again for months. I would like to change this about myself, but every time I try, it doesn’t work. But I keep trying – I’m sure someday it’ll stick.</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; margin-left: 19.5pt; text-indent: -0.25in; "><!--[if !supportLists]-->15.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; "> </span><!--[endif]-->I love reading books about dystopias. Some of my favorites are: The Hunger Games, the Matched series, Fahrenheit 451, the Giver (with the 2 sequels), Brave New World, and the Alliance. I have a goal to someday write a book. If that book happens to be fiction, I think it’ll be about a dystopia. </p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; margin-left: 19.5pt; text-indent: -0.25in; "><!--[if !supportLists]-->16.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; "> </span><!--[endif]-->I have a freckle on my eye. Ok, I’m not really sure it’s a freckle. I don’t know what it is. But there is a little brown spot outside the rim of the iris in my right eye. It’s weird, but I like it. </p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; margin-left: 19.5pt; text-indent: -0.25in; "><!--[if !supportLists]-->17.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; "> </span><!--[endif]-->I have a strange love for and obsession over the tv show Supernatural. It brings me more joy than any other tv show ever has. I don’t know how to explain it. I mean, Jensen Ackles is one good explanation for this love, but it is certainly not all of it. I used to be embarrassed to admit it was my favorite, mostly cause I don’t know many people who watch it and it’s really hard to explain to someone who’s never seen it. It sounds super lame when I try. But, I am no longer embarrassed – I love it too much to hide. <span style="font-family:Wingdings;mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-char-type:symbol;mso-symbol-font-family:Wingdings">J</span> I am however, still very embarrassed by my love for the Vampire Diaries. That one I really have NO good explanation for, other than Ian Somerholder. It’s my guilty pleasure. Supernatural, it’s just a pleasure – no guilt involved. </p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; margin-left: 19.5pt; text-indent: -0.25in; "><!--[if !supportLists]-->18.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; "> </span><!--[endif]-->I much prefer dark, gloomy skies to bright, sunny skies. The summer I was on my mission I actually yelled at the sun every day. It was too hot and made me uncomfortable! So I let it know how annoyed I was at it. I enjoy the sun every once in a while. But once it gets to be over 90 degrees, give me clouds and cool things down! Some people get depressed when it’s cloudy all the time – I get happy!</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; margin-left: 19.5pt; text-indent: -0.25in; "><!--[if !supportLists]-->19.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; "> </span><!--[endif]-->I once almost got killed by a hurricane. My sister and I went to the beach 3 hours before a hurricane made land fall. We were walking on the jetty and a huge wave came and knocked us off our feet. Luckily there was a cross post on the rails that caught us. If we had been about 3 steps behind where we were, we would have gotten washed out and battered against the rocks. Maybe I’m being a little dramatic in saying I was almost killed, but we definitely would have been hurt really badly.</p> <p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; margin-left: 19.5pt; text-indent: -0.25in; "><!--[if !supportLists]-->20.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; "> </span><!--[endif]-->The thing I hate most about being a girl is having to blow-dry my hair. I try to avoid it as much as possible. Ladies – there has got to be a better way to make our hair look good than blowing hot air on our heads right after we’ve showered and gotten all clean, only to make us all sweaty and not clean again. Someone, please find a solution to this life dilemma. </p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; margin-left: 19.5pt; text-indent: -0.25in; "><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; ">I hope you enjoyed learning more about me! What are some random things I may not know about you? What’s unique about you?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; ">Next up: Describe 3 legitimate fears you have and explain how they became fears. </p></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvy3gJs2IZUNIR7vbl5exCezFK0m__2BI4eWfXI4FawLxxCnCS7snIDWrr4Pf_Jem1AtKb9n-cnMp48TSLt5vX_lZPBOj6OS1YCaPd7kLmb5gNqHlxPDpE3Qu_twRXNC26CyF12J6sPQ8l/s1600/march+2012+download+468.JPG" style="font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvy3gJs2IZUNIR7vbl5exCezFK0m__2BI4eWfXI4FawLxxCnCS7snIDWrr4Pf_Jem1AtKb9n-cnMp48TSLt5vX_lZPBOj6OS1YCaPd7kLmb5gNqHlxPDpE3Qu_twRXNC26CyF12J6sPQ8l/s400/march+2012+download+468.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5728759237804420946" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">(wink, wink!)</div>Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03867965332125363701noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347217561801658354.post-89216178687622034372012-04-07T15:05:00.007-05:002013-01-23T00:56:16.928-06:0030 Things<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 100%;">Remember how I mentioned in </span><i style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 100%;"><a href="http://lovellmetender.blogspot.com/2012/03/experiment.html">The Experiment</a></i><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 100%;"> that I found a blog off Pinterest and that’s how I decided to start doing more blogging? Well, this is what I found that day. It’s a list of 30 things to get to know someone more. The original author uses it on her blog and I’ve decided to do it as well. I won’t use it every day, but a few times a week.</span></div>
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<a href="http://cherishinghopesanddreams.blogspot.com/2012/01/30-things.html">Here’s the original link</a></div>
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30 Things</div>
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<span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px;">1. <a href="http://lovellmetender.blogspot.com/2012/04/130-random-things.html" target="_blank">List 20 random facts about yourself.</a></span><br /><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px;">2. <a href="http://lovellmetender.blogspot.com/2012/04/230-fears-tonights-thoughts.html" target="_blank">Describe 3 legitimate fears you have and explain how they became fears.</a></span><br /><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px;">3. Describe your relationship with your parents.</span><br /><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px;">4. List 10 things you would tell your 16 year-old self, if you could.</span><br /><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px;">5. What are the 5 things that make you most happy right now?</span><br /><span style="line-height: 17px;">6. What is the hardest thing you have ever experienced?</span> <span style="font-size: 100%; line-height: normal;">7. What is your dream job, and why?</span> <span style="font-size: 100%;">8. What are 5 passions you have?</span> <span style="font-size: 100%;">9. List 10 people who have influenced your life and describe how.</span> <span style="font-size: 100%;">10. Describe your most embarrassing moment.</span> <span style="font-size: 100%;">11. Describe 10 pet peeves you have.</span> <span style="font-size: 100%;">12. Describe a typical day in your current life.</span> <span style="font-size: 100%;">13. Describe 5 weaknesses you have.</span> <span style="font-size: 100%;">14. Describe 5 strengths you have.</span><span style="font-size: 100%;">15. If you were an animal, what would you be and why?</span><span style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 17px;">16. What are your 5 greatest accomplishments?</span><span style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 17px;">17. What is the thing you most wish you were great at?</span><span style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 17px;">18. What has been the most difficult thing you have had to forgive?</span><span style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 17px;">19. If you could live anywhere, where would it be and why?</span><span style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 17px;">20. Describe 3 significant memories from your childhood.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 17px;">21. If you could have one superpower, what would it be and what would you do with it first?</span><span style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 17px;">22. Where do you see yourself in 5 years? 10 years? 15 years?</span><span style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 17px;">23. List your top 5 hobbies and why you love them.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 17px;">24. Describe your family dynamic of your childhood vs. your family dynamic now.</span><span style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 17px;">25. If you could have dinner with anyone in history, who would it be and what would you eat?</span><span style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 17px;">26. What popular notion do you think the world has most wrong?</span><span style="font-size: 100%; line-height: 17px;">27. What is your favorite part of you body and why?<br />28. What is your love language?<br />29. What do you think people misunderstand most about you?<br />30. List 10 things you would hope to be remembered for.<br /><br />Now you'll probably get to know me way more than you'd ever actually want to! Yay! Feel free to join in on the fun on your own blogs or comment away to let me know some of these things about you!</span></div>
Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03867965332125363701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347217561801658354.post-65733109029730695782012-04-06T14:33:00.004-05:002012-04-07T19:29:58.939-05:00To Mom, on your birthday<div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; font-size: 100%; "><span style="font-size: 100%; ">Dearingest, darlingest, Momsie:</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-weight: normal; "><span><i>(but not Popsicle cause I didn’t think about this 3 weeks ago for your birthday – maybe next year!)</i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: normal; font-size: 100%; "><b>Happy Birthday! </b>How does it feel to be 29 yet again? (you know, that’s already weird since your oldest kid is 34, but how weird is it gonna be to be 29 when I, your youngest, is older than that in just over 4 years?)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; font-size: 100%; ">As you know, I am a loser and have not gotten you a birthday present yet. I will get you one soon, I promise! But until then, I have decided to write you a letter to express to you my love and gratitude. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: normal; font-size: 100%; "><span style="font-weight: normal; ">Mom, you really are the perfect mother for me. Heavenly Father knew what He was doing when He sent me to you and Dad. You might have questioned His reasons when I was born and you found out I was a girl, instead of a boy like you really wanted. (I still remember hearing for the first time about this while we were in England and Dad read to me from his journal of when I was born. I can’t believe you told the doctors to put me back if I was a girl! But I forgive you, cause we both know I am way cooler than any boy ever could have been!) I like to think that I was sent to you for your benefit, but I definitely know I was for my own benefit. I have learned so much from you and</span><b> I am forever grateful that you are mine</b>.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: normal; font-size: 100%; "><span style="font-weight: normal; ">Thank you for often reminding me of how much fun we had together when I was little. I don’t remember most of that time, but there are pictures and stories that remind me. I love that while you were cooking, you let me sit at your feet playing with the pots and pans. I remember being so excited when you would clear out that one cabinet so I could take a flashlight, a snack, and coloring stuff inside it and play while you did what you needed to in the kitchen. I was so sad when I grew too big to play in there. (And even more sad that cabinet no longer exists! Though I do love the new kitchen). I love that when I was in Joy School, you were one of the teachers, too. I remember the lesson we had at our house where we learned to tie our shoes. I got all the shoes out of the laundry room and put them in the living room. I wanted to know how to tie my shoes before everyone else got there, so you showed me how a few times on one of Dad’s work shoes and I sat there for what seemed forever practicing and practicing. I don’t know if I did learn before my friends got there, but I like to think that I did. I remember eating tuna fish sandwiches and cheetos for lunch ALL the time, while drinking from my little green cup. I remember once, after watching Barney, pulling up a stool next to you in the kitchen and singing the “I love you, you love me” theme song. I was so excited to sing it to you because I felt that so strongly. I remember wanting so badly to get on the bus with Sarah and Michael to go to school and being so sad that I wasn’t old enough. But you were always there to give me a big hug and play with me so I could enjoy being home too. I loved going to the Family History Center with you and playing while you helped other people find records of their ancestors. (Although I did NOT like the time that I stapled my finger… OUCH!) I remember being so excited in the first few years of school when you would come help out at the computer lab – I was so proud of you and proud to be your daughter! </span><b>I still am. </b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: normal; font-size: 100%; "><span style="font-weight: normal; ">Thank you for being my friend when I was a teenager. Not in the way that some mothers would rather be the friend than the parent. You were the parent. You had rules and expectations for me and you made sure that I followed them. But you also showed me so much love that even when I got mad at you for small things, or you got mad at me for bigger things, I knew you loved me and I couldn’t stay mad for long. I felt so bad for some of my friends who didn’t have good relationships with their moms. I couldn’t imagine what that would have been like. I always knew that I could count on you and you would be there for whatever I needed. Even though I had bad self-esteem and thought that no one liked me or wanted to my friend, you showed me that I was fun to be with, that I was funny, that I had worth as a person. You <i>wanted</i> to spend time with me and talk with me. You listened to my ideas and encouraged me in the things I wanted to do. I loved when I was in basketball and we would stay up way too late watching the BYU Women’s Basketball games, even though I had to wake up in the morning for seminary. You encouraged me and told me that I could play for BYU if I wanted. I ended up quitting basketball for band, but you showed me that you would always be supportive of my dreams. I remember sitting in the library and talking for hours and hours about anything and everything. While most teenagers wanted to be out with friend (and though I sometimes did too), I wanted to be home, talking with you. I am so grateful that you made home a place I wanted to be, where I felt safe and loved. I remember telling people that you were my best friend (along with some other people, of course). And Mom, I don’t say it enough anymore, but </span><b>you still are one of my best friends</b>.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 100%; ">Thank you for teaching me about the Gospel, and how to love the Gospel. I never doubted your faith in Christ or in His restored Gospel. I saw how much it meant to you and it made an impression on me. You showed me how I can fulfill my callings in the church. I may not make handouts for my lessons or spend so much time each month visiting teaching so many sisters, assigned and unassigned, like you so faithfully do, but I have learned to accept the call to serve others and put my heart into it. I love the many Gospel centered talks we have had – in Yellowstone, at home, driving to Bay City, going to and from the Temple, on the phone. Growing up, it was so important to me to have someone who I could talk about the Gospel with so I could understand my own beliefs and how they fit into the Gospel. You were that someone. I always knew that I could talk to you about the Gospel and my own spiritual experiences and that you would not only listen, but get excited about it all with me. You still are that someone – just a few weeks ago I shared my new method of scripture study with you because I knew you would encourage me and get excited about it with me. Part of me wanted to yell it from the rooftops because of how much it was helping me, but really, the only person I truly wanted to share it with, was you. My love of the Gospel started with you. You showed me how to recognize the Spirit, how to get the Spirit when I needed it, and how to evaluate myself when I wasn’t feeling it so I could change and get the Spirit back. You taught me that Christ comes first. You never forced me to go to early-morning Seminary, but you encouraged me to go and pointed out to me how it was helping me, and I always went. You encouraged me to study the Book of Mormon, the Bible, and to pay attention to General Conference. You taught me about how our standards are not there to punish us or keep us from having fun, but to protect us and bring us joy. <b> You showed me, <i>through example</i>, that the only way to be truly happy is through living the Gospel of Jesus Christ.</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: normal; font-size: 100%; "><span style="font-weight: normal; ">Thank you SO much for always encouraging me to go on a mission. I couldn’t count the times that you let me know how important your mission was to you and how much you wanted me to be able to have that experience. Even when I said I just wanted to get married, you said that I should wait because I would learn so many valuable things on my mission that I would need as a wife and mother. Though I’m not either of those, I know that it is true. I will be a much better wife and mother someday than I ever would have been if I had not gone on a mission. You never pushed the idea on me, just constantly reminded me what a wonderful experience it would be. If you hadn’t talked about it so much from the time I was young, I honestly don’t know if I would have gone. I didn’t do it for you, but in part, I did it because of you. You let me know how important it was to you, and I wanted that for myself. And because of you (and the Gospel, of course), I was able to touch many lives and help many people make steps to come unto Christ. I became better because of my mission, and so did many people that I influenced. </span><b>Thank you for that. </b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: normal; font-size: 100%; "><span style="font-weight: normal; ">Thank you for being supportive of my life now. You never questioned my desire to be a marriage and family therapist. You only supported me and encouraged me. When I doubt myself, you remind me that I can do this. You point out my God-given strengths and remind me of how they will help me to help others. You let me ramble on and on about what I’m learning, even though it’s probably sometimes boring. You encourage me to better myself in every area of my life, not just in my schooling. You lovingly remind me of the things I need to improve on. No matter what, I always know that </span><b>you have my best interest at heart. </b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 100%; "><span style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; ">Thank you for not being perfect. This letter so far may sound like our life is easy and we never have any problems. But we do. Our family life is hard. There are times when all of us, I’m sure, want to scream because of our family is kinda crazy! We have a lot of struggles of all different kinds. We all get mad at each other, tease too much, waste precious time together doing things that don’t matter. We aren’t perfect. But we try. We try to make the best of the situations we are put in. No matter what happens between us, we know that we love each other and we would do anything for each other. We learned that from you, Mom. We aren’t perfect, but we don’t have to be. We get mad, but we forgive and love. No matter what happens, our family is going to make it. We are going to struggle, fight, cry, make mistakes, but we are in this life together. And we are going to make it. We are going to be re-united with ALL our family members.</span><b style="font-style: normal; "> We are going to be together forever, now and in the eternities.</b> And Mom, with the help of Dad, Heavenly Father, and Jesus Christ, <b><i>it’s because of you.</i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; font-size: 100%; ">I love you, Mom! Happy Birthday!!!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; font-size: 100%; ">Love,</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; font-size: 100%; "><span style="font-size: 100%; ">Rach (your little punkin)</span></p></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV-Ie20QeSQ8HSY0DV23xFFAzQgEbvQBVboVqCj8nK6fx7Gg75-lEZk3D-QLgEXjFLXD4O9dmyazhgvTVY1Ot01D8ge2lP3DtPxHeeleS36Kuniurz4UWGWjaGwNNV0zJ-JkUx7cy8eb0K/s1600/Mom+Birthday.jpg" style="font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; font-size: 100%; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 373px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV-Ie20QeSQ8HSY0DV23xFFAzQgEbvQBVboVqCj8nK6fx7Gg75-lEZk3D-QLgEXjFLXD4O9dmyazhgvTVY1Ot01D8ge2lP3DtPxHeeleS36Kuniurz4UWGWjaGwNNV0zJ-JkUx7cy8eb0K/s400/Mom+Birthday.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5728373212793644050" /></a>(Sorry it's a few days late, Mom - life's been crazy!)Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03867965332125363701noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347217561801658354.post-19118986139357133732012-04-03T22:43:00.004-05:002012-04-07T19:31:59.521-05:00Darn my emotions!...I have so many thoughts and feelings whirling around inside me right now, I don't even know how to make sense of it all. So, I'm going to write it all out instead of working on my homework. Yay for procrastination! At least with this I can feel productive in my procrastination rather than staring blankly at the TV watching other people buy houses that I want. <div><br /></div><div>(Dear House Hunters on HGTV: you're making it very hard for me to keep the 10th Commandment. I am coveting my neighbor's house and their ability to afford a house and that they get to go look at houses and that some of them get to move to other countries all while I'm poor in an apartment. Shame on you for causing me to sin...)</div><div><br /></div><div>So my co-therapist and I got a new client tonight. For confidentiality reasons, I can't say much about this client. Though, I will say that she is a girl and that she is my first client who is younger than me. I think that gets the necessary details across. </div><div><br /></div><div>I have this problem of having WAY too much empathy for my own good. It's one of those annoying things that is both a strength and a weakness. Do you have any of those? Where you're in an interview and they ask what your biggest strength is and you answer. And then they ask you what your biggest weakness is and you say the same thing and it sounds horribly cliche and fake. But yet, it's true. It drives me crazy. But really, empathy is a big strength and a big weakness for me.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's a strength because, hello!, I'm going to be a therapist. You need empathy to be able to align with clients and give them the caring support they need to improve their lives. I am really good at putting myself in other people's shoes and thinking about how hard being in their situation would be. I really do feel what they feel, at least to some extent. I think this is part of the reason I love reading so much - I feel the story, not just think about it. Usually, I am able to express my feelings of empathy to others and it comforts them, or at least I hope it does. There have been quite a few times when friends have told me about some of the hard things they've been through and I'm sitting there boo-hoo-ing and they don't even shed a tear. I assume this is part of what makes me a good listener and makes me one of those people that everyone goes to when they are struggling and just need someone to listen. I love being that person and I think I'm pretty good at it. See? Strength.</div><div><br /></div><div>But then, my empathy is also a weakness. Because sometimes I have too much empathy. I put myself too far into other people's shoes and have a hard time living my own life because I am thinking too much about the other person. I become overwhelmed, at least for a little while, by pain and hurt and the desire to take all of that away from the person who shared with me. </div><div><br /></div><div>That happened to some extent tonight. Here was this girl who was struggling with some pretty hard stuff. And though I haven't dealt with the same things she talked about, I could relate so easily to her. In some ways, she was very similar to me when I was her age and I could see myself in her. My heart broke for her. I sat there listening, trying so hard to think of every possible thing I could do to help her, and but really just wanting to sit there and cry with her. I felt so connected to her. When I let her know how strong I could tell she is, I was choking up and tearing up. And because I had so much I wanted to say I wasn't breathing enough. And, as I found out later, my chest and face turned bright red. (Which by the way, I just noticed this happens last semester. Have I always turned red in emotional or embarrassing situations? Cause I never knew). I probably looked and sounded crazy to her. But I was having such a strong emotional reaction that I couldn't help it! I held my composure (somewhat) and focused on her like I was supposed to, but inside I was a mess.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then I drove home. Oh great day. I was even more of a mess! I always worried that my empathy would make it hard to be a therapist because it would be hard to leave work at work. And yes, it is. I thought about this girl and battled tears the whole way home. Because I want so badly to help her. To let her know that things will get better and to make things better RIGHT NOW. That she is amazing. That she has incredibly worth if only she could see it. I wanted to give her a big hug and take everything away so she could be happy. Neither of which I can do. (Stupid ethics!) </div><div><br /></div><div>But, though I may not be able to do those things for her, there are many things I can do. I can research more on treatments that can help her. I can be at every session ready to focus solely on her. I can tell her over and over how strong she is and how much I admire her courage. I can give her hope that things will get better. I can challenge her negative thoughts so her mind can be filled with positivity. I can help her realize what resources she has available. I can make myself a better therapist. I can smile at her and reassure her and call her by name. I can help her understand and process her pains. And most of all, though she will never see it, I can pray for her. </div><div><br /></div><div>This was the first time in doing therapy that my empathy has run away with me to aid someone else. And it is hard. It is scary. It is going to take some getting used to and I need to learn how to deal with it productively.</div><div><br /></div><div>But would I change it? Would I want less empathy?</div><div><br /></div><div>No, never. </div><div><br /></div><div>Not when it can help me to help my new client. Not when it can help me to help others. Because really, out of everything I want in life, the thing I want the most, is to help as many people as I possibly can.<br /><div><br /></div></div>Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03867965332125363701noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347217561801658354.post-76207803698339110752012-04-02T08:54:00.006-05:002012-04-07T19:32:22.607-05:00Monday, Monday<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; ">Well, Conference weekend is officially over. Tonight I'm going to download all the talks to my iPod so I can listen to them on my 40-minute-each-way commute. I'm pretty excited about that. </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">I had planned on posting something last night, but then my sister and I had some friends over for dinner. They just got back from visiting Australia for two weeks. We missed them a lot and are glad they are home safely! I made authentic Navajo Fry Bread, which I learned how to make from a dear friend in Florida, Sis LaFontaine. She's a full-blooded Navajo and has been making fry bread since she was 4 years old or something. I don't make it nearly as well, in fact, I used the KitchenAid to mix the dough, which is probably a sin. But each time I make it, I get a little better. The first time I attempted fry bread, each one was only barely bigger than the palm of my hand and shaped all weird. This time, some were still a little smaller than I would have liked, but some were big and fat, almost like she makes them. One ended up looking like a butterfly...not really sure how that happened, but whatever. It was delicious! Thanks, Sis LaFontaine, for teaching me to make Fry Bread and for being such a great friend and example of selfless, Christlike service!</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">After dinner, I still planned on writing, but then my sister turned on Holmes Inspection. Oh. Great. Day. That show makes me so terrified to ever buy a house. I think I'll get like 5 inspections done before I ever buy a house. Then someday if I am ever able to build a house, I will tell them, "Use that blue wood that doesnt mold and that purple foam spray stuff and that membrane junk around the foundation to keep out water." I like to use technical terms like that. I'm pretty smart. :) But seriously, that show makes me never want to live in a house, or an apartment... but then I remember living outside wouldn't be any better. Ew. I think I get freaked out by gross things way too easily.</div><div style="text-align: center;font-size: 16px; font-family: Georgia, serif; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">Then I realized I had a ton of homework to do including reading about 100 pages of a book on how to get past affairs. I think I have decided that while I definitely want to work with couples, and inevitably there will be some who have had affairs, I definitely do not want to specialize in affairs. I'm glad there are people who do that, but I don't think it's my cup of tea. Which is good, since I don't drink tea. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">So now, on Monday morning before heading to campus, I am finally getting to the blog. I even wrote it in planner of things to do today. I have a busy week ahead of me, and with <a href="http://lovellmetender.blogspot.com/2012/03/experiment.html">the experimen</a>t, I need to make sure I make time for blogging.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">Which brings me to the point of all of this. I hate Mondays. Especially Mondays like today when I have an insane amount of homework to do this week and I woke up 45 minutes before my alarm. That was annoying. I toss and turn all night long and I woke myself up because I was all tangled in my sheets and untangling myself took enough energy and brain power that I couldn't fall back asleep. Does that ever happen to anyone else? I'm still mad about it! This week I have to present a journal article on solution focused therapy, write a 10-15 page paper on emotionally focused couples therapy, research and prepare a presentation on Asperger's Syndrome, and read for classes. EW! I'm a little worried.</div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">It's times like these when I wish I wasn't still in school. Right now, I would so much rather:</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">Play French Horn in a symphony. I used to dream of playing with the Orchestra at Temple Square. Or being in the pit for Broadway musicals. Or be in orchestras used for movie soundtracks. Right now, I'd even settle for having a French Horn at all. I have a mouth piece. And a practice mute. And lots of music. But no horn. Anyone wanna buy me one? The ones I want are only like $4,000... I miss French Horn so much sometimes that it hurts. I think after I graduate and have a job, it'll be the first big purchase I make. And let me tell ya, I can't wait.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">Be a book critic. I love reading. More than I can even express. I think the thing I hate most about being in school is that during the semester, I barely have time to read. I love all kinds of books. I love it when I'm reading and the rest of the world falls away. I become so engrossed in the story that I become the characters in my mind. I feel what they feel and want what they want. A whole new world opens up with each book I read and I get to experience so many things I could never experience on my own. I could go on and on about how much I love reading. Eventually I'll get that booklist tab finished and share more with you all about my love of books. But wouldn't it be great to get paid to read?</div><div style="font-size: 16px; font-family: Georgia, serif; "></div><div style="text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">Be independently wealthy and travel the world. I think today would be a great day to visit the pyramids in Egypt. Or walk along the Great Wall of China. Or swim in the Great Barrier Reef. Or visit the Louvre. Or take a cruise to Alaska and walk on a glacier. Or bungee jump in New Zealand. Or ice fish in Denmark. Or see the world's tallest building in Dubai. Or canoe down the Amazon. The list could go on and on.... I think I need more money and vacation.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><div></div></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">But unfortunately, I can't do any of those things today. Instead, I'll drive to campus in the rain, file some stuff and enter data for work, do some research, go to class, drive home, and do more research. And I'll do it with a smile on my face. Cause I know I am doing what I'm supposed to at this point in my life. I love learning how to be a therapist. And oddly, I do like school. And even though I can't do all those things I want to, I can dream about them. And that's enough.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">Happy Monday, all!</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2w7bRRWW8Iwpp8ioiC-UTGXvqTpEn8lF7RaHa0txD5lYYwUAfX1zdWT3aqw9u85kRbpcU8YdvU7DFAxBZbwRaCT8ADtqkRHD-8-gzvSAANVniVBGihrmnUdgBU57f2InOPlxKR8TiU5Bk/s400/August+2011+030.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5726812869792063826" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; color: rgb(0, 0, 238); display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /><div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; "></div></div></div><div style="text-align: center;">Here I am with my head in the clouds! (Actually this was taken last summer while rafting in Island Park, Idaho. Best second home ever!)</div></div></div>Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03867965332125363701noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347217561801658354.post-46440202475222633662012-03-31T13:57:00.005-05:002012-04-07T19:32:44.655-05:002 years!<div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">The whole Church is celebrating my 2 year anniversary of being home from my mission! Oh, wait, no – that’s General Conference. Oops! <span style="font-family:Wingdings;mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-char-type:symbol;mso-symbol-font-family:Wingdings">J</span> Watch it <a href="http://www.lds.org/?lang=eng">here</a>.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">For any readers who are not LDS, General Conference is a twice-a-year event in which all members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints gather to listen to the leadership of our Church. We believe that, just like in New Testament times, Christ’s Church is led by ordained Prophets and Apostles. This is our chance to hear what the Spirit has revealed to them that we need to hear to help us in these times, with our own personal trials. It’s amazing! The Spirit is so strong during Conference. Check it out! Or for more info on what I believe, click <a href="http://mormon.org/">here</a>!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">Today marks two years since I came home from spending the best 18-months of my life serving the Lord in the best mission in the world (Florida Jacksonville!). I learned so much, felt the guidance of the Spirit every day, met some of the best people in the world, and strengthened my testimony of Jesus Christ more than I could have in any other way. I still miss it every single day. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">I can’t believe it has been two years that I’ve been home. It certainly doesn’t feel like it. I can’t help but look over the past two years and think about what my life has been like since serving Christ as one of His missionaries. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">In the past two years, I:</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">Went back to Florida to visit my mission twice. Once about a month after getting home and again this past Christmas to see the baptisms of a wonderful friend and her son who I taught while serving in Lake Butler. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">Fell in love with my best friend’s daughter, Allie. She was due the day I came home from the mission, but was 11 days early – I can’t believe she’s two already! Love her SO much!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">Went on a cruise with my awesome sister, Sarah, to Key West Florida and the Bahamas. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">Went to San Diego to see a dear friend get married. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">Saw Wicked – a dream come true.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">Received training to work on a huge research project at BYU, the Flourishing Families Project. I had previously helped out by doing data collection in Seattle before my mission. This time I did behavioral and relational coding for some of the taped interviews. With this, I also made some amazing friends who I now miss dearly. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">Started my senior year at BYU.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">Also worked at the Dean’s Office in the School of Education. Made some great friends here too, and got used to wearing business casual to work. Good thing, since I’ll be doing that forever. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">Studied and took the GRE. EWW! I’m SO glad that’s over. I did about averagely on the verbal and quantitative sections, but did pretty darn well on the writing section.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">Applied for graduate school at BYU and University of Houston – Clear Lake.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">Got invited for interviews at both schools and went to both.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">Got accepted into both programs!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">Decided to go to UHCL. Oh man, that was a hard decision!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">Went to the Houston Rodeo twice – saw Rascal Flatts the first time, and Blake Shelton this year. (Oh yeah, and I finally bought my first pair of cowboy boots for the rodeo this year!!)</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span>Learned how to belly dance with my roommates!! It was a blast and I miss it a lot! But let me tell ya, these hips don’t lie! </span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; ">J</span><span> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">Spend some time at my parent’s cabin in Island Park, including a little vacation with some of my friends from the coding lab. So much fun!!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">GRADUATED from BYU in Marriage, Family, and Human Development. Oh yeah, and I graduated Magna Cum Laude!! All that hard work paid off!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">Started graduate school to get a Masters in Marriage and Family Therapy. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">Got hired as a TA for one of my Professors, still doing that til May. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">Made lots of new friends, both at school and at church, who I love. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">Got called as a Relief Society teacher.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">Got officially diagnosed with a chronic illness and started treatment (more posts on that specifically to follow).</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">Had 5 weeks off for Christmas (compared to the usual 2 at BYU) and my first Spring Break since graduating high school in 2005.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">Started seeing clients in Practicum, and have already terminated with one couple!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">WHOO! That’s all I can think of right now, though I am sure there are a lot more. Though the past two years have been really hard in many ways, they’ve also been great. Life hasn’t given me what I expected, or wanted, but I know that Heavenly Father knows what He is doing. He has a bigger plan for me than I have for myself and all of these little things, expected or not, are shaping me into the person He wants me to be. I am truly blessed! </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">And now, I’m goin’ to Shipleys before the next session of Conference starts. Again, you can watch it <a href="http://www.lds.org/?lang=eng">HERE</a>!! </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">Happy Saturday, all!</p></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: Georgia, serif; "><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Mf3lDH3K737NAVlMH5RtEP2wr86XGlhULUQxEHRCFR_szjOIwPTiJX9f5Tgffhpo0cH462yfMr8Nuq3tGTYGN35HiniPNlmCx2P-Sja-AGSjxmdeeKzeXM73ra1VkRDGic4bMMTBJ4nu/s1600/close-up.JPG" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: Georgia, serif; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Mf3lDH3K737NAVlMH5RtEP2wr86XGlhULUQxEHRCFR_szjOIwPTiJX9f5Tgffhpo0cH462yfMr8Nuq3tGTYGN35HiniPNlmCx2P-Sja-AGSjxmdeeKzeXM73ra1VkRDGic4bMMTBJ4nu/s400/close-up.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5726137504781875218" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">there is no reason for this picture, other than that it cracks me up... :)</div>Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03867965332125363701noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347217561801658354.post-29619306460244432232012-03-30T11:04:00.004-05:002012-04-07T19:35:12.555-05:00The Experiment<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; ">I have a love/hate relationship with this here blog you’re reading. I love the last few things I’ve written on it, since starting grad school. I hate the fact that I’ve only written 4 times since then. I love the idea of having a blog, but I hate how I feel inadequate to have anything to say most of the time. I love writing, or at least want to love writing, but I hate…writing. (How does that even make sense?!) I love sharing my ideas with people but I hate feeling like a failure when I go 3 months between posts. See my dilemma? It’s a doosey. </span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">As some of you may have seen a few weeks ago on Facebook, I stayed up til 4 am my first night of spring break reading blogs. Oops. See, I’ve always heard people talk about all the great blogs they read and thought, “how on earth do they find these blogs? Cause I can’t find any.” Then I stumbled upon <a href="http://cherishinghopesanddreams.blogspot.com/">Hopes and Dreams</a> through pinterest. And she linked to <a href="http://www.cjanekendrick.com/">C. Jane</a> and <a href="http://nieniedialogues.blogspot.com/">NieNie</a>, so I found them too. And I think I might be a little bit addicted. Just slightly though…I haven’t stayed up til 4am again. That’s good, right?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">I always thought that I couldn’t have a <i>real</i> blog because I’m single and in school and am too busy to do a ton of fun things. My perception of blogs was <span style="font-size: 100%; ">that they are there to share with family and friends all the fun things you’ve done with your husband and kids and how wonderful and perfect your life is. Well, that doesn’t really work for me. Because I have no husband or kids, and sometimes my life is kind of boring because I’m working hard in school to become a Marriage and Family Therapist.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">Then I discovered these blogs. And yes, the writers are all married. And they all have kids. And they all do fun, exciting things. But, that's not the only thing their blogs are about. In reading I came across posts that made me think, “huh – I could write something like that…” All these ideas came into my mind about how I can use my blog and have fun with it and not feel inadequate because of the stage in life I’m in. So, that’s what I’m going to do.</p><div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">And here’s why. In reading those blogs, I have seen myself in these other women’s experiences and thoughts. They’ve got me thinking about things and about myself and about the world in ways that I wouldn’t have thought on my own. I gained strength <span style="font-size: 100%; ">from them to help me in my hard moments. I have more thoroughly found myself in their writing. That’s kind of weird sounding, but I am loving it!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">So, I want to do that for other people. I think there are thoughts, ideas, experiences, trials, that I have that might be able to help someone else. Or just entertain them. Or make them grateful for their lives. Or make them think about things from a new perspective. That’s exciting to me. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><b>Here’s the experiment</b>. I am going to be an active blogger for the next 3 months. It’s my trial period to see if I like it, if I can come up with things to write about, if I feel like people are reading and being helped. Three months, then I’ll reevaluate and decide if I want to keep it up or let it go.</p></div><div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">So, here’s where you can come in. If you like what I write, if you want me to continue writing, let me know! Either on facebook, in comments, or send me an email. Click that follow button at the top left side of your screen. Because though I am doing this for myself, if I’m not reaching anyone at all, I’m more likely to stop when my experiment is over. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">Thanks for sharing this journey with me!</p><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVoRxW-eQDo5b7unfDeVDup8C6HvmZhg3tHMET00ENiy5kapoWNLM3YJgXp8WqJ_WOJ1ZeiDM1uwZ8YjtaVg1ZehyVCg7HeTpDysZsfuYWK3FJ9TUiyCfsQC08120LojKPz-o8pPNnEqet/s400/rodeo.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5725727258130800210" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 278px; height: 400px; " /></div><div></div> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><br /><!--[endif]--></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><o:p> </o:p></p></div>Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03867965332125363701noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347217561801658354.post-56819266509277029972012-01-03T15:06:00.007-06:002012-04-07T19:39:52.228-05:00Moving Mountains<div style="text-align: center;"><span>Coming home from a mission is har</span><span>d. I was asked a few days ago what the hardest thing about being home is. Luckily, I had been thinking about that a lot lately, so I knew how to answer. This might take some explaining – so, I hope it makes sense.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left; "><br /></span></div> <img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSGLiGTDZSFCtx5XaxPX63oBfOcm41X4XEmsdjW8PVORPjUSiV415XFm5MOaocHezi3pb_8Ugttz1mJDCjmtWNul3MKBEh3Ia9sTur8cPEknZd6Fd24qeWRQZqhWygfLMa54PgfQmVqiX2/s400/mountain+2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693526158188121010" /><span style="text-align: center; ">As a missionary, I had almost daily experiences that reassured me that the Lord was directing my life. There were so many times that I could back on my day and see how the Lord had led me to accomplish His work. There were even many times that bad things would happen, but by the end of the day I could look back and see that those things had to happen for something else good to happen. For example, I was sick most of my mission. I actu<br />ally developed rheumatoid arthritis about halfway through. Because I was so sick, there were times that I was not able to get out and work as much or as hard as I wanted to. It was a daily struggle that had a big impact on my confidence as a missionary and my feelings of self worth. But when these negative feelings would get really bad, the Lord would give me an experience to show me that He was still pleased with my efforts. He knew my limitations and knew that I was doing the best I could and He blessed </span><span style="text-align: center; ">me for that. Many days when I wasn't able to do much because I was sick, we would find someone who just got home from work, or had only a few minutes that they were available, or some other time constraint, that if we had not gotten there exactly when we did, we would have co</span><span style="text-align: center; ">mpletely missed that person and lost the opportunity to help them feel the Spirit by testifying of Christ and His restored Gospel. The Spirit would hit me so hard during these times that the Lord </span><span style="text-align: center; ">knew </span><span style="text-align: center; ">my situation and directed my day perfectly so we would find who we needed to find, when we needed to. It was amazing every single time. I grew to rely on this direct guidance of the Spirit and crave it. I loved seeing the Lord direct my life, in large and small things. My testimony grew so much and I learned over and over again the power of TRUSTING in the Lord to use me as an instrument in His hands.</span><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Fast forward to now. I’ve been home for 21 months. There have been times that I have seen the Lord’s hand in my life. He has directed me and I have tried to keep the Spirit with me so that I could be led according to God’s will. But life is different now. I wake up, I go to class and work, come home, study, and go to bed. There isn’t as much need for the Lord to direct my life because it is routine. I know I am where I need to be and for the most part, doing what I need to be doing. But I no longer get the daily assurances of the Spirit that I am where I need to be, doing what I need to be doing to serve God and bring about His purposes. I can’t complain about my life now, but it is just so different. I miss doing things that have direct and immediate implications for myself or other people. I know there are some things I can do to be more available for experiences like this, but overall this is just how non-mission life is for me right now. I’m not complaining, just recognizing that this is the hardest thing for me about not being a missionary.</p><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl2aHHpgr14gLKUq0gmwJiLqmFaGdlUtnnkyKJT1X-YKe_6NKGQWX0pFDRATria0Gm4WdfbBK4RFob-31fzADJf_2remLmOK9RDzG9MfTIg-I4evODpOivPYusxJGBf852tON2TrggriK0/s400/mountain+3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693526361888020450" style="text-align: center; float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 259px; height: 194px; " /><span style="text-align: center; "></span> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">This feeling in general has been weighing on me lately. This past semester was really busy. Then add on the effects of rheumatoid arthritis, and I was not able to reach outside of myself very much the past while. But I knew that I wanted to, and I prayed to be able to see the Lord’s hand directing my life. I knew that one way for me to be more readily available was through helping others, so I prayed for that as well. I just wanted to know that my life had meaning for more than just myself; that the Lord could and would still use me as an instrument in His hands to help others. So, I prayed, and tried to prepare myself. I wanted to see the Lord moving mountains in my life. Because that is when I am happiest and I needed more joy in my life.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">The Lord answered my prayers! </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">I have a friend who was in my ward last year in Provo. Actually, when we were in Provo, I probably would have only called her an acquaintance. My roommate was much more her friend than I ever was. She was amazing. She taught Sunday School in the ward and I LOVED her lessons. I always felt the Spirit so much when she taught and I could see how much the Gospel of Christ excited her and influenced her in ways I admired and wanted for myself. She was so friendly. And she was gorgeous! I think the combination of all these attributes intimidated me. I didn’t reach out to her and become very good friends. We had a few conversations that I really enjoyed but mostly I would just watch her and think, “I wish I could be more like her. If I had to choose one person that I know to emulate, it would be her.” Then I moved back to Texas and she continued her life in Provo. I thought about her every once in a while when I would see things on facebook, or when I read her blog. But she was mostly just someone I admired and wished I could be more like. I regretted not getting closer to her, but I knew there really wasn’t anything that could be done about it. She was a missed opportunity.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Then I read her blog andshe had written about something horrible that had happened to her. She didn’t specify what it was, but I knew it was bad and my heart broke for her. I didn’t even know what happened, but I was crying for her. And I wanted to help. But what could I do? We weren’t close. I couldn’t ask her, “Hey, I know we aren’t really friends, but what happened and can I help? From Texas?” So, I prayed for her quite a few times. I put her name on the Temple prayer roll. I thought about her a lot and hoped that whatever she was going through wouldn’t keep her from being the amazing person that I knew her as. Of course, from her blog posts, I knew it wasn’t holding her back much because she knows how to completely turn to Heavenly Father in hard times. But still, I prayed. I though that was all I could ever do.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Our Relief Society had a Christmas party at the beginning of the month. I walk in and am about to sit down and then there is my friend from Provo! What?! We hugged and asked how each other was doing and went our separate ways for the meal. Turns out that she was visiting one of her old roommates who now lives in my ward. I knew that I wanted to talk to her more and ask how she was really doing, but I did not know how! So again, I prayed that if I needed to talk to her, I would have the courage to and would know what to say. At the end of the party, we were told that if we wanted to, we could help wrap present for the family we were giving Christmas to. I saw her walk towards the door, so I hurried to go talk to her, thinking she was leaving. She was just going to wrap presents, so I sat down and wrapped with her. Remember, we weren’t close at all before, so I had the hardest time knowing what to talk about! Finally, we were done wrapping and stood up and just started really talking. I don’t remember now what we talked about, but it was a good conversation. I left excited that we were better friends and hoping that in some way I was able to help her, if only giving her someone she knew to talk to in a new place. I knew she would be at the ward Christmas part the next night, so I was excited to be able to see her again and hopefully become even better friends.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH4HupRh9wjLizndD5NePwh2PYNDg3L9_kYgx1-WBm3ItRd4L1zc0gB2NI9mvq1f6c8vTk5hDwx4_jngTUuj6qjegXDO5A3ZXP5P3FAjOYyWfF3tLkNHBfrjHqOzv5qsIzZbgRfSYAVn7r/s400/mountain4.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693526825745431778" style="text-align: left; float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 251px; height: 201px; " />The next day was horrible! I did not want to go to the activity. I didn’t feel good, my sister and I tried shopping and it was just frustrating. I was in a foul mood. I almost convinced myself to skip the ward party. The only thing that made me go was that I wanted to see my friend again and felt like I needed to talk with her more. I now know that the bad mood was just satan trying to keep us apart. I went to the party and again, waited til it was over to talk to her. I sat down and again struggled to know what to say and what to talk about. Luckily, after a few minutes we were able to get into a rather deep conversation and it was much easier to talk then. We talked about so many things! From our confusion about individual realities, to my mission, to our spiritual journeys, to the trials we were going through, to the knowledge that the Lord brought us together. It was probably the most meaningful conversation I had with someone in all of 2011. I loved every second of it. We both laughed our heads off, then cried, and didn’t even notice that almost everyone was gone and everything put away. We were just lost in our own little world.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"> I am still amazed by the time we shared together. She let me know that she now knew that I was the reason she came to Texas – so that I could help her, and so she could help me. I needed to know that the Lord would still use me to help other people. I had been feeling so insignificant. Then the Lord brought my friend down FROM UTAH so that I could help her. That knowledge alone helped me so much. I was able to feel the Spirit so strongly and give of myself, which I hadn’t been able to do in a long while. I was having some self-esteem problems and she just told me how great I am and I believed her. Usually I have a hard time taking compliments, but this experience was so huge and real that how could I not believe her? Things like this DO NOT just happen. There was not one second of coincidence that weekend in the time we spent together. The Lord orchestrated all of it – to help her, and to help me.</p><div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Moving Mountains.</p><span style="text-align: center; "><div style="text-align: center;">That is exactly what Heavenly Father did with this friend and I. And every part of our story had to happen the way it did. We talked about how we wished we had become closer while we lived in the same apartment complex. And while I still wish we did and am saddened by all those missed opportunities, I think our friendship happened exactly when it needed to. Like I said, I don’t know exactly what happened to her, but from what I knew of her before, from her blog, and from things she said, I can guess. And if we had been closer I am sure she would have felt like she needed to give me all the details, and I would have asked for them. I bet always having to talk about it is incredibly exhausting and hard for her. I am so grateful that she didn’t have to explain things to me. She could just say, “I’m going through a really hard time and it sucks!” She didn’t have to relive it. It was just like my mission – things didn’t go how I wanted them to, but they were exactly what the Lord knew needed to happen. I was upset that we weren’t friends previously, but the Lord showed me that we weren’t supposed to be yet, so that I could be there for her in a way that not many other people could. And not only was I able to be there for her, but she was able to help me in ways that I don’t think anyone else could have either. I needed her just as much as she needed me. It didn’t matter that we live 2,000 miles away from each other. Our Loving Father knew we needed each other and sent her to Houston. It had to be here, where she knew no one but me and I had a desire to make her feel welcome. And it had to be the weekend when there were two ward activities for us to see each other, because I almost never see her friend at church on Sunday because our ward is so big. Every little detail happened exact</div></span></div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center; ">ly how Father knew it needed to. Satan tried to prevent it. I am so grateful I did not listen to him, but followed the Spirit instead. The Lord moved so many different mountains to bring us together and I will FOREVER be grateful. I consider this girl one of my best friends. Not because we’ve spent lots of time together and know each other super well, but because we had such a deep and profound experience together. When that happens, how can you not develop an incredibly strong bond?</span></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUwfEsEFxOnDLuQcd2irTonK8Rsh7Y86GLGZXopOARSHd7GpbcOAScTJtgff7jrnDgHwd0MWQUauhFky1I_XQTdUdGaDSN0VbK0oM2tYmAiXf4hG_1qmbSHWcEkZEOKz8i-mH9Srx2seVQ/s400/mountain.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693515539411955170" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 259px; height: 194px; " /><div style="text-align: center;">I feel like a different person after this experience. The Lord does still direct my life. He does love me and wants me to feel important. He has a work for me to do and I feel so much more prepared now to sacrifice myself to do Heavenly Father’s will. I am so grateful for the Atonement of my Savior, Jesus Christ, who made it possible for me to repent and be worthy to serve God. And for the healing power of the Atonement – to heal my friend, and to heal me. </div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGe8AqFgyAjyHt_FPtXdXpTvz66nrVbJKU_asuCnTS_WxWGZ6hrfhOtRY9weuyQOL252tkLKIo5nylrl5Q2AQwjIQBMhw_TKH9lEQHAxg-0asiksB3W34b4DG5AG2HsoLFwi1sqJLU29IU/s400/mountain+5.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693527215819771074" style="text-align: center; float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 259px; height: 194px; " /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">There are a few big things in my life that I can look at and know the God lives and the Restored Gospel is true purely because those things happen. This experience with my friend from Provo is one of them. There is no way it was coincidence. If there was no other evidence that God lives and loves His children but this experience, it would be enough. We are each so loved. And the Lord will do whatever it takes to help us. Even move mountains.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">“God does notice us, and he watches over us. But it is usually through another person that he meets our needs.” - President Spencer W. Kimball</p></div></div><div><br /></div>Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03867965332125363701noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347217561801658354.post-456603416359094092011-09-18T02:05:00.001-05:002012-04-07T19:36:22.817-05:00After All We Can Do, Narnia Style<div style="text-align: center;">The Chronicles of Narnia are pretty much my all time favorite books and movies. Some may say the movies aren't that great, but I absolutely LOVE them. I just re-watched Prince Caspian for about the 20th time tonight while doing some work that didn't require a huge amount of brainpower. There is a scene in this movie that brought me to tears the first time I saw it and brings me close to that each time I've seen it since. Do you remember this part?</div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4p81Rj1KPS-0ZBPY4S0QxkFLIO3cbEqxY3B_QthvDXsioRysBGZ4sCaua7l5KVz9qnP2F2jiqLb9h9zH079gYw-Quus6pTo4HiRVkz9AX7gtMr0h0W_On_bmDg3-oRTJC7O9P-HVvxLW5/s1600/lucy+%2526+aslan.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 171px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4p81Rj1KPS-0ZBPY4S0QxkFLIO3cbEqxY3B_QthvDXsioRysBGZ4sCaua7l5KVz9qnP2F2jiqLb9h9zH079gYw-Quus6pTo4HiRVkz9AX7gtMr0h0W_On_bmDg3-oRTJC7O9P-HVvxLW5/s400/lucy+%2526+aslan.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653593292653615602" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Let me remind you in case you forgot. Peter, Susan, Edmund, Prince Caspian and the Narnians are fighting the Telmarines who are trying to take over Narnia. Before the battle started, they sent Lucy out to see if she could find Aslan because she was too young to fight. And because she was the only one who believed in Aslan enough to have seen him since they returned. She's in the middle of the woods and Aslan <i>finally</i> shows up, awakens the trees and sends them to fight with the rest of Narnia. The trees completely freak out the Telmarines and they retreat to the river. They get to the bridge they had built and stop. Lucy, little Lucy, is standing alone on the other side of the bridge. She reaches into her cloak and pulls out her little dagger, cocks her head to the side, inviting them over, and waits. Then Aslan walks up next to her, roars really loud to call the river spirit to come destroy the bridge and the battle is over. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Do you realize how amazing this scene is?! Some people when I've talked with them about it, don't see any significance, but to me it is huge. Here's Lucy. She's little. She probably fought plenty during their first stay in Narnia, but now she's back to her small body and her siblings think she is too weak to fight. She probably is too weak physically. But she goes, she pulls out her dagger and she stands on the other side of the bridge waiting for a whole army to come towards her. She never looked away, never flinched. Just stood there, completely confident. But where did her confidence lie? In Aslan. I'm sure she knew she would not be able to fight the Telmarines on her own, but she also knew that she wouldn't have to. But the great part is, she was willing and ready to do her part, small as it may be. She would have fought fiercely with that dagger if Aslan had asked her to. She was ready to fight the forces coming toward her, because she had someone infinitely more powerful than them by her side.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Are you catching the connection here? We need to be Lucy!!! We are all constantly standing across from evil forces who want nothing more than to bring us down. To destroy us, whether physically, mentally, emotionally or spiritually. We stand against the forces of Satan. And we need to pull out our daggers, ready to fight them head on. Because we do fight them everyday. With every temptation to do wrong, or not do right, we are fighting the might of Satan. And really, we don't have that much to fight him with on our own. But, thanks be to God, we are NOT alone. We, like Lucy, have someone infinitely more powerful than the forces we face standing by our sides. Jesus Christ, who Aslan represents in so many beautiful ways, is there with us every step of the way. He can handle those forces. He can protect us from harm. All He asks is that we do what we can with what we are given. Lucy didn't have a sword or a bow and arrows. She had a tiny dagger. But she used it. She did everything she could, small as it may have been, and Aslan took care of the rest. That is exactly what Christ does for us. He asks that we give Him all we can. It doesn't matter the amount, but that it is truly and honestly our best. And He takes care of us. He not only fights the forces of Satan for and with us, but He takes away our sins when we lose a little bit of the battle. He makes us clean again. How amazing is that?? Right now I kinda feel like I have a plastic butter knife to fight with. It's not much. But I am doing all I can to try to fight Satan in my own way and I know that my Savior is by my side, helping me fight and making me stronger. I could not accomplish anything without Him. But because of His amazing Grace, I don't have to ever be alone. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">One of my favorite verses in the Book of Mormon is 2 Nephi 25:23. </div><div style="text-align: center;">"For we labor diligently to write, to persuade our children, and also our brethren, to believe in Christ and to be reconciled to God; for we know that it is by grace we are saved, after all we can do." </div><div style="text-align: center;">I used to think that meant we had to be basically perfect, and then the grace filled in. But that's not how it works at all. All we can do doesn't have to be perfection. Sometimes all we can do is very small. But He knows what that is and His grace covers EVERYTHING else. We just need to honestly try. Not only does grace cover us after all we can do, but despite all we can do. Because even the best person cannot even come close to saving him or herself. We are NOWHERE without the grace of Jesus Christ. He loves us so much that as long as we are willing to let Him be in our lives, He will take care of everything else. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">So how about it? I want to be like Lucy. She is my #1 fictional hero. I want to have the faith that Lucy has to fight with my dagger trusting wholeheartedly on my Lion, my Savior who never leaves my side. What about you? Will you stand up and be like Lucy too?</div>Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03867965332125363701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347217561801658354.post-50661537073259165912011-09-11T21:46:00.001-05:002012-04-07T19:37:07.210-05:00The Study of the Butterfly<div style="text-align: center;">When you look at the word psychology and divide it up into it's root words, what do you think of? Psychology becomes psyche and logos. Psyche meaning the mind or the brain, and logos meaning the study of. So, psychology means the study of the mind. Or at least that's what I've always learned.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">In my Psychotherapy Theory class this week we were studying Carl Jung. We had a guest lecturer who works at the Jung Institute in Houston. He explained a different definition for the word Psychology. Apparently psyche, when it is directly translated into English, means SOUL. So, psychology becomes the Study of the Soul. He then asked the class what everyone thought about that, good or bad. I was initially thinking to myself, "how could you NOT like that idea?" I was so surprised when the first 6 or 7 comments were about how they did not like the idea of the study of the soul. They said things like, "we don't need to bring religion into our science," "if I'm working on people's souls, I have too much therapeutic power over my clients," and "bringing the soul into psychology seems reductionistic." </div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">WHAT? I was in complete shock by their answers! I can understand being slightly wary about bringing religion into psychology. However, I don't think that the soul has to be religious. I have two concepts of the soul. One is very religious and has to do with my belief that we lived with Heavenly Father before we came to earth, that we came here to be tested and tried and learn to know our Father even though we can't see Him, and that we will eventually return into His presence to be with Him forever. Then there is my more human concept of the soul. When I think of who I am as a person, I don't just think about my mind and my thoughts. I think about my feelings, my sensations, my desires. There is so much more to me than just my brain. There is so much more to people than just their minds. I think it reduces a person's potential so much more to say they are just the brain and the electrical and hormonal connections that are made. I am not my brain! I am not my mind! I am my feelings and so much more. I am my soul. I am me. I wish my colleagues who didn't like the study of the soul would not fight against religion so much that they are blind to concepts typically used by religion, but that aren't necessarily religious. Open your minds please!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">THEN. Then the guest lecturer explained that psyche, not translated to English, but in Greek, (or whatever language it originates from), means butterfly. So now, Psychology becomes the Study of the Butterfly. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Mind. Blown.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">What do you think of when you think of butterflies? I think of beauty, flight, change, peace. All of these things apply to a person when they reach their potential in this life. Caterpillars are ugly (in my opinion). They eat a ton and then get really lazy and wrap themselves up in a cocoon. Then they go through a mighty change, a metamorphosis. But in order for that change to actually matter, they have to go through the crazy hard process of fighting their way out of the cocoon. This is a time of incredible pressure and pain. But when they push through it, they emerge as beautiful butterflies. They fly around, free and peaceful.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">That is exactly what we as people need to go through in order to become our best selves. Life is hard!! Parts of it are ugly, we indulge too much in things that may not be good for us, we try to be lazy and avoid things that are hard but that will help us. On our own, basically we suck! But as we go through life we are given things that help us to become more. We go through hard, horrible times where we are experiencing so much pain, feeling like we're under so much pressure that there is no way we can survive. It flat out hurts! But when we hold on and work with the pressure instead of against it, we can get through it. And when we get through it, we become better. We learn from our struggles. We improve ourselves. We help others who go through similar things. We become so much better and get closer and closer to reaching our potential. We CANNOT reach our potential by having a life of ease. It is only through our struggles and pain that we learn the things we are here to learn. It is only through our struggles that we improve ourselves. And we go from lazy, ugly, fat caterpillars, to beautiful, peaceful butterflies. We fly higher than we ever could if we did not experience hard things. We must go through our own metamorphoses to become our own, beautiful butterflies.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmU3YRMNBEWxBJc-1Z7alshjcbj6N8DyFvu3X31sunu0_qVA8KA-lvXkyZ4ADyMdeJuPFc35tvOehWMKJO9gMMjaZ6q5wdzmwvaeMQyIYlrn_8j2I9xEM46WVdikfvz6i_ZheYdYHayXWm/s400/butterfly.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651316323344469330" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 259px; height: 194px; " /><div></div></div><div style="text-align: center;">My goal in therapy, what I'm in school for, is to learn how to help these beautiful butterflies emerge from their cocoons. We all go through times when we can't get out on our own. We need outside help, whether from family, friends, religious leaders, or at times, professionals. With the help of these people who truly care for us, we can still make it through the hard stuff and come forth beautiful. This is why I decided to go into therapy. I want to help people, couples and families to become the best they can and reach their fullest potential. </div><div><br /></div></div>Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03867965332125363701noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347217561801658354.post-56953031533395618762011-09-01T20:26:00.002-05:002012-04-07T19:37:31.866-05:00And So It Begins...<div align="center">AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">(deep breath, Rachel...)</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">I just finished my second week of grad school. </div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">I'm still trying to decide which emotion those two screams are supposed to be portraying. There are just too many emotions floating around my head and heart that I don't really know how to make sense of it all.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">FREAKED OUT. </div><br /><div align="center">Oh my great day. What on earth do I think I'm doing in grad school? Do I even like school? Do I even have the motivation to make myself do well? When I graduate in two short years, people's happiness is going to be affected by me. I want to do couple's therapy. So, marriages and families will be at least somewhat dependent on me and what I say and do. AHH! That is a lot of responsibility to place on yourself when your natural tendency is to be really, really lazy. :/ Not to mention that I'm already behind in my reading, I haven't started researching for my class, I am slightly behind on my TA job because I can't figure things out... and I could make the list go on. So, this emotion could also read: OVERWHELMED.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">EXCITED. </div><br /><div align="center">Oh my great day. I've wanted to be a marriage therapist for almost 4 years (and probably much longer than that, but I didn't realize it til then) and here I am finally getting started to pursuing my dream. And I'm in a new place, in a ward with way more cute, good guys in it than my last ward at BYU, living with my sister, seeing my best friend and her baby every week, going out with the sister missionaries regularly, and again...the list could go on. </div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">RELIEVED. </div><br /><div align="center">Oh my great day. I never have to worry about applying to a school again. I'm here. I'm doing it. Things haven't blown up in my face yet. I'm getting to know people in my program and as far as I know, they don't think I'm crazy. (though, we'll be getting to know each other quite well...I'm sure soon they'll know I'm crazy). My loans finally came through so my tuition is paid and I have a parking pass. Still need to get an ID. But things are progressing. I'm going to be okay.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">WONDERING ABOUT THE UNKNOWN. </div><br /><div align="center">Oh my great day. Have you heard the drama about the apartment? Well, not that there's horrible drama, Sarah and I just have NO IDEA where to live. We signed applications to a complex in the ideal area, but not the ideal apartment itself. Then we got home and there might be some available at Sarah's complex that she already loves. Oh yeah, and there's the one that we would sign at in a heart beat, but it's by the Galleria. That equals traffic from hell. The deepest and darkest pits of hell. So even though we'd love to go there, we really don't want to drive there. Then there's the unknown about what my future holds. Lets be honest, there are less LDS men here in Houston than in Provo. What if I don't find someone here? Will I be single forever? Or if I do find someone, how on earth will I fit dating into my already-busy-after-only-two-weeks schedule? Then if I get married, what do I do about working/having babies? Oh geez... emotions are going back into the overwhelmed area... I hate the unknown. It totally freaks me out! I guess life would be pretty dang boring if I knew everything, but ahh! I'm freaked.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">MISSING PEOPLE.</div><br /><div align="center">Oh my great day. I miss my friends in Utah. Amanda. Melanie (though she's not in Utah). Justine. Cameron. Everyone else at the coding lab or the Dean's Office. Kayla. McKenzie. Todd. Michelle. Rachel and Ned. Alissa. Jessica. Shiree. Again, the list could go on. I thought I'd be okay leaving them all behind, and in most ways I am, but dang! I miss them! And although I'm excited to make new friends, I kinda just want to keep the ones I have and not have to worry about making more. And I miss my brother, Michael (who knew!). I hate goodbyes and I had to make a lot of them all at once. Boo. I'm never moving again. </div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">Tired. </div><br /><div align="center">Oh my great day. I'm sooo tired. I've been on campus today for almost 12 hours and still have just over an hour to go. Chronic fatigue from two illnesses + grad school...doesn't work quite as well as I thought it would. I'm tired. And I have this feeling that I'm gonna be tired for the next two years (at least!). </div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">Confident. </div><br /><div align="center">Oh my great day. I can do this! We had our first role play in psychotherapy skills yesterday. I was so nervous. We were supposed to be practicing attending skills (which I think I'm pretty good at) and reflective statements (which I pretty much suck at). We broke up into groups and I was the last one to be the therapist. (No, I didn't do it on purpose). But I got to see two other people do it first and hear all their feedback before it was my turn. I credit my success to that. But it wasn't nearly as bad as I was expecting! We were only supposed to ask four questions in 10 minutes, and I only asked 4! I always ask questions! But somehow I did it and I feel much more confident than I did two days ago. Not overly confident. Just confident enough to push myself to get a lot better. Because I'm not quite as freaked out as before. This is good! I think I can handle being a therapist. (Watch me feel the complete opposite next week...). </div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">But most of my confidence is coming from the fact that I know without a doubt that this is what Heavenly Father wants me be doing with my life right now. And if He wants it, it's gonna happen! I just need to keep putting Him first and trusting in Him, and everything is going to work out just fine. I am so grateful for the gift of the Holy Ghost which I feel will definitely be helping me as I try to help the children of Heavenly Father find more joy and happiness in their marriages and families. I'm grateful for the comfort God gives me when I'm stressed and overwhelmed. There is nothing I can't do with Him at my side. And I know that as long as I keep doing what He has asked of me, He will be there every step of the way. And that gives me a lot of confidence.</div>Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03867965332125363701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347217561801658354.post-56742528288879464702011-03-22T23:41:00.000-05:002011-03-22T23:45:38.765-05:00BELLY DANCING!So my roommates and I were inspired by Shakira's Hips Don't Lie music video to look into belly dancing a few months back. We found an instructor who does lessons in her basement in Spanish Fork and tonight was my first lesson. OH MY GOODNESS!!! It was definitely the coolest thing I've ever done at BYU. (Maybe that's sad...but oh well!) My hip flexors are sore, my shoulders are tight, I got a charliehorse in my foot - and I had a BLAST!! Why have I never done this before?! We are learning a routine and everything. It is fabulous!! I'm fairly certain that I was born to belly dance!!!! Can't wait for our next lesson!Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03867965332125363701noreply@blogger.com0