Tuesday

I groggily switch the laundry over, throwing the clean towels onto an already huge pile of “to fold later” items on the dresser, and climb into bed. Maybe I should have brushed my hair today. I didn’t take the girls outside the house at all, and how much TV did I let them watch again? Did I really let them have Lucky Charms for lunch?

I look at my husband, the man I met my last semester in Nursing School, ask him about his day. He tells me how busy it is at work, and we scroll through some funny videos on Tik Tok, mostly tired parenting memes and funny animal videos. 

I tell him about the time I ran for office my senior year. That failed skit I did in high school, how I tried to sing a medley about how I’d make a great SBO, and nobody could really even hear my voice, and I probably made a few mistakes because I never practiced much on the piano, ever. How my mom had given it away that the current SBO’s were surprising me for a video one night, telling me I should “probably pick up my room a bit.” How they all stormed in to wake me up and I subconsciously knew they were coming, and it ruined the entire thing and wasn’t even funny at all. The entire school had watched it, and I wanted to melt away into the folding auditorium seats and not come back. A simulacrum of vulnerability, pure 18-year old shame. And then Maddie Busteed had done some funny YouTube skit, and killed it in the impromptu video, and I had lost SBO to her. 

“I voted for you,” he says. 

And my entire body is suddenly still— my breath catching in my throat. Why did I even still think about high school, ever? This incredible, living, breathing human being is sitting right in front of me, and I have his vote on life. The shame collapses in on itself inside me and I feel so much peace and gratitude as I look at him. Maybe the only real definition of success is to love and be loved, I think. And in that moment I know it to be true.

A dramatic poem I wrote at 3 AM about my brain and how it functions whilst muscling through the forty-eighth virus my kids have caught this winter.

Winter is swift, cold

And with it, sickness drops on my daughters like a cloak

Thick and sleepless nights return 

All too familiar 

yet shocking like ice 

Coughs and tissues and tears 

And my once seemingly strengthening mind falters and crumbles 

Weakened by those interrupted hours. 

Soon the dark circles 

I care for little else than sleep 

My mind is unhinged 

My focus is dim

sleep

Please, sleep

No 

coughs and tissues and tears 

And now, what is this? 

Anxiety.

Yes- 

My familiar sister

She rears her familiar head. 

She cripples my chances

She clutches sleep further out of reach. 

Cough and tissues and tears 

And now, anxiety 

Because when sleep is scant, she always pays a visit

She makes herself comfortable 

Around and around she goes 

and my mind like a dance 

Will they heal from this ?

Am I helpless in watching

Are they still breathing ?

Almost in slumber 

But stop, are they still breathing ?

What if they’ve been entangled 

They must need me

Do not give in to the sleep 

Entangled mind 

Did I plug in the humidifier?

Is she still breathing? 

Please keep breathing 

Check 

and check again 

Round and round and round 

On Depression and the Gospel of Jesus Christ

I grew up in a solid gospel home. I was born truly, of goodly parents. I remember my home as a refuge, filled with the Spirit. I think one of the earliest ties to feeling the spirit was with music as well— growing up immersed in it.

I guess you can say I was blessed by the Lord, to have a seeking heart. I joyed in hearing the Gospel from a young age. I would seek it out. I loved Young Women lessons, girls’ camp, devotionals. My heart craved the words of Christ. In college if there was ever a fireside I was always so excited to go. I remember feeling surprised not all of my roommates wanted or were even excited to go to those firesides.

I think we saints love to hear big stories of conversion and big experiences. But more often than not, I think a lot of us don’t have those types of stories to tell. Mine is one of those stories. My testimony was formed drop by drop. I don’t remember one big a-ha moment. I just remember that every time I was taught by a righteous influence, usually my Young Women’s leaders, it felt as though I had a cup that was near empty, and they had filled it almost to the brim or overflowing once the lesson was over. When I was in high school, I remember feeling as if my life truly depended on those weekly fillings of my cup. I was so blessed to be taught by righteous influences.

I became a CNA when I was 16. We’ve been told to strengthen feeble knees.. and there was nowhere I felt I was doing His work more than when I was caring for those widows at that care center. They had Alzheimer’s, and I absolutely loved them. It was hard work but I felt so close to God doing it and that realization pushed me to become a Nurse. I went to the Y and got my degree. I met Josh my last semester there, (on Tinder!). 

I worked at the Huntsman, and we welcomed our first child into the world a few years later. 

As I studied the most recent General Conference talks, I found 23 references to hearing Him. I learned a few things:

-Hearing him is an opportunity, a privilege, a choice, an ability, and something we have to learn

-We need to make the effort 

-In order to hear Him, you must be still.

-Each of God’s children deserves that opportunity.

-His voice is clear in the scriptures.

That last one is one of the most clear ways I learned to Hear him. I LOVED THE SCRIPTURES. I still love them. The Tangible, hold-in-your-hand scriptures is where I get the most filling of my cup. I also love studying the conference talks on paper and not on my phone, writing notes and impressions as I go.

I also learned to Hear Him Through private prayer, I loved to pray aloud as I commuted from work or school. 

I heard His voice in the counsel of loved ones, and especially the testimonies of others. 

However, I have come to learn through hard experience that Hearing Him does not always come so easily. It is truly so personal, and a continual process. I have one major example of this, and so I will touch upon where I left off, the birth of my first child. 

Becoming a mother was one of the most rewarding and fulfilling things of my life. 

It was also absolutely the hardest thing I have ever done. 

It felt akin to as one of my closest friends puts it, a train being derailed.

I was struck with debilitating PTSD, anxiety, and eventually, depression. I want to point out that the way I “heard Him” in that time of my life was drastically different than the ways I just described. 

In the words of Jane Clayton Johnson (Her book: Silent Souls Weeping), ”Depression is difficult to describe even when you’ve experienced it yourself.”

Ann Madsen has described it like this: “I couldn’t get out of it. It was like I was in a sack and somebody had tied the top and I didn’t know how to untie it. I couldn’t get out…

I felt like an Etch-A-Sketch. I created this beautiful picture on my Etch-A-Sketch of who I was. Somehow it got shaken. That picture got erased. I was down to nothing.”

I was exhausted. For me it was just a hopeless, dark hole, where even doing the smallest things like washing a baby bottle just really required a ton of effort. I felt broken.

My ability to feel the spirit was cut off, I couldn’t feel anything. This was such a stark contrast to my entire upbringing until that point, where I used to soak up the Voice of The Lord like a sponge. I would come to my meetings with my little empty cup- hold it out feebly, and it would not fill. I would leave my meetings as I started. That was shocking. In a doctrine that promises that the Holy Ghost can be a constant companion, I had never felt so alone. 

I myself bought into the stigma associated with Depression, even as I was experiencing it, even now still, as I stand before you.  “In this Gospel, “we believe in a plan of happiness, not a plan of depression. We’re taught, ‘Men are, that they might have joy’ (2 Nephi 2:25) Depression doesn’t fit readily or comfortably into such a construct.”

My heart takes courage as I learn of those “who in the words of Prophet Joseph Smith, ‘search[ed] .. and contemplate[d] the darkest abyss’ and persevered through it— not in the least of whom were Abraham Lincoln, Winston Churchill, and Elder George Albert Smith, the latter being one of the most gentle and Christlike men of our dispensation, who battled recurring depression for some years before becoming the universally beloved eighth prophet and President of the Church.” [Silent Souls Weeping]

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland has said, “…no one can responsibly suggest [depression] would surely go away if those victims would just square their shoulders and think more positively.”  

Depression is a disease, not a character defect, or a lack of will, or a spiritual deficit.

Still, I felt like a failure, and found myself trying to square my shoulders and think positively. Maybe if I could do more, then I would be worthy of the spirit. I thought surely, I wasn't reading the scriptures enough. My prayers were not fervent enough. I didn’t go to the temple enough. If I could do more, then I would somehow earn some spiritual enlightenment.

Thank goodness my husband was inspired to find this book, The Power of Stillness, which first few chapters completely changed my life, and my perspective on this “more” mentality. 

It reads,

“Sometimes, following God may actually involve doing less, rather than more, with value in making space for periods of retreat, as Jesus Himself did.”

Instead of 'finishing' a prayer, it can become a sacred practice of personal retreat where we can simply be still, maybe even not saying any words, simply trying to 'rest in His presence as we kneel, in stillness and silence,' remembering that we are His. 

Instead of 'getting a chapter done,' we can hold scriptural text as an anchor to focus our minds and hearts, and facilitate an ongoing exploration about God’s hand in our lives. 

Instead of checklist items to be done, these can all be thought of as opportunities to be still."

I began to exercise self-compassion, and rely fully on God’s Grace, allowing what I could give in that day, that moment, that hour, be simply enough. This mentality greatly comforted me. 

My recovery was a long one. It took time, medication, blessings, an incredible support system, and focus on nutrition, exercise, and rest. I had to start small, drink enough water. Avoid sugar. Go on a walk. Slowly, I got better. Slowly, I was able to wean off of the medication. I began therapy. I have never looked back. It completely transformed my life. I am so grateful. For a long time I still felt that inability to hear Him and at times I still have to “go through the motions.” I often think of Nephi, "nevertheless, I know in whom I have trusted. O Lord, I have trusted in thee and I will trust in Thee forever.” I keep trying, and that is enough.

Life is a process.

Lead, Kindly light, amidst the encircling gloom, lead Thou me on, 

the night is dark, and I am far from home, 

lead Thou me on. Keep Thou my feet, I do 

not ask to see the distant scene, one step enough for me.

-I have to accept in those moments that for the time being, one step is enough for me. 

-The Lord requires your best, and your best changes. That is okay. 

I find so much hope in Paul’s testimony in 2 Corinthians 12: 

“And [the Lord] said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Mostly gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore, I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ’s sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong” (2 Corinthians 12:9-10).

“Silent Souls Weeping” reads, “It’s okay. It’s okay to be a mess. It’s okay that you dread church. It’s okay that you don’t feel like anybody can relate to you. And it’s okay if every time somebody mentions missionary work you just want to run out of the room and curl up in a ball and cry. It’s okay to live in a place of pain for a time, and if the pain doesn’t go away, that doesn’t mean that you’re not doing your best.”

From Terry & Fiona Givens (Book: The Crucible of Doubt): 

 

Christ works through us as we accept Him and God the Father as the architects and ourselves as the builders. Learning to be vulnerable and show up as we are can be painful, but it fosters humility, teaches us beautiful lessons, and contributes to the building of the kingdom of God.”

“It is not our place to judge. It is our place to love. It is our place to grieve. And it is our place to mourn with those who [mourn]." [Silent Souls Weeping]

I want you to know, we need you, all of you, we love you, God loves you. If you are currently struggling, We want you here, we need you here, living and breathing, even if it is a “broken” you. Especially so! You’re doing the best that you can, and that is enough. 

Elder Holland states (Conference talk: “Be Ye Therefore Perfect… Eventually”):

“Yea, come unto Christ, and be perfected in him … ,” Moroni pleads. “Love God with all your might, mind and strength, then … by his grace ye may be perfect in Christ.”9 Our only hope for true perfection is in receiving it as a gift from heaven—we can’t “earn” it.

The Lord Jesus Christ Himself continued “from grace to grace”15 until in His immortality16 He received a perfect fulness of celestial glory.17 

I echo the words of Elder Holland: "I testify that in this and every hour He is, with nail-scarred hands, extending to us that same grace, holding on to us and encouraging us, refusing to let us go until we are safely home in the embrace of Heavenly Parents. For such a perfect moment, I continue to strive, however clumsily. For such a perfect gift, I continue to give thanks, however inadequately. I do so in the very name of… Him who has never been clumsy or inadequate but who loves all of us who are, even the Lord Jesus Christ."

I know the Lord loves each of us, and consecrates our efforts, no matter how small they may feel. I know my Savior Lives. He is truly full of infinite mercy and grace. He will consecrate our efforts to be like Him! Step by step, Grace by Grace we can return to Him. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

Yours Truly, Kait, July 2021

May 8th, 2014: "Two Hondas"

It was pouring rain outside, and I had just ended a very long and very unhealthy relationship. Six years of being strung along, placed on the shelf, and I had finally mustered up the courage to walk away. I was shaking after it happened, because it was such an emotional milestone for me, something that took months of mustering up the courage and resolve to do, something that required me to step out of myself and realize a few harsh realities, something that ended in only a few minutes and left me feeling powerful and broken and brave and solemn all at the same time.

It was time for my intramural soccer game. I took everything boiling up inside me out on that ball, and I felt so free. People actually commented on my playing-- because let's be honest, I was never gifted in the sport of soccer.  But that night was different.  That night I had guts and guster.

I was invigorated, free. I felt strong and sexy and as soon as the game was over I sprinted out to my car, the key getting kind of stuck in the door as I tried to unlock it.

I jumped inside and tried to start my car.  Nothing happened.  The key was stuck.  I tried everything, pumping breaks, jiggling the steering wheel, using my wrist to get the keys to turn, but they simply wouldn't.  I called my best guy friend-- my dad--tried everything he suggested... still nothing.  I enlisted the help of two young strangers, and they tried for a solid ten minutes before telling me, maybe the key is just chipped, maybe we should drive you home to get your spare.  So that's what we did. I left my soccer bag on the seat, locked the car, and went to follow these gents to their car.  As I stepped out and back, I realized that an identical Honda was parked right next to my car.

Wait-- no, identical Honda?

Try my Honda.

Seriously Kait?

Oh well. It was raining and I was in a hurry, didn't even think to check "my own" license plate.

Crisis averted!

Except for one thing-- now my soccer bag was in some random guy's car.

Explain that one to him?

I drove my own car home to grab some homework and the guys watched my bag (with wallet inside) while I was gone.  When I got back, the car was gone, and they were waiting there to give me my stuff.  They said the driver of the Honda was pretty annoyed that some random chick's bag was in his car.

The end.

February 12th, 2014: "On Doubts and Days"

Here's the thing. There are people constantly telling me that life doesn't add up, it never turns out the way you expect. You imagine it to be one way, and then it turns out to be completely different. It doesn't measure up to your expectations.

This used to really trouble me. Especially when people started telling me that marriage was going to be hard, and that you spend all this time dreaming up how great it'll be and then one morning wake up and feel at a loss. But you know what? I don't believe them. Call me young and stupid, but I believe in dreaming anyway. I know my life isn't going to be all rainbow and butterflies. But it sure as hell is going to be beautiful anyway.

I believe in seizing the day, because today is all you have. And I believe in believing the best days are yet to come. I believe in the magic. It's just a name for something we don't really understand.

And really when it comes right down to it, maybe my life won't be magical. Maybe everything I could possibly imagine could go wrong, will go wrong. And I may end up having a really rough go of things. Maybe I'll be widowed at 32. Maybe I'll get cancer. But it seems to me, that all the losses in this life will turn into gains eventually... I believe in Karma and I believe in good chi... I believe that the things in store are far greater than any fabrication that any human mind can even attempt to generate.

There is a reason we can't see the future. The only thing we can do is have faith in ourselves and our future, and to look up, and realize that the future is as bright as our faith.

The best days are yet to come. So if you don't mind, I'm just going to keep on dreaming. I'm going to keep on planning. And I am going to set it all up, and when God decides that He's going to turn my life upside down and send me careening on a different path, well, I'm gonna hit the ground running in that direction, and simply trust in it all. And it's going to be beautiful.

In Which I Fail at the "Ring Check"

So I gave my number to a married man this week.

Let's talk about it.

I am in charge of utilities in my apartment, meaning, I have to go to the bank at least once a month and deposit three checks into my account. On these such occasions, over the past 5 months or so, I often struck up a conversation with one of the tellers there. I thought he was cute, but didn't act on anything. And by usually struck up a conversation, I mean this only happened like, three times. (I did do the finger-check, you guys! There was NO RING.)

Well the other day, I went inside for the first time in a while, and struck up maybe my fourth conversation with this said teller. He commented on the fact that I hadn't been in for a while, and that I usually go through the drive through nowadays. Now he had done it-- he noticed that sort of thing! It was time. So, I did what any sensible girl would do, and I decided to, you know, give him my number. I marched out of that credit union, got in my car, and began writing. I didn't even know his name. I got out a little piece of notebook paper and scribbled some short thing about how this might be unprofessional but that I didn't care-- here-- folded it up-- and addressed it. "Teller #0017482" or whatever his number was (it was on the sheet that he had just printed out after depositing my checks. I know, I'm a genius, right? uhh.).

So I thought it was pretty romantic. I drove up to the window, stashed the note inside, and sent it on up the tube, driving away without even looking at the person who ended up opening it. I knew it would end up where it needed to.

So about week goes by. At this point, I assumed he had a girlfriend or simply wasn't interested, and had forgotten the thing. The dating scene is all about putting yourself out there, and when it doesn't work, who cares, right? You move on. I was not very crushed.
Well then I get this text.
"Hey, is this kait?"
"I just wanted to let you know that I was totally flattered to receive your note..."
[insert fluff]
"..but I didn't call back because I just got married about a month ago. I didn't want you to feel totally rejected or anything like that, because you are sweet. So hopefully you're not embarassed..."

hahaha... oh. my. gosh.
In my defense, I had done the ring check in the past. I only saw him briefly this time, and wasn't thinking to check again. The thought never crossed my mind!

So that's the story.

And now I have to go back to that bank. If it wasn't pretty hilarious, it might just be the most awkward situation in my world. But you know. At least it makes a good story (I feel that a solid 75% of my life experiences end up with me telling myself those last seven words, just to make myself feel better).

Ladies and gentleman, do the ring check more than once. Things can change fast in this here dating scene.

And that's all I really have to say.

This Girl

"True friends are always together in spirit. (Anne Shirley)"

-L.M. Montgomery

Two (ish) years ago I decided to embark on a crazy, incredible adventure. In the process I met this girl.

I guess it would be fair to mention here that I believe in kindred spirits. How could I not?

I love a lot of thing about our friendship, but here are some of the memories that stick out:

-Toughing it out in the woods of Oregon, and by "toughing it out," we went through an entire bottle of lighter fluid

-Ice Skating in a blizzard on Kreshatyk

-Our little hole-in-the-wall chinese runs

-Our late night talks. (sometimes she was just hit on the head with a ton of energy at 2 AM, rare, but hilarious).

-That one time we came within inches of hitting a deer, and laughed for a good solid 10 minutes afterward.

-The day we just layed out on the porch in the rain and stared up at the sky.

-Doner Kabob's in Ukraine. We were bottomless.

-Getting the worst seats on the plane to Stockholm, and laughing about it the entire way.

-Her face when she accidentally ordered "Chai" (tea) instead of what she really wanted in Kyiv

-When we decided we really needed to strip ourselves from pride and watch the last "Twilight" movie, simply because we were camping in the woods where it was filmed

-When she made me sing Taylor Swift's "22" on my 22nd birthday

-When we tried to make Gourmet french toast, and instead we ended up with soggy bread

-Her love for peanut butter (she bought me a brand new jar when she had only eaten a few spoonfuls of it)

-The way we both tried so hard to be healthy and then would just forget it and go to Cold Stone

-Singing as loud as we could to the radio in the car

-The fact that we never fight (except for a tiny bout of craziness that happened just before her wedding, but we both realized we were stressed out of our minds, and came back to ourselves, and all was good.)

-And lastly, how happy she was on her wedding day, and how irrevocably happy I was in turn to see her marry someone who loves her like she deserves.

Ukraine was difficult, but I'd do it all again in a heartbeat if it meant keeping her in my life!
She claims that I was the one who saved her, but I am convinced it's the other way around.
She's my person, and as much as I miss her, I keep reminding myself how lucky I was to get to spend the past 7 months just a bunk-bed-away from her.

Ya Lublu, Britiskaya. Can't wait to fly out to GA and visit you this weekend. <3<3

m o v e m e n t

what i’m just now coming to realize is that the difference between the terror and the thrill–that razor-edge that separates the two, is faith.

i remember sending up a particularly vociferous prayer towards the start of the year, which wasn’t so much a prayer as a demand, what do you want from me? what do you want from me? six words i said again and again. six words i angrily flung upward. and the answer came back immediate and clear: more faith.

more faith.

which at the time i thought meant more patience, and patience has never been my virtue.

but now, these many months later, i don’t think it is patience. it’s not about more patience or less patience. it’s about a seed of self-belief. and how that seed is actually a divine thing. it’s about embracing the bits that don’t make any sense. trusting that the story is in fact made by the departures and aberrations. it’s about wonder and curiosity. about moving forward and upward even if the movement is a sort of graceless thrashing about. it’s about clawing and clamoring and dirt beneath the fingernails. it’s about saying i don’t know. and i don’t know. and i don’t know, again. because one day i will. and if one believes that in the end it’ll all work out–even and most especially in the face of overwhelming doubt–than those moments of discomfort and unease and fear are made sweet and holy and wholly lovely by their impermanence.

//Meg Fee//

Today is not my day

Why is it that we, as human beings, can go an entire movie full of gore and people getting shot and killed right and left and it doesn't phase us.... then we turn around and watch a movie about one single puppy who dies and we all sob like a little baby??

Yeah. I used to ask myself that same question.
Well, not to throw myself a pity party or anything but, you guys, I totally get it. My little dog Moka has been diagnosed with full-blown diabetes and in the past week has gone totally blind. Diabetes is nasty business, people. Put that sugar down.

But seriously. This is rough. I am all the sudden this little emotional wreck. I am pretty tough when I make up my mind to be (and the fact that I cry in pretty much every single movie is simply
because I choose to, okay? It's a choice. I like investing it all into movies). But you guys. This is pretty bad. This is sweet little Moka! He only has a few more months.. if that. And you can tell he is suffering greatly but he still keeps his tail wagging and tries to be all cheerful. If you don't believe me, just come over. It's ridiculous, and inspiring, and totally heart-wrenching.
Because yes, we could treat him, but it would cost over $3,000 bucks, and it would require giving him shots twice every single day. Now, I'm no Einstein, but I do know that dogs HATE shots. They don't understand them. Also, hypoglycemia is hard enough to recognize in a human, let alone a little dog! That would be complicated, too.

Let's ignore the poor quality of my phone's camera and just bask in how cute this lil' lion is. He has lost about 10 pounds in a month..... he doesn't look this hearty anymore :(

Mine is a life that has not experienced the death of anyone that close to me, I have experienced the death of many of my patients, and our old dog Molly a long time ago, but this is different. So.... I don't really know what to do with myself. But in order to not make this post totally depressing let's just all end on this thought:

Try to be the person 

your dog thinks you are.

Just do it.
K thanks bye.

love is all, from what I've heard

I'm a really old guy, so when I tell you that nothing matters more than love, listen.

I've been wondering a lot lately. I used to think we loved people because we had the best image in mind, we'll love them because they fit the pattern. The more I have experience with love, respect, admiration, the more it has to do with the dropcloth.  The more I love my wife, and don't tell her this because I am in pursuit of urging her to drop some of her bad habits, but I think I love her more for those weird things than for the things that fit the pattern. It is because of who she is, who she uniquely is.  Everything has a pattern in it, an individual instinctual pattern.  In that individuation, it is God.  He is in us, he is somehow really in us.  God's creativity is reflective in our individuality. That is why our individuality matters so. We are bleered, shmeered, smeared with Man's smudge and smell, and it is absolutely beautiful.  How long would it take Salt Lake City, if people left it alone, to come back to the way God intended? I bet in fifty years, you'd have a hard time telling it was there ever.  The world is overused and under-appreciated.  The world resurrects, but sooner or later we're going to die as a result of abusing it. It is not a theological ideal. It's like the way we love, it's real. We genuinely do it. We can't help but respond to the individuality of another person. The nasty and the lovely are inherent in the other.  If you change your perception, it is all there, and that's okay. It's the connectiveness, connectivity that gets me. It's sacramental. Its going everywhere, but its all coming close.

It is ramifying.

//Steven Walker//

November 14th, 2013

Here's a thought.

Sometimes all we can do, in regards to the suffering of those we love, is to stand on the side of the shore while we watch them in the midst of the storm, battling the waves, purely alone. We want so badly to swim out there and save them, to calm the storm, throw out a rope, anything, but we cannot-- we can only stand and watch it all, feeling helpless, small, completely useless.

Has anyone else experienced that feeling?

I feel like it happens to me on the daily. I see so much pain and suffering in this world (amidst the good-- there is always good for those who see it). Especially as a nurse and friend.
And I just want to fix it all. If a tiny little heart like mine can feel that kind of magnitude, then what of a God in Heaven who looks down upon it? He must weep. I have no doubt in that. And how He must wish to fix it, too. But He does not always do so. And there is great wisdom in that, a higher way, a greater love.

"I'm a really old guy, so when I tell you that nothing matters more than love, listen."

Sometimes, while standing on the shore, we realize that the only thing we can do is fall to our knees-- but there is power in that. Praying for someone. With real intent. Exercising faith in that prayer. I believe in the power of that channel, the power of faith to change.

Faith is tangible. It is real. It is more than a feeling, it is a force, and it changes things. It is powerful and if we feel that is all we can do is pray for them with faith well, that is a remarkable thing.

So don't give up on them. Don't ever, ever stop loving them. Pray for them. Send that faith their way-- that force for good.  There are miracles everywhere. Faith is the key to creating those miracles. I will never stop believing in that.

These chilluns are up to no good

It is a beautiful fall day and wonderful for many reasons-- one being that I just can't seem to stop smiling. I'll get to the main reason for that soon but first, a story: I was getting into my car to speed off to the bank and pay my dues when I noticed a tiny little boy looking longingly in my direction (he was selling something, and I was, conveniently, the only soul in sight). I backed up and called, "how much?"-- he eagerly responded. "Twenty-five cents!" I assumed that the liquid in the opaque container by his side was lemonade and I dug around my change drawer to find a quarter. I handed it to him and he carefully began to gather my loot. He placed a cup carefully on a tree stump and, clasping the pitcher with both hands, used all his concentration to pour me some. To my surprise, the liquid coming out of the pitcher was not lemonade at all, rather, it was crystal-clear, state of the art, lukewarm, shimmering water. As soon as I realized this, I couldn't help but notice that he had poured me not only water, but less than half-of-a-Styrofoam-cup's worth of it.

Lil' whippersnapper was about this age.. I just thought I'd throw in a Taiwanese picture as well. For obvious reasons. via

"What are you saving up for?" (It looked like he had about two dollars by now)
Enthusiastically, "A hotel!" ---
ha ha oh, I was laughing SO hard inside. He was thee cutest little guy. I drank my 2 swallows of water and wished him luck and went on my merry way. A few thoughts crossed my mind, firstly, times are-a-changin'. I seem to remember a time when I spent a fair amount of time carefully mixing up some cool-aid or lemonade with great attention, and when I had a buyer, a FULL cup was delivered their way. Are we really in such difficult times that one quarter will buy but a third a cup of water? My second thought was that his hotel is probably going to be the kind of business that scrimps and scrounges and cuts a lot of corners. We all know the ones-- we arrive to find them looking not a bit like the sophisticated pictures online-- and of course the continental breakfast leaves much to be desired. Despite it all though, I hope that little guy goes far.

Alright-- Let's get to it- I AM GOING TO TAIWAN!  21 dreamers, and only 12 spots-- and once again the Big Man Upstairs allows little old me to have this opportunity. I feel so elated, so humbled, and so blessed. I get to go spend a month in that fabulous part of the world, and do nursey things, and learn nursey stuff. And scuba dive. And maybe even try out some acupuncture.
More details to come soon, but in the meantime I will be continuing to scrimp and scrounge every single penny so that I can make the $1000 down-payment on time (November 19th). Don't call me about midnight pizza runs or tempt me with anything that requires spending money, people. This is serious business.

Also, for the first time in my life my body is able to function on less than 5 hours of sleep. Nursing school is finally getting adjusted to. It's about TIME, fools! Glory hallelujah!
(**Disclaimer: As a student nurse/future RN it is my job to er, promote health. Therefore, GET MORE THAN 5 HOURS OF SLEEP!! And eat your fruits and veggies!
There.
As soon as I am done with school, I will get 8 again, because I am an old lady already anyway, and I like me some sleep. But for now, I sacrifice my health and sleep for 3 years in order to promote yours. Makes sense, right? Uhh. Right.)

Stretching

I find a kind of inexplicable joy in the hard stuff of these years. I love them. I thrive in the challenge. I love what I am learning to live without, on a budget-- saving up every penny for the necessities and cutting out every single thing that I used to take for granted. I never eat out anymore, I haven't bought myself new clothes in months. I pack lunches. I reuse things until they are completely worn out. I wrap presents in brown paper bags. I do my best with meaning and gifts that do not require a lot of cash. Self discipline and restraint cause me to eat everything I buy before it goes bad--I used to not really notice if my lettuce went bad before. Now it is rationed carefully. I have just about no money and yet I am happier than I have been in months. And my time is critically managed, too. I have never felt so balanced in my entire life-- my homework gets done, my grades are better than they have ever been since coming to BYU-- and I still have time to go have fun.  Time with family is rare and relished in. I no longer take holidays for granted-- working them even once takes that out of you. I find joy in the little stuff-- being single is a choice of mine, and I find joy in this chapter of my life. I know time will bring someone fantastic into my life, someone who resonates with me and sparks in me a completely new realm of living.  That all these wonderful people I am meeting that seem to just blend into each other and don't feel right to me-- well they are teaching me things. They are adding flavor to my life-- and none if that is ever a waste of time. There is a fine difference between pickiness and choosiness, and I hope I never fail to recognize that.
There are days where loneliness hits me. But those instances pass. And I have found service as an antidote for all of them.
I don't doubt for one minute that this is a crucial time of preparation for me, and God is aware of me. I have never felt that fact so strongly as I do now. I have never relied upon Him as strongly as I do now.

This year has taught me many things. Here are just a few:
One--- There are miracles everywhere. I do not believe in circumstances nor coincidences. If you have an eye to recognize miracles, coincidences are no longer a reality for you. Your faith makes it so.
Two-- Some days are a little bit too much, and some nights your pillow is wet with wasted tears. You resign to let despondence eat you away. But the morning always comes. It always does. And finding the strength to take one step after these moments is all that matters. Just one.
Three-- I learned what it feels like to have an incredible boy fall in love with you and treat you exactly how you deserve. But life has a cruel way of doing things sometimes, and it wasn't right for me no matter how much I tried to make it so. I learned the excruciating heartache of letting him go.
I learned how to forgive and let go of a different boy who did not know how to treat me, who did not love me in the way I thought I needed. I decided to love him anyway. I took vulnerability and let it strengthen me-- I tried my best to send that love out into the world and let it build me up even though I felt like I was completely falling apart. I am better for it now.
My capacity to love was tested and stretched this year more than ever before in my life. I lost two people very dear to me. But I learned that sometimes you have to know when to walk away. And as hard as that is-- don't look back.
Four-- Debussy is the perfect soundtrack to any rainy day.
Five-- Confidence is the key to giving good shots and putting in IV's! And sometimes, people just have crappy veins!
Six-- If you have the choice between sleeping in or getting up and going to power yoga-- go to yoga.
Seven-- I think God is patient with our progress. And so should we be. Furthermore-- we should be patient with the progress of others as well.

I could think of a lot more but that is about all of the time I have allotted myself to procrastinate my deathly pharmacology homework.... I digress.

Snapchat and Selfies

You guys, I just don't understand the appeal of shapchat. Or the point. Usually, it just ends up with me getting a ton of pictures of a ton of selfies. And I retaliate with a ton of selfies. To what end? And the captions, they are the best. I'm waiting to go to work... I'm bored. I'm tired. Look, I braided my hair. Here, a picture of my dog.
I am just kind of at a loss. I commend all you friends who continue to send me snaps, even though I never respond because I just feel a little bit weird about sending a selfie in the library, or even in my own kitchen for that matter. Is this really what we do for entertainment? They say that this fast-advancing day-and-age, it takes more and more to entertain us, but I am kind of feeling like it is the opposite. If we're entertained by a bunch of random selfies, then I am pretty sure... we're fine.

Also, story time. I flew to California a few weekends ago to visit family and see one of my best friends. We ended up talking on the beach for like 4 hours. Of course, I forgot my sunscreen and got FRIED. And my chin broke out into second-degree blisters. So I wanted to get rid of this THING on my face and applied some Neosporin.. only to find out I am allergic.
So now I have this huge reaction, and I look like the living dead.
So I go to the doctor (because as much as I love people staring at my chin when they are talking to me...) and as soon as he walks in, he takes one look at me and immediately, "Oh-[insert horrendously long mumbled medical term here]--impetigo! yeah, you have an infection."
He then proceeds to prescribe me some antibiotics and tells me that a side effect may be that my skin falls off and I am hospitalized. (No kidding, look up stevens-johnson syndrome. Only if you have a strong stomach though. It's terrifying.)
Then, as if it doesn't get better, he asks, "Would you mind if I took a picture of your chin for my NP lecture at the U? I update it every year and this is the perfect specimen. Don't worry, I won't give your name or anything- **SNAP."


Awesome.

So I'm just feeling kind of weird about this day.

And I'm not going to document it with snapchat, okay?
Good.

On a lighter note, please enjoy this fabulous song. I am going to their concert tomorrow gremlin-chin or NO, and I could not be more excited.

[fake] blood and guts

So I have this fear of needles.

And I've definitely been working on that since like, the dawn of time.
But it is still very apparent in my life.
It's not even the blood, at all, it's the needles! Ask me why that makes sense.
If I didn't receive confirmation after ridiculous confirmation that I am supposed to be a nurse, it would probably have gotten to me by now. But you take it in baby steps, you know?

Well today we started our first IV's, in this mechanical arm that's got GREAT veins. It looks like a real arm, you use real equipment, you are in a lab that feels like a real hospital room...the only difference is that the arm is hard plastic and feels nothing like a real vein, or real skin! But you know, whatever. We take what we can get.

Truth. EVERY DAY.

Well I kind of freaked out. I have been acting all composed and all that crap this entire week, you know, fake it till you make it? Today I freaked out. It began when I inserted the IV and didn't send the catheter in far enough, so fake blood started spurting out all. over. the place. 
I couldn't get it to stop, and my instructor was like,.... "YEAH Kaitlin! You're doing grea--- oh."

I laughed, and everyone else laughed, and it was all fun and games, but inside, I was still freaking out. It kind of reminded me of the time last semester when we were learning to do some kind of irrigation (I won't go into too much detail, because none of you really want to know, trust me) and I put real soap in the IV bag instead of caster soap. My instructor got a good kick out of that.
I am so excited to look back on my little 22-year-old student-nurse self and laugh. I'm glad God has given me the ability to laugh at myself. Even though I still freak out a lot, it helps.

nursing humor at it's...finest?

So I'm gonna keep practicing. A LOT. And I am gonna think happy thoughts, and tell myself a million times over that needles are not that bad. Because they really aren't, right? They are itty-bitty compared to like fifty years ago, when my parents were kids getting shots with these huge honkin' things. Last semester I freaked out about giving shots, and now it doesn't phase me anymore, so IV's can't be that different, right?
Er. Emphasis on the question mark.

So if you see me around, just give me a hug. You don't even have to mention that you read this. Just give me a little encouraging smile and say, "You're doin' great."

 In the meantime, I'll be in the open lab. Sticking needles in things and drinking a lot of gatorade so as to avoid any feeble knees.

This one is called: my life in a nutshell right now.

Today I stumbled upon this beaut. Please relish in it for this small moment with me, because I think it is so great.

A Day In The Life of a Provo College Girl-- August 26th, 2013

1. Wake up

2. Eat breakfast

3. Get picked up by friend #1

4. Help friend #1 try on wedding dresses 

5. Meet a new friend, #2, a newlywed. who proceeds to tell you all about being a newlywed (and my word people, sometimes even for a student nurse there is just too. much. detail. I needn't expound.)

6. Go home and help friend #3, who happens to be your roommate,  find a venue for HER wedding

7. Find out friend #4 is engaged to someone she met 4 weeks ago

8. Help friend #5 with a ride to her new apartment, the one which her and her soon-to-be-husband will be moving into

9. Comfort friend #6 that nothing is wrong with her, yes she has been dating her boyfriend for 6 months and yes it is perfectly normal and okay to not be engaged by now.

10. Ponder about how much I do not understand this Provo thing and wonder if I ever will

11. Throw a dinner party

12. Break things off with a guy, hate hate hate it, wonder if I'm going to live a defective life by being too picky, conclude that I'm okay

13. Sleep. So deeply.

You guys. Provo has this reputation, see, and I'm starting to see that it's there for a very real 

r e a s o n

!

It's a jungle out there, you guys. J to the U n g l e.

August 18th, 2013: "Words that Inspire me"

"Have courage for the great sorrows of life, and patience for the small ones; and when you have laboriously accomplished your daily task, go to sleep in peace; God is awake."
Victor Hugo

"The important thing is this: to be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become."
Charles DuBois

"A society grows great when old men plant trees whose shade they know they shall never sit in."
Greek Proverb

"The art of being happy lies in the power of extracting happiness from common things."
-Henry Ward Beecher

"Ladies, place your heart in the hands of God and He will place it in the hands of a man who He believes deserves it."
Unknown

"The master in the art of living makes little distinction between his work and his play, his labor and his leisure, his mind and his body, his information and his recreation, his love and his religion. He hardly knows which is which. He simply pursues his vision of excellence at whatever he does, leaving others to decide whether he is working or playing. To him, he's always doing both."
James A. Michener

"Your body is the harp of your soul. And it is yours to bring forth sweet music from it or confused sounds."
Khalil Gibran

"We were not sent to this world to do anything in which we cannot put our hearts."
John Ruskin

"There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind."
C.S. Lewis

"Believe. Believe in your destiny and the star from which it shines. Believe you have been sent from God as an arrow pulled from his own bow.
It is the single universal trait which the great of this earth have all shared, while the shadows are fraught with ghosts who ram the winds with mournful wails of regret on their lips.
Believe as if your life depended on it, for indeed it does."
Richard L. Evans

"I have wondered if I am trying to force a life. While the life I lead may not match the picture in my head, perhaps the one offered me is just as full of joy, its pigments just as bright, just not what I expected."
Richard L. Evans“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one... lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable,irredeemable.”
C.S. Lewis"You have to go whole-heartedly into anything in order to achieve anything worth having."
Frank Lloyd Wright

"Today we're younger than we're ever going to be"
Regina Spektor

“I’d like to repeat the advice that I gave you before, in that I think you really should make a radical change in your lifestyle and begin to boldly do things which you may previously never have thought of doing, or been too hesitant to attempt. So many people live within unhappy circumstances and yet will not take the initiative to change their situation because they are conditioned to a life of security, conformity, and conservatism, all of which may appear to give one peace of mind, but in reality nothing is more damaging to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future. The very basic core of a man’s living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun."
Jon Krakauer

Carlfred Broderick, in his book "My Parents Married on a Dare",  shares this personal experience that took place while he was a stake president:
 
            A woman came to him when he was a stake president for a blessing.  He said:  "I had known this sister for years and in my judgment she had made some very poor life choices.  She had married a handsome, charming young man who initially wasn't a member of the Church but joined the church for her.  She waited a year to marry him and then went to the temple.  It was the last time he ever went to the temple.  I knew he was a flake from the beginning.  It didn't surprise me that he soon returned to many of his pre-church habits.
         There was a great pain for this woman.  A good, good woman, she kept in the church; she kept in the kingdom; she suffered enormous pain because her husband went back to gambling and drinking and other things that were unhappy and unwholesome.  But, the greater pain came when her children, having these two models before them, began to follow him.  They gradually seemed to adopt his lifestyle, values, and attitude toward the Church and toward sacred things.  Although she never wavered from her own faith, her family was slipping away from her.
         As she asked me for a blessing to sustain her in what to do with this awful situation in which she found herself, my thoughts were,  "Didn't you ask for this?  You married a guy who really didn't have any depth to him and raised your kids too permissively.  You should have fought harder to keep them in church rather than letting them run off to racetracks."  I had all those judgments in my head when I laid my hands on her head.  The Lord told her of his love and his tender concern for her.  He acknowledged that he had given her (and that she had volunteered for) a far, far harder task than He would like.  (And, as he put in my mind, a harder task than I had had.  (I have eight good kids, the last of whom just went to the temple.  All would have been good if they had been orphans.)  She, however, had signed up for hard
children, for children who had rebellious spirits but who were valuable; for a hard husband who had a rebellious spirit but who was valuable.  The Lord alluded to events in her life that I hadn't known about, but which she confirmed afterwards.  Twice Heavenly Father had given her the choice between life and death, whether to come home and be relieved of her responsibilities, which weren't going very well, or whether to stay to see if she could work them through.  Twice on death's bed she had sent the messenger away and gone back to that hard task.   She stayed with it.
         I repented.  I realized I was in the presence of one of the Lord's great noble spirits, who had chosen not a safe place behind the lines punching out the ordinances to the people in the front lines as I was doing, but somebody who chose to live out in the trenches where the Lord's work was being done,
where there was risk, where you could be hurt, where you could lose, where you could be destroyed by your love.  That's the way she had chosen to labor.  Then the thought,  "I am unworthy to lay my hands on her head; if our sexes were reversed, she should have had her hands on mine."

family history, covenants, self-mastery, 2013

The new family history service is quite another matter. It deals with loving, caring, feeling ancestors beyond the veil.

Now, Richard Talbot, John Dunkerson, and Abraham Salee are not just names on a slip of paper for me to receive their temple ordinances. These are ancestors I love through temple work. They, in turn, have influenced my life. I find traits displayed in their purposeful lives woven into the fabric of my own character. Begin this work, and you will know why the Lord said, “The hearts of the children shall turn to their fathers.” (D&C 2:2.) Learn why this glorious doctrine has been restored to the earth Richard G Scott

"The world's ancestors are waiting"

It’s always refreshing to read the words of Brigham Young, who seemed always to hit the nail on the head. Listen to him. He is sharp and pointed. He says, “When you raise your hands to heaven and let them fall, then pass onward, your covenants unfulfilled, you will be cursed.” I feel sometimes like severely lecturing men and women who enter into covenants without realizing the nature of the covenants they make and who use little or no effort to fulfill them. With agency one can murder, commit all the moral, sexual sins, steal, lie, use drugs, be unkind; he may hate, envy, swear, or do whatever he would like. One can hate, or one can love. One can curse, or one can bless. One can live in loneliness, or one can be promiscuous. One can help and assist, or one can hinder. One can blaspheme, or one can honor and bless and pray. One can believe in himself, or he can believe in an overall omniscient Being. One can do as he pleases. Free agency is his. Or he can live his life with the great Redeemer as the center of his life.

One can touch a hot wire, but he cannot stave off the certain death that results. One can step in front of a powerful oncoming train, but he cannot set aside the mangling that will follow. One can jump from a skyscraper, but he cannot control the results and save his body from the crushing effects of the fall and the abrupt contact with the hard pavement below.


Jeffery R. Holland: If you are the one afflicted or a caregiver to such, try not to be overwhelmed with the size of your task. Don’t assume you can fix everything, but fix what you can. If those are only small victories, be grateful for them and be patient. Dozens of times in the scriptures, the Lord commands someone to “stand still” or “be still”—and wait.⁶ Patiently enduring some things is part of our mortal education.

“That love never changes. … It is there for you when you are sad or happy, discouraged or hopeful. God’s love is there for you whether or not you feel you deserve [it]. It is simply always there.”⁴ Never, ever doubt that, and never harden your heart. Faithfully pursue the time-tested devotional practices that bring the Spirit of the Lord into your life. Seek the counsel of those who hold keys for your spiritual well-being. Ask for and cherish priesthood blessings. Take the sacrament every week, and hold fast to the perfecting promises of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. Believe in miracles. I have seen so many of them come when every other indication would say that hope was lost. Hope is never lost. If those miracles do not come soon or fully or seemingly at all, remember the Savior’s own anguished example: if the bitter cup does not pass, drink it and be strong, trusting in happier days ahead.⁵

Russell M. Nelson: Your Heavenly Father has known you for a very long time. You, as His son or daughter, were chosen by Him to come to earth at this precise time, to be a leader in His great work on earth.¹⁹ You were chosen not for your bodily characteristics but for your spiritual attributes, such as bravery, courage, integrity of heart, a thirst for truth, a hunger for wisdom, and a desire to serve others.

You developed some of these attributes premortally. Others you can develop here on earth²⁰ as you persistently seek them.²¹

A pivotal spiritual attribute is that of self-mastery—the strength to place reason over appetite. Self-mastery builds a strong conscience. And your conscience determines your moral responses in difficult, tempting, and trying situations. Fasting helps your spirit to develop dominance over your physical appetites. Fasting also increases your access to heaven’s help, as it intensifies your prayers. Why the need for self-mastery? God implanted strong appetites within us for nourishment and love, vital for the human family to be perpetuated.²² When we master our appetites within the bounds of God’s laws, we can enjoy longer life, greater love, and consummate joy.²³

Dieter F. Ucthdorf:  Another method the adversary uses to discourage us from rising up is to make us see the commandments as things that have been forced upon us. I suppose it is human nature to resist anything that does not appear to be our own idea in the first place.

If we see healthy eating and exercise as something only our doctor expects of us, we will likely fail. If we see these choices as who we are and who we want to become, we have a greater chance of staying the course and succeeding.

If we see home teaching as only the stake president’s goal, we may place a lower value on doing it. If we see it as our goal—something we desire to do in order to become more Christlike and minister to others—we will not only fulfill our commitment but also accomplish it in a way that blesses the families we visit and our own as well.

Often enough, we are the ones who are being helped up by friends orfamily. But if we look around with observant eyes and the motive of a caring heart, we will recognize the opportunities the Lord places in front of us to help others rise up and move toward their true potential. The scriptures suggest, “Whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men.”⁹

It is a great source of spiritual power to live lives of integrity and righteousness and to keep our eyes on where we want to be in the eternities. Even if we can see this divine destination only with the eye of faith, it will help us to stay the course.

When our attention is mainly focused on our daily successes or failures, we may lose our way, wander, and fall. Keeping our sights on higher goals will help us become better sons and brothers, kinder fathers, and more loving husbands.