Oh, hello.

I want to tell you about things.

New things. Things I am learning. Things I am grateful for. Life-changing things. Things that are important. Things that I've been meaning to get out for months.


But it will have to wait.

Because for now I am headed to a 50 minute closing discussion on Walcott's Omeros, and then 50 minutes of Chinese review.


And after that I will be writing a paper on morality and poverty, studying for a Chinese midterm and a Religion midterm, and preparing a presentation on Abrogation, Appropriation and Negritude.




I love school so much.

(Not sarcastic. I really do love it.)



Also, 36 1/2 weeks down. (Men) frequently ask me when my baby is due, now (this is a big step, as men seem to be significantly more cautious about this subject than women), my heartburn is almost constant, and I can hardly go 15 minutes without thinking about this little dude and his cute little nose that looks just like his daddy's (3D ultra-sounds are pretty sweet).


My heavens, we cannot WAIT to see what our little man looks like.

Ode to writing. No promises, though.

I've never been a great journal writer. I've come to learn that it is partially because my mind flows far too quickly for my hands to keep up--so I'll get halfway through a paragraph while journaling, and then get so lost in some secondary thought that I will completely forget what was supposed to come next on paper. I get frustrated with the time it takes to record thoughts using only a pen and paper. It is tragic, really, because I am a thorough, hard and fast, rose-doodling, rain-kissing, love-lettering romantic, and the thought of a scratchy pen filling up a soft, off-white piece of paper (if we're being idyllic, by candelight), sends romantic shivers through my fingertips. But it's just not that practical. Nor fulfilling. Not for me.

I suppose I've lived in the 21st century for too long.

Because where paper and pen don't seem to do the trick, a keyboard and a blank word document seem to fill that empty space in my writing soul quite agreeably. My fingers can move (almost) as fast as my mind tends to, and when I have thoughts that are irrelevant to my current stream, I can type 'em out and move 'em around until I find the space of thought they were supposed to be composed in in the first place.

It's like playing Tetris. Only with words.

So for a while, I did that here. I opened my veins (morbid? sorry...) and splashed words onto this tan and white blogger screen that doesn't ever seem to agree with my formatting. I don't think I ever did it daily, although that was (clearly) my goal (see blog title).

It's also clear that that goal failed. Miserably, I might add.


Here's why: I got scared. I got scared that I was uninteresting. I got scared that people wouldn't want to read what I had to say. I got scared that people would judge my writing abilities. Scared that I would never be good enough. For you, or for myself.

Silly, isn't it? It's just a blog.


Recently, though, I've created a word document. It sits on my desktop. It is saved as "paperclips." I visit that document frequently, if not daily, and I just type. I don't delete, I don't re-read, I don't edit, I just type.

And it is wonderful.

And the best part? My muse is back. My words are back. And I want to share them. Because I want to connect. I want to connect to humanity. I want to connect to YOU.

I would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo, and if an echo sounded, no matter how faintly, I would send other words to tell, to march, to fight, to create a sense of hunger for life that gnaws in us all. -Richard Wright, American Hunger

the christmas tree is glowing and my lips are all dry and there's hot cocoa waiting for me on the coffee table and for some reason all my creative urges happen during the very hours that i have to write a blasted 12 page research paper.

talk about waste of creativity.

talk about bad timing.

talk about getting chapstick, blogging, hot-cocoaing, and putting off said research paper for another 15 minutes.

One year... really?

So I'm sitting here on my Monet-looking, patterned couch, eating the knock-off, generic brand of Apple Jacks (probably like Apple Smacks or something... I'm too lazy to get off the couch and look). It's snowing a lot outside. Really chilly. And pretty wet.

It's good to sit for a minute. To contemplate. It's been a year.

Just now I started making a list of everything notable that has happened in the last year. Things, I suppose, that could easily be seen as check points along the way. However, it didn't take me long to realize that this wasn't quite appropriate--neither for the way that I am feeling, nor for the way that the last year has actually been for me.

Because here's the deal. It's not really the tangible, datable, quantifiable things that have happened along the route of our first year that have defined who we are in our marriage. Rather, it's the untangible: the thoughts, the ideas, the emotions, the lessons, and sometimes even the sublime that define what we have become, together.

A few weeks back I read an article by Orson Scott Card about marriage. I thought it was so fascinating, and really, eye-opening. Part of the article said:

"AMERICA HAS BECOME tragically ignorant about something we once seemed to understand: marriage.

Even in the church, we postpone marriage later and later, as if it were a particularly unpleasant dental appointment. There's so much to do first — we have to "find out who we are." We have to get our careers established. We have to prove we're successful.

I had a taste of that myself when I got married back in 1977. I had sold my first novel and wanted to get it finished and delivered ... before I got married. So I was just a few minutes late getting to the temple because I had to finish photocopying that manuscript and get it into the mail.

What was I thinking? That it would somehow be better if my wife knew for sure that she was not part of my career as a writer?

That's such a silly mistake — that we must or even can "find ourselves" before we've made that lifelong (or longer) commitment.

Here's why it's a mistake: We don't ever "find" ourselves. Instead, in marriage, we make ourselves.

No, we make each other — as a joint project. We turn ourselves into a perfect fit. Our self is the marriage, and our part in it. There is no 'I' without the 'we.'"

Interesting concept, no? But from my small, short, life experience, I've found this statement, particularly the last paragraph, to be rather profound. Even though I was pretty young (20) when LJ proposed, I had completed 3 years at a university, I had been (almost) entirely independent for those 3 years, I had held steady, good jobs, I was financially stable with no debt, I had planned out my future education prospects, I knew clearly what my dreams and goals in life were... well, let's just leave it at that and say that I thought I had myself pretty-darn figured out. So when LJ came home from his mission and proposed a week later, I had zero inhibitions about going forward with it. We loved each other, we were the best of friends, and it would have been silly to put it off any because propriety told us we should wait.

Well, my stubborn, seemingly-solidified, birthed-from- the-strains-of-adolescence confidence soon found its way out of my newly-wed window. One beautiful, married morning, I woke up, and I had the strange thought that I didn't know who I was. It was strange because I hadn't had that thought in years.

It was strange, too, because I couldn't figure a reasoning for my loss of confidence. LJ tells me that I'm beautiful, smart, talented, awesome, and a whole bunch of other things that I am probably not but that he so graciously thinks I am pretty much every single married day. He always encourages me. I couldn't figure out my problem. Like really? What the heck.

My mother, though, the all-knowing, ever-saving angel that she is, enlightened me to that fact that I would have many of these identity-crises throughout my entire life, and that major life changes would always cause identity changes as well.

And right she was, and will continue to be, probably for the rest of my life.

This past year has been amazing. It's been hard. It's been work. It's been growth. It's been humility. It's been time. It's been memories. It's been entertaining. It's been different than anything else I have ever experienced. And let me tell you, it's been worth it.

There is nothing better in the entire world than marrying the love of your life in the temple of the Lord.

If you have ever questioned whether or not you can make it there, whether or not it is worth it, whether or not it's for you...STOP. Because you can make it there. It is worth it. It's for everyone.

And not only is it for everyone, but it might be the best thing that you'll ever do.

Because let me tell you, it's definitely the best thing I've ever done.

Now, if you'll please excuse me, I am going to go celebrate the best thing I've ever done with a romantic candle-light dinner, Martinellis, and a very attractive husband.

(Wasn't she just eating Apple Jacks?)

Some thoughts.

Since I've been pregnant, I've struggled emotionally with a lot of things. I've struggled with loneliness, depression, a heightened sense of the future, and uneasiness about how things will work out right in the months to come.

My good friend Becky, previous to two days ago, was pregnant and due right after I was. We announced our pregnancies 1 week apart, and throughout my pregnancy, I have found a lot of solace knowing that she and I have been going through very similar things. We are both 21 (our birthdays are 1 day apart), we are both English majors, we were married within a month of each other, and we both had very similar experiences in deciding to get pregnant. Two days ago, she found out she is having twins. They are her first babies, and they are both boys. I refer you to her blog post found here before you continue reading.

Becky is amazing. I know that, because Heavenly Father trusted her with 2 babies instead of just one. Every single mother of twins that I know is chalked up on my list of "Mothers that I would like to be like one day." One of these is my own mother. Becky will be a wonderful mother to these babies, and I have so much respect for her, and for the faith that she has maintained through this. It's a darn big deal to find out that you are having twins when you are 21 years old. Darn big deal.

I have stolen the quote from her blog to stick it here, because that quote struck me extra hard when I read it. I want you to read it, and to think deeply about it. Don't just skim it, you'll be missing something very important if you do.

"I have just two things to say to you who are troubled about the future. I say them lovingly and from my heart.

First, we must never let fear and the father of fear (Satan himself) divert us from our faith and faithful living. Every person in every era has had to walk by faith into what has always been some uncertainty. This is the plan. Just be faithful. God is in charge. He knows your name and He knows your need.

Faith in the Lord Jesus Christ—that is the first principle of the gospel. We must go forward. God expects you to have enough faith, determination, and trust in Him to keep moving, keep living, keep rejoicing. He expects you not simply to face the future; He expects you to embrace and shape the future—to love it, rejoice in it, and delight in your opportunities.

God is eagerly waiting for the chance to answer your prayers and fulfill your dreams, just as He always has. But He can’t if you don’t pray, and He can’t if you don’t dream. In short, He can’t if you don’t believe."

--Elder Jeffrey R. Holland

Like I said, throughout my pregnancy I have struggled with depression. I have struggled with fear of the future. I have struggled with uncertainty. I still have 2 semesters left in school. I have a husband who has 3 semesters left of his undergraduate degree, and then will be going to grad school. I don't know a lot of things about the future. And a lot of the time, that scares me.

Like Becky, though, I know that this was the right choice. In quiet moments when I can calm my mind, when I let myself be happy, when I am grateful and content, I feel my baby with me, and I know that he needed to come here. I know that he needed to be with us. It was his time. The Lord needs him here. And part of that reason was me. The Lord needed me to have more faith. So he sent me a baby boy to help me grow.

It's amazing how the Lord works. I have spent the weeks since general conference re-watching talk after talk. Mostly, I've watched President Monson's talk--The Divine Gift of Gratitude. It's been slow, but I have felt my mentality change every so slightly every time I listen to it.

I have so much to be grateful for. So much to be happy about.
I am so grateful. So happy.

I am attending a good university. I have a wonderful husband who loves me, and is excited about the future. I am expecting a beautiful, healthy, baby boy in March. I have a wonderful family, and wonderful in-laws. I have the gospel.

I have the gospel.

And that, my friends, should cause me to rejoice and be full of gratitude everyday.

Which leads me to my next point.

There was one day last week where I felt like I had literally been stomped on by a parade of horses, storming into a bloody, hopeless war. I felt so pelted into the ground, that I didn't know how I could ever stand up again. I cried and cried and cried.

That day, LJ somehow didn't have to go into a (usually) mandatory meeting with his boss. Instead, he came and found me in the Wilkinson center, and tried to pull out of me the matter that was causing me such distress. I never told him what had caused my depression, I don't think, but that really didn't matter at all. To be honest, I really can't remember what it was. You see, what's wrong is never really what we think is wrong. And LJ saw this. He was able to reach down beneath the foggy muck that was clouding my mind and the aching of my heart to see that the problem was my failure to use my God-given gift of agency. Sure, life was a little difficult, sure my emotions were running wild due to these crazy pregnancy hormones, but beneath all of that, I was not allowing myself to be happy.

LJ pulled out his Book of Mormon, and told me to read 2 Nephi 2 in its entirety and think and pray about agency the entire time I read. He specifically pointed out verse 27 which reads: "Wherefore, men are free according to the flesh; and all things are given them which are expedient unto man. And they are free to choose liberty and eternal life, through the great Mediator of all men, or to choose captivity and death, according to the captivity and power of the devil; for he seeketh that all men might be miserable like unto himself" (I added my own emphasis, obviously).

It hit me like a ton of bricks. It doesn't matter what happens in life. I have two choices: 1.) to choose to be happy and have freedom, or 2.) to choose to be miserable and remain in a sort of captivity.

Being happy is just so much better, you know?

Depression is real. Emotion is real. Why do you think that these tools are so effective in Satan's hands? But God is also real. The gospel is real. And all things which are expedient are given unto us. That means we have power. Real power to fight the adversary. Real power to fight the adversary and win.



Amazing, isn't it?
LJ always tells me, "Nothing works like the gospel works."

All I have to say to that is a rousing AMEN.

Baby baby baby.

I'm not really in a super-sappy mood right now, but sometimes when I talk about baby, I get a little sappy. I'm female and pregnant, though--so if my emotions seem a little out of the ordinary, let me tell you, they are.

We saw baby again yesterday. Baby is a he. A him. A boy.

When we saw baby for the first time, both LJ and I automatically thought boy. Strongly. But as time went on, I started to wonder and second guess. I guess that's just because I didn't want to be determinative. If it was a little girl, I didn't want to insult her by implying that she was masculine by thinking she was a he, or something. I got really sensitive about baby's feelings for a while there. Actually, make that present tense. I AM really sensitive to baby's feelings. Currently. Continuously.

But anyway.

So then last week, all the sudden, I start to think it's a girl. And then both of my spiritually-in-tune, missionary brothers thought it was a girl, so that influenced my opinion as well. Not that their incorrectness in guessing my baby's gender changes their spirituality at all. Because it doesn't. I mean, really.

So in-betwixt all of this, everyone kept asking me what I wanted. I hated that question. Like I said, I've been hyper-sensitive to baby's feelings. I would never say that I want a girl only to have it be a boy, or vice versa. Now I just imagine my baby boy, hanging out while I have these conversations with people, listening in... I didn't want to offend, you know?

So I told people I wanted a healthy baby. Period. And I am so grateful, because so far he is.

The ultra-sound tech kept talking about how beautiful his heart was. No spina bifida. No Down syndrome. A brain. She said, "We have to check because in 14 years you're going to start wondering if he ever had one." 2 functioning kidneys. Both arms. Both legs. His dad's nose. That makes me happy.

LJ jumped out of his chair when she said boy. Not that she had to say it. It was preeettyyyy clear, to be less than candid about it.

I've been thinking so much about this little boy, lately. He already has my heart. I feel him--not just his movements--but the person that he is. He is soft, gentle, smiley, and he has a good sense of humor. He's a lot like his dad, I think.




And now that we know what he is, I just can't wait to meet him.

On, on to the victory!

So this is kind of cool, and new. Considering the temptation and the disobedience that consequently accompanies the missionary rules about the internet, I guess I never even considered this as a possibility. However, I think it is absolutely awesome. Confused? Read on. This is an email we got from my brother's mission president a few weeks back:

Dear Parents,

Eighteen missionaries in the California Santa Rosa Mission have received an assignment to work on the Internet daily as a proselyting missionary for one to two hours per day. Their purpose is the same as any missionary which is to invite others to come unto Christ by helping them receive the restored gospel through faith in Jesus Christ and His Atonement, repentance, baptism, receiving the gift of the holy ghost, and enduring to the end. They will use social networks, blogs, chat, and other powerful communication tools the Lord has provided through the Internet to accomplish this assignment.

We are sending this letter to let you know that your missionary son or daughter has been given such an assignment. Please do not use your missionaries’ Facebook page for communications about home, family, or other items that will detract from their sacred work and calling. It is because of your missionary’s obedience, spiritual maturity, and earned trust that he or she has been given this assignment. Please do not do anything that would detract from their work and devotion to the Lord and to their mission. You and loved ones should continue to communicate with your missionary only through the current established policies, which is weekly by email or by the US Postal service.

If you want to read more about what the Church is doing and who is involved go to this blog address: http://mormonmission.blogspot.com/2010/10/officially-blogging-missionaries_09.html.

We are excited to start this new assignment. We pray for the Lord’s guidance as we begin learning how to best proselyte online. I am confident our missionaries will be obedient and diligent as they communicate with investigators and members in their areas, and by spreading the good news of Jesus Christ with people throughout the world. It is our belief that this is one way that the gospel will fill the earth more quickly.

Thank you for your understanding and in assisting your missionary from home in their sacred assignment.

Sincerely,

President Jonathon W. Bunker California Santa Rosa Mission

Pretty cool, huh? I'll be honest, this makes me really proud of my little bro. Anyway, my point is to link ALL of you people reading my blog to his blog-- which is: http://armiesofheaven.blogspot.com/

Visit it, become a follower, and suggest it to others.

Shall we not go on in so great a cause?