My Strengths- creative writing group

My strengths are not your weaknesses.  As I write this I have that in mind. Sometimes I wish I could've avoided some of these hard things but in that same thought they are what have made me ME and I love these experiences!

I'm going to share 3. One spiritual. One physical. One sort of silly.

Preparing to be a missionary was a life dream starting as a young girl. I prayed for it, planned for it, and lived for it. As the reality of it drew near I knew I didn't have the ideal personality for such a job. Knocking on doors, talking to and approaching strangers all day long, everyday! These thoughts just made my stomach churn. Practicing my missionary situations with classmates, friends, and family was challenging enough. But I moved forward in faith and received my call with much excitement to the New York Utica Mission. It felt so right! Serving a mission was the number one hardest thing I have ever done. It tested my spirit over and over again. As a result, my faith increased tremendously. My mission motto was, I can do hard things!

Now a married woman I prepared to bear my first child. Seeds were being planted in my mind from various sources to find a midwife and have a natural labor. With a supportive husband on my team we moved forward with joyful anticipation. I wouldn't have been ready for such a physically challenging ordeal without my supportive team; my midwife Rebecca, husband Andy, birth instructor Alyssa, and birth class members Mickelle and Michelle, and then my own personal preparation. From time to time fear and doubt crept in but it was prayer and preparation that grounded me. I wrote down some mantras to recite as labor day approached. This included scriptures and personal phrases one which was the motto from my mission, I can do hard things!

I get bored of my hair, like most girls. In high school it often changed colors & lengths. But as I grew older it was all about length and keeping it healthy (that's when the coloring stopped). I grew up with a father who had a strong bias to long hair so that was my safe zone. But once again, seeds were being sowed, and the wheels in my head were turning, considering a big change to short hair. Not just short hair but as my dad would say, "boy hair". Picture after picture, agonizing over the pros and cons, considering my options, & being fed up with the time & effort I put into my hair for an acceptable outcome, I was ready for the plunge, despite the ridicule I would receive from an opinionated yet loving father. My husband stood by me and that's all that mattered. I sat in the salon chair, my heart racing, my eyes shut tight, trying to calmly speak to my experienced hair dresser and friend. "I can do hard things" I repeated in my head.

And I did it! I have proven to myself that I can do hard things. It seems I'm only brave enough to do hard things if I feel it is right in my heart. If I have the support from good people in my life. If I pray and feel, this is good, keep going. It never makes the hard thing easier it just helps me know it will help me grow stronger in who I am. Let's do hard things together. Let's seek out our righteous desires and shoot for the moon! Doing so will make us who we need to be.

Smarty Pants

A short story of how Andy and I did not meet. 

A fun assignment once again for my creative writing group. 

I am still a work in progress.

Smarty Pants

“Ok- I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I love you!” I hung up the phone. My heart stopped and immediately began to race. What did I just say? Andy and I have only been on a few dates. This relationship isn’t ready for the “L” word. I start to panic. I blink my eyes, slowly look around the room, and fell back on my bed. Wait a minute, that was a dream! Right? I tried to convince myself. It felt so real. The reality of what I had just said seemed so distant, yet so real. I blinked my eyes, and felt the tiredness in them.  They were hard to open. Of course that was a dream! I never felt so relieved in my life!

The first time I saw Andy was in Econ 1010. We sat in a class of 100 people, the air was thick and unpleasant. The teachers voice was high pitched and obnoxious. Nothing was interesting about the room besides the people surrounding me. Andy sat in the front row and participated heavily. He would ask intriguing questions like, “What’s the difference between fixed costs and marginal costs of selling another unit?” Maybe it was the vibration of his low voice or the way he could take a boring subject and joke about it, whatever it was, it was him, and not the teacher that gave me an inkling of joy in the class.

After the end of the semester and scarcely passing, I saw this dark haired, scruffy faced boy all over campus! In the computer lab, in lines at the food court, studying in the library, at school concerts, at the local climbing gym, laughing with girls on campus, and playing soccer with a group of friends. He was so alive and bright with a constant, gentle looking smirk on his face. Sadly, I felt like a ghost in his presence.

It was Friday night and I sat in my room reading. The smell of my pasta dinner still lingered in the air. My roommate Gwen called out to me, “We are heading up to the basketball game if you want to come!” I jumped out of my bed and frantically grabbed my blue shirt and put it on as i ran out the door, how did i forget there was a game tonight. An Aggie game in the spectrum is a special event, its not something I like to miss. It’s loud, full of spirit, and exciting to watch. We were lucky to get seats the 6th row back, surrounded by similarly dressed fans. I sat near the end of our row with three empty seats next to me.

As the game still had 10 minutes before starting I was doing my typical people watching routine. Sitting silently and contentedly scanning the crowd. Excitement filled the air with laughter and high fives. I saw a few figures out of the corner of my eye walking down our aisle towards the empty seats next to me. As they neared closer I glanced at the 3 boys and my heart stopped. There he was. And for the first time he was looking right at me. My hands felt clammy. My throat locked up. I quickly glanced away and fumbled with my phone.

“Are these seats taken?”

I looked up trying to act casual and cleared my throat.

“No, go ahead”

I attempted a smile, which felt completely fake to me. Here was my chance to finally meet this stranger and I was too afraid to say anything more. I looked away, then at my phone, then at the scoreboard, then at my friends. I started screaming in my head, “What do I do!”

Luckily my friends helped break my now awkward silence as they began shuffling seats and Gwen plopped beside me.

“Patrick just texted. He wants to go get ice cream after the game. I thought he wasn’t interested so I’ve been going out with Jason. I totally like Patrick over Jason but now what do I do about Jason?”

The volume of the stadium had been increasing since we arrived and now music was blaring over the intercoms. Gwen had a loud voice but with all the surrounding noise she made sure to compensate and in effect was practically yelling at me. We were both taken by surprise when the stranger next to me spoke up in reply to her conundrum.

“Just go get ice cream with Patrick, Jason will get over it.”

He had a big smile on his face as if he were telling us a joke.

I smiled and gave a few chuckles. Gwen was obviously not satisfied with the answer. Gwen relished in the drama and didn’t enjoy this boy making light of it. Gwen replied with a short, “thanks” and turned to explain to the friend on her other side. This harsh response on her end could have left things feeling sour, but Andy’s face had no reaction.

I chuckled again feeling much more comfortable and opened my mouth to speak.

“Gwen is a complicated girl, you made that whole situation too easy.”

“Maybe she should invite Jason to go too.”

I laughed and nodded my head. I was never into drama and for people like Gwen I would listen but never say anything, knowing it would never be sufficient. I heard the dramatic chatter continue and easily tuned it out.

“Well, my name is Blaire. I think we actually had a class together a while back.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Econ 1010. The only reason I know is because you were the smarty pants sitting on the front row.”

He chuckled and looked a little embarrassed but confidently told me the first joke of many to come.

“Smarty pants huh?! You give my pants way too much credit.” Then he started to laugh harder trying to hold back.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, not sure if i should feel insecure or not.

“Imagine my pants standing there with a brain poking out the waist.”

As he tried to help me visualize his actual smarty pants, my laughter bellowed out uncontrollable. It was at that point, all walls and barriers completely fell. I wasn’t interested in the game or the people watching or the friends I came with. Andy had me captivated.

The game ended and people started filing out. I motioned to my friends that I would catch up with them later and he did the same. I smiled as we continued in this fun and silly way. And to think I had had my eye on him since Econ 1010. Think about it, my eye literally on his body! Weird I know, but I can’t help but laugh. Andy has just introduced me to a whole new dimension of funny.

(So the dream in the beginning really happened while we were dating. The story came from my real love for people watching and developing crushes on boys during college. I never met any of them so i thought it would be fun to make it really happen.  Andy and I aren’t “romantics”, i thought it would be funny to write a cheesy romantic story about us but i couldn’t, it's just not us.)

A Blank Canvas

Describe your personality with COLOR.

A Blank Canvas

            A blank canvas, perfectly white.   All is calm and at peace: serenity, quiet, cooperation, solitude, silent strength is the color white.  Everything is in its place and orderly.  Relaxation comes through deep breathing. Nothing can disturb this peace. Sitting in bed, not a sound can be heard except for the scratch of my pencil on paper. It’s Friday night and there is laughter outside the window. A smile creeps in, a feeling of contentment.

            An early morning, I’m jolted awake, the crying breaks the peace. Red splashes onto the canvas. What does the screaming child need? Flustered, it’s trial and error until the child is comforted with what he needs. The red slowly drips down through the white, calming to a pink.  Sweetness and gratitude now surround me. Thoughts soon wander from one friend to another, then to family. Who needs a call, a visit, a note?  Purple now slowly becomes visible upon the white canvas, as excitement and anxiety for the new project begins to take over. Feelings of  doubt creep in, I wonder if what I do matters?  Reassurance comes, and I know that I am doing what is right.  The purple quickly fades to lavender as the whiteness on the canvas overpowers.  

White becomes more powerful once again as the faces of the little children bring in a tenderness. They are the focus, the pride and joy. Today they will be served and loved and cared for. Afternoon visit at the park, new colors arrive, splashing onto the canvas. Yellow blossoms into hellos and conversations. Orange becomes playful chasing and pretending, laughter fills the air we are breathing. Enough time spent playing as the eyes begin to droop. A slow walk back to where beds are ready to receive the small creatures.

As the day carries on, tantrums and crying often bring black clouds.  Patience and understanding gets dampened with this pressing burden of black.  Searching for a remedy, all methods are used to bring back the peace, the serenity.  All involved are left in exhaustion. The white is fighting hard to calm the black.  It begins to triumph, it’s crawling in and I’m left feeling grey.

            Blue shows up on the now color smeared white canvas. It’s a time of reflection, guilt is found, disappointment makes an appearance, and there are hints of success deep in navy crevices of blue.  They are hard to see.  A book of light is opened, the spirit is fed.  Light gives all the feelings and colors, hope for a better way of becoming.  The light from the book begins to wipe the colors off the canvas.  The colors slowly fade, lighter and lighter until there is hardly a remnant of hue left.  The canvas is once again refreshingly, perfectly white.  All is calm and at peace: serenity, quiet, cooperation, solitude and silent strength is the color white. 

A Grand Place

Channing Pollock once remarked: “A world in which everyone believed in the purity of women and the nobility of men, and acted accordingly, would be a very different world, but a grand place to live in.”

A wiseman once said, the world could be grand

Just believe, and offer up, bona fide

Things could be different, more unified

Different roles but equal, hand in hand

Confident women who are virtuous

Men who are gentle, kind and noble

Amazing our world, if these were global

Women and Men walk together, one purpose

Someday this could be, one in unity

One fills in the gaps the other one lacks

Working together and doing kind acts

The world seems to be granting immunity

Shine forth, even if some think us abstract

We all have a part, its called, community

Creative Writing Group

I've joined a creative writing group. And so far I'm loving it!

Being a mother to little children can leave my brain feeling unused.

This is a great outlet!

Here was my first assignment:

Describe your favorite place with only sensory BESIDES the visual.

I like organization. I like cleanliness. I like walking on a floor without crumbs sticking to my feet. I like music according to my mood. I like healthy, clean tasting food. I like my hair to be in place. Because of this list of things “I like” my heart may beat a bit faster than the average human. But when it comes to my favorite spot I brake all of my own rules, and in a way, it’s therapeutic.

I walk along the warm sand with my flip flops on, the sand creeps under my feet and into my toes. I try this sandal method as long as I can but always end up taking off my flimsy flops with much pleasure. Grasping the sandals and stepping forward brings much relief and I breathe in slowly. Is it the salty humid air? The smell that I neither enjoy nor dislike, but find that it soothes my soul. Is it the sound of the waves crashing that slows down the beat of my heart? I feel myself transforming into a new person.I hear the squawking of seagulls and gaze heavenward.  The breeze that runs its fingers through my hair is a sign that I am letting go. The laughter of children chasing waves is too enticing not to join in. The waves crash on my legs leaving a salty film. The water droplets dive into my mouth unexpected. How can I enjoy these simple moments? It seems a mystery.Taking a break from the chasing and running, I return to home base, the towels. I am all covered in sand that I don’t even attempt to remove. The sandwiches for lunch usually become “sand”wiches, but the watermelon allows it to wash down. I take a sip of the forbidden soda and the sweetness dances around in my mouth. I savor it.I let the warmth of the day seep into every part of my being and in my heart I hear a whisper to remember this moment.