A self portrait

I started this blog during a major several major life transitions. Writing was almost like a way to survive. To not self implode.

I guess it is just my way of reconciling the experiences. Figuring out what they mean to me and accepting them and moving forward ... hopefully a better person than before.


I had so much to say and to get out and truth be told there was probably a whole lot of over-sharing. But I was just being true to my form... I usually wear my heart on my sleeve with few exceptions.

But writing has been so absent in my life. And it is not that I didn't want to. I just didn't feel the right kind of inspiration. Or the right reasons.  I can't really actually put my finger on it to be honest.

Maybe just too "busy".
....
There is a pulling need to write. It seems like I always need to write when my life changes perspective. For the past several years I have lived the single life. It feels like a morphed into a million different versions of myself. And not in a weird schizophrenic way.. but more in a way to figure out who I am. And that is still an ongoing process ... as it should be.

                                                                                                                       Obviously lessons and becoming who we presently are doesn't happen in an instant but rather very slowly over time. Almost so slow it is hard to notice until you reach a pivotal point or something you have been hoping and dreaming and waiting for. I guess that it is the same reason why I am not very good at writing in the everyday moments. Because it is hard to know which everyday moments will offer the most significance.                                                                                                                             Or the ones that you value and want to keep. But maybe it is those everyday moments that need to be documented. Maybe those are really the ones that make the most difference in a person's life.

Because a "looking back on it" perspective makes it easier to sift out the fine details to get the overall picture BUT you lose those everyday details... which at the end of the day is what the sum total of our lives are all about. And those small memories and moments are some of the best and most treasured.

And they have the most impact.

Maybe one day (tomorrow or when I am old and senile) I will write more about the last few years of my life but for now consider all these selfies an update.

Oh, and that "life changing perspective thing...  I got married... more on that I am sure when I get around to it :)

#2054

13 more hours until I begin my first marathon.

There is a lot of fear in the space of anticipation. Fear of wondering what it is really like to push through the final miles. Fear of wondering what I am really made of. Although, I don't think I am afraid of failing. I think I am more afraid of what it is going to take to finish. It's hard to really know for sure though.

All I know is that I am feeling something very unpleasant inside.

I started training in June, when running a mile felt like torture. I will never forget one of those first early morning runs when I sat down on a rock feeling defeated before I even really started. I would I ever run 26.2 miles if I struggled to run 2 or 3? What did I sign myself up for? Why was I doing this?

I feel a little the same way today... just 13 hours away... only this time I have miles and miles of training behind me.. which is keeping me from coming completely undone.

"Try and keep trying until that which seems difficult seems possible." -President Uchdorf

A marathon before a few months ago seemed like something beyond my reach. It seemed like complete insanity. I guess the insanity part has not changed but the difference is that it is complete insanity that I am willingly walking running into.

And now after all those early mornings, after all those long runs, the hills, the aches and pains, and the mental battles,

I am here.

Here waiting to prove to myself that I can do anything that I set my mind and heart to. That I can accomplish something beyond what I thought I was capable of. Here's to hoping that I will become someone stronger. Here's to hoping that I can become someone I can be proud of. Here's to finishing 26.2 miles at age 26 and 2 months old... that's got to be some form of lucky mojo :)

How I Ended Up Singing at a Stranger's Funeral and also Attending a 12-Step Program.

I stayed out really late on Friday. So late that despite smelling like campfire, I rolled up into my freshly washed sheets and passed out.

I woke up later that usual on Saturday and I would have slept in longer except I had to go practice the song I was finagled into singing today in church. As we were practicing, there walked across the back of the chapel, a women carrying flowers on a cart. Of course I had to ask if there was a wedding to which she replied, "No, a funeral."

Um, awkward.

Ten minutes went by while we still practiced and she still worked on setting everything up when she approached us again and explained that she was setting everything up for her mother's funeral. She asked, "Will you ladies please sing?" She then went on to explain that the musical number which was arranged fell through at the very last minute. She also explained that the song we were singing, "Love at Home" was one of her mother's favorites.

How could we dream of saying no? Can you imagine burying your mother, on mother's day weekend, trying to have a beautiful day to remember her and have the musical number cancel on you at the last minute? We cleared time in our schedules and agreed to do it. We had a couple hours before the funeral to go home and make ourselves look presentable. I am proud to report that I did shower before coming to the rehearsal and didn't torture the others with my musty campfire aroma but didn't go much beyond by way of making myself look presentable. My hair really doesn't do the whole air dry thing so well and I have to admit it wasn't my cutest moment to be in public much less performing a musical number.

On the way out to my car, I ran into a missionary couple in the parking lot. They looked lost and asked me if they found the right church building. Being in Utah it is easy to get the Mormon church buildings mixed up and confused. I asked them if they were there for a funeral. "No, we are here for the the 12 Step Addiction Recovery Program group meeting." My interest and curiosity peaked as I peppered them with questions about it. They invited my to sit in on the group to see what it was all about. It was an invitation that I gladly accepted.

I probably could go on longer that I should about my experience there and won't. To be honest, it feels too special to share... weird, I know. I always share details. But I will say that it was an amazing and humbling experience to sit with complete strangers and witness their courage to accept that they have a problem and make the decision to exist on the brutal, uncomfortable, and scary road to addiction recovery.

It took me back to a time that I struggled with an addictive lifestyle, an eating disorder. I remember my road to recovery and realized that these people were just like me, only the me several years ago, completely enslaved to those behaviors and struggling to see any sort of happy, healthy life beyond them. And then it hit me, not for the first time, but harder than ever before: I am not captive to those demons any more. I have been freed. I have been healed. And I was able to share my story of hope with those who are struggling just like I did. And it felt so wonderfully good.

I am looking into being more involved with the program as a facilitator. It's a new passion and a new cause. More on that later I am sure.

So back home I quickly ran to pull myself together for the funeral.

Her name was Margaret. She was tall. Humorous. Fashionable. Loving. Full of grace and charity. She was a woman that I had never met but felt as though I knew her. So surreal. I decided that I wanted to be like this woman. To live a life like hers. Imperfect yet complete because she ultimately knew what things mattered most. It was obvious by the way she made others around her feel.

Yesterday reminded me that life is beautiful. Unexpected. And to be cherished. Yesterday reminded me of the messy process we are going through to become something, someone better.

Life sure is good.

The Savior never fails me. Even though I fail miserably in doing so, I know that I can explicitly trust Him and He will NEVER betray my "faulty"  confidence.

It's November again. A year down and gone by.

Strange.

Surreal. 

Yeah, I just used two words that mean practically the same thing, so take your pick.

Time has a way of healing the heart.

...life since last November, has been beautiful in an ugly sort of way. I guess that may not make any sense to anyone except myself but it doesn't matter because somehow verbalizing it that way creates clarity and some peace of mind at the moment.

The gamut of emotions this year brought made me feel like I am more than only halfway human and somehow I was able to come back to life in a lot of ways- somehow I started to see color again.

It's not the November of last year and knowing that gives me all sorts of freedom. It's funny how life ebbs and flows between happiness and sadness.

Today I accept that quality about this human experience.

So, here's to a sweet November.

... First inclination was that someone stole my identity and was living it up somewhere in Kansas or Oklahoma...

My phone rang early this morning from a number I didn't recognize.

"Who would be calling me this early in the morning?" I thought to myself.

I answered the phone to an automated message from my insurance company telling me that there was an out of state license in my name. I was told to stay on the line until a representative was available to talk with me. First inclination was that someone stole my identity and was living it up in somewhere is Kansas or Oklahoma.

Apparently however, the license on file was from Michigan under the alias of my married name. Which makes sense, because when I signed up for my insurance I was still technically married ... I guess though I thought I had already went through the process of changing everything over to my new/old name.

And going through that process was not fun. The universal response at any agency, whether at the social security office or the DMV or this morning with my insurance company was some variation of, "Congratulations, did you get married?"

"No, divorced."

Today, giving that response cut me deep. Really deep. And maybe that's because I was already down from the events of the previous night. This morning I didn't wake up to an alarm -- I woke up to tears. It reminded me of this time last year when I started waking up to my tears on a consistent and regular basis.

I tried my best to pull myself together but I was coming apart by the seams. I got ready for work and my sweet roommate made me tea and empathized when I told her what happened. I left my apartment with all the courage I had to face the day -- which was wasn't much. When I got to the parking lot at work I couldn't get out of my car. My phone rang and it was my boss telling me that he was running a little late but from the sound of my voice he could tell that something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

For the next hour or so we sat in cafe of the office building next to ours. I had my head down on the table and cried and cried and cried. I didn't even care that I was in a public setting, or that my boss was sitting across from me and other people were around.

No dignity. Just overwhelmed by an unshakable hurt.

Today was an ugly day in my life. Today I forgot what the meaning of courage and hope are.

I was unfortunate enough to be a victim of the following awkward conversation...

Tonight after the broadcast of Women's Conference, a lady from my sister's ward asked if I was married or single. A question to which I replied, "single".

She then proceeded to tell me about a lady in their ward who was 40, single, and recently engaged. When this woman announced her engagement in Relief Society, they cheered and rooted her on as if she just scored the winning touchdown at a football game. I wasn't sure where she was going with her touching little hallmark-movie-plot story until she closed it out with this 'inspirational' remark, "So, don't worry sweetheart and don't give up."

Seriously? I am only 25.

On another note, can I say that I have a crush on President Uchdorf? Yep, I do and I totally just said that. Is it because of his thick molasses German accent? Possibly. Is it the thick salt and pepper mane? Possibly. Is it because he was once a fighter pilot? Definitely. Is it because he obviously is in touch with what women want and need to hear? Absolutely.

But I think nothing is as attractive as a solid god-fearing righteous dude. Jus sayin.

It feels like the fall is settling in. Especially in the mornings. It makes me think of Michigan ... It makes me feel homesick....
But Michigan, is no longer home (yes, months later I still apparently grapple with this) and realizing it is making me feel like I am loosing everything all over again.
I'm not pining for my old [dysfunctional] life, it's just that I lived in that life for most of my adult years. And now in this new [wonderfully functional] life, I feel like a am a little girl wearing her mom's high heels and pearls who is playing 'grown-up'. It's like I am not quite sure how to live in my new circumstances. I don't know how to let myself be happy... it is kind of like I forgot how
...Because Michigan was so bittersweet, the thought of memories there have the ability to make me laugh and also make me cry. Everything that happened feels real now. For awhile it didn't feel like those ugly things actually happened. But lately I am experiencing more and more moments where it feels more real than ever. And it is just a reminder of how scary and painful life can get.

Deep scars have been aggravated over the past couple of days. It is amazing how singular events can trigger the process of resurrecting emotional issues. Issues that you buried and thought would rest in peace.

Last night I found myself walking around and around the paved path at Flat Iron Mesa park trying to process through the anxieties of both the job hunt and the dramas of dating. Both of which are laced with fear, uncertainty and potential rejection (three incredibly ugly and faith-breaking words). I may or may not have sat down in the middle of that park at one point and started sobbing... I will neither confirm or deny that event. And it was a good thing that I was the only soul there to experience that little emotional saga.

The worst of days are the ones that I feel like a captive to the consuming fire of grief. Dramatic, yes. But I dare you the reader to say that life experience hasn't ever dealt you that hand of cards.

I am waiting to hear back from a company about a job opportunity I went through a total of four interviews with. I fear that in the event I don't get the job that it will be the last rejection I will be able to mentally handle. To compound my present dilemma further, I am not sure if my freshly healed baby-like heart can handle the internal wars that pertain to dating.

Fortunately, despite the current stormy conditions, there is good news for me.

"...you will experience your own adversity. None is exempt. You will suffer, be tempted, and make mistakes. You will learn for yourself what every heroine has learned: through overcoming challenges come growth and strength.

It is your reaction to adversity, not the adversity itself, that determines how your life’s story will develop.

There are those among you who, although young, have already suffered a full measure of grief and sorrow... how beloved you are of your Heavenly Father. Though it may seem that you are alone, angels attend you. Though you may feel that no one can understand the depth of your despair, our Savior, Jesus Christ, understands. He suffered more than we can possibly imagine, and He did it for us; He did it for you. You are not alone.

If you ever feel your burden is too great to bear, lift your heart to your Heavenly Father, and He will uphold and bless you... All you have to do is trust your Heavenly Father.

...you who stand for truth and righteousness, you who seek goodness... and walk in the ways of the Lord—our Father in Heaven has promised that you will 'mount up with wings as eagles; [you] shall run, and not be weary; and [you] shall walk, and not faint.^' You 'shall not be deceived.^'  God will bless and prosper you.  'The gates of hell shall not prevail against you'; … and the Lord God will disperse the powers of darkness from before you, and cause the heavens to shake for your good..." 
-Your Happily Ever After,  President Dieter F. Uchtdorf

Somehow I know that it is gonna be okay.

P.S. I highly recommend reading or listening to Your Happily Ever After. I have listened to it about one ka-billion times. In fact almost every morning that I would warm up on the treadmill before my personal training sessions, I would listen to it and find great strength and peace from it's message. I was even cool enough to hyper-link the text above for ease and convenience.

5:37 a.m.

Deer Creek, Provo Canyon

View of the snow capped Mt. Timpanogous

Breathtaking.

Somehow through a series of events, I ended up watching the sunrise here this morning... well sort of watched the sunrise... it was a mostly cloudy event. And it made me think of something.

"Sometimes the sun rises on a morning that is cloudy or foggy. Because of the overcast conditions, perceiving the light is more difficult, and identifying the precise moment that the sun rises over the horizon is not possible. But on such a morning we have sufficient light to recognize a new day and conduct our affairs." -Elder David A. Bednar, The Spirit of Revelation

 (This post is dedicated to a dear friend who is struggling with the decision to get divorced or not. And no, this is not to impart my opinion on what they should do. Rather it is to say that as with any struggle, it will find its way from the present to history and peace can be had. P.S. Just for the record, I believe that couples should do everything they can to save their marriage... I don't recommend divorce as the solution BUT sometimes, in some cases, it is the only solution.)

I think a tough wall to breach when coping with the realities of a divorce is coming to terms with the chapter in your life titled, "Something You Went Into Swearing Over Your Dead Body Wouldn't Fail... But Did." I didn't go into my marriage even humoring the thought that it would fail in 5 1/2 years. I went into it having every faith and hope that it would last... as most people do.

I am so grateful to say however, the shame that comes from a personal failure like a divorce by the age of 24 doesn't effect me anymore. Certainly not like it used to. I have been able to come to an acceptance and peace with it (...and for quite some time now). Yeah, there are some moments when a trigger unleashes a ton of bricks and I realize, "Whoa, my life is totally different now..." A trigger that jolts me back to a life trajectory that came to a dead end--I'd be lying if I didn't say that it's not a little discomposing. But just recently in a conversation regarding someone else's personal struggle, I was reminded that, "A moment is only a moment."

Just breathe and let it pass.

Ultimately, the general feeling towards that aspect of my life experience is that I do not feel 'tortured' or bombarded by the fear of that kind of personal failure. I am free from it.

Yes, I am 24.
Yes, I am a divorcee.
Yes, I learned some valuable lessons.
No, it doesn't define me.

I just have a clearer understanding of what I want... or don't want.

I now however wonder when it is appropriate for me to share that I am not just simply single but divorced... especially when it comes to the people I date. And no, that is not a plea for advice on the subject.

Moving Day.

Sleeping in a new place the first night is a surreal experience. It sort of feels like you are staying in a hotel room but instead of tacky art and awful bedding you are surrounded by all your stuff. It definitely takes a bit before it really feels like it is your crash landing in the universe.

But being on my own again feels like a breath of fresh air.

Finally, I reached ground zero.

Apartment: check.
Job: ...

Umm, hello Job, it is about time that you manifest yourself in my life, mmmkay?

Along with moving yesterday, I had to go to the library to tweak my resume up a bit for a time sensitive job lead that I was given. When you are working on the library's computers you are not allowed to save any temporary word files on the desktop and of course in the madness of moving, I forgot my zip drive. Feeling desperate, I asked the guy next to me if he had one. He just looked at me like I was crazy for even asking him. So, I asked the librarian if they had one I could borrow. They either had a $9 zip drive or a $1 3 1/2 floppy disk drive. I opted for the latter. It was the first time I ever used one of those. I just thought I had to make a note of it.

My roommate brought home some leftovers for me to enjoy while I moved my stuff in. When I went to reheat it, I realized that my apartment doesn't have a microwave. As much as I hate to admit it, for a second I stood there in the kitchen wondering what to do (just for a second though).

Let me tell you, leftovers taste way better when you reheat them in a frying pan.

Oh, and I am now on a super tight budget. Old school girdle, I can't breathe type. I am talking living off of oatmeal (which is not only great for the bank account but also for the figure), cease fire on any and all forms of retail therapy, and downgrading wherever possible. The hardest downgrade, hair care. I just bought Suave shampoo and I think a part of me died inside. And don't get the wrong idea about me. I am not some prissy, rich chick sort of girl that never has had to worry about making ends meet. I know what a living on a budget is... I am pretty good at it too. I am a t-shirt and jeans girl (jeans from Target for $19 and t-shirts from Shopko for $7). Add some cute jewelry (Forever 21 usually $5 and under) and some great shoes (DSW clearance usually $20-$30 at the most) and you'd be banging. But even shopping on a budget adds up and must go. When it comes to my hair though, make no mistake... I am a total snob. And yes, there is definitely a difference when it comes to the cheap and the good stuff. {sigh}

Even though I feel like I am taking a big leap of faith into a dark abyss (especially not having my income situation sorted out yet), I know most moments that it's gonna be alright and that's a good feeling to have.

I am basking in every second of it.

I dedicate Three Little Birds by Bob Marley for today.

Except,

P.S. Someone lend me a shot-gun for those pigeons outside my window. Ever since 5 a.m. this morning they having been driving me nuts! I guess my "three little birds" aren't as pleasant as Bob describes.

P.P.S. I now have internet where I am living again (insert hallelujah chorus here please and can I get an amen!). Now I just have to get my netbook up and running again...

I tried my hand at watercolor again... and I am in love.

I have a tendency to torture my artwork, but something about working in this medium curbs it. I don't focus on details or particulars... just simple colors and shapes. And yes, it may look like a little kid's work but that it just because I saw the world again the way a child does -- untainted or muddied up by stress or trauma.

I was reminded that the world isn't always cruel... it is actually beautiful... exquisite. It was just another treasured moment at the surface. Today -- I lived. Yesterday too, for that matter.

i miss her.

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arguably the bestest friend i ever had. some things just can't be mimicked or replaced.

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Life. According to plan. According to me.

I should already have a job.

I should already have my own place.

I should have already re-established my independence.

I shouldn't be feeling like I am just holding my place in life.

I shouldn't be in what feels like a 'waiting room'.

It shouldn't hurt so much sometimes .... still.

I shouldn't feel this lost.

I had some serious expectations of how my life in Utah was/is supposed to go down when I left Michigan. Some have yet to come into fruition and some have ended up disappointing me.

Life hardly ever goes 'according to plan'.

Decided that plans should be written in pencil, on heavy-weight paper that can hold up under lots and lots and lots of erasing... oh, and having a big fat eraser is a definite necessity for life's editing process.

Only the past can be written in stone.

"Trials are essential for us to learn to become divine... We must be careful to not resent those things that help us become more divine... our purifying process should be endured on the Lord's timing" -Elder P.V. Johnson

[Life. According to plan. According to Him]

Is it an overstatement to say that I am struggling? 

In my anticipation for life to get better, it feels like it has only gotten worse or at the very least my optimism is being challenged. Actually to be honest, I can't quite figure out what I am feeling but all I know is that is doesn't feel very good. I guess I failed to remember that, "pain is an essential part of the healing process...only after being refined by our trials, we shall come forth as gold." -Elder K.F. Richards

Yes, I wonder when I will feel like I found my niche in the world [at least for another moment... seems like life conditions are always changing... it is what keeps it interesting along with keeping it difficult as it was meant to be]. Yes, I wonder if I will ever stop crying on a regular basis. Yes, I am frustrated. Yes, I feel lost. Yes, admitting all of that to you -- the reader -- seems ridiculous and mildly humiliating. And even more humiliating to have to admit it to myself.

I guess somewhere in the Lord's timing the above can and will be resolved. And I am accepting that reality more and more.

Today, I attended an institute class up at the U of U. What seemed to be a randomly selected class ended up being one of those, meant to be -- answer to an unspoken prayer -- "tender mercy of the lord", sort of things. One group of scriptures seemed to be quite fitting to my current dilemma.

"...ye must grow in grace...Fear not ... for you are mine... and none of [you]... shall be lost." D&C 50: 40-42

Seems like that message is the one that the Lord keeps sending my way... Me thinks I should listen.

I can't tell you how many dozens of paintings I have just given away and for the most part haven't experienced any remorse for doing so. There have only been two paintings that I have carelessly gifted... ones that even after years, I have regretted letting go of. One, I have already resigned to never see again and have come to terms with it. The other thankfully I have been able to retrieve back to my possession...

There comes a point in every follower of Christ when they have to decide whether or not they believe in His reality. That point came for me when I was working on this painting.... and in those moments He was real. Palpable. I knew he was standing in that room with me... And He came to me with a message of, "Peace--be still."
It came at a time when I needed to hear that message the most. In fact, He always comes at the times when I need it the most... and it has instilled great confidence and trust to believe that what He promises, can and will be delivered.

I still am struggling with my status-quo. Not always (and I have been finding any excuse to enjoy the moment) but I still experience flashes of severe anxiety and moments when I truly come to realize not only how much my life has changed but how much of it is lost to memories... some of which I long for. I find myself putting undue stock in the past.

I guess it is a common condition in life.  Certainly when navigating through a big transition.

But somehow worrying about the future doesn't seem to be an issue for me. Somehow, through the Savior's message of, "Fear not..." I have been developing a faith in and hope for a great tomorrow. And having this painting is a big reminder for me in times of trouble to "...be still"... And when I feel lost, displaced, or feel like I just don't belong anywhere, I can remember that I am His. I belong to His fold. I am one of His great creations-- beautiful and wonderful-- great is my worth to Him and I will not be forgotten.

"Consider the lilies of the field--how they grow, how they grow.
Consider the birds of the sky--how they fly, how they fly.

He clothes the lilies of the field. He feeds the birds in the sky
and He will feed those who trust Him and Guide them with His eye.

Consider the sheep of his fold--how they follow where he leads.
Though the path may wind across the mountains, He knows the meadows where they feed.

He clothes the lilies of the field. He feeds the birds in the sky
and He will feed those who trust Him and Guide them with His eye.

Consider the sweet tender children who must suffer on this earth.
The pains of all of them he carried from the day of his birth.

He clothes the lilies of the field. He feeds the lambs of his fold
and He will heal those who trust Him and make their hearts as gold."

Learning how to 'live' again.

...and a part of me is resisting it still.

I am used to going 160 mph and being split up into a million directions and really it's easy to lose yourself to a hectic schedule and in those external identifiers (student at... employee at... belonging to...) But what happens when those are gone- when the world seems to stop? minor identity crisis.

Feeling a little dizzy- like I stayed on vacation too long, or falling asleep in the afternoon when it is still light outside and waking up a couple of hours when it is dark feeling disoriented and wondering what time it really is... ever do that? Then you know what 'feeling at little dizzy' feels like. I guess I feel this way because I am so conditioned to have to go back and have a load of responsibilities and commitments to ground me... Especially considering I came here for Thanksgiving and then went back and then came here for Christmas and then went back and then a month later coming again ... I guess after a couple of weeks I would feel like I had to brace myself to have to go back again. [I just used some form of the word 'feel' six times in this paragraph ...hmmm, that's interesting.]

But I don't. I have a new life here... a blank canvass and truth be told, at the moment, I'm terrified.

I am searching for that opportunity... the right inspiration... preparing to take a path... my eyes are peeled, my heart is open and my legs are ready to run but apparently it's all about the waiting game right now and that takes an incredible amount of patience- patience I am not sure that I have. My natural tendency is to be impetuous, to just jump right in taking time to 'think about it' and 'plan it out' as I go.

I was never very good at playing chess either.
Feeling a little lost. Feeling a little scared. Feeling like I need to find some more faith inside to deal with it. This process... this transition... sure is taking more that I thought it would. More time too.

I guess I will just have to go and do some more snowboarding while I am in the 'waiting room'. Snowboarding does seem to make the world seem right again. There is something about feeding that inner adrenaline junkie... gives me a chance to just be Amy.

If I had a nickle for every time I have heard the phrase, "You need to take some time off and heal", I would be loaded ... drinks on me!

I am not even really sure what people mean when they say this. Some have specified that I should take some time away from working and shed as many mundane responsibilities, while others have suggested that I don't even talk to, think about, or look at the male sex for the next very long indefinite future ... they might as well be telling me to join a Buddhist Monastery in the Himalayas or become a nun. Maybe I a being a little unfair here. I am assuming they have only the best intentions however irritating those intentions can be at times.

I guess 'healing' means something different for everyone.

 I took the opportunity yesterday to enjoy the beautiful sunny weather and go on a short hike by myself up Bell Canyon. The trail was covered in fresh snow and the sight of the undisturbed trail made me feel all sorts of happy inside. One of my very most favorite features of the Wasatch Mountains is in the picture below and I am going to attempt to explain where it is... can you see where what looks like three ski runs are converging?

And here she is, the beautiful Bell Canyon. I found a place to just sit and feel the crisp breeze and the sun on my face - not worried or wondering about anything except for a moment wishing I had a dog to share the moment with.  

This is what healing is for me.

There are so many little things to be thankful for lately. Like sleeping peacefully for a full night and waking up in the mornings filled with hope of great possibilities. Seeing the sun break across the powder-dusted mountains and tap water that tastes as crisp as melted snow. The nearness of family and old friends and the inevitability of meeting new people that I will soon come to know and admire.

But most of all, having the opportunity to slow down and re-focus on those thing that matter most - to realign myself with God. I am grateful that my life as of late has grown 'quite' enough that I can hear and feel His guiding influence.

With the gift of faith I will be able to rebuild my life again and hopefully attain the desires of my heart.

I'm slowing down. I'm steadying my course. I'm thinking strategically. I'm keeping my eye on those things that matter most. I am finding that place where my short term goals meet my long term goals.

I don't have the answers I am looking for yet but I am confident...

... good things are bound to happen. Stay tuned.

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I am not sure if anything tastes as sweet as forgiveness. It's quite delicious and liberating. I'm savoring every bit of it.

... and that is all I have to say about that. Shocking, I know. I just wanted something to remind me how good this feels....even though it's just a couple of ambiguous lines.

Ok, now I am done, for real.

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