Five Years

Five years is a breath.
We only met a moment ago—
I'm certain.

Five years is your hand in mine.
I might be clutching it tighter than you are,
but don't tell anyone
how scared I am.

Five years is my shadow
merged with yours,
about to be pulled apart year by year
until you become your own.

Five years is small.
Small enough to sit in my lap.
Small enough for me to lift.
Small enough to still hug me
before you say goodbye.
You may not need it.
But I do.

Women I Admire: My Eyes, My Granny's Eyes, and God's Love

I was sitting in a class yesterday at BYU for Education Week. I didn't mean to end up there. The class I wanted to attend was full fifteen minutes before it started and I couldn't get in. I picked a new class only to get lost. Wandering about in my confused state, I ran into a friend from a ward I attended four years ago. She turned my map around. Suddenly everything made sense. Five minutes to class start, and I was on the opposite side of campus.

Maybe I shouldn't admit this, but getting lost isn't new. Ending up somewhere at the wrong time isn't new either. I've learned to take it in stride for the most part. Sometimes I look around and wonder; "Well, what is it that I'm supposed to do here?" Usually, I can find a reason for being where I am. This time, I looked at my friend from my old ward. It wasn't a coincidence she'd found me.

"What class are you going to?" I asked.

I ended up in a class about photography. By mistake. As I've said before, I'm not a photographer, but sitting in that room, my love for God's creations, nature, and the gift of each day painted beyond our doorways came back.

I remembered my Granny. I don't have a lot of memories of her. She died when I was young. I love her though. I think of her a lot. As I thought about being outside and considered how God can use nature to testify of His Love, I remembered her photographs.

Flowers. The gardens she grew. There were so many pictures of God's creations that I remember my aunts and mom wondering what to do with them all when she was gone.

This morning I went into my backyard and looked for God's Love. I found it.

I came inside and opened the file of photos Granny took all those years ago. I found God's Love there too. Like a reflection of my morning. Like a new memory of her.


My Life: 101 Things Before I Die

Mount Timpanogos by Photo Dean

My youngest brother poked his head out of the garage about three weeks ago to find our family sitting on the back porch. "Anyone want to hike Timp?"

In August? In the HEAT?

"We'd leave early in the morning, before the sun's up."

Well, sure. We're game.

All seven of us. Except my husband who has been trying to talk me out of it. This is crazy. We're not in that great of shape. It's uphill. Your scared of heights. It's not that great. It takes like seven hours. It's going to get hot. 

I relented for all of a weekend. He was probably right. We should plan better and do it at a different time of year. But I started thinking about this list I made; "101 Things to Do Before I Die." I don't know if hiking Timp is on that list. I'm not even sure where that list is. But even if it isn't on there, it should be. What were the chances of us actually hiking to the top of Timp another time?

I came up with a solution. I'd go without him. He's already been to the top before, twice. I've never been. And I want to do it. Thank you, list of things to do before I die.

I told my husband.

"No, if you're going, I'm coming too. You have to make the choice for both of us. Then I can blame you when I'm sore after."

What happened to agency? I refuse to take responsibility for any after effects my husband might have. I'm not sure I've convinced him I won't though.

I'm hiking Timpanogos Mountain. Its over 11,700 feet up, and the trail is seven miles with an elevation gain of more than 4500 feet. I might be crazy. Maybe we should be listening to the only one of us who's actually hiked it before, but I'll get to cross something off my list!

The Sun Will Rise

I can't say much more than this. Maybe I listened to it on replay the whole twenty minute drive home last night. Maybe I'll let this song do my talking.

"The Sun Will Rise" By Brendan James

The sun will rise, the sun will save me from the night.
The sun will change me, change the way I feel.
I've had enough of the hard and harder,
Times are tough,
I've drifted farther, farther from myself.

I won't dwell, baby, on my failures.
It won't help, baby, it won't bring changes.
I won't run, baby, when all I want is to run.
I won't forget the morning sure to come.