I Love This List

Today: 
I woke up, wrapped in my baby-sister's arms.
I got beat up by Godzilla. 
I cuddled with my littlest brother while watching Willow.
I ran out of breath laughing with my smart-mouthed sister. 
I became reacquainted my #1 fan and looked at her freckles sprinkled on her nose for a long time.
I got my butt kicked by my "big" little brother on a run even though he was easy on my very out-of-shape legs. It was a good talk/run.
I felt pure love for a little boy and his smiling face fogging up a window as he anticipated my arrival at his school. 
I pushed two kids on two separate swings, simultaneously.
I found out what the "spit" is that forms on plants in Washington and I laughed with my sister because my little brother played with it, "BUBBLES!"--aka bug excrement.
I broke up 52 fights between siblings.
I thought about Texas.
I practiced Spanish tongue twisters.
I lost my hearing in my left ear from screaming/laughing children.
I turned my brother into a 3-headed monster.
I held hands with a 7-year-old beauty.
I watched my "soon-to-be" 18-year-old brother walk like 
Shaggy from Scooby-Doo.
I admired my parents...again
I messed with a bunch of baby spiders and threatened to put 
salt on a slug.
I became a little better.
And I loved every minute of it. 

Mechanical Worship

I sat on the lonely, yet familier bench.  Had it really been seven whole days? I glanced around me before the meeting started. One boy was digging deeply for treasures, without success; a mother scolded her child for tangling foreign objects in her blonde locks of 80s styled hair. Four pregnant women walked by me, all gabbing about how they felt and when they were due. Once the meeting started, one man's head, bobbing up and down in his sleep (mind you, this was right after the opening remarks.) I prepared myself for the explosion of sound that would penetrate the noise around him when his head would meet the pew for the seventh time.

Business, business. That's what this was about. Meeting, meeting. Restless children. Crinkling snack packages. Organ blaring the notes of a familiar hymn.

I mechanically opened my hymnal. The poem went in one ear and out the other. It touched my lips as well as the three little girls next to me with no significance. Without intent, the vision of the Savior passed through my mind as a quiet reminder of why I was here. People-watching had to be saved for another time. Bowing my head I recalled several stories of His life. All the Savior asked for was his friends to watch while he went into the Garden to pray. Three times. Then, said He, "Rise, let us be going: behold, he is at hand that doth betray me."

 And this was the budding, quiet reflection of my life and His. "Greater hath no man than this: if he lay down his life for his friends."

My friend laid down His life; for me and my imperfections.

Testimonies were born. I felt a love for the leaders; the kind words that were spoken of a family that recently lost their mother; the tenderness of an elderly man's tears as he expressed his love for his Father in Heaven. Each of the children I had observed before conveyed, with fervent conviction, that Christ lived and that families could be together forever.

My judgmental heart turned to an compassionate one. I was looking in a new light. My eyes had been opened through Heaven's eyes. I realized I had to actively seek it. Just as the blind man had to find the pool of Siloam to wash the clay from his eyes, so did I. And THAT was why I was here. Among strangers; to wash the hardened clay that covered my entire face.

And this gem was salvaged amongst sand, dirt, toil and snare. This good news needs to be shared!

I left the meeting with conviction to become better. I left with the inclination to shake those that don't understand; that see rocks and twigs, rather than gems and jewels. I glanced down and in my palms lay my most prized possessions: greater than riches and health. I had miracles and happiness at my fingertips; all I have to do is turn the pages and share that message with others.

The 80s Prom

I grabbed the tip of several strands of hair. I just couldn't seem to get my hair big enough. It was a simple equation: comb at the top+dragged to the root= volume of a goddess. My hair was at least five inches off the top of my head--it would have to suffice.

 I painted my nails black tonight. Garnished my lips with lipstick named Voluptuous Red; how fitting.  

We entered the party: black ties laced the room. Prom dresses, tuxes, platform heels, and dress shoes. I looked down at my DCs and 80s dress. Rubbing my lips together one last time; checking if I need to reapply we bust into the room.  My friend in front of me with hot red lips, very rosy cheeks, and hair big enough to fit into Texas. 

Were we going to the Prom? No. Let's be honest. We're WAY too old and mature for such events. We were going to a mutual friend's birthday party. The music? Coldplay. On any other occasion this would have been acceptable but tonight was a night for Maroon 5 to sing about the moves like Jagger. 

In our corner we turned it up. Danced; well, tried to. We all looked like white girls with our hands in the air. We made complete fools of ourselves. People stared. What were they to do with the wreckless girls in the corner? What did they end up doing? Nothing. 

Then, a slow-motion moment. It's in this moment I realized something. I loved how I felt right at that moment. For a moment, I was allowed to escape and be someone from the era of Pat Benatar and Bonnie Raitt. Mothers everywhere would have been proud of my hair height and the length of my tone deaf notes attempting to sing along.  I could be someone that had no fears, and no regrets except deflating hair. 

What was I experiencing? Let me explain. I experienced a total eclipse of the heart. Amidst the rational stares of classily dressed men and women, I found love in a hopeless place. Rationality reared it's ugly head and the sweet release of endorphins brought the corners of red lips turned down to the opposing, yet pleasant expression of joy. 

How to end this: I have an overwhelming love for dresses made for 12-yr-olds, old music, red lipstick, black nail polish and slow-motions moments of happiness.