The Good Days

I guess I am a bit weird, but I've always known that. So I miss early-morning Seminary today. Like reeaaaally bad. I never had a problem going to Seminary during High School. I loved it. The only mornings that I can really remember my Mom coming into my room to wake me up were the times my alarm didn't go off at all. Other than that, the last two years of going to Seminary at least, I remember getting up just fine. It feels so long ago, hearing the alarm go off at 5:00am, dropping to the knees and mumbling an incoherent prayer, zombie-ing it to the bathroom to turn on the bathroom fan/faded-light combo (which was always perfect for the mornings when you weren't ready to be blinded by normal light bulbs). Turning on the shower and putting the eye-balls in while letting the water warm-up and then jumping into the shower to be awoken. Some people claim showers put them to bed, but for me--that's when I pop awake and become alert. My mind is so clear in the mornings (only when I've hit 7 hours of sleep) and I'm just able to think. It was those quiet mornings, in the kitchen making some oatmeal or eating some Special K by myself that I became such a contemplative person. Then usually, stopping into my parent's room to wake them up to say family prayer before climbing into the van (by 5:55am). There was something so comforting and relaxing to me driving on the dark highways before the sun woke up, seeing another car every few minutes--maybe. Listening to my latest favorite Churchy song really REALLY loud on the radio, the way I like it. Then I would head down Housers Mill Road, pick up Titus and listen to him chat non-stop til we picked up Alex. Two of the most chattiest-Seminary kids in the class. Alex lived in Sis. Holbrook's huge sub-division; the poor girl use to scooter her way through quite a few others' backyards, driveways, with the her flute case and lunch box flailing in her arms while her wet hair would freeze into hard-ness. That's when I decided to start picking her up, haha--just the thought of it puts a smile on my face. For some reason I love the people that most people don't like to be around--Titus and Alex were definitely not the most popular kids in Seminary. Oh, the memories. But I knew how much it meant to them to feel needed and to participate. I loved walking into Sis. Holbrook's living room. It always reminded me of the temple--weird, I know. But the big picture of the Savior on one wall. Oh, and that owl photo; it was something else, truly. And the white/off-white match of colors between the walls, carpet, couches and base boards all gave it that "temple feel". Winter days were the best when I would grab my favorite rag-patch quilt of Sis. Holbrook's and wrap up inside of it and sit myself down by the fireplace that was on. I loved Sis. Holbrook's lessons. Loved is probably an understatement. She was so good! One of the best teachers that I've ever had, still. She had a way of teaching with the Spirit and love that inspired us. The class wasn't picture perfect, but we knew that what she taught she believed and lived. We warmed our hands by the fire of her faith. The Spirit she taught with lit a flame in me and always taught me to become. After her lessons I was so excited and happy for life. I tried to never leave Sis. Holbrook's house without a hug from her. [I just can't live without giving hugs and receiving them--or I begin to ache inside--all over and my 'tude from the attitude is definitely dependently related to the length of time I had last received a hug]. I remember driving Peter and Titus (the pookies) away from Seminary, watching the red sun rise on the flat horizon, listening to the same favorite Country songs that came on the radio at the same time every day, dancing to some T. Swizzle, and realizing just how blessed I was and how happy I was to just live.

Happy Centennial Birthday Seminary. I miss you.