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.

Christmas Delight #2

Several weeks ago, I came home to dinner group (one of the roommates was cooking that night) and the roommates said they had a BIG surprise for me. I was pretty excited and anxious, since everyone likes a good surprise. I was handed an envelope and I immediately knew what it was and began to exclaim, sigh, shout, rejoice, call it watch you will. . . Katherine got tickets to the 2011 First Presidency Christmas Devotional. I love going to Temple Square and I love the Mormon Tabernacle Choir even more than that (I'm a MOTAB Sunday music addict) and I love even more listening to the Orchestra at Temple Square (my dream career job if I ever find myself in Utah when I'm older) accompany the Choir, and I love even more listening to our Prophet, Thomas S. Monson. Ever since I was a Freshman and won/randomly selected tickets to go to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir Christmas Concert with famous Brian Stokes Mitchell and we took off to drive to Salt Lake for the show and ran into traffic. It was tragic for my 18-year-0ld mind to miss the show that night. When we finally made it downtown, construction made parking out of the question and I just remember seeing the minutes switch by on the dashboard feeling more and more hollow and sad. The time passed for us to have been 'seated' and then for the show to start. We finally decided to just head back up to Provo. I silently cried the entire way home from Salt Lake from Provo. I was devastated. Every year since then I have requested tickets for me and everyone in my family to try and increase my odds to go to either the MOTAB Christmas Concert or 1st Presidency Christmas Devotional. When Katherine go the tickets, I knew she would take me. Otherwise, well...let's not go to what I would have done if she hadn't. My night was so much fun with the roommates and ward friends. We made crepes to eat on the way, drove to Sandy, took the tracks to downtown SLC, had AMAZING seats in the Conference Center, heard amazing Christmas arrangements by MOTAB with the Orchestra, and powerful messages from the First Presidency. Afterwards, we took a walk around the Square to look at the detailed lights and nativities from around the world. A cold, fun night. One of those nights where nothing could wipe the grin off my face!

Soft Cries and Hard Cries

One day, I'll get married and have a family and be able to have a normal blog like all those family blogs that I love to stalk. But for now, this is me and my very personal-all-about-me-posts....

Its true. Of all girls, I promise it's healthy when appropriate. I began having regular soft cries when I turned 18 and entered Relief Society (so stereotypical i know). They come and go on good Sundays, which happens more regularly then not. Hard cries don't occur nearly as much. N.E.A.R.L.Y. I'm pretty sure the last hard, hard cry I had was Christmas 2009. Anyways, recently I blogged about some things that I learned and then kinda forgot about it (typical human being) and now I think I know why I learned what I did because other experiences came and then the epiphany which really hit me hard, right in the square of the eyes:

Seven days ago, I did the unthinkable (in my book). I let my anger flow out. Not trickle. Flow like a river, a dam, THE NIAGRA FALLS! Over a silly issue that at the time meant a lot to me. I was so furious at myself and furious at being furious (especially at the start of the week of THANKSgving) that I thought a lot of bad thoughts about myself, said a few, and even emailed them to my mom...haha...so pitiful, i know.) I finally shed some tears. Went to bed. Woke up late past my alarm sick, missed a very important-hated-class, looked out the window and seeing the snow shed more tears.

Somehow I ended up in the office of my therapist Evan (he's actually my boss.....AND a wonderful therapist). He takes good care of his employee's and knowing my lack of/hard-cry-phobia, he sat me down and does what he always does: question.after.question.after.question???????? which is why he is such an effective teacher.

By the end of the conversation and a trip to get some chocolate (which i had/got to share with everyone) I was feeling so great! Evan somehow helps us [my fellow co-workers/evan's other employees] get into a position where the Spirit is so welcome to teach you when you're in your most raw, most broken state possible. At the very end of our conversation he always asks,

"So Beckles?? What Did You Learn?"

1. I'm what you call an avoider. I avoid questions when I want too. And I'm pretty decent at it. I do have problems, but I mask them and push them out of my mind. But when life sucks and I have a hard cry, I unmask everything and pull every little thing possible out of the drawer and hash it out on myself=very.unhealthy.hard.hard.cry=becky.loses.the.spirit.=becky.wants.to.die.bc.she.then.feels.so.lonely.

2. You make things what you want them to be. E.g. It doesn't matter if I broke the shovel and keep blaming, blaming, blaming myself....you still have a broken shovel. (This lesson learned probably doesn't make that much sense to the normal person, i'm not normal...but i completely understand what i'm trying to say).

3. There's conflict between my thoughts and my heart. I know my parents love is unconditional, but for some awful reason i let my heart believe that its only performist-based depending on how i look, act. True story, although; I still do good things for other right reasons (this particular reason is just screwed).

4. Sometimes I believe that I'll only be judged by my works alone. I forget that I'll be judged by my "intents of my heart and works" and then I may be sufficient enough for God's grace.

5. Bottom line-I have always used the Atonement for big things, but not the small. Which is what everything leads down too. I have some emnity going on, separating me from God. I wanted to take care of the small things, I feel like I need too, and I always fail at the small things. And then I push them out (see #1). And then the cycle officially has started (see #1-#5). but no more...

you cannot be moved within and stand still without

Isn't this crazy? Who knew I could learn all this from seven days ago. Seven days ago when I realized that I would get my first C ever in a class.

Primary Program....I Am His Daughter

Yesterday I had the opportunity to go and visit and watch my friend Michael give his talk at his Sacrament Primary Program. He's 4 1/2 and read his talk beautifully (right now he's at a 3rd grade reading level). He was so short, you couldn't even see his head over the podium. But I was able to fill the Spirit as He talked about how much He knows the Savior loves him.

I loved watching Michael's primary, the sweet tender faces as they sang, squirmed, and testified of the Savior:)

Some best friends interested me to this song and I am in love! I think its my theme song in life RIGHT NOW. I Am His Daughter.

Letters Written After Weeks of Nursery

Dear Darling Little Girl in the Plaid Dress,
You are so tiny and softspoken, I'm sorry when the big 2 1/2 year old boys come and take your toys. I'll never forget listening to your sweet little voice sing and watching you dance during music time.

Yours Truly,
Becky Rhoden


Dear Boy Who Shakes His Fists When Screaming At The Top of Your Lungs,
You are what my dad would call a biggin'. Chillax kiddo. I know you love your parents and want to be with them ALL the time, but give them a break. You climbed into my lap once and fell asleep. What wondeful peace we all had that Sunday. Go knock down some towers, you're good at that. I'm glad you stopped that biting habit.

Sincerely,
Becky Rhoden


Dear Girl With the Same Hair-do Every Week,
I love watching you play house. You go to the play kitchen, open the microwave, stick something inside and "hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm" and then you say "beep beep" and get out whatever you just cooked. DO you realize that you're only 2? AND you have more motherly instinct in the kitchen than I do?? I admire you!

xoxo,
Becky Rhoden


Dear Blond, Happy, Dimple Newbie,
Everyone knows we favor each other. You're just too darn cute. And I like those parents you come from. You're always the first to give your toy away when someone's unhappy. AND you LOVE nursery with a passion. You're such a cute, good boy. Never change.

Love,
Becky Rhoden


Dear Smartest Kid in Nursery with Messy Hair,
I've figured you out! You may be small, but you are SOOOO smart! Keep manipulating the other adults. You ROCK!!

Regards,
Becky Rhoden


Dear Oldest Girl in Nursery,
You have quite the spunk. I like you! Everything you do reminds me of myself at 3. You can manipulate and try and play the system by getting what you want. You also like to be in control of your sister. But I love, love, love your tender sweet moments when you find your younger sister and make her smile or show her how a toy works. Or, when you find the newest little boy and make sure he's always included in the fun. You're a born leader. You convinced every kid today to climb under the table and 'hide'. Kodak moment!! I'll miss you!

Best,
Becky Rhoden


Dear Nursery Class,
All of you are special. Thanks for keeping me away from Sunday School and Relief Society this summer. I don't want to go back to a college ward where its much to quiet. My earliest memory is from nursery singing that Alligator song. We sing it every Sunday. I'll miss you.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO,
Becky Rhoden