It's the little moments that can make all the difference.

**Just FYI, this is mostly to help me remember this day...since I've never written it down before. So...now you've been warned. ;) 

I remember everything about the moment it happened.

I was still in my pajamas, arms hugging my knees, pulling them to my chest, frozen to the chair in my parent's kitchen. The T.V. was on and there they were, singing, just like they have been my whole life. But this time, instead of being the background music to my thoughts, everything was on fire inside me, and that song was the message for which I was the surprised and somewhat unwilling recipient.

I had so many questions, and wasn't even looking in this direction for the answer. But like I always tried to do before General Conference, I had written down some of the things troubling me the most. And, like most genuine answers to difficult questions I've had before, this one was something I hadn't considered before. At least not in depth enough to act on it anytime soon.

It was the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, singing "The Spirit of God" in the April 2011 Sunday morning session

And somewhere in the middle of that song, I felt that familiar feeling I've only felt very few times before in my life; that feeling of something I KNEW was going to happen. Before it even happened. It's like a little unspoken whisper, telling me of something to come. I always have this moment of almost disbelief...because...how could I know such a thing? But almost instantly, my personal disbelief is replaced by a reinforcing feeling of absolute truth I know hasn't come from me at all. Every time that has happened, that certain thing has come to pass fairly soon thereafter. Right there, in that moment, I knew I was supposed to be singing with those people, in that choir, and that NOW was the time to prepare everything, and go forward. NOW.

It was incredible. And weird. And not what I had been looking for at all.

I remember sitting there, surrounded by my family, who were all basically unaware of my inability to speak or move. I think we were eating pancakes for breakfast, of all things. Haha. Clearly not a time to notice your frozen sibling who just had a moment of personal revelation that she was going to be in the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. What in the world was I supposed to do with that kind of information?? So I did what any normal human being would do, and kept eating my pancakes.

I couldn't even write it down in my notes at first because I was still reeling. But a few minutes later, I did. At least enough for me to know what I meant. I still felt a little foolish writing, "You're going to be in the MoTab. That's weird and awesome. And not what you were asking at all right now. But it's true." SO instead I just cryptically wrote a little note to myself to "Prepare now for the privilege you have felt can be yours in spreading the gospel in your life." with a little note next to it about the choir and what they'd just sung. (Don't worry, I just went back and found it.)

I didn't really ever have any plans to tell anybody about that experience, let alone write it on my blog for just anybody to read. But just one year after writing that down, I was singing with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir in that same April conference, my first session singing with them officially. And was it incredible and wonderful and weird still? You bet it was. Not only that, but it had also been HARD. I sometimes found myself wondering for most of that first year what I had done to my life. It took so much time, and so much sacrifice, and so much of what I had planned on using to do other things. But every time I thought about quitting, about taking it back, my mind would go back to moments like the one I just described, when I knew I was supposed to be doing this. Whether I understood it all the time or not. Whether it was easy, or whether it was hard.

Looking back now, after completing one year with this choir,  almost two years after that initial experience, I feel like the fog of difficulty and uncertainty is finally clearing. I am finally starting to see the personal blessings of this turnaround in my life. I imagine it's just like any other unexpected change that comes in life. It can seemingly turn everything upside down for a while. But after enough time has passed, and you gain just a little more experience, you finally start to see the point.

I felt that incredible feeling that morning in April 2011, and then experienced some more periods of trial and frustration as I worked toward that goal, and even after I had "obtained" it. But just recently, this past December, only a little over a month ago, during the First Presidency Christmas Devotional, I came full circle.

This time, I don't remember what we were singing, or at what point during the devotional I felt this way, but I distinctly remember sitting down in my assigned seat, and glancing over to my left, where most of the rest of the choir was sitting. And this time, it was quieter, and felt more like the hug of a dear friend who knows you completely. And the feeling that came in that moment was one of being "home." I really was exactly where I was supposed to be, and where I needed to be. There are a hundred reasons for me to feel this way so far, and I'm sure I'll discover a million more as I keep going.

Back in that April 2011 General Conference, President Monson said, "The Lord will help you perform that which you have rehearsed!" and I wrote it down so I wouldn't forget it. It's true musically and on a stage, but it has also been true in my life. And I'm so grateful I know my Heavenly Father is there to help me with all the things I don't understand, and help me go where I have never gone before. It will probably never cease to amaze me how much he loves us, and wants our ultimate, real happiness.

Doctrine & Covenants 78:17-19 has been a favorite scripture of mine since I was 19 years old, and probably for good reason. I've needed the reminder over and over and over again. "...Be of good cheer, for I will lead you along..."

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Wednesday sanity break: take one.

I'm not sure what to write about next. Getting back into the blogging habit may take some practice.

I could write about choir stuff. That's a lot of material.

I could write about my birthday this year, the one where I turned 30 in Hawaii and it was FANTASTIC and introspective and beautiful and weird and imperfectly perfect, and I fell in love with the North Shore.

I could write about dating lately and how it's weird and feels foreign and kind of...like a prosthetic limb. Something I used to have and know how to use, but now I just...kind of don't like it? I'd rather hang out with somebody I already truly enjoy and laugh at their stupid jokes and random sense of humor instead of get all dressed up for somebody I don't know at all and end up faking a meaningless conversation over dinner. That's not always how it happens, but there's definitely something backward about all of this and I'm OVER IT! And that out-of-character allowance I made a couple weeks ago? Good crap, am I 19 and stupid all over again? No. No no no no no no no. Apparently I was not made for random dating.

And maybe today I came across this and I DIED laughing:

When you go back to visit your family's ward and everyone asks if you're dating someone:

Let's just continue laughing at that until our abs hurt and then never ever mistake this joke for having any sad undertones. 

Or I could tell you about how some days my job makes me want to crawl under the desk and hide, but also the students who work for me are TO DIE FOR hilarious. I feel like they just discovered hashtags the other day, and it's super funny and almost childlike adorable every time they use one. My favorite times are when the quiet ones bust out something that makes me laugh from my gut. best. ever. 

Or I could write about a billion other things, but right now I'm just making it through my work day, trying to patiently answer ten billion questions, and I can't wait until exactly 5:00 p.m. so I can go home and not answer another question for the rest of the night. I think I'm going to pantomime every communication until I go to bed. Sounds HEAVENLY. 

I told you this would take some practice. Legitimate post coming again soon. Maybe on Saturday or something. 

The box.

Oh, my poor blog.

There's so much I should write here from the past year or so...much like if I had neglected my journal for a year (I have...for the first time since I was eight years old) there's just no smooth way to catch up. But I think this post might do some justice to all the time I've let pass in recording my life. Such a realization is not quite so dramatic when considering a few days, a few weeks, or even a few months. But I basically stopped recording my LIFE and my thoughts this whole past year...and after actually sitting down with myself and really thinking about it, I think it comes down to two things:

1. I became busy beyond belief this past year. Becoming a member of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir has been the crowning challenge of my life so far. That might sound incredibly wussy. But being involved in this experience takes at minimum 20 hours out of my week every week. Factor in my full-time job, and let's not forget the importance of a social life as a single adult in this fabulous Mormon culture. That's to say nothing of having time to go on a run or go to the gym or read my scriptures or whatever else. It's all about priorities you say? Yeah, that's what I used to say too. Now I just give myself a thumbs up if I manage to accomplish half of the things I used to be able to accomplish in a day. See how much of that year has MoTab written all over it? I could've made one entirely of the choir, but I already made this one and I'm too lazy to prove my point further. :)

2. For better or worse, I may not wear my heart on my sleeve, but when it gets broken, I guess I kind of have to hide away until enough time has passed that I feel it's healed enough for normal interactions again. I envy those people who can bounce back after a week or a month or even a few months. That would be oh so nice. But if I'm really all in, I'm basically an emotional wreck for an undetermined amount of time. Trust me, I find this far more annoying than anyone else ever could. I can be cool on the surface, but I'm pathetically broken. I'm still waiting for the day that doesn't happen. You know, if I just had more faith or prayed harder or whatever. Sometimes life is just hard and things just hurt. All we can do is do what we can and keep trying to move forward, right?

And that's more than enough baggage for one post - at least more than this blog has seen in quite some time. ;) What I'm here to do today is tell you about the best beginning of a new year I've ever had to this point in my life. 2012 was incredible, but there were definitely things I'd rather forget forever and ever.

But January 1, 2013 was a day I will never forget.

I woke up incredibly late in the day because I'd stayed up way too...early...the morning before. All in the name of celebrating time passing...something I'm simply not built for anymore. Gone are the days I could eat an entire pan full of brownies and stay up 'til 3 a.m. watching Gilmore Girls. (Am I right, or am I right...) Much to my personal chagrin.

But as I lay there in my bed, contemplating the good and frustrating events of the past year, I had a lot of different ideas about the coming year. Sometimes I get annoyed about my seeming lack of control over the events of my life. SO much seems subject to timing; something I'm still struggling to accept. :)

And then a glorious thought occurred to me. There was one thing lurking in a hidden corner of my room that I COULD control!! I jumped out of bed, and opened the door under the stairs where I have a few handy rubbermaid totes full of crap I don't understand why I still possess. You know: efy shirts from eight years of polo accrual, that scrapbook I made my freshman year of college that sort of looks like a kindergartner made it, (That means it's adorable.) and other equally treasured objects. Finally, at the bottom of the tote, there it was.

The box.

It's the box I used to put cards, notes, letters, pictures, ticket stubs, and any other small memorabilia after a breakup. The boyfriend box. Better termed the breakup box.

Said box had been emptied of all previous contents a few years before, but one breakup's contents had been deposited about a year after it was emptied. It was like looking at shattered pieces of my heart sitting in the bottom of a shoe box. Totally and completely pathetic.

Anytime before that whenever I'd come across the box (usually only when I was moving to a different place, or doing some kind of deep cleaning) I'd get sidetracked, and end up sitting on the floor, reading through all the good memories, the nice things he said before, and all the pictures from fun things we'd done. And I'd end up feeling sad and angry all over again. But I couldn't even bear to actually get rid of those things before. It made me even more sad. So I'd shove it all in the box, and hide it under piles of colorful polos I'll never wear again and the crappy college freshman memorabilia. :)

But on January 1, 2013, I took that box OUTTA the tote. And I didn't open it. I didn't even have one iota of desire to crack the lid. What I did have was the most fantastic idea of all time. I was going to burn it all.

That right, I said burn.

Now don't get me wrong. This wasn't a hateful burning. It wasn't even remotely crazy, and I had no voo-doo doll intentions, etc. :) I haven't thought about said relationship in a long time. But why on EARTH was I keeping letters and pictures and love notes from the guy who was now someone else's husband? No, this was merely a desire to clean out what was no longer even remotely necessary for my life.

And I couldn't wait. :)

I texted my good friend Cali, who (bless her heart) knew every detail of that past relationship. She excitedly celebrated with me when we started dating, and cried broken-hearted tears with me when it ended. I wanted her to be a part of watching those ashes blow away in the wind. If she could stomach it at all. ;)

The plan was to hike Y mountain, even though it was covered in snow and it was FREEZING outside. We were going to hike to the top of that snow-covered Y and burn those memories into oblivion.

I've never been so excited in my LIFE. At least not this kind of excited. :)

The appointed time arrived, and after purchasing what would henceforth be labeled the world's worst $4 lighter, (to be discovered later) we drove to the trailhead. It was dark by then, but the sky was clear and the stars were perfect; with the lights from the city already far enough below us to appear magical. It was exhilarating.

Okay, and it was also freezing. But the trail is basically vertical for the first little bit, so after a few switchbacks, I was ready to rip off my snowpants and coat just for a few moments of cool reprieve. Lucky for Cali and whatever creatures may have been lurking in the dark bushes, I managed to remain clothed.

Remember the plan to go to the top? Yeah, I threw that one right out the window after about the fourth switchback. This particular stopping point was fantastic enough - a perfect view, a little bench, and a small clearing just off the regular path.

After about 10 frostbitten minutes of trying to make the $4 lighter work, we finally got enough of a flame to start burning ticket stubs. And that's where it began. I'd dug a little pit in the snow to burn it all in, initially, but in our excitement and fear of losing what little flame we had, a heavily snow-covered bench became their final resting place. :)

It. was. euphoric. And with each addition of a picture or card or ticket stub, the tiny flame grew bigger and brighter, and my heart literally felt lighter and happier with every second. I couldn't believe it!!!

Why had I waited so long?! At Cali's suggestion, my handy iphone played T-Swift and her ranting "Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee are Never ever EVER EVER ever ever ever (insert as many evers as you want) getting back togetherrrrrrr!!" lyrics bounced off the snow-covered mountains. I could've given the burning song a little more thought, but this was probably actually perfect for the circumstance. No sad story songs or whiny diatribes for this moment. It was just the right touch of ridiculous for what was totally freeing up space in my heart.

I have to semi-apologize for this one. But I couldn't help it. This is for me. ME. And if you know him, and this offends you, umm...my face is in those pictures too. :) Like I said before, it wasn't hateful at all. It was just long, long, long over-due. Many happy returns to him and his posterity. Okay? We're good? No? I'll send you chocolate, then. 

Cali managed to capture some pretty important moments of our celebration, but I think nothing will ever match that feeling of relief and happy euphoria. FREEDOM!! Goodness, I know. But on the way back down the mountain, we talked about why we hadn't done that earlier. Cali reminded me how sad I'd been. I'm glad I waited so that experience could be fun and happy and freeing. :) It just wouldn't have been the same if I'd shed a single sad tear.

I think we lost all feeling in every appendage, but by the time we found Kneaders was open and ordered those delicious Pumpkin Steamers, and started reviewing the pictures Cali had taken...my last feeling of discomfort had finally fled.

I don't care that it took so long. I only care that right then, and right now, in these moments of 2013, I freed myself from the heaviest thing I'd been carrying. And somehow, as I watched that last little flame flicker out on top of that now small pile of ashes...my heart was completely healed. :)

I'm never not doing that again. It was the best new beginning I've EVER had, and I will be telling that story to  anyone I ever come across as they're recovering from any kind of heartbreak for the rest of my life. It's proof to me that things really do get better. That eventually, and with the passing of enough time, and with the love of even just one friend, that burden will be gone. Completely. :)

So this summer, if you're ever passing by a bench about halfway up the mountain to the top of the Y in Provo, UT, and you happen to notice the slightest scorch mark on the left side of the top of the bench...maybe, just maybe, you'll be able to have just one little piece of my happy, freeing moment, and maybe it will help you incinerate your own little or big things weighing you down.

And eventually, I'll manage to figure out how to have enough of the little things I miss so much in the midst of my completely changed life; I'll figure out how to do this insane amount of extra the MoTab has brought into my life, and find that balance of gratitude for change and blessings and goodness...because I think I'm finally starting to see a little of my own reflection again when I look at the whole picture. It's the nicest feeling, especially after feeling a little lost for so long. :)

P.S. I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to scorch the bench. It's a small mark, and basically only because the snow melted just enough on that side...