My life in metaphor: senior year

I find it extremely annoying when people try to fabricate lessons out of regular life events. I once went on a date where my escort took me to a dance concert. On the way there, he said "Wouldn't it be fun to look for all of the lessons you can learn from this activity and then discuss them afterward?" I laughed, because I thought -- hoped really -- that he was kidding. He wasn't. So, I had to make up a bunch of stuff I learned by watching a dance concert. It was a weird date. I just don't think that absolutely everything that everybody does during the day has quite that much significance. Can't we just sit back and enjoy life once in awhile? Or even twice in awhile? Am I allowed to just watch a ballroom dance concert without having to think about things like, "Wow, when you work really hard together, you can accomplish things waaaay more impressive than you could do on your own" or "when even one person is out of sync, it throws the entire family out of whack until you can all adjust."

And now that I have that rant out of the way, I'm going to break my own arrogant rule, because I've been thinking about this particular metaphor a lot lately and I think it's pretty profound. It's profound to me, anyway. As I dissect that period in my life and apply it to now, I'm learning quite a bit about the way I approach events...and how much I still don't have figured out.

(Actually, this is more of a parable -- or maybe even a rime -- than a metaphor (as in "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" which is a super-long poem that I managed to slog through in a college poetry class, and now see references to everywhere in literature -- most notably, the "albatross around the neck" imagery). The following story is too long to be a metaphor, but since I love my blog title, I'm leaving it as is.)

**WARNING -- this post is very long**

The Story
I was first exposed to the Madrigals during an assembly at my Junior high school. I remember sitting audience left, and watching the singers closest to me as they sang in perfect sync with the rest of the 24-person group. I still remember who some of them were. Six singers sang each choral part, and when they broke into 8 part harmony, my music-loving heart was overwhelmed. The most amazing part? They didn't need a director. One person in the front blew into a pitch-pipe, another subtly nodded her head so they could all keep the beat, and everyone knew their parts and sang with intensity and a smile. They were amazing.

I knew then that I wanted to be a Madrigal someday.

I had a voice that most of my acquaintances agreed was very pretty, so I went about finding out what I needed to do to become one of "The Mads." At the high school, you needed to take at least a year of one of the other choirs, you needed to audition (of course), and when called back you had to pass a "sight-singing" test, meaning, I had to be able to read music.

Choir girls!

I enrolled and participated in one of the choirs for my Sophomore year, and when in the Spring it came time to audition for Mads the next year I decided against it. Very few Juniors were ever selected, and I wanted a bit more practice with sight-reading. I realized I was putting all of my eggs in one basket -- one shot to make it or break it -- but I knew that I fit all of the requirements, so I enrolled and participated in A'Cappella the next year.

The next spring, just before auditions for Madrigals for my Senior year, we had auditions for the Fall musical, which was My Fair Lady. I auditioned and was called back with three other girls for Eliza Doolittle. I didn't get the part. I was very disappointed because she was the only lead female who sings, but I consoled myself with the knowledge that I'd be in Madrigals, so it would even out. I wouldn't be a complete unknown.

When it came time for the auditions, I was ready. I sang a song that I knew I rocked, and everyone who was listening (consisting of everyone else auditioning and a ton of interested observers) said that I did really well. When I filled out my audition form, there was a section that said, "What priority would you give Madrigals, if selected?" I love to sing more than any other activity in the world. I remember thinking "It would be my first priority -- even before theatre." At that time I had a reputation as a true theatre-junkie who not only did as many school plays as she could, but was also active in community theatre. I did seven different plays each during my Sophomore and Junior years. But I decided that the last part of my thought was overkill, and wrote simply, "Madrigals would be my first priority."

I was called back. So far so good. My sight-singing went okay; I hit all the notes but got muddled with the timing. But as I looked around at all of my friends my confidence was high. I was going to be a Madrigal. I just knew it. I couldn't wait to see my name on the list outside of the choir room.

Unfortunately, I had to wait. It seemed like forever but was probably only a week. For some reason, I didn't remember it taking so long the year before, but that was probably because I didn't have so much invested that time.

Finally, finallyThis was it! I was going to see my name and my dream was going to come true! I pushed my way to the list and stood in front of my friend Michelle (who was almost six foot and had no trouble seeing over my head) and gleefully scanned the names.

My name was not on the list.

I went numb, and it took a few seconds for it to register.

When I could finally accept that I was not a first or second soprano, or a first or second alto, and I realized I had to get out of the way so that others could see the list, I turned to Michelle -- who WAS on the list -- said, "Congratulations" and burst into tears. All of my best friends in choir had made the cut, and I hadn't. Instead, I was the nobody who everyone felt sorry for. I learned that day there's no such thing as a "sure thing"; I've never been able to take an audition for granted since.

The last few weeks of school were awful. It was bad enough that my dreams had been dashed, but then I started hearing rumors from reputable sources stating things like the reason why it took the choir director, Mr. Lee, so long to decide was because he was back and forth whether to choose me or so-and-so. So, then every time I saw that girl for the next year I thought, "If it hadn't been for you, I would have been in Madrigals." And Mr. Lee even pulled me aside one day, said that he was sorry that I didn't make it, but "at least you still have theatre, right?" I could have died. For the rest of my life I'll wish I put "It would be my first priority -- even before theatre" on that audition form. He was so kind, and obviously trying to make me feel better, so I agreed and found a private place to start crying all over again.

I decided to sign up for A'Cappella my Senior year, knowing that all of the Madrigals would be in the class, and hoping that it wouldn't hurt to see them every other day and be reminded of what I had lost. After all, I still loved to sing, I loved the choir, and I loved my friends. But that first day was torture. Mr. Lee took all of the sopranos into another room to determine if we were first or second sopranos. If we didn't know, he'd have us run a few scales. Well, each of my friends responded with a "Well, I'm a first soprano in Mads" or "I'm a second soprano in Mads." I hated them. I was filled with jealousy and raw pain so acute that I wanted to scream and hit them.

I had decided to quit the class, until I heard Mr. Lee say my name. Shocked, I listened as he explained he wanted me to be one of the two secretaries for the choir, to take roll and help organize selecting a dress and so forth. I was surprised to hear that the other girl wasn't in Madrigals either -- usually one of the secretaries was. I said, "Yes" and made it my goal to work hard and not let myself regret it. I stayed true to that goal.

The Fantastic Mr. Santa Claus --
how I wish the Children's Theater
would do it again!

I stayed in A'Cappella and most days it wasn't too painful. The Madrigals practiced outside of school, and I just kept doing what I had been doing -- namely, as many plays as I could. Since I wasn't in Madrigals, my Christmas season wasn't terribly busy I even did a play in December, which I hadn't done the previous years. This turned out to be a good decision, because during the Christmas Choir concert, I became so upset when the Madrigals sang that I had to leave the auditorium. It was too hideous to see them sing those songs when I had wanted for so long to belong. I cried in the lobby for their entire set list.

Somehow, it seemed like I just missed being the star in every play that year. I played a lot of small parts, and my drama teacher told the entire My Fair Lady cast one day that I had the BEST cockney accent, and I had a lot of fun, but my fragile 18 year old ego rankled that I always seemed to be the girl people were entertained by but didn't remember afterwards. Even when it came to drama competitions, I always came in fourth, which meant that I didn't get to advance to the next level.

We came again to the end of the year: time for the annual "Disneyland Choir Tour." Basically, you sign up, pay for the trip, go to extra rehearsals to learn the songs and dances, and then get a on a bus with all your friends to perform and play in Las Vegas and Disneyland (we also visited Universal Studios, but didn't perform there). The Madrigals were all pretty much required to go, and the rest of us could sign up until the bus was full (assuming the guy/girl ratio wasn't too off... you need male voices in a choir). This year was a bit different, because instead of going after the school year had ended, we went the week before Memorial Day, so we had a few weeks left of school when we returned.

The trip was a blast! What better than fifty or so teen-aged friends crammed onto a bus for days on end, then running around in the southern California sun? I'd gone on the choir trip the year before, but somehow I only remember performing at Disneyland during my Senior year. We took a billion photos to commemorate our awesomeness. The best part was that we knew we'd still have two weeks back in school to solidify new friendships made on the trip... that was the hard part about scheduling the trip at the end of the year.

Universal Studios
My fanny pack is awesome

On the one Sunday we were on the tour, we visited the Los Angeles Temple. This was cool for me, because my parents were married there, and to my knowledge I had never seen it in person. I imagined my parents as newlyweds and wondered what the future would hold for me. I had a crush on one of the guys in the choir and hoped we'd get to spend more time together after the tour.

I don't remember if the whole choir got to perform in the Visitor's Center, but I know the Madrigals did. I'd managed to watch their performance during the Spring concert, but just like at Christmas, I couldn't do it this time. It just crashed in on me that they had all had a year to bond with each other, and had amazing experiences, and I had not been a part of it.

Again, I left the room to find a place to cry. My friend Laura S. found me and comforted me until she could ask what was wrong. I told her. I felt sorry for myself that I didn't get to be in Madrigals. I had wanted it for years, did everything I thought I could to make it happen, and I'd spent the whole year watching all my other friends grow closer through an experience that I couldn't share. My Senior year hadn't been anything like I had wanted it to be. I felt so small and empty and pathetic.

She said, "Megan, would you have been able to do City Rep if you hadn't been in Mads?"

That brought me up short.


I've painted a doom-and-gloom picture, but really my overall Senior year was a positive experience. It just wasn't the one I had always hoped for. I had thought being in Madrigals would make me important. I'd wanted to belong to the elite singing group so that I could know that I was one of the very special, talented ones. When that didn't happen, I didn't know where I belonged. So, I just kinda did what I'd always done, tried to be happy for my friends, tried to not think "what if" too often. What else could I do? I'd given it my best and it hadn't worked out. I still had to live my life, so I did it the only way I knew how.

An Observation
I happened to hang out with a group of Madrigals a few years ago, and they all started reminiscing about the good times they spent together and talking about how they should do a Mads reunion. I apologetically interrupted and said, "Um, guys. I wasn't in Mads. I'm not a part of that group." To my surprise, none of them remembered this seemingly significant fact. Short of my actually sharing the Mads experiences with them, they considered me part of the group. The amazing singer divide had been all in my head; they had never looked at themselves as better than I was. They didn't treat me any differently than they were because in their opinion I belonged there. It was quite an eye-opener to me. I may have felt left out, but it wasn't because they purposely excluded me. My friends were, and still are, awesome.

How does the story apply to me now?
I wonder if you're thinking "How in the world is that freakishly long story a metaphor?"

Well, I've decided that I haven't changed much since high school. I still approach things the same way.


My life has totally NOT turned out the way I thought it would. I thought that I would marry somewhat young (like, my last year of college), have kids pretty soon, and never had to work or support myself. I NEVER would have imagined that I'd be thirty-three, a career-ish woman, and on my own.

My mom got married when she was twenty-one, so I took for granted that I'd get married at twenty-one, too. But when I was twenty-one, I went on a mission instead. During my mission, some of my companions (I had two at the time) and I made up futures for each other (that was the companionship I where I compared our personalities with Designing Women -- I was Annie Potts-- and Golden Girls -- I was Sophia, of course). My companions decided I was going to be married at twenty-four and-a-half, do a lot of travelling with my husband, and start having kids at age twenty-seven. By the time I was thirty-three I was supposed to have three kids.

That was the expectation, and now that it hasn't happened I have a hard time not feeling cheated. I sometimes see my SAHM friends with their one-to-four kids and am overcome with jealousy. I hear them complain about their husbands and wish I could complain about mine, too. I love them and celebrate their joys and commiserate with their sadness and force myself not to wish I were in their shoes.
 
I continue to do what I've always done. I do whatever feels natural and I try not to question it. I graduated with a Bachelor's degree in English, and when the editing/newspaper jobs didn't come I took another job that seemed likely. Now I'm doing technical writing and I quite like it. I never thought I could work for a living, and was afraid that I wouldn't be able to support myself. Not only have I learned that I CAN support myself, but aside from my mortgage I've never been in serious debt.

I continue to do theatre, because why not? I'm coming into my stride and finally getting the good parts I wanted in high school. I've made a list of dream roles and am looking for opportunities to sing and perform. I won't always be young and cute (old and cute, maybe, but not young forever) and I'm taking advantage of it while I can.

I save my money and paid time off so I can travel and see as many places on my bucket list as I can.

I enjoy my life as much as I always have, because I have the nagging feeling that this way of life won't last. And I hope it doesn't.

But I feel like there's a time-bomb over my head and I won't know when it's going to go off. Will my life ever change? Would I know what to do with myself if it did? I'm afraid to make long-term plans because I don't know what's going to happen one, five, or ten years from now. Buying the condo was hard for me, because it was yet something else I didn't think I'd do alone. I never planned for a career, and I don't know if I want to do what I'm doing for the rest of my life, should it come to that.

I know that life isn't static -- I change with every experience every day.

My main desire for this life is still to be a wife and mother. If I met the right guy tomorrow I wouldn't hesitate giving up my current life, just like if there had been a spot for me in Mads I would have taken it in an instant. Last choice is still chosen. Dating and marriage ares not something I have total control over and that worries me.

At the same time, there's something comforting in knowing that my life situation doesn't mean that I'm not good enough -- I just haven't found the right person... or I have but neither of us know it yet. Was I talented and dedicated enough to have been in Madrigals? Yes, I was. Am I cute and fun and smart and loyal and forgiving and dedicated enough to be a good wife someday? Absolutely.

Conclusion
Eight years after high school ended, I was lucky enough to be cast in A Christmas Carol at Hale Center Theatre in West Valley. I was part of an octet -- a group a third as large as the Madrigal choir. It was supremely cool singing with those other seven (well, fourteen, counting the other cast) talented performers. Years after the Madrigal disappointment, I still got to be part of an elite singing group. The Hale and my fellow octitians will never know how much that experience meant to me. My favorite memories from that show are standing in a circle around the piano, singing my heart out, and amazing music director Anne Puzey not having anything to tweak in our performance. It made for an awesome Christmas and still makes me happy when I think about it. That's the reason I continued to audition for so many years afterwards, even though I haven't been cast again. It was totally worth all the fear of rejection!

Wassail, wassail to my M/W/F cast!

My married time will come. I have a hard time believing that if I live for another thirty years that I won't get married SOME time between now and death. It'll be different than I anticipate, but it will be just as worth it.

So, there you have it: my Madrigal/marriage metaphor. If you made it all the way through to the end, you're either a really good friend, or I did an okay job with my story-telling. Either way, thanks for sticking with me!

A Harry Potter-themed fanfiction

I have decided to make this Harry Potter Week on my blog, because I might never have a better excuse, and I really do love it so!

But since it's late and I'm swiftly running out of energy, in lieu of more musings here's a short story that I wrote for a Harry Potter fanfiction contest. I won 3rd place with it :-D

To read the first place story, click here.

Domestic Bliss

Molly Weasley fought the urge to run to the WC when she heard a tremendous crash and splash. Instead, she sighed and glanced up at the clock. “Not yet at ‘mortal peril’, thank goodness,” she muttered. “But Arthur’s drifting dangerously close to ‘hospital.’” Still and all, he did volunteer…

“Scourgify,” she commanded the dishes in the sink. Then she quickly levitated them to the cabinet so that she could peek in on her husband and son.

Arthur’s face was red and his clothes were soaked, but it looked like he hadn’t failed too miserably. The child he was furiously toweling off looked somewhat cleaner than he had before. Billy screamed in the cold air and was struggling to get away. Actually, Molly stifled a giggle when the redheaded toddler dove headfirst back into the water. She should have warned her husband that their son loved a bath. Her husband looked about ready to explode, but her heart filled with pride as she watched him take a deep breath, soundlessly count to five, and reach back into the basin to pull his son out. “Only cold for a moment, poppet,” he promised, wiping away what water he could with the now more-than-slightly damp towel. This time, he caught the little boy before he could get to the water again.

It amazed Molly how quickly Arthur had caught onto the diapering and clothing aspect of parenthood. He didn’t seem to mind the mess or the squirming, and the one time the child had piddled on him, the man had merely wiped his dripping spectacles on his shirt and continued. He truly was a patient man. At least, he was trying to be.

“Stop that,” Arthur chided the two-year old. Billy stuck his tongue out and pinched his father again. Molly smirked. Serves him right for teaching him that trick. Fortunately, the thin man knew how to distract his son from that piece of mischief. “Oh really? Raaaaaaaaaaaawr!” he growled, and, affecting a naughty smirk, he wiggled his fingers. “I’m the big, bad dragon! I’m going to get you!” he cried, tickling the little boy. Billy shrieked with laughter and immediately flung his arms out.

“Some children are making quite a lot of noise in here!” Molly pretended to chastise. “Especially when one of them should be asleep.”

Arthur hung his head. “You’re right, Molly. Almost done here.” He grabbed the dimpled toddler and held him out to his wife. “Get Mummy, Billy!”

The little boy laughed again and bounced in his father’s arms. “Mummy!” He tried to tickle his Mummy’s face, but succeeded only in minor scratches. Molly grabbed the child and held him close. “What am I to do with you naughty boys?” she asked hopelessly.

“Put us to bed without supper?” Arthur suggested.

Molly nuzzled her nose against Billy’s red curls. “Perhaps tomorrow night,” she said. “Too late now, I suppose.”

“Bed time I’m afraid, poppet.” Arthur took his son in his arms for one last hug before placing him in the cradle. Immediately, Billy’s big brown eyes grew even bigger.

“Nononono!” he cried. “No bed! Dragon!” He held out his hands to tickle his father.

Arthur looked pleadingly at Molly. “Just a few more minutes?” he begged.

“If we start making exceptions now – ”

“Please?” Now the grown man’s eyes mirrored the brown, angelic eyes of their son.

Molly groaned. “That’s not fair!” She laughed.

“Haha, poppet! We won!”  The father picked up his child for one last cuddle. He winced when a little fist pulled at his already-thinning hair. “Night-night, Billy,” he said, putting the little boy back. “Sleep tight. I love you.”

“Wuv yoo,” the toddler echoed, still looking a little grumpy.

Molly kissed the baby, smoothed his hair, and gave him his favorite blanket. Arthur squeezed his wife’s hand as he blew out the candles in Billy’s room. The petite woman made her way down the stairs to finish cleaning up while her husband changed out of his wet clothes.

“Well, then, what do we do now?” Arthur asked when he met her in the parlor. 

His wife shrugged. “I don’t know. What did we do before he came?”

“Must not have been important, whatever it was.” He stretched his long legs and reached for today’s Daily Prophet.

Molly took up a ball of yarn and made a face at all of the knots. She would have to remember to keep it out of Billy’s sight from then on – it would take forever to untangle. She pointed her wand and muttered a charm to start working on it. “Is there anything interesting in the paper, dear?”

Arthur made a face. “Looks like I missed Mordred’s Mates.”

“Was that tonight?! I’m sorry, Arthur. I know they’re your favorite.”

“Never mind. It’s just a band. I’ll see them another time.”

Molly smiled at that. When Arthur had proposed he had promised to give up his obsession with the musical group if she asked. She of course would never make such a useless demand, but it seemed that he had let it go anyway. There were much more important things to obsess over now.

********

Arthur Weasley woke up to find that he and Molly had fallen asleep on the sofa, and a certain little redhead had finally learned to sneak out of his crib. Billy was flung across his parents’ laps, sound asleep. The thin man reached out to rest his hand on his wife's slightly distended belly and wondered what their next little bundle would be like. He smiled sleepily and closed his eyes again.

Life pretty much didn’t get better than this.

A Seinfeldish Story

I often feel that events in my life would fit right into a Seinfeld episode, and that I'm George. I wish I were Kramer. Kramer has the coolest stuff happen to him! Once, I had a toilet-paper run-in once that made me laugh because I had just watched the "spare a square" episode. Just random, go-nowhere events that make me sit back and go "Hmmm. That was weird and had nothing to do with anything." Am I looking for those events? Maybe. They make me feel like I'm living in the moment; that I'm involved in my life rather than just passively experiencing someone else's story and letting my own personal clock run out.

Then I think maybe I should write these things down so I can laugh at them later, or possibly start writing my own sitcom using events from my own life.

*Warning: Long and possibly uninteresting story ahead. If you choose to read the whole thing and don't like the ending, don't say I didn't warn you!*

The latest sitcom-worthy story took place at my condo on Saturday night. It's been so long since I vacuumed my carpet that I am embarrassed to say I'm not sure if it was in April or May. I know it wasn't June. I clean everything else in my condo often, but the vacuuming always somehow gets delayed. At any rate, a good vacuuming was due, and I decided Saturday night was the night. I was even excited about it! I dusted everywhere and put as much smallish furniture and accumulated piles of "stuff" as I could on larger pieces of furniture. I looked at all of that carpet that was ready to be vacuumed and couldn't wait to plug the darn thing in.

Now, my vacuum is at least 7 years old, and even though I bought it new I bought it at Wal*Mart and I did not buy the most expensive model. So, it's a cheapy little thing. And since I have so much long hair that is constantly falling out of my head (in the way it should so that my head doesn't get overrun with dead hair) the long hair tends to clog the machine and burns through the stupid rubber belt and creates weird odors when I vacuum, I have to unclog the thing often. It does an okay job most of the time, though, so I don't worry about it too much.

Well, there I was on Saturday night listening to Showtunes Saturday Night and almost giddy with the prospect of a non-dusty carpet. I plugged in the vacuum, and for about 5 seconds things seemed to be fine.

And then a horrible, acrid, burned-rubber smell permeated the air, causing me to frantically shut down the appliance, throw open the front door and sliding door, and futilely search for the fan I must have loaned to someone.

Sadly, it wasn't the first time I had encountered that smell. After manually fanning the vacuum with a towel to diffuse the stench, I grabbed my tool kit and took the plate off the bottom of the vacuum to confirm my suspicion. Sure enough, the hair had clogged the spinny-thing so much that it had overwhelmed the belt, and the belt had melted, resulting in the horrible odor and -- more importantly -- rendering any possibility of vacuuming with that appliance in it's current state to be moot.

"Frustrated" is not a strong enough word for how I felt at that moment. It was mingled with "disappointed" and "annoyed."

I briefly considered giving into a tantrum in the form of stomping to Wal*Mart to buy a new vacuum, but then decided I would simply go to the vacuum-repair place sometime this week and get a new belt instead. Hopefully I can get there tomorrow.

At any rate, I regretfully gave up on the vacuuming plan, and decided instead to sort through a stack of junk mail and other random-odd paper "treasures" that have accumulated over too-long a period of time. I more or less righted the room again and then dumped the piles of paperwork in the middle of the floor.

And then, for no reason at all, I decided to take the recycling out. So I grabbed the cardboard box overflowing with paper products and plastic bottles and bags, put on some flip-flops and headed for the recycle-specific dumpster. As I walked to the dumpster, I saw that there was a fire truck sitting the street right next to it. Suddenly (because I'd had a bad week, had been to the temple that afternoon because I was lonely, and this is how my mind works) I thought, "Oh my gosh! This is what the evening has been building up to! I'm going to meet a handsome fireman and we'll hit it off and eventually get married! What a crazy random happenstance it will all be and I will be glad that my vacuum broke because if it hadn't I would never have met my husband! I even look cute, wearing a dress and everything!"

Yeah...no. I took my time emptying my recycle box, but I never saw any firemen, handsome or otherwise (or evidence of a fire, for that matter). Instead, I took my now-empty cardboard box back to my unvaccumed condo, put in a Buffy the Vampire Slayer DVD, and watched a few episodes while sorting my paperwork, which I have yet to finish.

*Cue the closing credits.*

I told this story to some of my girlfriends last night and they laughed and told me that I'm still in the middle of my personal romantic comedy. It's possible I'll meet a guy while at the vacuum repair place...or I won't. It really doesn't matter. But I felt for a moment like I was living in a sitcom episode where nothing happens except that I am entertained. I was entertained though!

I'm totally George. Sigh.

The Baklava Story

There are several stories I like to tell from the mission that I served in Arizona for my church, but my favorite is the Baklava story. I gained a lot of weight in my first seven months, and decided to give up chocolate in an effort to lose some of it. Since it was just a few weeks before Christmas and everyone thought giving the Sister missionaries candy was a brilliant idea, it was quite a sacrifice. (Sadly, my resolve only lasted about three days. Oh, well. It was a good idea. It still is.)

Well, on that second day I was sitting in the backseat of our Toyota Corolla, and I said to my two sister companions, "You know what I really want? Baklava." My companions laughed and said things like, "Oh, Sister. You are so funny!" 'Cause, honestly, where does one find baklava in Northern Arizona? I admitted it seemed far-fetched, but the fact remained that I wanted some.

That evening, we visited a member family; we were teaching a less-active member there. After the lesson we sat and chatted for awhile, the mom turned to us and said, "One of our Christmas traditions is to make Christmas candy and set it out for visitors. We have cookies, chocolate, and baklava."

I was stunned, and my companions' heads whipped around to stare at me. We quickly filled in the family on my declaration from that morning, and they quickly dished out some of the sticky pastry and presented it to me. It was delicious -- exactly as I had hoped!


The story continues:


Six months later, I was serving with one of those Sisters again. We were serving in North Phoenix and tracting in 112 degree heat. And as we walked along I said offhand, "You know what sounds good? Steak." And Sister W quickly said, "Don't do that!"

"Do what?"

"Don't give me 'do what?' Sister I-Want-Baklava! I don't like steak!"

She was joking, but that night we had a steak-and-chicken stir fry.

Now, some might call these a coincidence, but I don't think they were. I think they were thoughtful blessings from my Heavenly Father. I think this because they came at times when we were struggling. We were working really hard, but having trouble finding people who wanted to hear our message. And since Heavenly Father wasn't about to take away the agency of the listeners and make them accept us, He instead gave us little blessings to remind us that He was still mindful of us and wanted us to be happy.

I've been thinking about this story a lot lately as I reflect on 2009. I had to go through a lot of junk last year, and the "big" blessings I think I want aren't working out the way I keep hoping they will. But, whenever it seemed life was getting too hard, I'd go to Cafe Rio and realize I had a free meal, or a dear friend would call and invite me to lunch, or I'd remember that I already had money set aside to cover my co-pay for the umpteenth doctor visit. Heavenly Father would divert my attention from my struggles with wonderful, personal, tender mercies to remind me that He knows and cares about me.

I am very grateful for these little blessings. There is a lot I can't control -- relationships, my job, scary drivers -- and I tend to get really overwhelmed with the details of life. I don't like surprises and I don't like changes. But all I need is to recognize one of those tender mercies... and then I notice another and another and suddenly remember how blessed I am and how good life is in general. I know I can't manage everything I have to do by myself. My difficult trials are only manageable with Heavenly help, and since I'm not always good at asking for help I'm glad that Heavenly Father knows how to get through to me!

Harry Potter Valentines Story

This story won first place in a Valentines Day Harry Potter short fanfiction contest. Oh, and I wrote it. Enjoy, and Happy Valentines Day to all of the people I love!

The Right Moment

“I couldn’t believe it! Here I am working hard and she just sits and picks up The Quibbler? Did she really have time for that? I realize we were just administering Skele-gro, but… James? Are you listening?”

“What? Erm, I mean, of course I am.” James smiled guiltily. “So what did you do?”

The redhead sighed. “Nothing. I know I should have said something, but it’s easier to just get the work done than to pick a fight…”

While Lily vented, her boyfriend nervously fingered the ring in his pocket, trying vainly to pay attention to the lovely witch’s words. It was difficult. All he wanted was to get it over with, but it wasn’t the right time. Of course, it would certainly catch her off-guard to ask now.

Plus, he and the others went to so much work getting the surprise ready. Sirius and Peter should be setting up the last of the preparations at this very moment. Remus especially would be disappointed if James changed the plan for no good reason. Is an emminent heart attack a good reason? He’d have to wait. But it was killing him. And he felt really guilty that he wasn’t listening to Lily very well.

Rats, she’s stopped talking and is now looking at me unhappily. Rotten boyfriend I am. The messy-haired boy took his hand out of his pocket and ran it through his hair. He was glad he was wearing robes –- they hid his shaking knees. “Maybe you should talk with Campbell. Go over her head. Otherwise, she’ll never learn; she’ll just keep letting you do all the work.”

“The only thing she’ll learn is that I run to the Head Healer when I have a problem. I think that would just make her mad and even more dangerous.”

James shrugged, just relieved he’d said something that made sense. “If you say so. You understand girls more than I do. If it were me and some bloke, I’d have it out with him and be done with it.”

Lily sighed. “Sometimes I wish women were like that. She just gets so defensive and catty, and she’s worked with Campbell for ages. It’s not that she does a bad job, she’s just lazy unless someone’s watching her, and I am tired of feeling like I’m baby-sitting, but I’m the youngest one, and whenever I say anything…”

Almost there now, James’s mind started wandering again. He never thought the time during the eight blocks to the park would seem to last so long! It had seemed a good idea when he and his friends were discussing it. He wanted the proposal to be special, but he didn’t have a lot money and he’d already spent so much on the ring.

Maybe it’s better this way – she’s not thinking about marriage or relationships at this moment. After all, the proposal itself won’t be a surprise. We’ve been talking about this for months. I know she’ll say “Yes.” At least, I think I do. Oh criminy, what if she doesn’t? But this proposal business…

It’ll be over soon. The hazel-eyed boy clasped his hands together in an effort to keep them away from that accursed pocket again.

“Sorry James. I know I complain about work a lot. I’ll stop. What about you? How was your day?”

“Not bad. Erm… yeah. It was good.”

Lily gave James an odd look.

“Here we are! The park!” It was a little too enthusiastic and James knew it. Calm down, he told himself. Make it less obvious. “Mind if we take a little stroll?”

“I thought that’s what we were doing.”

“Oh, erm… right.” This seemed to be going downhill fast. He needed to save it. “Erm, Remus found a job today.”

“He did? Why didn’t you tell me! We should all be out celebrating! What is the job? Teaching?”

Good, she’s distracted again.

James scratched his left leg. It was starting to ache – he needed to relax or his whole body would clench up. On the one hand, Lily is a Healer, so she could help me. On the other, I want the proposal to be the memorable moment – not my passing out. “It’s just a janitorial job, working nights at the Owl Emporium. The pay is lousy, but he’s glad to have something.”

Lily shook her head. “I still don’t understand how he lost the job at the Primer school. Remus is really smart; he’s dependable and caring. Why is he having such a hard time and why would he settle for something like that?”

“Must be a reason,” James said a little absently.

“It’s ridiculous. I know it’s been almost a year since he worked, but he deserves much better than…” Lily stopped dead in her tracks. “What in the world?”

She had just spied “the target” as James’s friends had started calling it. It was by necessity a different lake, but there was the same checkered blanket, picnic basket with cold chicken, chips and biscuits, and floating candles. The finishing touch was the spilled butterbeer. He had been so upset when he had found the mess waiting for them on their first date, but Lily had been so good about it. It was her favorite memory of that day – she claimed she had met the “real” James at that moment: strong and determined.

Just has he had on their first date, the first thing the messy-haired young man did was march right over to the spilled liquid, point his wand and said “Scourgify!” Then he turned and motioned Lily to join him on the blanket.

Lily laughed. “It’s perfect! Thank you, James. It’s just what I needed.”

The nervous boy smiled and replied, “Least I could do after the day you’ve had.”

“You are so good to me. I don’t deserve it.” Lily leaned over, kissed her boyfriend on the cheek, and squeezed his hand. “Aren’t you worried about the Muggles catching us, though? We are in a public park.”

“Oh no. Sirius spent all day putting wards up so that they wouldn’t be problem.” Speaking of which, there’s probably a dog and a rat in the trees somewhere watching this. Of all the times to have an audience…

She tilted her head. “‘All day?’” The girl’s green eyes sparkled. “This isn’t just today, is it?”

Oh no, this is it. This is the moment. Don’t faint. Don’t die, James commanded himself. “No, Lily. It’s not just today. It’s everyday. Every day you’re in my thoughts and every night you are in my dreams.”

The beautiful girl blushed.

“Every day when I am at work, I can’t wait to see you, and then when I see you, I can’t remember what my day was like before I saw you. It seems a far-off fantasy because you are my reality. I just want to be with you all the time.”

“Oh, James…”

The visibly trembling boy slowly shifted until he was kneeling next to the girl he loved. He took a shuddering breath and swallowed hard.

“Lily Evans.” Please say yes, please say yes. “I love you.” I’m going to pass out. “Will you do me the extreme honor,” Why isn’t she smiling? “of marrying—”

“YES!” the redhead screamed before the last word was even out. “Yes, yes, YES!” She threw herself into James’s arms and started laughing. “A thousand times yes!”

Tears streamed down the relieved and surprised man’s face. Did she really say “yes?” I can’t believe it! I am too bloody lucky. He could never have believed that he could be so happy. This feeling was better than flying! Lily was smiling now. She gave him a number of short pecks on the lips, and then he held her close for one long, slow kiss.

When they parted, both were breathless. The two just looked at each other for a moment in wonder. How is it that such a perfect woman could possibly love me? James asked himself in gratitude. They relaxed and sat back, just drinking in the complete contentment of the moment. There were so many questions, so many things to settle surrounding the wedding and setting up a life together, but there would be plenty of time for that later. Right now, they loved each other. That was all that was important.

Then James shifted slightly and realized he had forgotten something. I knew I would mess this up! he silently berrated himself. He smiled sheepishly as he pulled the ring out of his pocket. Lily blushed again and giggled. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”

He didn’t trust himself to speak anymore. He simply slipped the ring on his fiancée’s finger and kissed her again.

A Potter Christmas

Once upon a time, I wrote Harry Potter fanfiction and posted it online. I didn't have the guts to write about Harry and his friends, so I made up stories about his parents and the Weasleys instead. Just for fun, today I want to post one of the Christmas stories. It's a little sentimental, but hopefully y'all don't mind!

A Christmas Post

CRASH!!

The Christmas tree lay in a heap on top of James's lanky frame. Lily nearly choked with laughter as her husband pushed it off and muttered a few choice words.

"It's not funny," he growled.

The redhead grabbed the tall tree and helped James stand it up again. She reached over to comb the stray needles out of James's hair, but he playfully slapped her hand away. "I'm sorry, James." Lily tried to keep her face straight. "But why didn't you just levitate the star up there?"

"Because I put it on myself last year. It's tradition."

"Yes, but last year the tree was about three feet tall."

James smiled that dopey half-grin he knew Lily found irresistible and replied, "I know."

Lily rolled her eyes. "It's your neck, not mine. By the way, weren't Sirius and Remus going to help you with this?"

"Nah, they're coming over later to put up the lights."

"Thank goodness. I really don't want you getting hurt—especially if you insist on not letting me help."

"Why thank you, Mrs. Potter. So what are you giving me for Christmas?" He asked matter-of-factly. He'd been doing it for days. Apparently he figured if he asked often enough, and at odd times during the conversation, Lily would slip up and actually tell him.

"You'll find out next week," was the standard answer.

James put on a pouty face. "Please?"

How could she resist those big hazel eyes? "James, if I give it to you now, what will you open Christmas day?"

"You could rewrap it and I could open it twice!" he replied quickly. "I can pretend to be surprised again. Look!" He gasped dramatically and affected a surprised expression.

Again, Lily rolled her eyes. "Fine. If you're sure…"

The sound of James's joyful "Whoop!" could be heard through the house as Lily ran to fish the gift out of her hiding place.

James tore through the paper like a little boy, but his face dropped as he saw the box.

"An easy-bake oven?" The disappointment in his voice was clear. Then he brightened. "Is this one of those things where you use an old box to throw me off?"

But when he pulled the old, battered toy out of the box, the sadness was back full-force. "Gee, Lily. It's great, thanks."

Lily saw that he was about to cry, and felt terrible. "That's not all, James. Look inside."

Now dubious, the wild-haired boy put his hand in the oven. He looked seriously confused when he found a sticky bun inside. "Erm. It's a bun."

"Yep. In the oven." Lily was bursting with nerves and excitement. She watched his face closely because she never wanted to forget the look on it when James realized what it meant.

"In the—?" His eyes and mouth popped open wider then Lily had ever seen them. He looked into his wife's glowing green eyes, then down at her stomach, then back into her eyes. "You're...?"

Lily nodded.

"Really?"

"Yep."

There was a pause as James continued to look at the freckled woman in front of him.

Then "WAHHHHHHHH-HOOOOOOOO!" He bellowed. He grabbed Lily around the waist and swung her around in a circle. "I'm going to be a fa-ther! I'm going to be a fa-ther!" Suddenly realizing that Lily looked a little green and dizzy, he quickly placed her on the sofa and apologized profusely for the next two minutes. "How—when?"

"Well, the 'how' I think you know," she replied cheekily. "And the when...I think after the Halloween party..."

"Oh yeah." James blushed bright pink. "So when are you... when is he...?"

Lily giggled. "It's a 'he' is it?" James blushed again. "The baby will be here in July."

James crowed again and proceeded to dance about the room by himself, again chanting "I'm going to be a fa-ther!" When he'd gotten it out of his system, he knelt in front of Lily and kissed her softly.

"Thank you, Lily. This is the best Christmas gift ever."

Lily wrapped her arms around the darling man and kissed him back. "It isn't Christmas, yet, James."

"It is to me."