The Story of Jon and Lindsey: Our First Date

Who knows if Jon and I would have ever ended up together if Rylin Patterson and I hadn't become friends. Winter of 2013 was a hard one for me. I felt like I was failing at everything: failing at being relief society president, failing at being a good roommate, failing at being a good older sister, failing at becoming an English teacher, failing at living healthily, failing at being a good friend, and any other failing out there--I was doing it. I was feeling pretty down and sorry for myself, and for some reason--after a random night of going to see "Wreck It Ralph" at the dollar theater with a group of people in the ward--Rylin decided to be my friend. It was random, and I was a bit confused about who the heck this short and often weird guy was, but I wasn't complaining because suddenly I felt like I had a friend.

One night I was at his house and we started talking about all the awesome things we wanted to do that summer and decided that we should make a summer bucket list. So we did. We had something like 50 items and he titled the top of the page: "The Most Awesome Summer Ever" or something like that. After finals week ended, Rylin and I were sitting down, looking over our list, and trying to figure out how to start off our summer (though technically I guess it was still spring). Earlier, I had admitted that I thought I needed to start going on more dates than I had lately and he was all over the idea of doing a double, so we decided to mark off our Hike the Y and Watch a Sunset goals and to make it a double all in one whammy the following Saturday. Rylin was anxious and excited because he already knew who he wanted to ask. I, however, had no clue who I was going to ask, but figured that with all the new people moving into the apartment complex for summer term, that I could find someone.

I don't remember most of the details from the beginning of the next week, but I do remember that Rylin pestered me just about every single day to see if I'd gotten a date yet--because he had!--and I just had to keep telling him that: "No, Rylin, I haven't. But I'm trying!" Which was true. There was a new guy in the ward that I had thought about asking, and had maybe even tried asking...but due to some circumstances, it just wasn't working.

Wednesday evening came and I still didn't have a date. The time to ask was escaping me, and I still had no clue who to pop the question to. It wasn't that I was afraid to ask a guy out (been there, done that), it was just that I sincerely had started to lose interest in dating and if I was going to go to the effort of asking someone I wanted it to be at least a semi-successful evening.

Enter Jon Paul Self:

-'Bout 6 feet tall
-Lean
-Dirty blonde hair
-Brown/green eyes
-Horribly handsome
-Ubber righteous
-Avid BYU fan
-Frequent ESPN stocker
-Lover of watermelon and doughnuts
-Professional napper
-That guy who likes to make jokes in his prayers
-The man of my dreams

You know the guy.

But I didn't. In fact, I had barely figured out his name. Jon belonged in this conglomeration of roommates that were super close and ran around together having fun all the time. I knew all of their names: Joseph, Eric, Kelly, Kyle, Alex, and Jon...I just didn't exactly know which name went with which face. Except Joseph. I knew him. There were so many times over the past year, since Jon had been in the ward, that I would see him on campus and call him the wrong name. Our gym schedules seemed to be the same, so it usually happened there.

"Hi Eric!"

"Actually, it's Jon."

"Oh. Yeah. Well, hope you're workout's treatin' you great! See ya later!"

Super romantic, right?

As I was saying--Enter the horribly handsome Jon Paul Self: dressed in a white shirt and tie, coming from the parking lot and happening to pass by where I was sitting on a bench, on his way to his apartment.

I thought I'd be friendly.

"Hello, Jon!" I called.

He paused at the sound of my voice and looked up. "Hi, Lindsey." He came over to where I was sitting.

"You look mighty nice," I commented. "Where you coming from?"

"I just came back from the temple."

This was the point where my conscience tugged at me and I remembered that in addition to working on my dating life, I was also trying to work on going to the temple more. So far, I'd gone approximately zero times. My excuse? I didn't have a car, and had been too lazy to walk the mile and a half there thus far.

"The temple?" I repeated. "That's cool! I've been wanting to go to the temple sometime soon, but I don't have a car and haven't been able to find a ride." I forgot to mention the part about me being lazy.

"I'm going again tomorrow and wouldn't mind giving you a ride."

In the excitement of a prospective ride, my mind totally skipped over the oddity of him going to the temple two days in a row and I cheerfully responded with: "A ride would be awesome!"

(The reason Jon was going to the temple two days in a row was because he was just coming from having an interview with the temple president to help with the work that goes on there. He was planning on attending the following day to attend for himself.)

"Okay," he replied. "What time works for you?"

"I get off work at 5...Would 6 be okay?"

"Sure."

And then as he was walking away I remember thinking to myself: Self: this kid doesn't seem like that bad of a guy. Maybe tomorrow when he gives you a ride to the temple, you could see if he's free to go on a date this Saturday at 7:30pm. 

And that's what I did.

And he said that he was free.

And I could finally ward off Rylin's: "Have you gotten a date yet?" with a: "Why yes, Rylin. I have."

But let's be honest here: I wasn't expecting much. I mean, sure Jon was horribly handsome and pleasant to talk to, but he and I had been going to church in the same ward for the past eight months--most of the time with me not even remembering his name--and nothing had happened. Nothing was going to happen. I wasn't even terribly excited for the date.

Saturday, May 4th, 2013 came waltzing around and I found myself sitting in Rylin's kitchen talking with him at 5pm, about two-and-a-half hours before the date. I don't remember what we were talking about but I do remember that Adam Beus--a friend in the ward--dropped by to talk because he was going to join us with a girl at the date too.

"Who are you going with?" he asked me.

I told him "Jon," and his reaction was so strong and immediate that it caught me off guard.

"I approve!" he exclaimed. "Jon is a really good man."

Three hours later, I didn't need Adam telling me that Jon was a really good guy. Two-and-a-half hours later, however, the date had yet to begin and I was not feeling too pumped. I distinctly remember not wanting to go on the date because I was in the middle of having a really good conversation with my friend wherein I was trying to figure-out the woes and troubles associated with thinking that you're failing at everything in life, and the date was interrupting it.

But I hauled myself away and picked Jon up at his place. We met up with Rylin, Adam, and their dates, crammed into Rylin's car (there might not have been enough seat belts...good thing Jon's bum is small!) and made it up to the start of the Y trail head.

And so we started hiking.

And started talking.

And I accidentally started falling for the 6 foot tall, blonde hair, brown/green eyes man whom I'd been calling the wrong name for the past eight months.

No big deal.

Legit picture of Jon and I on our first date sitting at the top of the Y!

I just remember loving the way I felt with Jon. As previously mentioned, I'd had a hard winter. I was feeling down and as a result, had turned into this somewhat fake person in order to feel like I could make myself fit with people without letting them see the mess that was inside. But with Jon, I felt like my old self again. I felt calm and understood. Above all: I felt the Spirit, and it felt awesome. After the first ten minutes, Jon stopped and apologized for talking too much about church stuff and said that his friends always teased him for making everything about church. I picked my jaw off the ground and reattached it to my skull so that I could say that my friends also teased me for making everything about church and that I didn't mind it one little bit and that he definitely shouldn't be apologizing. I remember talking that whole entire date and not once feeling like we struggled to have something to say and that it was just so easy to be with him. We had so much in common and just kept saying: "Me too!" 

The date came to an end and we got back into the car with everyone else. On the drive down, we started talking with the other couples again (everyone had paired off while on the mountain). As we drove, I frowned as I paused and considered the words coming out of my mouth. Back with everyone else, I was being that fake version of myself again. It was such a stark contrast to the way I felt for the two hours just Jon and I had talked. I didn't like it. I wanted what I had when I was with just Jon back. I wanted to be a better person.

I didn't admit it then--even to myself--that I liked him, but deep down I knew I did. I tried to attribute it all to feeling like I once again had hope with my dating life. But within the following weeks--after coming up with reasons for him to take me to the store and to go to the baseball game with him and to talk with him at treat night and to coincidentally be wherever he also happened to be--it was very obvious that all hopes in regard to my dating life were targeted very pointedly at one man, and that I was trying very hard not to hope too much for a bulls eye for fear that I might miss.

Luckily, Jon asked me on a second date.

Cooking, Spiders, and A Fun Weekend

I have a bad habit when it comes to blogging. It's called "I go forever without writing and then when I finally get around to it I feel like there's so much to say that I'm afraid to say anything. And so I don't." Hence, I have not written anything over the past few months. But it's time to try again!

Looking over the past few months, there's SO much that has happened and so much that I wish I could say, but out of all that's transpired, there are two moments that stand out that I really don't ever want to forget. They're both about Jon, and they both still make me laugh whenever I think of them.

The first has to do with making him lunches. One night for dinner we had soup. I asked him if he'd like some of the leftover soup for his lunch the next day and he said something along the lines of: "Very much yes!" So I took the leftover soup and put it into three different containers. The first was a small one, with one cup of soup in it for me. The second was a container twice the size of mine with at least two times--if not three times--as much soup as was in my container. This one was for Jon's lunch. The last container was two to three times bigger than that container, and it's the one I put all the soup that was leftover into.

The next day came. On my way out to work, I told Jon that his soup for lunch was in a container in the fridge. He acknowledged that he heard, but later that day when I got home, Jon's soup was still in the fridge. Jon wasn't around, so I couldn't ask him about it. I figured that he must have just forgotten to take the soup with him for lunch. It wasn't until I realized that the ginormous container--with all the leftover soup in it--was gone that I realized what happened. He'd taken the wrong container. The one with at least four servings of soup in it! As soon as he came home I asked him about it, and this was his reply:

"I took the wrong container? Oh. Really? Man! Well, I had no problem eating all of it!"

This story serves as a perfect example of how eye-opening it's been for me learning how much food a man can eat in one given day. Which reminds me of another story...

One day we were driving in the car and Jon just randomly started laughing. When I asked him what was up, he said: "I was just thinking about how crazy it would be if what I ate actually affected the way I looked and felt."

Part of me really hopes his metabolism catches up to him latter in life and that he gains 50 pounds. Not really, but kind of.

The second story happened one night when he and I were sitting on the couch at the end of the day. He was doing homework, I was doing something quiet, like reading a book. Suddenly, Jon leaps off the couch and flies to the other side of the room, hysterical.

"What?" I inquire.

"Diggs! Look!  THERE'S A SPIDER HANGING DOWN FROM THE WALL EXACTLY NEXT TO WHERE I WAS SITTING!!!!!"

Some Necessary Background Information For Those of You Who Do Not Know Jon Well: Jon hates spiders. A whole lot. When we got married, I gave him a "Jon's Spider-Killing Kit" in hopes of helping him overcome his fear. It was no use. I'm the spider killer in our family, which I'm okay with as long as he's willing to kill all the snakes (and heaven help me if there's ever a snake in our home! We will move to a different STATE the day that happens!) 

So I start laughing my head off while Jon runs frantically into the other room. "Jon?" I gasp out, between laughs. "Are you getting a tissue to kill it with? Or do you want to give it to me to kill it with?"

Instead of replying, he comes running back into the room, and before I realize what's happening he's spraying Raid bug killer all over the hanging spider until it falls onto the couch, at which point he sprays half the couch in attempt to squelch the life out of the poor little vermin.

After exclaiming: "Stop! Stop!" multiple times and coming next to his side, I finally calm Jon down enough to get him to stop soaking the couch in poisonous bug spray. The spider was definitely dead by this point. "Diggs!" I exclaim. "You just sprayed half the couch with Raid!"

"That monster was going to kill me!"

I rolled my eyes. "Well, are you going to get a piece of toilet paper to pick the spider up and throw it away now?"

"Heck no!" he exclaimed, standing up to go put the bug spray away. "That's your job!"

These two experiences are just glimpses of the crazy happenings of married life with Jon. It just keeps getting better.

This weekend was pretty awesome too! Jon and I wen to see The Young Ambassadors on Friday evening, and then I spent the rest of the weekend cooking....homemade rolls, two loafs of homemade bread, white chicken chili, enchiladas, and cookies. It's been pretty awesome. To top it all off, this morning I got to go to my lovely friend Amelia's homecoming talk with my other friends Rachel and Lauren. It was so fun to be reunited as old roommates and to reminisce about old times. Good stuff.

And as for those papers I was supposed to finish grading this weekend...

Teaching is HARD!

Last Thursday and Friday I had the day off because it was fall break. Oh my goodness gracious. They were two of the best/most productive/energetic days that I have had in ages. I felt like my happy go-get-er normal human self!

And then yesterday happened.

And school started back up.

And I got hit with a wall of bricks.

Where did all my energy go? I found myself wondering. Why am I suddenly being drawn to eat five pounds of chocolate a day when last week I was fine with going eight hours without food and then still not being that hungry? What happened to me??!?!!

Well. 84 hormone-driven kids happened to me. That's all.

The contrast between that wonderful weekend and the past two days have made me realize how extremely mentally exhausting it is to be a teacher. It's HARD! And if I'm gonna' keep making it, I need to slow down a bit and rest, not because I'm doing anything wrong or because my body's exhausted, but because my mind is.

Anyway. Rant for the evening: check.

Origami Jumping Frog!!!!

Origami Jumping Frog

Today we are going to learn how to make an origami jumping frog from paper. Watch how a plain piece of paper can come alive. All you need is a piece of paper cut into a square (so you may need scissors to cut the paper if you want). We recommend a square that is 8.5" by 8.5".

1.      Lay your paper flat on the table

2.      Fold paper in half so 2 opposite corners are on top of one another    

3.      Copy with other 2 corners (the creases should make a X)             

4.      Fold straight edge to opposite edge                                                          

5.      Unfold to make a square again

6.      You should have 2 triangles with the tips touching in the middle of the paper, each should have a creased line running down the middle                                             

7.      Join the long sides of the 2 triangles so the bases of the triangles are touching each other
                  

8.      View the picture; on side 1, fold corner A so it is exactly on top of corner B

9.      Repeat with other corner on the left of side 1                                             

10.  Turn paper over so the longest edge is facing you and with the point facing away

11.  View the picture; take side A and align on top of center line marked by the letter B              

12.  Repeat on left side of triangle so side 2 is mirrored

13.  View the picture; orient the paper as shown in the picture                     

14.  Bring point A to point B

15.  Insert point A into the pocket as shown in the picture                                  

16.  Repeat with other side

17.  To make the Frog arms:

i.        With side 1 facing up, fold corner A toward the general direction of corner B at approximately a 45 degree angle (see picture for reference)              

ii.      Fold arm back on itself 2 times like an accordion (see picture) 

iii.    Repeat on opposite arm

18. Lay the frog on its back so the arms are facing up and head facing away from you

19.  Take bottom of paper and fold up approximately 1/2-3/4 inch              

20.  Fold A back half way towards its original position in an accordion style (see picture)
      

Congratulations!!!  You have your very own jumping frog!                                        

Me and Myself

Today marks two months of marriage for Jon and I. That being said, I suppose it’s about time that I share our story: how we met, how we started dating, how he proposed, and all that other fun stuff that people like to know. So, without further ado, here it is:

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Lindsey who met a boy named Jon. The two of them fell madly in love at first sight and, after a couple of dates, decided that they would try dating exclusively. Their dating life was perfect: nothing but romantic picnics in the mountains at dusk that faded away into Hollywood-worthy evenings underneath the stars. Every moment with each other was bliss and the two of them couldn’t recall a happier time in their lives. Because everything was going so perfect, the two of them decided to get married. The date was set, everything fell into place, the marriage happened, and the two have experienced nothing but more joy and love and everything else perfect ever since…

…Except for that’s not at all how it happened and any suggestion that Jon and my dating life was perfect is farther from the truth than the South Pole is from the North Pole. Heavens, no. Dating Jon was most definitely both the most fun and most stressful thing I have ever done, and trying to decide whether or not to marry him was even more so (emphasize the stressful part on that one). And while I could sit here and paint for you the most perfect and wonderful picture, telling you only about the good and leaving out the bad, I want to be more real with you than that. Why? Because there’s this stigma in our culture that tries to tell us that dating and marriage and relationships in general are happy and easy and wonderful and that if you’re having a hard time with yours, it must be wrong—get out fast—jump ship. And while a happy and healthy relationship will provide you with more joy and wonder than anything else in life, my experience begs to differ with any person or movie or book or television ad that suggests that falling in love and getting married is only the ease and the joy and the wonder. It’s not. It may vary from couple to couple, but every couple experiences their own share of heartache, hard times, and struggles. Before I started dating Jon I knew this. I expected it. But even though I knew it would be hard, I wasn’t prepared for how hard it was or for what kind of hard it was. As a result, I spent much of my dating experience confused over whether or not things were hard because dating is hard or because dating Jon was hard, and therefore, probably not meant to be.

I want to paint a realistic picture of what meeting and dating and breaking-up and getting back together and getting engaged and (finally!) getting married to Jon was like so that other people in relationships can know that they’re not alone in the crazy inward battle over whether or not things are meant to be and so that they can also know that when things are hard it doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re wrong. Because it’s such a long story, or rather, because there’s so much to say, I’m going to be breaking it up and posting bits and pieces of it over the next several weeks. I have no idea how many parts it will end up being, so I guess we’ll just have to see how long or short-winded I end up being. Regardless, take our not-so-fairy-tale-perfect love story for what it is, for even though it’s not tidy enough to end up in the pages of a fairy tale, Jon and I still regard it as the most wonderful love story we’ve ever heard of. Of course, we’re biased, but that’s okay. It was perfect for us and gave us both what we perfectly needed: an opportunity to grow, some heartache, lots of laughter, a search for identity, a chance to draw closer to God, and—above all—it gave us each other. 

(to be continued...)

BYU vs. Virginia

Today Jon and I spent our afternoon cooking out in the sun at the BYU vs. Virginia game. We won, and the game literally left a mark on me...I have a white spot on my cheek where my "Y" sticker was. It was worth it though to have finally been able to attend a game in person. 

GO COUGS! 

"Don't Use Fake Last Name"

Today in Jon's technical writing class, they all brought in a copy of their resume, hung them on the walls, and then walked around and edited each other's papers. When the activity was over and Jon got back his paper, this was written on it:

I've heard many puns about my new last name in the month and a half that I've been married. For example, today in one of my classes we were learning about the 6 types of conflict and the kids thought it was hilarious when we couldn't decide if a scenario we were studying about a student and a teacher was an example of character versus character or character verses (Mrs.) Self. It was awesome.

This comment on Jon's paper, however, might be even funnier. We don't know if the culprit was serious or just kidding. Either way, it made our night.

Sisterhood: I Need It!

Over the short month and a half that Jon and I have been married, I have found myself frequently reflecting on something Sister Hinckley once said that was quoted last March in the General Women's Session of Conference:

“Oh, how we need each other. Those of us who are old need you who are young. And, hopefully, you who are young need some of us who are old. It is a sociological fact that women need women. We need deep and satisfying and loyal friendships with each other.”

IT IS SO TRUE! Since marrying Jon, the two of us have had so many fun and wonderful times together. Yet there have been times when I try explaining to him why I feel guilty after eating a day's worth of food in two hours and he doesn't really understand because food just goes right through him, or other times when I know that if I can just express myself and feel understood that everything will suddenly magically be better, but I know that if I start expressing myself to Jon that he'll just get confused as to why I'm having an emotional breakdown and then I'll feel frustrated. Are these things his fault? No! He just has a different pair of genes than I do, which I'm very grateful for! But though I'm grateful that he's a boy and I'm a girl, and though I have a very strong testimony about the sacred nature of the relationship between husband and wife, there is something special about the bond between females that we as women just need. Like Sister Hinckley said: "Women need women," and living the past several weeks without a lot of female companionship has shown me the truth in her words. 

I suppose it's to be expected after living my entire twenty-two-and-a-half years of life with absolutely all females and absolutely no males (well, there was my dad, but dad's don't count!): going from living in estrogen city to living with just testosterone has been quite a change. And not expecting it has made me a little slow in realizing what effect the change is having on me. 

Tonight though, I talked to my mom on the phone for a long time for the first time since I've gotten married, and lo and behold--I feel better! LOADS better! And it helped me realize how dearly I've been missing that female companionship that I've had my whole life in the room across the way. 

So I'm going to try better to make room for girl time in my life. I'm going to call-up old friends and go out to lunch with new ones. I'm going to meet sisters in my new ward and be a diligent visiting teacher. I'm going to call home to talk to my mom and sisters. I'm going to make sure that I don't lose the sisterhood I have with family, friends, and ward members, and also that I don't lose opportunities to make more of these relationships with new people. 

Marriage teaches me something new every day.

Stand for the Family Conference 2014

Jon and I are going to the evening session of the Stand for the Family Conference this Friday at the Provo Convention Center. Don't have a Friday date night plan yet? Come join us! Tickets are only $5 for students!

On Giving and Receiving Service

By: My Grandma Sorensen

What is one of the most meaningful times when you've been able to serve someone else?

I think the most meaningful service I have been able to give over the years is the service to my family. I have always been blessed to be able to be a stay at home mom. I have always been able to be there when the kids came from school or whatever, and been able to answer them when they would come in the door calling: “Mom—MOM!” not necessarily needing anything, just wanting to know if I was there.

I loved cooking for them and having a hot meal together every night. There were some time when we were not all there, then I would fix a plate and put it in the oven so they could have it when they got home. They knew there would always be something for them. Bread making day was always fun. Especially when it came out of the oven just as they came home from school. Kenneth always looked for the little piece of dough I would save for him.  I loved canning for them. We would do several bushels of peaches and pears. Most of the time it was a family affair and everyone would help. We would pick, clean and snap beans together so I could can them. It was always a great feeling to go into the storage room and see rows and rows of food.

I won't ever forget what we came to call “our strawberry summer.” Grandpa would leave for work. Our garden was at the end of the driveway. He would look at it and come back in and say: “Looks like a few berries are ready, you better pick today—there aren't very many; it won't take too long.” Then the kids would go out and pick and pick and pick. We have never had berries like that before or since. But oh, I was able to make all the wonderful jam we wanted. Our garden was huge—at least as long as your backyard and half as wide. We would usually work in it together and then play games in the yard. We played all kinds of game. The yard was big enough to do anything we wanted.

I loved to sew for the kids. As long as they would wear homemade things. Steven used to sit on the floor by me and sew all the scraps together in a big long line. I like to think Susan is the seamstress she is because we sewed so much at home. She would get tired of waiting for me to get to something for her so she started very young to sew for herself.

Not long ago, when we were recalling old times Steven mentioned how nice it was that I would get up and cook the breakfast before they would go fishing. I had never really thought of it as anything extra. It was just something I liked to do.

I hope my example and service has been a help to my children in their homes. I must have done something right because they all love to come home and that makes me feel wonderful.

What is one of the most meaningful times when you've been served?

I have received so much wonderful service in my life it’s hard to choose. A couple that come to mind are: First my Mom. My sweet, sweet  Mom. Mom didn't like to travel. She interfered just to stay home. However, she was always there for me when we welcomed a beautiful new little spirit into our home. I always had a really hard time being in the family’s way. I would be so sick and throw up the whole 9 months. When Steven was on the way, and I was just as sick as I had been for Kenneth and Susan, I remember Grandpa asking me if I hadn't learned how to do it better yet. I remember lying on the couch being so sick. The phone rang and it was my Mom wanting to know if I needed her help. I told her I was fine and would be okay. I guess I wasn't too convincing because the next day she called to say she was coming. That was one of the most warm, nonfattening calls I have ever gotten. She came on the bus. Remember how I told you she didn't like to travel. This is how she came:

She put on three dresses (light jersey ones), a jacket, and she put her garments in her purse. She didn't even carry a suitcase. When she got here, she was wearing the only shoes she had brought. It just so happened she had put on one brown one and one black one at home and didn't notice. Another time during a layover on the bus, she was walking around a little. She needed to use a rest room. She went into a little dress shop. When she left she bought a blouse because they had been so nice to her. For her to make those trips for me is love and service above and beyond. I will never forget.

The second is from Janet*. After I had my stroke, she gave up her home and her life to come home and take care of Dad and me. I really don't know if I would still be here if she hadn't. I have always felt I could do anything regardless of how I felt. If I didn’t feel good just at that moment, I had to push a little harder. Not this time. I just couldn't. Janet came and took over. When she saw me doing things I really shouldn't she put a stop to it. She saw to it that I took care of myself and didn't push. I now have a very bad heart that is very painful. If I overdue I pay for it by being kept awake at night or by being in terrible pain in the day. When she sees me doing too much she puts a stop to it right now. She fills in all the places that I can't anymore. She tells us she is her for the long haul. She is going to stay and take care of us as long as we are around. Now that’s service—putting yourself and your life and your plans on hold for someone else. This is something we can never repay and are eternally grateful for.

*Janet is my aunt, Grandma's youngest daughter

(Memory emailed to me on June 13th, 2014)

Click here to see the memory on familysearch.org

Memories of Her Mom, Olive Ann Roundy Brown

By: My Grandma Sorensen

Mom had many skills. She was the bookkeeper for my Dad’s business for years.  This was when she had a house full of little ones. She was the world’s number one genealogist. She spent hours and hours finding those on her line and then she did Dad’s. She helped countless people in Logan do theirs. She was always lending what she had done to cousins. She spent a lot of money to have people search out her line in other countries. She spent days in Salt Lake at the library. She learned to read Danish so she could find more names. I would give anything to see her here now with all the wonderful tools we now have at our fingertips.

As kids, we always looked forward to our Christmas break from school. Not just for the time away from school and the always exciting visit from the Jolly Little Man in the red suit, but for the time we knew we would have to spend with Mom. Every morning when we got up she would say, “Okay. As soon  as we get the house cleaned up we will play games.” Boy, you never saw beds made, dishes done (without the aid of a dishwasher), and the floors cleaned so fast in your life. Mom was always true to her word. From the minute the cleaning was finished she spent the whole day with us playing games. We played rook and all different board games. We played for fun. Everyone had a great time without argument. We had every game you could possible want, and we loved them all. As I watch your family playing games on Sunday afternoons it reminds me a lot of the time I spent with mom.

Mom had a great sense of humor. I remember one day Mom had been cleaning all morning. We were all sitting up to the cupboard for lunch. As we were sitting there, Mom poured us each a full glass of cold milk to have with our sandwich. As she pulled up her chair to join us she said “Now everyone be very careful and don't spill your milk, I just scrubbed and waxed the floor.” When she turned to pick up her sandwich she knocked her glass over and milk went everywhere. She laughed ‘till she almost cried. We all joined in on the fun.

Mom was always a lady. She always wore a dress and always looked very nice.  In fact, the only time I saw my mother in pants was the day she went horseback riding with my dad and members of a riding club he belonged to. She didn't care for the horse ride. I don't ever remember seeing her in pants again.
Mom was a scriptorian. When her presence wasn't needed somewhere else, you would find her reading the scriptures. She could answer any question you had.

Mom was always loving and kind. She treated everyone the same. I can't remember her ever saying anything unkind about anyone. As she got older and we were caring for her in our home, Janet made the comment: “Grandma may not know what’s going on, but she is still the sweet loving person she has always been,” and she was ‘till the end. I am so grateful for the wonderful mother my Heavenly Father blessed me with. For the wonderful example she was and still is to me. One of the greatest things she taught me was to accept every calling you were given and to work as hard as you could to make it a success. She was always busy doing her church jobs and never complained about what was required of her.

(Memory emailed to me on May 19th, 2014)

Click here to see the memory on familysearch.org 

A Testimony on Prayer

By: My Grandma Sorensen

My testimony of prayer has changed greatly over the years.  It has gotten stronger. I mean really stronger. I feel prayer is now the anchor of my testimony. It gives me such a warm comforting feeling to know that Heavenly Father is only a prayer away. I find that I not only talk to him night and morning but ALL day long. No matter the situation, I'm constantly asking Him for help, thanking Him for his help or asking for guidance or forgiveness. I have had prayers answered so quickly it is almost scary.   Other times I have wondered if my prayer makes it past the ceiling. At those times, I know I'm the one not doing something right and as I pay more attention to what I am doing and get closer to My Father in Heaven the answer will come. I have learned that the answers He gives me are the ones that are best for me even thought they might take me a while to accept.

One very special experience with prayer had to do with your Mom. It happened so long ago I don't remember all the details, but your Mom, out of the blue, started running a very high fever. She was about 18 months old. It was late in the afternoon. We called the doctor only to find he was out of town and was going to be gone for several days. We lived in Shoshone where we didn't have a hospital. I remember getting very upset because the doctor wasn't there when I so desperately needed him. We called the number that we were told was the doctor that was going to stand in for him. To our great surprise, he said he would come to the house. Our regular doctor would never have done that. I remember praying so hard for help. Your Mom had started to turn blue around her mouth. I even put her on the bed and blew air into her mouth. When the doctor finally arrived, which seemed like for even when it was only a few minutes, to our Great surprise we found out he was L.D.S. He checked your mom over and said he thought she had quick pneumonia. She had been fine the day before.  He and grandpa gave your mom a blessing (which would not have happened with our regular doctor).  The doctor wanted me to have your mom checked out at the hospital which was 37 miles away. We decided Grandpa would stay with the rest of the kids and I would drive Barbara to the hospital. As we drove, her breathing was so shallow I could see her chest going up and down. I had to pull her close enough to me so I could put my finger under her nose and feel the air coming out. That's how we made the trip, my finger under her nose and me praying like I have never prayed before. We finally got there and the doctor there felt like our doctor had make the right call, but they wanted her to be checked for spinal meningitis. The tests were negative. After getting some liquid and medication and watching her a few hours, we were free to go home.

The reason the Dr. wanted you mom checked for spinal meningitis is a whole other story. Like Paul Harvey used to say, “Now for the rest of the story.” The day before you mom got sick the kids had friends over to play. These were kids that they had known but had moved away and had just moved back, so they were all excited to see them.

We found out a couple of nights after the play day that our Bishop’s son had died suddenly of spinal meningitis. The kids that had come for play day—kids we hadn't seen for over a year—had been with the Bishops son just the day before he died. Spinal meningitis is very contagious and everyone that had been anywhere around the Bishop’s son had to get a shot. So of course, when your Mom got so sick right after these kids had spent the day with us I was sure she had spinal meningitis. Of course she didn’t. It was quick pneumonia like our wonderful stand in doctor thought, but let me tell you that it was a very long car ride to the hospital. One I don't think I could have made it without being able to plead with my Heavenly Father all the way. This  experience is just one of the many tender mercies I have received from my Heavenly  Father through prayer.

(Memory emailed to me on May 10th 2014)

Click here to see the memory on familysearch.org

An Overview of My Mom's Life Growing-Up

When and where were you born? Describe your home, your neighborhood and the town you grew up in.

I was born in Burley, Idaho on December 7^th, 1963, while my family was living in Heyburn, Idaho.  We moved from there when I was very young, so I have no memory of life there.  We moved to Shoshone, Idaho.  I have some memories of that home and town, but they are very faint.  When I was 4, we moved to Jerome, Idaho, to a 17-acre farm so that my dad could do what he loved most—farm.  He was a Civil Engineer and worked fulltime as such, but had the farm as a sort of hobby—a very all-consuming hobby!  Our house was a somewhat typical farmhouse.  When we moved in, there were 3 bedrooms, a kitchen, a dining room, a front room (like a living room, really), and one bathroom.  The basement was unfinished.  My parents got one of the bedrooms, and the girls got one bedroom while the boys got the other.  There were 3 boys and 3 girls.  And yes, we really survived—all 8 of us—with only one bathroom.  Eventually my dad finished part of the basement as a very large bedroom which my brothers all shared.  The rest of the basement consisted of an area for the washer and dryer, a large fruit room, as we called it, for storing all the home-canned bottles my mom put up every year (somewhere around 1500/year!), more shelves for dry-food storage, an old coal-burning furnace, and a coal room full of coal.  The coal room used to give me nightmares, because it was so dark and black.  Eventually my parents had a heat pump installed, and the coal room disappeared so that the fruit room could expand.

We had a very large garden every year, which all of us were expected to help plant and maintain.  We grew/raised everything we needed to sustain our family and were indeed very self-reliant.  We hardly had a need to go to town for things, as my mother sewed most of our clothes—especially when I was young—and we raised cows for meat.  Also, we had a milking cow so we always had fresh mild—which I hated because of the bits of cream that would slide down your throat when you drank it.  For a time we also had chickens, but eventually we just bought our eggs from a neighbor.  It was a wonderful rural environment that I loved.  Our closest neighbors were about ¼ of a mile in one direction, and ½ of a mile in the other direction.  Our farm bordered desert land, so we were fairly remote.  We had a HUGE yard—at least an acre—all planted in grass, which I got to mow.  Our house was situated on a small hill.  There were three very large willow trees in our yard which we put to good use, climbing, building treehouses in, and tying rope swings to.  We also had a canal running through our property which we would swim in on hot summer days.  We were free to roam as we chose.  Our parents never had to worry about “bad” stuff happening to us.  And so we spent much of our growing up outdoors, digging holes for “forts”, making mud villages, playing “Jam” (it’s called “Sardines” now), Kick the Can, Hide and Seek, and a myriad of other outdoor games and activities.  We would either walk or ride bikes to play with our neighbor friends, which we had at both ends of the dead-end gravel road we lived on.  Often in the wintertime we would find ourselves snowed in—literally—as the snow would fall heavily and the wind would create large drifts that made our gravel road impassable at times. 

I attended school in the town of Jerome, which had a population of about 5,000 (I’m guessing) at the time.  I went all through my school years in Jerome, 1^st through 12^th grade with the same kids.  The town itself had one stoplight, at the intersection of Main and Lincoln.  There was a drugstore on the corner there that had a soda fountain, and another drugstore that was well-stocked with candy that we would stop and buy on our way to Primary on Tuesdays or Wednesdays after school.  There was a movie theater, a few banks, a few grocery stores—one of which five of my family members (me included) worked at at some point—and various other businesses.  

My Mom's Name

What is your full name? Why did your parents give you that name?

My full name is Barbara Ann (Sorensen) Rogers.  I don’t know why my parents chose “Barbara” as my first name.  My maternal grandmother was named Olive Ann, so I guess I got my middle name from her, and I passed it on to my middle daughter, Jessica Ann Rogers.

(Emailed to me on September 17th, 2014)

My Dad's Name

What is your full name? Why did your parents give you that name?

My full name is Donald Corey Rogers.  My parents gave me this name because I was their oldest son and they wanted me to be named after my father but they did not want me to be a Junior (exact name).   My Father’s name was Donald Claridge Rogers.  I'm not sure why they named him Donald, but his middle name is his mother’s maiden name (Claridge).  Since they did not want me to be a Junior, my middle name was Corey, which at the time was a unique name.   Since they did not want any confusion in our home, they had me go by my middle name (Corey).

(Emailed to me on September 15th, 2014)

An Overview of My Dad's Life Growing-Up

I was born in Safford, Arizona on May 14, 1959.  My parents owned a small 2 bedroom house (it also
had a living room, kitchen and bathroom) which they bought and fixed up.  Our family lived there for the next 5 years and then moved to St. Johns Arizona.  I do not remember very much about my home life in Safford.  Both of my Grandparents lived in Safford and I was told that we lived next door to Grandpa and Grandma Barney.  However, I do not remember visiting them in their house.  I do remember that we had a TV, which was pretty rare back then.  My favorite shows were, "The Lone Ranger," and "Jonny Quest."  My Grandpa Barney use to call me "Cowboy" because I wanted to be like The Lone Range, and one Christmas I got a cap gun set.  The nickname stuck for a long time.  However, I have outgrown the Cowboy thing and generally do

not want anything to do with Western wear any more.  I remember that we had a big willow tree in our yard and a swing set.  Dad also built a fence around our front yard (probably to keep me from wondering into the street).  I remember sitting in front of the fence and watching cars go by pretending to be a G.I Joe guy.  I also thought it would be cool to be a fireman and received a fire truck my last Christmas there.  I don't remember much about the neighborhood.  I know there was a small store at the end of the street that we use to go to and buy popsicles at during the summer.  The railroad tracks were across the street from our house and on the other side of the railroad tracks was a big Cotton field.  In March when the Field was empty, Dad would fly kites with us.  We got the kite to go really high and Dad bought special reels for the kite string so it would not get tangled up.  I remember going to church only once while living in Safford.  However, mom had lots of church records and we listened to primary songs all the time.

My Connection to Grandma Sorensen

I feel a special connection to Grandma Sorensen because I get my middle name--Maureen--from her. I feel the power in Helaman's words to his sons: 

"Behold, I have given unto you the names of our first parents who came out of the land of Jerusalem; and this I have done that when you remember your names ye may remember them; and when ye remember them ye may remember their works; and when ye remember their works ye may know how that it is said, and also written, that they were good. Therefore, my sons, I would that ye should do that which is good, that it may be said of you, and also written, even as it has been said and written of them." (Helman 5:6-7)

When I first studied this scripture several years ago, I discovered a great desire to be a better person so that it could also be said of me that I do "that which is good" like the person I'm named after--Grandma Sorensen. As I have come to know her better through interviews I've done with her over the past year, however, her stories and testimony ignite within me an even greater desire to be good and live the gospel. It's amazing how humbled and willing I feel to improve after I read one of her emails or after listening to the interview I did with her and realize that I'm the descendant of someone truly amazing.

I hope that if she were ever to come to me in a dream after leaving this life like George Albert Smith's grandfather did, and were to ask: "I would like to know what you've done with my name," that I could respond as President Smith did: "I have never done anything with your name of which you need be ashamed." When I know I can give such a response in this occasion, I know that my life is on the right track.

Homework Time!

Tonight after FHE I was cleaning up things from our activity so that Jon could get started on some homework ("Do you have lots of homework tonight?" I'd asked him..."YES!!! LOADS!!!" or something like that was his reply). After I cleaned up FHE I went in the kitchen and got out things to be productive so that I could make good use of the time while Jon was getting homework done. In the middle of all this, Jon got up from the table and disappeared into the living room. I didn't think twice about it, assuming that he was going in there because it was cooler and he'd been complaining all night about how hot he was.

The culprit...the game "Wordament"

I wrapped up working on something and then, realizing that I needed my iPad for my next task, got up and started looking for it. When I walked into the living room I found Jon holding my iPad. At first, I was confused. Then, as I walked up to him and asked: "What are you doing?" I realized what was going on. Jon looked up at me like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar--guilty, cute five-year-old smile and all. He was not doing homework. No. He was playing a word game app that he's been addicted to for the past month.

My brain could not take it in. This is my husband, and I feel like I'm walking up to a kindergartner! He just kept smiling up at me with that guilty, five-year-old smile as I exclaimed: "Aren't you supposed to be doing homework?!" and then I just burst out laughing. It is one of the most ridiculous/endearing/hilarious things that Jon has ever done. And when I tried to take the iPad away he said, in his best five-year-old voice: "No!" and then I started laughing again. So much for the "LOADS" of homework.

Yes, I realize that this story is probably ten times more funny to me than to any of you, but man--if you could have just seen his face...At the very least, I think I can adamantly claim that Jon has mastered the following scripture:

“…Verily I say unto you, except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.” –Matthew 18:3

Another Week

This past week has been filled with many fun activities. On Tuesday we had Jon's old mission companion, Andrew Perkinson, over for dinner. It was fun to sit and listen to the boys reminisce over mission times and to tell stories. I love how much Jon loves his mission. It's one of my favorite things about him!

Thursday we join Steve and Milli again for dinner and to watch the BYU football game. Growing-up in a house of all girls, I never watched football (or any other sport) when I was little (my poor father!) Hence, I don't really have a love for watching the game. Since marrying Jon, I've tried to change this. It was so nice to have Milli--who was often similarly confused/clueless as to what was going on--while we watched the game. Friday, we made pizza and watched a movie. Saturday Jon helped our ward with Friends of Scouting money donations while I ran errands and we went to Stake Conference in the evening.

Okay, so I look a little excited
about the popcorn too...

Today we went to Stake Conference in the morning and heard the words of apostles and other inspired church leaders. I was very grateful for the inspiration and guidance I received by listening to their words. This upcoming week feels so much more doable and exciting because of the comfort and direction these leaders provided. And just because Jon has to keep things interesting, he brought a Ziplock bag full of popcorn to the meeting so that he could have a snack like a three-year-old. I thought he'd get there and be embarrassed. Wrong. He ate from the bag like it was a badge of honor. Children...

 Lunch after Stake Conference was one of the best lunches I've had in ages. We invited my friend, Anna Stewart, over to join us. Anna just got back from serving an eighteen month mission for the church and I hadn't seen her since she got back until today. Before Jon and I went crazy and decided to get married, Anna and I had been planning on living together when she got back. Now when people ask her if she moved into a place with anyone she knows she gets to tell them that she was going to but that instead her friend ditched her and got hitched. Oops. Luckily, she doesn't hate me, which is a rather wonderful thing because as wonderful as Jon is, it is rather awesome to also have girlfriends in my life too. I hope Anna and I get to see each other often and maybe even go to the temple together like we used to always do.

We ended today by spending dinner at the house of one of Jon's coworkers--Nathan. Nathan has severe autism, so rather than serving a full-time mission, he works with Jon's BYU ground's crew as a service missionary. The food was delicious and spending time with Jon's coworkers/friends was super fun, but the best part of the evening was hearing Nathan's mom express her gratitude to Jon's crew for letting her son work with them. She talked about how many people get easily annoyed with Nathan, making him feel unwelcome, and about how it's been hard for their family to find places where he feels loved. Jon's crew, however, has been one place that Nathan has felt welcomed and loved. As her eyes gleamed with tears the Spirit whispered to me: This is what life's all about...helping the heavily burdened, welcoming those that others turn away, loving everyone--especially the outcasts, and making people feel the way that Nathan's mom feels about Jon's crew. 

It was the perfect way to end my Sunday. My life is absolutely perfect right now: I love my job, my husband, my ward, my apartment, my calling, my family, literally everything! However, even though it's absolutely perfect, everything is so new, which makes life sometimes hard to figure out. Along with all the joys of my new married/being-a-teacher life, the past few weeks have held their share of tears, frustrations, and moments of feeling like I have no idea what I'm doing and/or like I'm messing everything up. As these crazy moments have come, I've found myself wracking my brain, trying to find the secret answer to knowing how to fix everything. Today, though, Stake Conference reminded me that there's one fail safe source I can always turn to for help, and Nathan's mom reminded me that there's always one fail safe solution that will help me feel better: Christ is the fail safe source--I can always turn to Him for help, and charity--loving others as He does--is the fail safe solution that will always make me feel better. In the busyness of getting married and starting teaching I've lost track of these two things. After this weekend, though, I feel humbled and I'm determined to be better at remembering Christ and living with charity in my heart. I'm so grateful for the answers that the gospel provides. After 22 years it has never failed me, and for the rest of eternity I know that it never will.

A Very Good Weekend

This weekend was wonderful!

Yea for Cookies made in a Kitchen Aid!

On Friday evening, Jon and I worked on reliving our the first 3 dates that started it all by making cookies and lemon bars to give away to friends. This is what we did on the second date we had with each other (the one where he finally asked me out!!!) It was fun to use our new Kitchen Aid (thank you!) and to spend the evening chilling.

Late Saturday morning/early afternoon Jon and I went to watch my 7th graders play on the school football team. We cheered on my kids, talked to a few before and after their game, and soaked up some sun.

Later that evening I joined Jon for the first half of the BYU v. Texas game down in the Campus Plaza lounge. After the first hour I left him to pick up my friends I made over spring/summer--Emily and Julie--and the three of us crashed my apartment where we played Banana Grams and talked.

Today Jon and I were sustained to serve as the youth Sunday school teachers in our ward. It's a combined class--with all the youth ages 12-18, and we get to teach together. It will be a couple weeks before we get to teach our first class (because of Regional Conference and the Ogden Temple Re-dedication) but we are thrilled and can't wait to start!

This evening we went over to my Uncle Steve and Aunt Milli's house for a delicious homemade Cafe Rio meal! It was the perfect way to break our fasts. After the yummy food we played Banana Grams. We look forward to going back to their place on Thursday evening to watch BYU take on Huston.

Life is busy and so good. Good friends. Good callings. Good food. Good activities. Good family. Good games. Good husband. Good God. More than anything, it was so good to have time this weekend to find a peace and closeness to God that I haven't felt in a long time. I love Him and am grateful that He's always there for me, even when I mess-up and fail and feel like I deserve no second chances. Because of His Son, though, there always is a second chance as long as I'm willing to work for it. I can't wait to face the adventures of the coming week with Him at my side.

Jon and I at the Salem Jr. High football game!

The Good Follows the Bad

Friday was wonderful in contrast to Thursday.

Thursday nothing at work seemed to go smoothly.
Friday there wasn't a glitch.

Thursday I got some irately given criticism.
Friday I got nothing but praise (and lots of it from lots of different people!)

Thursday I was stressed out like crazy.
Friday things seemed to slide right off me.

Thursday I refused to workout.
Friday I went to the gym even though I didn't really want to and then ended up enjoying it.

Thursday I felt far from God.
Friday I could see and feel His love all around me.

I'm so grateful that bad days can be followed by good days. Now I plan to make the good day followed by a better one.

Coping (And Failing At It)

Today was a hard day at work. I came home as soon as I could, fell on the bed, and then unsuccessfully tried to take a nap while my mind went a million different directions all at the same time. How did I cope with this? Oh, you know...a roll and some pretzels...followed by some M&Ms and a chicken wrap and some Oreos...which was followed by ice cream and more M&Ms...and when the neighbors brought over some food from P. F. Chang's it of course would have been rude to not have some of that too...did I mention that I had a handful of nuts and a few cups of juice somewhere in there too?

I think it's time for me to find a new coping strategy.

Our First Camping Trip

Two and a half weeks ago, Jon and I thought we'd be proactive and plan a camping trip. We'd always talked about how fun it'd be to go once we were finally married, and now we were, and so we were gonna' make it happen. We figured out the details, got the materials together, and were excited to go!

Day of: Grey clouds. Cool breeze. I tell my students I'm going camping and one of them says: Isn't this weekend supposed to have the coldest nights of  the summer so far? Weather forecast said rain. Things are looking just dandy.

I called Jon to see if he still wanted to go. He was already sick, after all. He gave the affirmative, and I agreed that it would be a fun adventure, so at 6:05 pm Jon picked me up from work and we were off, headed up into Payson Canyon. For the most comically lame camping trip of our lives.

We got to Maple Lake, the first campsite we had looked up online, and decided to check out the one after it instead of settling. One full campsite and thirty minutes later, we found ourselves back at Maple Lake hoping that there was still an open place. Around 7:45 pm we found a place we liked, set-up tent, and finally thought that we had some time to breathe, eat, enjoy nature...

Upon going to pay for our site, we discover that we're not really set-up at a site. Rather, it's a picnic spot for day hikers. Should we try to move? We spend five minutes trying to find the campsite owner to talk to him about it, decide it's too late, and that we'll just hope we don't get kicked out.

As we start building a fire to roast our hot dogs over for dinner, it starts to sprinkle. Rain. Pour. We give up and go sit in our tent to eat the hot dogs cold (Jon refused to eat one...too gross, and he has a point) along with the buns (which Jon ate plain), yogurt, and trail mix. This can still be fun, we think...just playing games and eating snacks in the tent.

The only photo from the whole trip: Jon feeling
very well rested and dry on the way back home

Things only got more interesting. The water falling from the sky turned from a "pour" to a lightning-and-thunder-stick-your-fibia-outside-for-two-seconds-and-you're-drenched-head-to-toe (how does that happen when you only stick out your fibia?) type of rain. It was insane. We forewent the games, read our scriptures, tried to go to sleep, found out that the "condensation" on Jon's water bottle was actually a leak in the tent that had been gradually soaking his cotton/cloth sleeping bag, tried to squeeze together for the night in my sleeping bag (which had a water-resistant outside), froze a little, heard a wild animal outside our tent in the middle of the night that I thought was eating something alive and might come eat us next (it didn't), and then finally got out of our tent at 6:45 am, packed up the mud encased/water drenched tent, and left. Less than 12 hours after getting there and after having done essentially absolutely nothing, we were gone.

Most of the whole ordeal was a pain, but there were still definitely moments of laughter, and now we have a very original "first married camping trip" story to tell, especially for two experienced outdoors men like us.

A week-and-a-half later and the tent still hasn't been washed off. Don't tell my dad.

Juice, please!

Tonight, after reading our scriptures together, I pulled out my laptop to write a blog post while Jon got off the bed (the only piece of padded furniture in our apartment at the moment), and left the room to go do some stuff for class. As soon as he left, I thought that a drink of juice sounded nice, and figured that since he was up and goin' and I was down and sittin' that he might possibly be kind enough to get me some.

"Hey, Jon! Would you mind doing me a favor?"

First, he exclaimed: "Hot turds!" which was followed by laughter and: "What do you want me to do?"

"What's so funny?"

Laughter. "It took me forever to get out of the room and then as soon as I finally did you ask me to come back so that I can do you a favor."

Well. Um. I guess I didn't think my request through as well as I should have? Live and learn?

"So...do you still mind doing me a favor?"

"What?"

"Could you maybe possibly please get me a cup with ice and some juice in it? It just sounds really good right now!"

He stares at me for a few seconds, eyes twinkling. "Sure!" he exclaims, turning around and leaving the room.

As I sit on the bed, I hear laughter and then dead silence.

I start to feel an inkling. I'm suddenly reminded of all those times growing up when someone asked me for a cup of water and I'd bring it back with only a few drops or with hot water instead of cold because it was pretty much the funniest thing on earth.

Oh no.

Sure enough, a minute later this is what walks through the door:

Oh gosh, Honey, you shouldn't have.

At least after he came back with enough juice in the cup to satisfy a normal human, he very cheerfully said: "All you need to do for a refill is say: *Ehem* Refill, please! and I'll get you a refill!"

Is this him preparing me for kids or just introducing me to the husband?

Labor Day Ups and Downs

Jon and I began our Labor Day when the alarm went off at 5:30am. We convinced ourselves that we could affort an extra 15 minutes of sleep and then spent the following forty minutes rubbing sleepiness out of our eyes as we got dressed and ready for the morning. We were going to the Ogden Temple open house with Jon's crew from work. Outta the doors by 6:26, picking up two of his coworkers, hitting the road by 7:50, and making it there just in time: a little after 8. We spent the next hour watching a video about the sacredness of temples and then touring the Ogden Temple itself.

Temple open houses are rare. They only happen right after a temple has been built or right after a temple has been majorly renovated. In both cases, the temple is open to the public to come and tour for a short amount of time. After the temple is dedicated, or rededicated, it is only open to worthy members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. This is because members want to be sure that what goes on inside the temple is kept sacred and held with reverence and understanding. At temple open houses, however, members and non-members are welcome within the doors to see the beautiful architecture and to feel the peaceful Spirit that resides within the holy walls. (Click here to learn more about Latter-Day Saint temples).

The temple was beautiful. I was so grateful for the time we had to walk through and quietly observe the beautiful lights, paintings, stairways, rooms, doors, and walls. It was such a good reminder that we should all be striving to make it to the temple so that we can feel closer to God and be united together with our families forever.

After the long drive home, Jon and I were exhausted and a little at a loss of what to do. You see, we are still learning how to function in this whole marriage thing and sometimes it's hard to know exactly what to do. Something I've found myself struggling with a lot is knowing how to balance independence and personal to-do lists/goals with companionship. Often, Jon and I have found that one of us has things to get done while the other doesn't, and so the one who doesn't finds him/herself bored while the busy one finds him/herself feeling pressured to finish their stuff at an uncomfortable pace. As a single lad (or lady), you can just skadaddle and go play with your friends when your partner is busy, but we haven't quite figured out what you do in that situation as a married bloke yet.

Anyways. That's the position Jon and I found ourselves in this afternoon. He was tired and wanted to sleep. I wanted to get stuff done. We each did our own things, but four hours later found that we were both frustrated with feeling like we had been stuck in the house all day with little purpose and energy.

So, we fixed it. Or rather, we changed it. The situation. Instead of continuing to be bored and frustrated, we decided to make some super awesome plans. We Skyped my family. Jon helped me makes some tortillas for tomorrow's dinner. I made a super delicious meal, we packed it up in the picnic basket that my Grandma Sorensen and Aunt Janet gave me, and we went and had dinner on the water's edge up in Provo Canyon at Upper Falls. We came home, cleaned up, and had an awesome FHE (which began with my laughter springing around the room as Jon tried to get me to sing "There Is Sunshine In My Soul Today" in Spanish--which I do not speak--at a katrillion words per minute). We made plans for the rest of the week. We're excited about life.

It's so easy, when you're having a bad day, to just let the bad day keep bading. BUT, we each have the power to tell the bad to stop bading and to make some good start gooding. We are powerful people with potential and possibility perusing through our veins. The day we realize that and start living like it's true (which it is) is the day we enable ourselves who we want to be.

...Stepping off the soapbox, now...

Tomorrow's almost here, and I have a test to give and papers to grade and exercises to do and a dinner to make and a husband coming back from his first day of the semester's classes to love and a million other awesome and wonderful and worth-while things to do. Life is so much happier when you live it on purpose, and that's how I like to live mine.

Make the good keep on gooding.