To Thine Own Self Be True

I was video chatting with my husband the other night, and he was telling me a bit about the psychology classes he was taking for the Master's degree he's working on. He told me that studies show that girls are more likely to be influenced by their peers than boys are.

She made me do this. (j/k)

I found that interesting, although once I thought about it, it wasn't so surprising. Most guys won't spend time hanging out with another person that they hate. Boys are very open. Very honest. Very blunt. If they don't like something - or someone - they avoid it. If there's another guy they think is a jerk, they certainly don't waste their time and energy trying to suck up to the jerk and win his favor. It's more like they just... coexist.

Granted, this isn't always the case. But as a general rule, boys are more up front about what they think or what they like. They don't change their fundamental nature much. For the most part, they are who they are.

Someone said she needed "more color"

Girls are different. And I think that's part of why they're so much more easily influenced by their friends. Girls are creatures of emotion. And those emotions are often all over the place due to hormones - especially when they're growing up. They want to belong. They want people to approve of them. They want to be popular, and pretty, and desirable. This means that they'll often change themselves to fit someone else's standards. And all too often, they'll do things that they're not that comfortable with, just because a "friend" is encouraging it.

Girls are more manipulative than boys, too. Again, this is all exaggeration - not every girl is like that. But it's more common in girls. That's why there are so many studies on "Queen Bees." Girls will subtly manipulate one another to get others to do what they want. And if you don't do what they want you to do, these queen bees will shut you out. They'll spread lies about you, or threaten you, or get all of their friends to reject you.

*Not a real queen bee

I've seen it happen before. It isn't nice. It isn't pretty. But it's something that is, more or less, uniquely female.

I think the queen bee syndrome ties in with why girls are more easily influenced. There's just something about us that is much more sensitive. We want approval from our friends. We want to belong. It really bothers us when people don't like us.

When it comes to girls, there's a "type" on which the world is bent on selling everyone. You have to be pretty, and talented, and fun, and sweet, and good at everything you do, or you're not worth anything. The world has trained girls to seek the approval of everyone around them. We're being held to an impossible standard, and we get really down on ourselves when we fall short. And all too often, we're even harder on each other. We spend way too much time comparing ourselves to other people.

"Feed me approval!"

It's sad. Why should we care so much what the rest of the world thinks of us? Friends are important, yes, but who wants friends that manipulate you and make you feel bad about yourself? That's not friendship.

And it starts so young. My good friend was telling me the other day about her daughter. She had given her daughter permission to buy a hot lunch at school that day. She asked her daughter what she was going to get. Her daughter said that she had to get whatever her friends were getting, or she wouldn't be allowed to sit with them at lunch.

This little girl is in kindergarten! And already she's being manipulated by her "friends." It reminds me of the scene in Mean Girls, where they say that anyone in their group who wears sweat pants to school is not allowed to sit with them at lunch. When I saw it in the movie, I thought it was a gross exaggeration.

Apparently not.

Lead by example!

This is not okay. As a mother with a daughter, I really want to teach my daughter how to be her own self, free from the influence of others. Fortunately, the study also shows that parents have a huge amount of influence in their children's lives (girls and boys), even when their kids are teenagers. As a parent, maybe there's something I can do.

I think the most important thing for me, and for all women to do, is to stop worrying about what other people think! Set the example for the rising generation. Show them that it's more fun to be yourself, to be your very best self, than it is to follow a herd mentality.

One of the biggest steps here is to genuinely love yourself! We all have insecurities. We all have imperfections. Most of us are a pound (or several) heavier than we'd like. We all have features that we're not thrilled about. Crooked teeth, love handles, zits, bow legs, whatever it is, we've all got something.

Awesome, just the way I am!

SO. WHAT????

Seriously? Who cares? One of the things that makes women attractive is confidence. And I don't just mean attractive to men, I mean attractive to everyone. If you want to be the kind of person that other people are drawn to, confidence is your greatest tool. Instead of focusing on your flaws, focus on the best things about yourself! If not for your own mental well-being, do it for your children! Little girls learn from their mothers. If they see mom being hard on herself and complaining about her flaws, the little girls will start to examine themselves with the same overly critical eye. They'll start seeing their own flaws, and obsessing about how they don't fit with the world's standard of beauty.

But if you lead by example, and show your daughter that you are beautiful and confident no matter what your flaws may be, she will grow up with much healthier self-esteem! You are her hero, and her example of what a woman should be. Show her that embracing your assets and ignoring your physical flaws is the best way to live! That doesn't mean you can't improve on those flaws. Just don't make her think you're doing it because you are unhappy with yourself. Show her what good self-esteem looks like.

Hot stuff. 

I've got about 30-40 lbs of extra weight, crooked teeth, a Charlie Brown face, and scars. But I've also got big, beautiful eyes, great hair, luscious curves, and a fun personality. Everyone probably has two similar lists - the bad and the good. Focus on the good! Be proud of who you are! Love yourself! If you pay attention to your good qualities, that's what other people will notice, too! YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL, JUST THE WAY YOU ARE! Own that!

No princess costume for her!

The physical is only the start of things, though. Our bodies are amazing, wonderful, and vitally important to our lives, but they're only the shell. They don't really show who we are. That comes through our actions.

So, even more importantly than focusing on the great things about your physical appearance, focus on the wonderful things about YOU! Don't try to become what other people want you to be, or think you should be. Become the best version of who you already are.

When I say "the best version," I mean to keep improving. We all have room for improvement. We can all be a little kinder, a little less judgmental, a little more optimistic, a little more charitable. We can work on our weaknesses while still staying true to who we are at our very core.

So dorky.

I've always been goofy. I've always loved laughing, and doing ridiculous things. This means that, when I was in school (especially middle school, but also to an extent in high school), people thought I was weird. They pretty much thought I was a big, dorky weirdo. There were times when I didn't have many friends. I even went through a period of time in middle school where I tried to be "cool." I started swearing like a sailor, talking back to people, even dressing in (moderately) inappropriate clothes. I tried to become the person that other people wanted me to be.

Weird = Wonderful!

I was miserable. Looking back on that time in my life, my memories feel very dark and dismal. I had suppressed all the best parts of my personality, and replaced them with garbage.

Eventually, of course, I realized that I was being stupid. I recognized that I was much happier as a goofy, dorky weirdo than as a brooding "rebel." I stopped trying to be something I wasn't. I even adopted a pseudo-swear word ("smoo") that I replaced all of my real swear words with, to break my potty-mouth habit. It took a lot of work, but I felt so much better! And frankly, I sounded a lot more intelligent when I stopped swearing.

I realized that I didn't need to be popular. Even just having an awesome family and one or two good friends that loved me for who I am was enough.

Real friends have pie-eating contests

The best friends I've had in my life were the ones who embraced me for me. They countered my silliness with silliness of their own. They embraced the odd activities we did, and joined me in Weirdo World.

That is what real friends do.

Stay epic, Evie!

So I plead with my daughter and women everywhere to be true to yourselves. You are amazing! You have tons to offer! And the people who will love you the most will be the ones who love you for exactly who you already are. They won't want to change you. They'll build you up, make you more you. They'll make you want to be a better person, without changing any fundamentals of your personality. They'll help you become your very best self.

You are beautiful. You are incredible. You have the power to change lives and influence future generations. Show the girls today how amazing it is to be yourself. Prove to them that happiness doesn't come with blind conformity, it comes with embracing all the fun, quirky things that make you uniquely you. Love your body, love your quirks, love your strengths and even your flaws.

You are you. Own it!

My Lord, My King

Today is Thanksgiving Day. I've saved the best for last. As always, on Thanksgiving Day I express my gratitude for my Savior, Jesus Christ.

More than anything else, my life revolves around my Savior. I want to be like Him. Every action I take in my life is taken with that at the forefront of my mind. Every aspect of who I am is tied to my faith in and love for Him. It's so deeply a part of me, that it's completely shaped my life. I would be a completely different person if not for my relationship with Jesus Christ.

I am a daughter of God. Heavenly Father is the father of my spirit. And Jesus is my older brother. He has a personal interest in me, and in each of us. Not only does He love us the way one sibling loves another, but He loves us as our Master, our Savior, our Lord.

Without Christ, none of us would have any chance to be with Him or our Heavenly Father again. No unclean thing can dwell in the Lord's presence, and no one in this life is perfect or without some degree of sin. Even the best people in the world are sinners. None of us are good enough to return to our Father's presence on our own.

The Lord has laws for a reason. There is a certain way we're expected to live. We can't be with our Heavenly Father if we don't abide by His laws. And if there is no punishment for a broken law, the law becomes meaningless. There must be justice.

But there is no one among us who is strong enough to take that punishment on our own. We sin every day, even just in small, seemingly inconsequential ways. All of those sins add up. Over a lifetime, the number of sins we commit - even the most good-hearted, righteous among us - adds up to an insurmountably huge amount. The cost is too much for us to pay alone. We require mercy if we're to have a chance at returning home to our Father.

Justice is necessary. But so is mercy. They seem to be at odds with one another.

That's where the Savior comes in.

Here is a parable that illustrates what I mean:

“Let me tell you a story—a parable.

“There once was a man who wanted something very much. It seemed more important than anything else in his life. In order for him to have his desire, he incurred a great debt.

“He had been warned about going into that much debt, and particularly about his creditor. But it seemed so important for him to do what he wanted to do and to have what he wanted right now. He was sure he could pay for it later.

“So he signed a contract. He would pay it off some time along the way. He didn’t worry too much about it, for the due date seemed such a long time away. He had what he wanted now, and that was what seemed important.

“The creditor was always somewhere in the back of his mind, and he made token payments now and again, thinking somehow that the day of reckoning really would never come.

“But as it always does, the day came, and the contract fell due. The debt had not been fully paid. His creditor appeared and demanded payment in full.

“Only then did he realize that his creditor not only had the power to repossess all that he owned, but the power to cast him into prison as well.

“ ‘I cannot pay you, for I have not the power to do so,’ he confessed.

“ ‘Then,’ said the creditor, ‘we will exercise the contract, take your possessions, and you shall go to prison. You agreed to that. It was your choice. You signed the contract, and now it must be enforced.’

“ ‘Can you not extend the time or forgive the debt?’ the debtor begged. ‘Arrange some way for me to keep what I have and not go to prison. Surely you believe in mercy? Will you not show mercy?’

“The creditor replied, ‘Mercy is always so one-sided. It would serve only you. If I show mercy to you, it will leave me unpaid. It is justice I demand. Do you believe in justice?’

“ ‘I believed in justice when I signed the contract,’ the debtor said. ‘It was on my side then, for I thought it would protect me. I did not need mercy then, nor think I should need it ever. Justice, I thought, would serve both of us equally as well.’

“ ‘It is justice that demands that you pay the contract or suffer the penalty,’ the creditor replied. ‘That is the law. You have agreed to it and that is the way it must be. Mercy cannot rob justice.’

“There they were: One meting out justice, the other pleading for mercy. Neither could prevail except at the expense of the other.

“ ‘If you do not forgive the debt there will be no mercy,’ the debtor pleaded.

“ ‘If I do, there will be no justice,’ was the reply.

“Both laws, it seemed, could not be served. They are two eternal ideals that appear to contradict one another. Is there no way for justice to be fully served, and mercy also?

“There is a way! The law of justice can be fully satisfied and mercy can be fully extended—but it takes someone else. And so it happened this time.

“The debtor had a friend. He came to help. He knew the debtor well. He knew him to be shortsighted. He thought him foolish to have gotten himself into such a predicament. Nevertheless, he wanted to help because he loved him. He stepped between them, faced the creditor, and made this offer.

“ ‘I will pay the debt if you will free the debtor from his contract so that he may keep his possessions and not go to prison.’

“As the creditor was pondering the offer, the mediator added, ‘You demanded justice. Though he cannot pay you, I will do so. You will have been justly dealt with and can ask no more. It would not be just.’

“And so the creditor agreed.

“The mediator turned then to the debtor. ‘If I pay your debt, will you accept me as your creditor?’

“ ‘Oh yes, yes,’ cried the debtor. ‘You save me from prison and show mercy to me.’

“ ‘Then,’ said the benefactor, ‘you will pay the debt to me and I will set the terms. It will not be easy, but it will be possible. I will provide a way. You need not go to prison.’

“And so it was that the creditor was paid in full. He had been justly dealt with. No contract had been broken.

“The debtor, in turn, had been extended mercy. Both laws stood fulfilled. Because there was a mediator, justice had claimed its full share, and mercy was fully satisfied” (in Conference Report, Apr. 1977, pp. 79–80; or Ensign, May 1977, pp. 54–55)

We needed the Savior. He is our mediator. He came down and paid the price for all of our sins. He felt every bit of our pain, our joy, our sorrow, our guilt, our love. And I believe He felt those things for each of us individually. He took the punishment for our sins, so that we don't have to. Through Him, the payment for each of our sins is met, satisfying the demands of justice. And through Him, and His love for us, we are given the gift of mercy. All we have to do to take advantage of His merciful act is to repent of our sins. To be truly penitent, make it right, and try to never do it again.

Repentance is certainly not always easy. Sometimes it may seem almost impossible. But that's not the case. Repentance is possible. It may be painful. It may be difficult. But Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ want us to succeed in repenting. They want us to take advantage of Christ's sacrifice and be washed clean through the His atonement. They will help us, support us, and give us the strength we need to repent.

I'm so incredibly grateful for that. If it weren't for the possibility of repentance, there is no way I could spend eternity with my family. There's no way I could be with my Heavenly Father or Jesus again. There's no way I could be freed from the burden of my sins. I wouldn't be able to really feel peace, or joy. I would be buried under a mountain of my own guilt.

What would even be the point of trying to live a righteous life? No matter how hard I try, without the atonement, there's no way I can make it. So why even bother? What's to prevent me from doing horrible things and becoming a horrible person? Nothing. Without Christ's sacrifice, my life would become meaningless.

But it's not meaningless. My life is beautiful. It's joyful. It's full of light and goodness, because my Savior loves me so much that He stepped in and satisfied the demands of justice on my behalf. He extended me mercy. He did it at great cost to Himself. I can only imagine the agony He must have felt when He suffered not only for me, but for every person who ever has or ever will live.

He was perfect. He didn't have to do it. He was the one person who lived a perfect life. He could get to heaven all on His own. The only reason He did it was because of His love for each of us.

For those who don't feel like they can really relate to what I mean, here's another story that I love.

****

There was a boy by the name of Steve who was attending school in Utah. In this school Seminary classes are held during school hours.  Brother Christianson taught Seminary at this particular school.  He had an open-door policy and would take in any student that had been thrown out of another class as long as they would abide by his rules. Steve had been kicked out of his sixth period and no other teacher wanted him, so he went into Brother Christianson's Seminary class.

Steve was told that he could not be late, so he arrived just seconds before the bell rang and he
would sit in the very back of the room. He would also be the first to leave after the class was over.

One day, Brother Christianson asked Steve to stay after class so he could talk with him.  After class,
Bro. Christianson pulled Steve aside and said, "You think you're pretty tough, don't you?"

Steve's answer was, "Yeah, I do."

Then Brother Christianson asked, "How many push-ups can you do?"

Steve said, "I do about 200 every night."

"200?  That's pretty good, Steve," Brother Christianson said.  "Do you think you could do 300?"

Steve replied, "I don't know...  I've never done 300 at a time."

"Do you think you could?" Again asked Brother Christianson.

"Well, I can try," said Steve.

"Can you do 300 in sets of 10?  I need you to do 300 in sets of ten for this to work.  Can you do
it?  I need you to tell me you can do it," Brother Christianson said.

Steve said, "Well...  I think I can...  yeah, I can do it."

Brother Christianson said, "Good!  I need you to do this on Friday."

Friday came and Steve got to class early and sat in the front of the room. When class started, Brother
Christianson pulled out a big box of donuts. Now these weren't the normal kinds of donuts,
they were the extra fancy BIG kind, with cream centers and frosting swirls.  Everyone was pretty excited-it was Friday, the last class of the day, and they were going to get an early start on the weekend.

Bro. Christianson went to the first girl in the first row and asked, "Cynthia, do you want a donut?"

Cynthia said, "Yes."

Bro. Christianson then turned to Steve and asked, "Steve, would you do ten push-ups so that Cynthia
can have a donut?"

Steve said, "Sure," and jumped down from his desk to do a quick ten. Then Steve again sat in his desk.

Bro. Christianson put a donut on Cynthia's desk.

Bro. Christianson then went to Joe, the next person, and asked, "Joe, do you want a donut?"

Joe said, "Yes."

Bro. Christianson asked, "Steve would you do ten push-ups so Joe can have a donut?"

Steve did ten push-ups, Joe got a donut.

And so it went, down the first aisle, Steve did ten pushups for every person before they got their
donut.

And down the second aisle, till Bro. Christianson came to Scott.

Scott was captain of the football team and center of the basketball team. He was very popular and never lacking for female companionship.  When Bro. Christianson asked, "Scott do you want a donut?"
Scott's reply was, "Well, can I do my own pushups?"

Bro. Christianson said, "No, Steve has to do them."

Then Scott said, "Well, I don't want one then."

Bro. Christianson then turned to Steve and asked, "Steve, would you do ten pushups so Scott can have a donut he doesn't want?"

Steve started to do ten pushups.  Scott said, "HEY! I said I didn't want one!"

Bro. Christianson said, "Look, this is my classroom, my class, my desks, and my donuts.  Just leave it on the desk if you don't want it."  And he put a donut on Scott's desk.

Now by this time, Steve had begun to slow down a little.  He just stayed on the floor between sets
because it took too much effort to be getting up and down.  You could start to see a little
perspiration coming out around his brow.  Bro. Christianson started down the third row.  Now the
students were beginning to get a little angry.

Bro. Christianson asked Jenny, "Jenny, do you want a donut?"

Jenny said, "No."

Then Bro. Christianson asked Steve, "Steve,would you do ten pushups so Jenny can have a donut that she doesn't want?"  Steve did ten, Jenny got a donut.

By now, the students were beginning to say "No" and there were all these uneaten donuts on the desks. Steve was also having to really put forth a lot of effort to get these pushups done for each donut.

There began to be a small pool of sweat on the floor beneath his face, his arms and brow were beginning to get red because of the physical effort involved.

Bro. Christianson asked Robert to watch Steve to make sure he did ten pushups in a set because he couldn't bear to watch all of Steve's work for all of those uneaten donuts.  So Robert began to watch Steve closely. Bro. Christianson started down the fourth row.

During his class, however, some students had wandered in and sat along the heaters along the sides of the room.  When Bro. Christianson realized this; he did a quick count and saw 34 students in the room.  He started to worry if Steve would be able to make it.

Bro. Christianson went on to the next person and the next and the next. Near the end of that row, Steve was really having a rough time.  He was taking a lot more time to complete each set.

Steve asked Bro. Christianson, "Do I have to make my nose touch on each one?"

Bro. Christianson thought for a moment, "Well, they're your pushups. You can do them any way that you want."

And Bro. Christianson went on.

A few moments later, Jason came to the room and was about to come in when all the students yelled, "NO! Don't come in!  Stay out!"

Jason didn't know what was going on.  Steve picked up his head and said, "No, let him come."

Bro. Christianson said, "You realize that if Jason comes in you will have to do ten pushups for him."

Steve said, "Yes, let him come in."

Bro. Christianson said, "Okay, I'll let you get Jason's out of the way right now.  Jason, do you
want a donut?"

"Yes."

"Steve, will you do ten pushups so that Jason can have a donut?" Steve did ten pushups very slowly
and with great effort.  Jason, bewildered, was handed a donut and sat down.

Bro. Christianson finished the fourth row, then started on those seated on the heaters.  Steve's
arms were now shaking with each pushup in a struggle to lift himself against the force of gravity. Sweat was dropping off of his face and, by this time, there was not a dry eye in the room.

The very last two girls in the room were cheerleaders and very popular. Bro. Christianson went to Linda, the second to last, and asked, "Linda, do you want a doughnut?

Linda said, very sadly, "No, thank you."

Bro. Christianson asked Steve, "Steve, would you do ten pushups so that Linda can have a donut she
doesn't want?"

Grunting from the effort, Steve did ten very slow pushups for Linda. Then Bro. Christianson turned to
the last girl, Susan. "Susan, do you want a donut?"

Susan, with tears flowing down her face, asked, "Bro. Christianson , can I help him?"

Bro. Christianson, with tears of his own, said, "No, he has to do it alone, Steve, would you do ten
pushups so Susan can have a donut?"

As Steve very slowly finished his last pushup, with the understanding that he had accomplished all that
was required of him, having done 350 pushups, his arms buckled beneath him and he fell to the floor.

Brother Christianson turned to the room and said. "And so it was, that our Savior, Jesus Christ,
plead to the Father, "Into thy hands I commend my spirit." With the understanding that He had done
everything that was required of Him, he collapsed on the cross and died.

"And like some of those in this room, many of us leave the gift on the desk, uneaten."

****

Please, please, please don't leave your metaphorical donut uneaten. Christ suffered for your sins, whether you take advantage of that sacrifice or not. He did it for you. I plead with you to take advantage of His gift and repent of your sins. Otherwise, His suffering for you was pointless. His sacrifice on your behalf was meaningless. And considering what He went through to extend mercy to you, all because He loves you so much, it just seems wrong to throw His gift away. 

I'm so grateful for my Savior. I love Him so much. I wouldn't be who I am without Him. He is the absolute center of my life. And on this day of Thanksgiving, I am grateful for Him more than anything else.  

If I Tell You I Love You, Can I Keep You Forever?

I had a dream last night that I was with Ben. He was home. It was wonderful.

But there was this sense of dread, like he was shortly going to be leaving again. In my dream, I knew he couldn't stay. The Air Force was sending him away again. Only this time, he wouldn't be coming back. He was going to die.

He knew it. I knew it. So we just spent as much time together as we could while we waited for the end to come.

It was awful. I swear, I have the most gut-wrenching dreams when it comes to Ben.

I think it's because his job takes him away a lot. Even when we're reunited, it's just resetting the clock so we can begin the countdown to another separation.

We're pretty good about enjoying our time together and not dwelling on when he'll have to go away again. But apparently my subconscious likes to focus on the negative.

Stupid subconscious.

And, of course, there's always the concern that he won't come home. As a pilot, he's never been in the thick of battle. He's generally safe. It's really hard to bring down a C-130. And they always live on bases that are very secure - often even in a different, peaceful country.

But things happen. Car accidents, illnesses, brain aneurysms. And, as I've mentioned, my subconscious hates me. So it torments me in my dreams.

The plus side of this is that when I wake up from the kind of dream I had last night, I feel happy. He may be on the other side of the world right now, and I may miss him like crazy, but he's alive and well and (more than likely) coming home eventually.

Take that, subconscious!

I've never loved anyone the way I love my husband.

Before meeting Ben, I never really understood the phrase "better half." I figured it was just a cute way for married couples to refer to each other. I mean, I knew what love was. I loved my parents, my siblings, my friends. I even had a boyfriend or two that inspired thoughts of love. But I didn't think the "better half" thing was literal. I figured people were just being cheesy.

But it's a real, literal thing. When I say "literal," I don't mean that his body is actually the other half of my body. That would be freaky and gross. But I do mean that he completes me. His soul and my soul are completely intertwined. You can't really tell where one begins and the other ends.

And now I'm getting cheesy. But it's true. It's a love like nothing I had ever before experienced in my life.

I think that's why it's so hard to be away from him. There's a gaping hole in my heart, a piece of me that goes with him when he leaves. I can feel it like a dull ache in my chest.

You get used to it after a while. But it's always there. It never really goes away.

The best thing about Ben is that, no matter what happens, I get to keep him forever.

That was the quote we put on our wedding invitations: "If I tell you I love you, can I keep you forever?" It's from a movie that Ben loves and I think is stupid, but the quote pretty much says what we mean.

Because we were married in the temple, we're sealed together for eternity. No "til death do us part!" Our marriage is stronger than the bonds of death. Because we were married in God's house by someone with priesthood authority (direct from God!), when we were sealed together as man and wife here on earth, we were also sealed together in heaven.

It's a doctrinal thing, that might be confusing to those who don't understand our faith. But it's a gift that's available to anyone who wants it. Feel free to ask if you want to know more.

For me, true love means that having a lifetime together isn't enough. This life is so brief. If we really love someone, that love can and should last forever. It doesn't make sense to me that we would entwine our souls so deeply with that of another person, and then BOOM! it's over when one of us dies, like it never existed in the first place.

That's just the saddest idea I've ever heard.

Our love for someone doesn't end when they die. So why should our connection to them end? Why would a loving God design things that way?

He wouldn't. He didn't. He wants us to be with our families forever. We are His family, and He wants to be with us. So why wouldn't He want us to be with our own family units as well?

Anyway, my point is, it gives me some peace of mind to send Ben off to war when I know that we'll be together forever. No matter what happens to us in this life, if we live righteously, we can and will be together in the next. The day will come when we will never have to say goodbye again.

So while I miss him terribly when he's gone, I can take comfort knowing that he will always come back to me.

He loves me. He adores me. He thinks I'm the most perfect woman ever to walk the face of the earth.

That's crazy, of course. But that's love.

My husband is the greatest man I know. Not "great" in the sense of being strong, powerful, mighty, or anything like that. "Great" as in absolute best.

There are the obvious traits, of course, that make him wonderful. He's handsome, smart, talented, loving, strong, witty, charming. Those are the kinds of things that most women look for in a husband.

But more important than that are the quieter traits. The ones that aren't so obvious. The ones that you really notice the more you get to know him.

He's patient. No matter how emotional or neurotic I'm being, he's calm. He never loses his temper or lashes out at me.

He listens. He's very thoughtful about it, too. You can tell he's really trying to understand your point of view when you talk to him. He really wants to know what it is you're trying to express.

Going along with that, he thinks before he talks. He almost never spits out a response without thinking. He's very deliberate. This allows him to express himself more clearly, and prevents him from sticking his foot in his mouth or saying something he doesn't mean. Usually. ;)

He's gentle, both physically and temperamentally. He doesn't try to intimidate anyone physically. He doesn't raise a hand to me or Evie, ever, or even get mad and punch a pillow. But he's very affectionate. He's constantly reaching out to me, holding my hand, touching my back, finding little ways to be in contact with me as much as possible.

He's a wonderful father. He's patient with Evie, and treats her with respect and love. He plays with her, and teaches her little life lessons whenever the opportunity arises. Evie adores him. When he's gone, she misses him almost as much as I do. He also sets an example for her of what a husband and father should be. He treats me like a queen, and isn't afraid to let Evie know how much he loves me. He never says anything bad about me to her, or to anyone else. He's teaching her what kind of man she should look for in a husband when she grows up, purely through his example.

He loves God. He's a worthy priesthood holder. He gives us blessings when we need them. He leads our family in prayer and scripture study. He bears his testimony in dozens of different ways every day. He tries to live a righteous life.

He's always willing to help me out. With anything. If I need help with cooking dinner, taking out the trash, taking the car for an oil change, emptying the dishwasher, bathing the dog, anything, all I have to do is ask him. He'll get up, without hesitation, and do it. He never complains about it or rolls his eyes. He feels that part of his job as a father and husband is to help me with whatever I might need. I take care of most of it, but when I'm feeling tired or overwhelmed or I have my hands full, he's always ready to step in.

He's passionate about me. Ben is not a guy who gets very excited about things. He never shouts for joy, or yells at the TV, or does a happy dance. He rarely even laughs out loud. When I told him we were pregnant with Evie, after 9 months of trying, he just smiled. He's very understated, and moderately introverted.

But when it comes to me, he's expressive. He's complimentary. He's loving, and affectionate, and silly. He tells me things he doesn't share with anyone else. I see his pain, his hopes, his joys, his fears, his soul. He's a completely different person when he's with me. And when he looks at me, I see in his eyes that his heart is mine, forever. He literally doesn't even notice other women. I've observed him, and he's honestly oblivious to all women who aren't me. He has been more real, more himself with me than with anyone else in the world.

I have no idea what I did to deserve such a man. I'm pretty sure that God was trying to show me that He blesses us way beyond what we deserve when He put Ben (and Evie!) in my life.

So no matter how many sad dreams, anxieties or military deployments I face, I can't complain. I am so incredibly blessed. Ben is my heart, my soul, my better half.

And literally the man of my dreams. ;)

Evelyn

As I'm sure you've figured out from past blog posts, my kid is awesome. She's an angel impersonating a human being. And even with her current Jack-O-Lantern smile, she's the cutest thing on earth.

First off, I just want to say that God clearly was blessing us with quality over quantity. We may not have (anywhere near) as many kids as we'd like, but the one we have is the best one there is.

Most people have kids who don't heed their parents' warnings, and have to find out the hard way that touching a hot stove/climbing on the car/putting forks in an electrical socket/using the bookshelf as a ladder is a bad idea.

We have a kid who listens to us, understands the logic behind the warning, and is very cautious about not doing anything too dangerous.

Most people have kids who live by the philosophy "What's yours is mine, what's mine is mine, and whatever I might want is mine."

We have a kid who is (usually) really good about sharing. Not always, but usually.

Most people have kids who believe they are the center of the universe, and everyone around them is merely an extra on the stage.

We have a kid who actually seems to understand empathy. She notices when other people are feeling bad, and goes out of her way to help them or cheer them up.

Most people have kids who refuse to sit still for a picture, or even look in the camera's general direction.

We have a kid who smiles for the camera - a real smile, not the fake, scary ones that most kids do. She actually enjoys having her picture taken, and is very photogenic to boot.

Most people have kids who throw tantrums when they don't get what they want.

We have a kid who says "Please? Please? Please?" a lot, but who takes it without a fuss when the answer is ultimately an unchanging "no." She's not necessarily happy about it, but she doesn't throw tantrums.

Now, I don't mean to say that other people's kids are horrible. Not at all. All of the above things I mentioned in the "most kids" sections are perfectly normal! That's how most kids behave, because that's totally normal child behavior. My point is that my daughter is a freak. A wonderful, weirdly well-behaved freak.

That's not to say that she's perfect. Far from it. She moves really slow in the mornings and often leaves us running late to get to school. She "cleans her room" every day, but it still usually looks like a disaster. She almost always complains about doing her chores (although she's good about getting them done fairly quickly). She can be fairly bossy with other kids, and has a very rigid view of fairness. If something isn't fair, or someone is being "mean," she's quick to tattle. Not my favorite thing.

But all things considered, she's a pretty amazing girl. I'd say quite a bit above average, really.

She has a great sense of humor. She makes me laugh out loud on a regular basis - although not always intentionally.

She's always willing to take on a service project with me and help people in need. She also performs good deeds on her own, helping kids at school.

She's very smart. Ever since I told her she would get a treat for every 100% on a piece of schoolwork, she's been emptying the house of ice cream.

She loves to snuggle with me. This is very important, especially when her dad is deployed. She always makes me feel loved.

She has never once, in her entire life, smeared poop on walls (or any other surface) or hid it in a bucket under her bed (or anywhere else).

She has no problem adapting. She makes friends easily, and she's perfectly fine spending a few days with friends so Ben and I can go out of town. She doesn't get unduly stressed out about that kind of thing. She's very chill!

She knows all sorts of amazing things about animals, and can make a huge variety of fairly-accurate animal noises.

She draws pictures and makes cards for people. She's very creative and artistic with them, too. She made a pop-up apology card for her teacher earlier this year when she was unusually naughty one day. It was very innovative, especially for a six-year-old.

She's a graceful dancer, and has a lot of natural musicality.

She's got a memory like an elephant. Maybe because elephants are her favorite animal? She can watch a movie once, and recognize music from it weeks later. She also can quote all of her favorite lines after the first viewing.

She loves her Heavenly Father and Jesus.

Seriously, best kid ever. There's not a whole lot more to add to that.

I'm so lucky to be her mom!

Mama - and Papa - Mia!

I write about my parents every year since I started this blog. I'm pretty sure I've said so many great things about them that I'll purely be repeating myself today. But my parents are awesome, and they deserve to be told so as often as possible. So I'm going to say it all over again anyway.

Kids, give your parents some credit. Your parents have a reason for doing things the way they do. Your parents have your best interests at heart. Your parents love you more than you'll ever understand, even when you're so frustrated with them that you're sure they're conspiring to bring about your downfall. They're really not. They just want you to grow up to be your best self. They want you to become an intelligent, respectful, hard-working, capable adult.

Granted, this is not true of all parents. There are some real duds out there. And in that case, kids, find an adult to look up to who loves you and genuinely wants to help you get your best chance at life. They're out there. My parents are living proof.

If you have parents like mine, you are in great shape indeed. 

Like most kids, it took until I was an adult for me to really begin to appreciate what my parents did for me. I think it started when I was in college. I knew more than one girl who had no idea how to cook, or clean, or take care of herself (much less anyone else). In one extreme case, the girl got malnourished because she was literally living on gummy bears and Wheat Thins.

No free ride for these kids! Wait...

It was sad. These girls had parents who loved them, but who mistakenly believed that they needed to let their kids "be kids" and "enjoy their childhood," by never requiring them to do chores or fend for themselves in any way. Their parents waited on them hand and foot. So while they were very sweet, very fun girls, they were about as useless as a leaf blower in a tornado when it came to basic survival. They had no idea how to tidy things up, fix a basic meal, or even hold down a job.

I wonder how they handled things when they got married and had kids of their own? 0.o

"Let's learn to shoot our own food!"

The point is, when I reached adulthood, I was able to really understand how much my parents were looking out for me and helping me out throughout my childhood. I had to do chores, not because my parents wanted free slave labor, but so I would know how to take care of my home when I was on my own. I learned how to cook meals and bake goodies, not so my parents could kick back and feast on my labors (which I'm sure, especially at first, were not so delicious), but so I could eat well as an adult. They made sure I learned how to work. They cultivated my talents and skills. They even gave me an allowance to teach me the value of money.

None of those things seemed all that fun at the time (except maybe the allowance). But they gave me the skills I needed so that I could be a responsible adult, and a good wife and mother.

I feel sorry for kids whose parents don't do that for them.

The depth of my understanding about my parents grew even more when I had a child of my own.

As a kid, you love your parents unconditionally. They're your heroes. You can't imagine ever loving anyone more.


Then, when you have a child of your own, you realize that you never understood before how deep love can go.

A child's love for their parents is a drop of water compared to the well of love a parent feels for their child.

The only stronger kinds of love are the love we have for our spouse, and for our God.

And, to be fair, it's really just different kinds of love. I look at it like this: If I saw a car barreling down the street towards my husband, I would probably scream at him to run. I might even run towards him, or try to push him out of the way if for some reason he couldn't move himself. But, for the most part, he can take care of himself. A warning is probably all he would really need. And even though I love him more than anyone on this earth, I figure he can pretty much take care of himself.

Sharks, on the other hand...

A mother's love for her child, though, ties in to her very instincts. It's not just a heart thing, it's in every cell of your body, and hardwired into your brain. If you see a car barreling towards your child, you scream, yes, but you also sprint towards them with every ounce of adrenaline you have and race the car so you can get to them first and push them out of the way.

It's not something you have to stop and think about. You. Just. Run.

I'm not saying this from any kind of personal experience, but I can feel it in every fiber of my being. My love for my husband is deeper, but my love for my child is stronger in a different way. In a protective, mama bear, "you'll have to go through me to get to her" kind of way. My mother once sprinted across an apartment, when she was about 8 or 9 months pregnant, to grab my little brother who was hanging off the edge of a balcony. I doubt she had ever moved that fast before in her whole life, pregnant or not. A mother's love goes so deep, it's instinctive.

I think that's why it must be so hard on parents, especially mothers, when they lose a child. I'm not sure it's something I could ever handle. If Evie died, I would probably collapse in on myself like a black hole. The only thing that would keep me sane is if I had other kids who needed me. If I had to be strong for them, I could do it. But it would still just about destroy me.

So, back to my original point, it's only now that I'm a parent that I can really understand how much my parents love me. I never really knew before. But I get it now.

My dad is one of my heroes. He works so hard, but he always took time to be with his kids, too. I think I'm like him in a lot of ways. He would sometimes bring us home little treats from the grocery store. And he always brought us souvenirs when he had to go out of town.

I can't be away from Evie for more than a couple of days without wanting to bring her a little present. It's how I show her that I missed her.

Dad is also the one who used pet names for us the most, at least to my recollection. He still calls me "sweetie" just as much as he calls me "Cassie." I'm the same way with Evie. I swear I use pet names for her more than I actually use her given name.

My dad is the one I get my singing talent from, too. He never used it as much as I do - I'm kind of a show-off, I guess - but when he does sing, it's beautiful. He's got rich natural tone and such a warm, baritone voice.

And, of course, I look a lot like my dad. I don't have all the really skinny genes his DNA brings to the table, but my eyes are 100% his. And he used to have brown hair like me, back before it all went white.

I blame Joseph for that. ;)

The biggest thing, though, is I think I have a lot of my dad's temperament. He wears his heart on his sleeve. When he's worried, it shows. When he's angry, you know it. When he's happy, he's goofy. And when he's extremely happy or sad, he cries.

I'm the very same way. Only I'm a girl, with crazy hormones, so I probably cry a lot more than he does. But inevitably, if I see my dad crying, I'll start crying too. It just kind of sets me off. I remember, in particular, the daddy-daughter dance at our wedding.

He said something along these lines, "My greatest wish for you was that you would marry a man who loves you as much as I love your mother. And I think you found him." And he cried. And I started crying, too.

For the record, he's right. My parents have a love that will last forever. My dad adores my mom. You can see the love in his eyes every time he looks at her. And she feels the same way about him.

That's exactly what I found in Ben. Overwhelming, passionate, mutual adoration. I give a lot of the credit to my parents, for setting such a great example of what a marriage should be.

My dad is all kinds of wonderful. And I love him so much. :)

My mom is one of my best friends in the entire world. Where I'm a lot like my dad, I think I married a man who's a lot like my mom in his temperament.

Is that weird?

My mom has always been the steady, calm one. She's great at thinking before she speaks. She's fun and quirky and funny, but she also has a quieter, more introverted side. She's patient, and kind, and loving. She always puts her family first.

Personally, I think those are great qualities. That's probably why I married a man who's got most of those same traits. I certainly didn't have a lot of them, so it was important for me to find someone who did.

See? Not weird.

Don't get me wrong, my mom is not always mellow, and she's never boring. She's funny, and always makes me laugh. She's willing to let out her goofy side, especially when hanging out with her family. She dances in the kitchen, kisses her husband in front of her kids and grandkids, and she's a theater geek, like me. She's the one who gave me such a strong love for musical theater, and performing onstage.

My mom was the one who was always playing soundtracks from musicals and quoting movies. My dad was always on board, and usually has a few good movie quotes up his sleeve, too, but the bulk of the enthusiasm came from my mom.

Most importantly, my mom set the example for me on how to be a great mother. There are so many times during each day that I find myself reacting to Evie the way my mom would have reacted to me. Or I'll find myself thinking "what would my mom do?" when facing a particularly tricky situation with my own daughter.

Nobody is perfect, I know that. But I figure my mom is about as close to perfect as a human can get, especially as a mother. If everyone in the world had a mother like mine, we would have world peace, without a doubt. I figure the best thing I can do for my own child is to try to emulate my mother as much as possible.

My parents deserve every bit of praise and thanks I can heap on them. I probably don't say it often enough, but my parents are the best parents in the world. I'm so grateful for them, and I feel so blessed to be their daughter.

Mom and Dad, sorry I didn't recognize your sheer awesomeness when I was a kid. I know better now. :)