hi.

it's strange, the little things that act as reminders,
the things that no one else would notice
that can bring tears to your eyes,
a smile to your lips,
and everyone around wondering
"what's wrong with her?"
a dragonfly,
spinning leaves as they fall
"helicopters,"
people driving with only one headlight on,
milk, cereal, watermelon,
tillamook cheese,
crayons,
the list goes on.
you tell me this will work out
it will be okay
that i'll get through this.
really?
what other choice do i have?
you keep reminding me that we'll be happier
that things will be better.
is that supposed to make this any easier?
is what's going to happen in the future make
what's happening now any less painful?
you almost make it sound as though
i might have a say,
that something i suggest
could possibly make a difference.
it's all up to you.
i have no choices.

Label

I should come with a label across my forehead.
WARNING: Will destroy your life.

end.

destroy destroy destroy.

everything comes in threes.

ready to catapult into oblivion.
firing mindless words from my bow.
flaming shelters offer no haven.
nothing is free anymore.

this is how it will end.
falling into a vast nothing
with arms flailing, reaching,
trying to grasp anything and

failing.

Family

Yesterday we celebrated Brenden's grandfather's 80th birthday. It was wonderful.

It's difficult for me to express just how grateful I am for and how much I love all of Brenden's family. They've accepted me with arms wide open. I've only felt this kind of connection with one other family besides my own and it's because I've grown up with them in my life. How could I feel so comfortable and welcome with these new faces? Brenden's grandparents have especially been wonderful to me here in Utah. It's been nice to be able to get away from school once in awhile and visit with family.

As Brenden and I made a birthday card for his grandfather on Sunday evening, Brenden asked me to do the writing since my handwriting easily beats his on any/every level of neatness. It had been so long since I wrote "Grandpa" in a card. And the simple act of doing it struck me with such a sense of belonging and family that I cannot even begin to express my deep love and sense of appreciation for Grandma and Grandpa Binns.

After Grandpa Binns opened his cards and gifts, he started telling us stories of his life, little things he remembered and things that his mother recorded about him when he was a baby. His stories made me so happy and being with the family as he shared them made the experience even more meaningful. I saw Brenden's youngest cousin sitting next to his grandpa and hoped he would remember that night.

I didn't have that kind of experience growing up. Since three of my grandparents passed away before I was four, I didn't hear many first-hand accounts of their lives. My grandfather who passed away when I was sixteen was a quiet, prideful man. He was a good man but still very prideful and stubborn. I think his pride restrained him from sharing many stories from his life in the Philippines where he was too poor to continue in school to become the doctor he always wanted to be or even stories from his life once he moved to the United States where he was too poor to support his family without government aid. I will always regret having not asked him more about his life. My grandfather was a wonderful man. He found his greatest joy in his family. And I'm finally beginning to understand why.

I love my family so much. And I loved being with Brenden's family last night and addressing them the same way I would as my very own family. When I was trying to get Grandpa Binns's attention, I said "Grandpa" and he responded easily. My own dear grandfathers will never be replaced but being able to say "Grandpa" and having someone respond knowing it was me who said it, allowing me to call him "Grandpa" as one of his own grandchildren... what an exquisite feeling! That saying, you don't know what you have until it's gone, is so true. Sometimes I want to just grab people by the shoulders and say "APPRECIATE THIS!" especially when it concerns family.

These days, these moments are never coming back. Soon enough we will all be old and wrinkled and telling our own tales to our children and grandchildren. I won't forget Uncle Matthew's face as he laughed at one of Grandpa Binns's stories. I knew that Uncle Matthew was Grandpa Binns's son but when I saw him looking at Grandpa Binns with so much love in his eyes and heard his laugh at his story, I really understood with an even deeper understanding that Uncle Matthew was indeed Grandpa Binns's son. They were not simply two adults sitting near me conversing. They were father and son talking, laughing, loving. It was beautiful.

Sometimes someone may complain about being known as "So-and-so's sister" or "so-and-so's daughter" wondering why people don't know who she is as an individual. And while I understand that frustration, I think the depth of our relationships define us more than our hobbies or talents. I know that being Reuben and Irene's daughter means more than the fact I enjoy reading. I know that being Reuben, Chris, and Stef's sister is so much more meaningful than the fact that I can create images on paper. Our relationships make our lives more meaningful. They make us as individuals more meaningful.

School

I've officially changed my major to Family Life with an emphasis in Human Development and am currently working on my family core courses. My schedule for spring term includes Introduction to Family Processes, Strengthening Marriage and Family, and Living Prophets. Strengthening Marriage and Family is entirely based on the Proclamation on the family which I found to be very interesting. The course was created after President Boyd K. Packer told BYU faculty to do so. There's a course with the same name in the religion department that isn't quite as focused on the research that supports the Proclamation as the one in the School of Family Life is. I'm really enjoying it.

I'm really enjoying all three of my classes this term and feel very content with my choice of a major. However, though I feel content with what I've chosen, I don't like when people ask me my major and I wonder if I should say "Family Life" or not because I'm afraid that the person will immediately dismiss me as being un-academic (?) or something of the sort. I don't want those people to think "Oh, she came here to get married" because I feel like that's often the impression others not in the school of family life have of those in it. (Also, what's wrong with the goal of getting married? Isn't marriage and having a family necessary for the Plan of Salvation, which is, afterall, what we're here for?) People don't understand that Family Sciences are an actual field of research. (Side-note: BYU was named the No.1 producer of family therapy research in the nation. ) With a Family Life major you can have an emphasis in Human Development or Marriage and Family Studies or Home and Family Living. People immediately assume that a Family Life major means Home and Family Living which obviously means that a female in the major came to BYU just to get married which means they're not as smart as someone in another major like biology or physics. I somewhat understand that assumption, I think it's very wrong, but I can understand where it stems from it's just that I hate feeling like I ought to distinguish myself as someone who came to college to actually get an education. No one in any other school probably has to deal with that as much as Family Life majors. Every time I tell someone I'm majoring in Family Life I feel the need to further explain myself "I'm a family life major with an emphasis in human development. I'm planning on going on to graduate school to get my master's. Then I'm hoping to get a job as a marriage and family therapist. I'm still considering the possibility of furthering my education to earn a PhD." I shouldn't feel that much explanation is necessary to avoid misconceptions. Maybe I just shouldn't worry about misconceptions and let people think what they want. But I really wish that, if nowhere else, at least at BYU where most students have a knowledge and testimony of the Plan of Salvation, people wouldn't discredit studying the family.

Sorry about that ramble. Just something I was thinking about today that was triggered by some strangers I was walking in front of whose conversation really bothered me.

In other news, my grades for winter semester were fantastic! It's evidence for me that, HEY! I CAN DO THIS COLLEGE THING!
Intro to Music: A (fills a GE requirement)
HEPE: A (finishes a GE requirement)
World Religions: A (fills GE + Religion requirement)
Human Development: A (major core course)
Biology: A- (GE)
Book of Mormon: A- (religion requirement)
I haven't gotten all As and A-s since middle school (stupid high school math classes)! So my semester GPA is a 3.9! Woohoo!

an email (an answer).

This post is tied to my previous post where I stated a desire to help others with disabilities but not knowing what I could do. This morning I received this email:

Are you planning to stay in Provo over spring and summer? At the University Accessibility Center (UAC) we provide opportunities for students to serve fellow students with disabilities. If you are interested in being a note-taker, campus traveler, test reader/scribe, or other various things, we would love to work with you!

Even if you won’t be on campus over the spring and summer semesters but are interested, don’t be discouraged. We need more volunteers throughout the entire year. To become a volunteer, simply email us at uacvol@byu.edu with your full name, email address, and phone number. Or, you could stop by at our office in 2170 WSC. Once you do this, we will be able to contact you and provide more information on how to get started. We hope to hear from you soon.

University Accessibility Center
2170 WSC

How timely.
I'm going by there today. :)

a walk.

Walking back from school today, I found myself quite pleased with life. The day was a pleasant one, overcast and a little windy but not too cold. I find that those days make me feel the happiest. They bring back feelings from my childhood around fall. Fall was always my favorite season. People say that Galveston doesn't really have seasons and I mostly agree. And I've always categorized portions of my life not by the seasons as defined by weather but by seasons defined by the school year. And fall was always my favorite. And I've only ever associated overcast, windy days with learning to ride/continuing to ride my bike during the fall. Windy, overcast days were the only days the weather was decent enough for me to play outside. I love windy overcast days; they bring me back to some of the best memories and feelings of my childhood.

But that's not where I was going with this.

Walking back from school today, I found myself quite pleased with life. The day was a pleasant one, overcast and a little windy but not too cold. I just finished my last midterm for the semester (imagine that! a midterm the week before finals!) and had made an appointment with a counselor to discuss my new major and scheduling. Plus we talked about musical theater in my music class today! I plugged in my headphones and was listening to my ipod as I walked home. I occasionally smiled at strangers like I do when I'm in good moods. When I got to the intersection at Bulldog and University I saw a man across the street from me with a long, thin pole. He was blind and I began to wonder how he would know when to cross the street. This intersection did not have the chirping sounds that some did on campus for those that are seeing-impaired. Somehow he knew because shortly after the "walk" light came on, he began walking. I walked by him and felt like I should do something. He looked like a student, about 20ish carrying a backpack, should I walk with him the rest of the way to campus? Should I shout hello over the sounds of traffic? I didn't know what to do. I wanted to reach out to him with anything, he couldn't see a smile or a wave as a subtle greeting. If wanted to do something it would need to be bigger and a little more generous. But I just walked by. And as I walked by, I was flooded with emotions. At first I felt sad for him, I could not imagine losing my sight or never having it to begin with. My life would feel so empty without the visual memory of the beach at sunrise, or how Japan looked from the airplane as we were landing, or the sight of the kicking, tiny, chubby feet of infants. I tried to shift my sadness to gratitude for my sight and then for medical advancements that make sight better for some people. Then I began to feel happy for this man because despite his handicap he was taking the challenge of attending a university to get an education. And I began to feel more gratitude for this country we live in that makes it possible for those with handicaps to live more normal lives than perhaps those with those same handicaps in other countries. And before I knew it, I had tears threatening to spill over. I was just overwhelmed by so many feelings in such a short time. I didn't even know what feeling it was that prompted the tears to begin with. I just knew I wanted to do more to help this man and people in a similar situation and I didn't know where to begin.

These feelings are good for me. They help me remember that I have so many things to be grateful for and they prompt me to act in good ways towards others. These feelings tell me that I can experience feelings of unselfish love but I need to turn those feelings into actions somehow. I really do want to do so many things for people. I have a feeling that most people want to do more for others than what they are currently doing. But I let my busy schedule get in the way. I think that as soon as this class is over, or as soon as I'm done with this semester, I'll have time and energy to focus on others. I have time and energy now that can be better spent doing things like volunteering with some volunteer group on campus or working with children through BYU's TOPS tutoring program than using my "down" or "free" time to sit around lazily and watch a movie on TV or browse the internet or find myself completely consumed in facebook-ing. This life is not mine. It belongs to my Savior and I should be doing the things that He would have me do.

a memory.

When I was sixteen years old, I saw my grandfather die. The day before he died the hospice nurse told us that with the levels of pain killers he was on he would no longer be able to understand what was going on around him. Even so, I continued to sing and play his favorite song on the piano for him as much as I could. As I was playing through it once, I noticed tears were forming at the corners of his closed eyes. I rushed to his side and held his hand and whispered into his ear how much I loved him. I wasn't sure if the tears were simply something his body was doing to take care of itself or if they were an emotional reaction. But after telling him how much he was loved and just holding his hand for a few minutes, his tears began to steadily stream down his cheeks. I stopped talking and just hugged his arm and cried with him. My uncle realized that my grandfather was crying and he grew angry with me and yelled at me for making my dying grandfather experience even more pain. I immediately got up and ran to my bedroom where I began to cry even more heavily into my pillow, this time alone.

That night I had a dream in which my grandfather was neither dead nor alive; he was present in some kind of state between life and death. He said he had to tell me something. He said, "I love you, Nining." In my dream I thought, nining, what does nining mean? Then my dad woke me up and told me that my grandfather's breathing had changed, his breaths were more shallow and further apart. My dad said that he would probably pass away within a few hours and everyone was gathering around his bed to say goodbye. My mother's side of the family had spent the night to be with my grandfather so we were all there, gathered around the portable hospital bed in our living room on which he lay. I remember holding my youngest cousin as he cried quietly. We all took turns letting my grandfather know each of us were there with him. Then my mother promised him that we would take care of each other and that he did not have to hold on for us anymore. Almost immediately after she said that, my grandfather took his last breath and was gone.

Later that day, my mother was in the kitchen preparing something to eat for my great aunt and uncle who were flying in from California originally to be with my grandfather before he passed away but now to help my family with funeral plans. I told my mother my dream and when I got to the part about what my grandfather said I told her I wasn't sure if I remembered the word right, that I thought he said "nining" but I wasn't sure because I'd never heard the word before. She looked at me with a strangely amazed look on her face as she told me that "nining" was a term of endearment in my grandfather's native language. He called me "nining" when I was a baby, much too young to remember.

I truly believe it was my grandfather who visited me in my dreams that night to tell me what he had wanted so desperately to tell me the day before. I have the firm belief that he is with my grandmother today. I know that death is not the end and that families can be together forever. I am so grateful for this knowledge and for a loving Heavenly Father who created a plan so that all of this is possible.

Winter Semester 2009

I am happy.

Very happy.

Note:

I can enjoy being around people who are not like me but I cannot be anyone other than myself.

This is a time of self-discovery. Why is it so hard?