Observations on the end of the year

2012 is ending and I might as well be in shock because I keep on forgetting about it or denying it. There is no way that this year is over; no way that 2013 is here. Since Dustin stepped into my life back in that fated humanities classroom in 2010, 2013 seemed like a far-off fantasy or dream; something I would always be working towards but would never actually see. And here it is; literally waiting for me just around the corner and by this time next week, I'll probably be sitting next to him or hugging him or just watching him (in a non-creepy way, of course). It scares and excites the living daylights out of me and as I told Elder Craig today as he asked me how I felt: I just can't think about it too much or else I'll go crazy.

And so I've been putting around my home in New Hampshire, reading books and playing guitar and watching both seasons of Downton Abbey with my mom and sisters in the span of four days. Trying not to think too far ahead and instead, reflecting back.

Back in the beginning of June, when my world was filled with construction paper and daily meals of rice and small hands constantly holding mine, I got an email from a girl who had stumbled across my China blog and who was planning on coming to teach at Daguanghua in the Fall. We kept in touch throughout the end of my stay and into the beginning of her trip; I tried to prepare her as much as I could for life in China and for the way those kids would change her life. She just got back into the States and I had the chance to look through her photos. Precious faces with those same big grins that I had grown accustomed to beamed up at me through my screen and I swear I could almost smell my classroom again and hear the constant babble of Mandarin coming down my hallway. My heart misses those first moments of waiting for my students to come down that hall and hug me every day.

Looking back, I still can't believe that I spent the first half of this year living in CHINA of all places, teaching English to second and third graders. I can't believe that I actually mastered chop sticks, that I learned how to kill roaches without crying and that I walked up and down 286 steps daily. It's all a blur now, but a vivid one. I can recall small and random details without trying; sometimes I catch a glimpse of the animal cutouts hanging on my classroom wall, Beth's toothless smile or the kittens we rescued from the bushes. I can still smell stinky tofu in the night market downtown, see the isles of DVDs that we would pour through every Friday night and remember some of the dance steps we learned from the weird workout class at Happy Gate. I remember the early mornings I spent on the rooftop of our hostel in Yangshuo, listening to the little village come to life and looking over the river and into the mountains and thinking "How on Earth can I ever go back to normal life after experiencing this?" And I remember the day I said goodbye to my kids and Jane walked down the hallway backwards, waving and repeating: "goodbye, teecha, I lovah you."

I guess that's how I know I have really changed; really grown from those experiences on the other side of the world. To look back at those small details from China and to still have tears seep out of my eyes because I am so moved by them. I miss my little ones in China; miss the simple life I lead there when everything I did revolved around their well-being, their education, their happiness. Giving those kids the English language in a country where their prospects of a "good" life are so slim is one life-changing thing, but loving them, not only in the American way, but in a way that Christ would, is really what did it for me, I think. I have never understood sacrifice so completely until I served in China; nor unconditional love. And while I still don't think I will ever grasp those concepts completely in the sense of my Savior, I do think I understand it a bit more.

These are all my random thoughts on the brink of the last day of 2012. I'm not entirely sure what the point of all this was; I just wanted to put them all down-remember them. I really loved this year; loved who it taught me to be and the person it inspired me to become. I hope I make those kids proud; hope that I am still worthy of that unconditional love they constantly showed me.

But, of course, as sad as I am to see this year and all of my adventures go, do not be completely fooled. Because I am so incredibly excited and hopeful for this year, and the things to come.

I am looking through a telescope lens; and I know I'll see him soon.

last night, next week.

my arms are full of mail from him as I walk out of the clubhouse. I pause to talk to Sam who is crossing the parking lot, because she is expecting a check and I thought I saw it but I couldn't remember. The cleaning agency did a good job this time, she tells me. And I start to ask her about our new roommate who pulled the fire alarm in our apartment that morning and set the sprinklers off, when there are arms wrapping around me from behind. I turn, clutching the huge pile of mail to my chest, confused. But it's him. And I'm dropping the mail and my hands clutch his suit coat and I can't let go because it's him. It was noon, I still had five hours to kill and I hadn't bothered to put my make up on and he's early because he flew in the night before and I don't care that my hair isn't done because it's him. And his parents are there, watching and smiling and I'm not afraid of anything anymore, because it is him.

hi, he says. 
hi, i say back.

instinctively, i reach out for his hand, but hesitate. He's freshly returned. Don't rush him, I think, don't rush.

But his hand reaches back and finds mine. you're real, i tell him.

yes, he says, i am. 

reality check

Weird to think about how everything has changed in the last two years; to see my friends progress and move along and find happiness and strength and be all grown up. I was thinking about all of that today, as I was sitting in the passenger seat, mindlessly humming along to the song on the radio. But then my thoughts turned slightly to the handsome face that meets me in Narnia every night and it hit me out of nowhere, like a ton of bricks and I couldn't inhale deep enough because I was filled with excitement and anxiety and hopefulness all at once:

next week is my last full week without him. because he comes home the week after.

I really like that best friend of mine. Love him, actually. And I am so excited to never have to be without him again.

on waiting.

It's the only time I've felt like I was actually waiting.

The last two years have been filled with other things. Knee replacements. Serving at Zion's Camp. Preparing for China. Living in China. Road tripping. I've been busy doing stuff for me. Recovering, learning, growing. And though he has been by me every step of the way (through his constant letters and prayers) I have spent the last two years very much on my own, and holding the spot where he belongs, waiting for him to come fill it back up, but focusing on me. But now, there is nothing left to focus on, except him coming home. 

I have a few weeks left. That's it. Just a few weeks left, and he'll be back and that hole in my heart that he left will be filled with his laughter and his patience and the way he looks at me and just knows what I need to hear. 

I sometimes worry about our initial reunion. What will I say? What will he be like? Will we still fit just as well as we used to? What if I'm too different? What if he is? 

But then, I think about that blue bow and using it to push the hair out of my face while I wait for him to show up. I think about seeing him there, feeling him, realizing that he is real, and that hole in my heart almost feels complete just thinking about him being back. I think about telling him everything; about sliding back into our daily routine that is so familiar. I think about my future and how I just can't see it without him by my side. I think about that moment when the distance between closes and we become us again.

I'm not sure how it will happen; our reunion. I'm not sure how I'll get through those last few days. But I am sure of this: he's coming home and I love him more then I loved him when he left. So, I'm not worried, really. He's still him. and I am still me. And we are still very much us. 

One

transfer, fast sunday, Christmas, full month, major holiday left until you are back here, with me.

Eleven

Eleven months ago, I made one of the hardest goodbyes of my life.
But now, I have only 13 months left until I get to say one of the happiest hellos of my life.

They will see us waving from such great heights.

I love you, to the moon and back. 

Ten

only 14 left to go. we will make it.
they will see us waving from such great heights.

The Freedom Trail

For all of the times that I needed reassurance that he is where he is needed and that every hard moment this summer has given me because of my circumstances was worth it-I received it times ten today. 

I believe in answered prayers, in detailed and intricate plans and in blue bows. 

In one week, I will be reunited with my roommate, my friends and my Idaho family.

In a little over a week, the last missing piece of the puzzle will finally fall into it's place again.

And everything will be okay for a little while.

<3

in numbers

13 until Juli comes home
20 until Beach Week 2011
32 until Labor Day Weekend Campout
36 until I"M BACK IN IDAHO

I love August. The insane heat usually tends to calm down here and I spend a lot of time outside in the sunshine and on the lake, in the pool or at the beach. I am a water baby! I'm reading really awesome books and I'm hopefully booking my flight back to school tomorrow and I'm so excited to go back to school. ALSO! My paperwork for China is all in. officially. YES!

August Status:

Current guilty pleasure: McDonald's McCafe's Strawberry Banana Smoothies

Current color: Black

Current playlist:

safetysuit and parachute 

Current read:  picture of dorian gray. 

Current drink: strawberry banana smoothies. 

Current food: Zucchini and Summer Squash Medley. 

Current favorite show: Criminal Minds

Current wish list: Tires for Cazz

Current needs: Air Conditioner

Current triumphs: Mile Hike through Lost River Gorge without tripping or falling

Current bane of my existence: Bursitis

Current celebrity crush: Shemar Moore

Current indulgence: Pretzel M&M's

Current blessing:  President Wilkey

Current outfit: Black v-neck with pink DC logo and shorts.

Current excitement: VEDA

Current mood: Tired

Current link: in love with this song

in numbers

27 days until Juli comes home

38 days until I get to write a letter


53 days until I'm back in Idaho

3 hours i spent sleeping this afternoon

34.3 minutes i spent talking on the phone with Jillise

25 auto correct entries read

12 fried zucchini chips consumed

3 different kinds of Poison Ivy treatments used

6 bracelets on my wrist

17 photos taken today

2 fans currently blowing

1 kitty sleeping in my room.

New England Bound in 11 Days

Anyone who reads my blog on a general basis can tell you right away that I'm a girl from New England; and I am proud of it. It's actually a little intense sometimes; my love for New England is strong and the way i talk about it can be a little too much. It's never been as pronounced as it has been in the last few years. I guess it came with moving across the country and being thrown into a mass mixture of people from all over the place and being one of the few East Coasters in this place, and one of the fewer New Englanders. Don't get me wrong, Idaho and the mid-west is beautiful and the West Coast is gorgeous as well. I've loved all of the places I've had the opportunity to visit. Norcal and the Sierra Nevadas and Lake Tahoe, Eastern Oregon through the Gorge and to the coast and across the river to Washington State. Utah and all of it's massive mountains, and Yellowstone with the steam rising over the hills and the Grand Tetons watching over Jackson Hole. All beautiful, all breath-taking, all wonderful and original and great.

But I'm a New England girl, born and raised. There is something about New England that just sets my soul on fire. Maybe it's the winding roads, maybe it's the Atlantic, maybe it's the 12 gorgeous miles of coast in New Hampshire, maybe it's the tall buildings of Boston, or the colors and smell of fall. Maybe it's the ever changing weather that keeps you on your toes; or the hardcore people who live there and who take nor'easters like it's a dusting of snow. Maybe it's the Appalachian Mountains, the Kancamangus highway, the way the sun sets over the marshes, the smell of New England seafood on the boardwalk on a warm August evening. Maybe it's the history. Maybe it's the Boston Tea Party, Plymouth Plantation, the U.S.S. Constitution, Bunker Hill and the 9th state to ratify the constitution. Maybe it's all of that and more. New Hampshire is where home is. And home is where the heart is.

January 3rd marks the last time I was home. And now it's May 1st and this marks the longest time I've been away from New Hampshire and while I thought I would be okay, to tell you the truth, I'm homesick. I miss my family, I miss my bed, I miss heavy New England accents, I miss the smell of spring and driving past the lake to go to my grandparents. I miss my friends, my home ward, and taking the long way to Juli's house.

I'll be home in 11 days for a mere fourish days for my best friends wedding. I can tell you that I'm already dreading leaving on the 16th. I am already counting down the days until I'll be able to go home in August for a bit of a longer stay. As happy as I am to be in Idaho for this semester, and to have a job and keep my car happy by not driving him back to NH and to be with my roommates and to go to Trish and Russell's wedding in three weeks, I miss my New England more then ever.

Anyway. In celebration of the fact of only 11 days left until I get to go home, I'm going to start a count down that involves 11 of my favorite things about New England/New Hampshire. And maybe you, my friend, will find a little bit of love for the place I call home.

#11-The White Mountains/The Old Man


New Hampshire is home to the White Mountains, part of the Appalachian Mountain range. It's about a two and a half hour drive north from my home town and it is beautiful.
Here are some pictures taken by my dad on the top of one of the ridges of the presidential range.

And then there is the Old Man of the Mountain. 

I have very vivid memories of driving up North when I was little (between the ages of 6-12) during late August to Living Waters Campground nestled on the Ammonustic River in the heart of the white mountains. In order to get to the campground, we would have to drive through Franconia Notch, where interstate 93 weaves between two massive mountains, Cannon Mountain on the left and Mt. Franklin on the right. The best part of this drive was watching as Cannon Mountain drew nearer and nearer. As you approached it, it looked like a massive sheet of rock rising up in the air. Nothing too spectacular, just a massive mountain. But if you kept your eye on the mountain as you rounded the corner and looked back over your shoulder, and waited patiently while the butterflies filled your stomach as you waited for the car to round the last part of the bend, there he was. The Old Man of the Mountain, looking over the notch, defined and proud and majestic. You couldn't miss it, and you couldn't help but smile every time you drove through the notch and looked over your shoulder. 

Yet, as Mother Nature does with most things it creates, it took The Old Man away a few years ago.

Yet, The Old Man still stands as a proud symbol for the great state of New Hampshire.

Below is a tribute to the Old Man! Enjoy!