own it.

You know, I've always been in love with words. I write down the things you say in testimony meeting, and I actually liked reading the American Crisis last semester.  I take notes on every book, I save every letter, and I've never loved a painting you didn't talk about first.

You know, I've always been in love with words, but I wasn't always brave enough to say that.  I remember being in Junior High, sitting in eighth-grade english, too nervous to even open a notebook.  I wanted to write everything, but I didn't want you to know that.  

See, I was that little girl who always had something to say but was too afraid to write it.  Mostly because I was afraid of what they would think.

And I never wanted you to see because it's not cool to be passionate when you're in the eighth grade.  You're not supposed to care about math or art or words.

Thankfully, I'm not in the eighth grade anymore, and maybe it's just part of growing up, but I don't feel that way anymore either.  

I am nineteen though, and your tears made me think that maybe learning to be yourself isn't as simple as just growing older.  Maybe, sometimes, it takes some help too.

When I was in tenth grade, I met my best friend.  She loved biology and the teacher who taught it.  She loved goat milk and had two goats that gave it to her.  She still loves old-people candy like Good 'n Plenty and Raisinets even though I tell her not to every day.

Biology and goat milk and Raisinets are not and never will be "cool", but that's what I've always admired about her.  She never listened to what she was supposed to think.  She just loved what she loved, and she loved that she loved it.  

And that is the greatest gift that she could have ever given me because it allowed me to do the same.  It was okay to fill notebooks with words about the American Revolution.  It was okay to love that old truck even if the handles always fell off, and the roof leaked sometimes. And it was okay to pray when we were scared, and it was okay to be good at dancing badly, and it was okay to cry happy tears even though they're usually unnecessary.

Thankfully, I'm not in the eighth grade anymore, but sometimes I think that things haven't really changed that much since then.  There are still people who'll tell you what to think and who'll tell you how to act and who'll tell you what to love and what not to love. 

But someday you'll realize none of their voices really matter.  There isn't a right thing or a right way or a right time.  

and it's amazing how much power came when I realized that.  It was okay to love everything that I always have.  and it was okay to be passionate.  It was okay to be excited about semicolons.  It was okay to cry during "What Would You Do?".  It was okay to be really honest, and it was okay to really care.  

Passion really is everything.  Find the thing that you love, and own it.  Commit to it.  Be excited about it.  Tell the world that you're excited about it.  It's okay to be that crazy girl who loves going to real-estate conferences or that weird boy who's really into technology and reads up on apple news every morning.

And it's okay because our hearts don't beat the same, but all that means is that that passion inside you is yours.

And that's something to be proud of.  



-Linds

college real life

March 23, 2013

"It's late again, and we've been talking all night.  

And this exact moment is why I love this little room here on the third floor.  It's the times you're so tired that you can't do anything but dream.  And you close your eyes, but you can't sleep because you find too many pretty thoughts there.  

And it's just another night.

We talk about books and we talk about faith and we try and figure out what we're supposed to do with forever.  

And we'll stay up some nights just because we're excited for tomorrow, and we'll stay up other nights just because we're scared.

And you know, late night talks have always been the best ones."

college is a good place, you guys.  

-Linds

openhearts

I took Katie home with me last Sunday.  I drove her all around.  We sat in your driveway and we talked on his stools and I showed her the intersection of 100 East and Center Street.  

Because I wanted her to see where everything happened.  

I wanted her to see where we road bikes and looked at Christmas lights and milked goats in your back yard.  I wanted her to see the roof we wished on and the deck where we played cards.  I wanted her to see the G and hill park and my little, one-step porch.

I wanted her to see the places where my heart grew. 

*** 

One day, you'll trade your little basement bedroom for a window on the third floor, and you'll give up your early morning classes for late night runs.  And you'll see faces you don't recognize, and you'll learn stories you've never heard.   

But, you know, something funny happens when you come to college.

Sunday night dance parties and fires in the canyon change faces you didn't recognize into people you don't want to forget.  

And you'll stay up late telling stories, because no one really sleeps here, and you'll start to realize why she smiles that way.  And you'll hear about past love and happy days and all those times they went to In and Out at midnight.

And she'll listen to you too.  

And it's like, all of a sudden, you'll start to see all of the moments and people and love that made you.  And you'll kiss your thumb after every pinky promise, and fortune cookies will make you sentimental.  

And you'll go to sleep smiling because everything usually works out.  

***

I fell in love with the mountains on rainy mornings, and the way the stars shine brighter when it's warm outside.  

And we all see things a little differently, and nobody's love is exactly the same.

My heart needed that street lamp and hers got that that pretty wooden bench.

And we all see things a little differently, but I guess that's just because hearts don't grow the same.

-Linds

Happy Sunday.

We talked about Christ today, and she asked me to say all of the things that we've been saying for the past two weeks.  And she asked me to tell about all of the thoughts and words and stories we've found ourselves telling at three in the morning.

So, I thought for a minute, and this is probably what I should have said:

You know, I want to be brave, and I want to be kind, and I really want to be good.  They're little words, but they're big things, and I think about them a lot.  And I walk some days, and I whisper, I'll go where you want me to go, dear Lord.  Not because I always do, but because I want to have a heart that follows.

But there are days when I'm not kind and I'm not brave.  I don't always listen, and sometimes I forget to call.  Sometimes, I don't look for the good in people, and somedays it's easier just not to try.  

And you know, my heart isn't perfect, and neither is my love.  

But I want it to be.  

I want my words to be sincere.  I want my heart to be kind and my voice to be gentle.  I want to see the good in others, even though I don't all of the time.

Mostly, I want to look at the world and see things the way my Savior does.  I want to see the hurt that he saw, and I want to see the faith.  I want to find the joy and the love and the talents that I don't always take the time to look for.

I don't ever want to be too tired, or too hungry, or too busy to help.  Because He never was.

And I'm not even close to there yet.  I haven't even left, and somedays that just doesn't feel like enough. 

But I think about my Savior.  I think about His hands and His voice and His heart.  I think about all the days He's protected me and all of the times He's watched. 

And I know that He saw me keep walking because I was too afraid to stop.  And He saw bite my tongue, even after he had given me the words.  And I know that He knows that my love isn't quite enough yet.  

He knows my trials and my desires and the things that make me scared.  

I know He knows my heart.

And sometimes I think that maybe that's enough for now.  Maybe it's enough that I want to be kind, and I want to brave, and I really want to be good.

Maybe it's enough that I try to see the good in people and that I follow the best that I can.  Maybe it's not about keeping score.

And maybe life's not about being perfect right now.  

Maybe, just telling Him that you want to be is enough.


-Linds 

Sentimental Hearts

I've been thinking about the mountains lately.  I've been thinking about all the nights I've spent there.  

That's something that I remembered a lot when I first came to school.  Hiking the G at midnight.  We didn't really want to, but somehow we found ourselves together there.

I remember the whispers as we walked, and I remember the lights we saw once we got there.  I remember the leaves and the dark the warm air.

Mostly, though, I remember that we didn't have any words.  Mostly because we didn't need them.  That night was about the clouds and the sky and realizing that this really was our home-- at least for a little while.  

And I remember saying thank you, with every part of my heart.  And I remember wondering if, quietly, you were saying thank you too.

*     *     *

I have this dream that one day, long after I've gone, you'll come back to this place just to see if it really was as beautiful as I always promised.

And when you do, I hope you'll open your eyes and find all of the love and thanks and life here that we did.


-Linds

the view from upstairs

Did I mention there’s a window here?
There’s a window and a tree.  

And it really is the most wonderful thing.  

Sometimes I lie with an open window late into the night.  I turn out the lights, and I look up at the sky.  It’s dark, and it’s wonderful, and it even feels like home sometimes.  Mostly because God’s there.  

Sometimes I talk to Him too.  I ask Him to say all of the things that I can’t right now.  I ask Him to listen.  Mostly I try and say thank you, though, and that’s mostly because He loves me.  And I’m thankful for that.

Sometimes I look up through my tree just to find the moon.  I always do, and I always smile.  Mostly because life really is the most wonderful thing, and the moon has always reminded me of that.

-Linds

given much

I've spent a lot of words saying thank you lately.  Thank you for  this place and those stars and my leopard spotted blanket.  And I keep saying, "Thank you for this abundance of love."  

And I said it again last night.  

I've been thinking about that a lot lately, abundance, I mean.  And you know what I think?  I think that there is an abundance of wealth and love and good in this world.  I think that that's the catch we all forget.  

We have this idea that there isn't enough.  So, we need to ration and take and divide.  

But I don't think I really believe that.  I think that there is enough love and wealth and goodness for all of us.  There is an abundance of opportunity.  There is an abundance of love.  

Our trouble comes when we forget that God made enough when he created us.  We're creators.  We create love and wealth and goodness.  

So, if there isn't enough, go make more.  Take all your love and kind words and pretty thoughts and big ideas and faith and equations and goals and desires and ambitions and add them.

There is an abundance of good things.  Thank God for it, and then add yours to it.  

Share your talent and your love and your passion with the world. Find something wonderful, and then smile or laugh or cry because you think it's beautiful.  Do what you love, and then share it with the world. Write it or speak it or yell it.  Lift someone up. 

Go out and look to the sky and find what it is that you have to give, and then give it everything.  

Stop complaining about the lack, and go and create more.   

And the beautiful thing is, there is enough love and opportunity for everyone.  If we all create, it can only get bigger.  


-Linds

New Love

6-24-12

Every summer, I seem to find myself sitting here on this front porch.  It’s little, but there’s just enough space for two people to squeeze on, and I’ve found that that’s all I’ve ever really asked of it anyway.  I look out to the dark weeds growing through the sidewalk and the blue shutters hanging from the house across the street. There are bumble bees next to me, and my feet feel warm on the pavement. 

And I say thank you because I can breathe here.   

Your heart changes sometimes, and so does your love.   

Sometimes you need to remember what it feels like to be alone.  Not because there aren’t plenty of people to be with or because there isn’t plenty of love to be found, but because sometimes you need to remember all the reasons you love yourself.  You are creative and happy and beautiful, and sometimes remembering that is the most important thing.

And sometimes you need to remember those things that make you happy, and sometimes the things that make you happy change.   


Today

It's hard to grow up sometimes.  Mostly because you're not sure what you love anymore.  Noah and the Whale might not always make your heart beat slower and one day you'll run out of late nights spent on the roof.  

Then again, you'll wake up one morning and realize that February is beautiful.  It's nice to see the sun again.  And there are trees everywhere you go, and people smile while they walk.  

And maybe you'll realize late nights spent in a dorm room can make you happy too, and waking up to the snow falling out your window is something to look forward to.  You'll have dance parties every Sunday, and letters come on Fridays now.

Your heart changes sometimes, and so does your love.

But all that means is there's more room. There's room for midnight drives and late night calls and time spent looking out your window.

There's room for vanilla scented candles and Boy Meets World marathons and nights spent dancing to 'Stolen' by Dashboard.  There's even room for the moon. 

And there's room for 18, and 19, and 20... and you can save some of 17 too.

It's hard to grow up sometimes, but it gets easier when you remember you can save your favorite parts.  You can save all the bike rides and concerts and quesadillas you made senior year. You can save 'Buffet Singles Ward Sundays' and that time you roller bladed to Macey's last summer.

You keep your courage and I'll keep my eyes and we can sit on this little porch all night.




-Linds

See, One Tree Hill is good for a lot of things.

“It’s the oldest story in the world. One day you’re seventeen and planning for someday. And then quietly and without you ever really noticing, someday is today. And that someday is yesterday. And this is your life.”

                                               -my boy, Nathan Scott

It's midnight drives to the grove.
It's almond joy ice cream.
It's Mat Kearney and Dashboard and missing those yellow leaves.

It's frosted car windows
and visiting little red headed girls.

It's dream catchers and frozen toes.
It's pictures of you on my wall.
It's phone calls and late nights and missing that little truck.

It's old friends kept and new ones made.
It's long books and good people and figuring out what to do with forever.


And this is my life.  


-Linds

my place on the hill

Honestly, I don't remember a lot.

I don't remember what it smelt like or how the air tasted or even really what I was doing there.  I don't know if I was overwhelmed or happy.  I'm not sure why I was alone.

I remember the mountains, though.
I remember my leaky truck.  
I remember the lights and the lake and rolling down the hill in the summer.

And I'm not sure what I thought there, or why I always tried to make that hill my favorite place.

All I know is, I would give up a lot of days and grilled cheese sandwiches to sit up on my hill again. 

I'd walk to my car and roll down the window, even though it's winter and it's cold.  And I'd drive, and I'd drive, and I'd drive... just to sit on my hill, just to see the lights, just to be home... 

Just to drive right back.

And maybe it doesn't really matter what happened there.  Maybe it doesn't really matter if it smelt like rain or if it smelt like cut grass.  

Maybe the only thing that matters is that it took me when I was overwhelmed, and it took me when I was happy.  Maybe the only thing that matters is, it was the home that gave me the stars. 


-Linds 

Counting Stars

How about we talk about heaven or the people we want to be. 

How we want to be brave and we want to be kind and how we're not quite ready to grow old yet.  

Let's drive through the stoplights and say silent prayers.  Let's listen to Drops of Jupiter in the rain. Let's sit on my porch and look at the stars and laugh about all the things we thought we knew once.

Let's talk about our dreams and our fears, and I'll smile because we're young and it's easy to forget we're supposed to be afraid sometimes.   

Let's walk through the trees and look at the moon.  Let's drive through the canyon and talk about the way real life feels so far away sometimes.  
Tell me your favorite words, and I'll give you some of mine.  
And maybe once we're through talking we'll remember how it feels to be alive again.

I'll lie in the grass, and you'll look at the stars, and I'll smile because this moment will live forever.

And when it's done, and when we're through, I'll come back to this little home I've made.  And I'll close my eyes, and I'll bite my tongue, and I'll try to say thanks for all of the beautiful things I remembered tonight with you.  


-Linds

( For You )

 If I were to write a book, I'd write about that tree outside my window.  I'd write about watching the snow fall and reading in the leaves.  I'd write about playing basketball that day and how it was so beautiful that I still go there in my head sometimes.  

I'd write about that day we went sledding and midnight hikes and that time they asked me about the perfect day and I just smiled because I've already lived so many perfect ones with you.

I'd write about the leaves that fell last fall and waiting for the snow to melt.  I'd write about the new things and the old things and the way I was happy then... the way I'm happy now.

I'd tell you to say thank you more often and to write more things down.  I'd tell you to remember the important things and to have faith in the small ones.

If I were to write a book, I'd call it Prayers from the Bathroom Floor, because to me that's what life is.  It's winter days and summer nights and hiding behind a wooden fence just to look up at the stars and say thank you.   

And I love that.  

If I were to write a book, I'd dedicate it to you, with your sarcastic jokes and overwhelming faith.  I'd dedicate it to the days that go to quick and the nights that will last forever.  I'd dedicate it to the smiles and the insecurities and the happy struggles I'll never forget.

And I'm not there yet, but one day I'll write a book.  Because God has given me so many beautiful days, and your eyes are too bright to forget.  

-Linds