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

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

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

Tag.

Looks like I got an award. 

Thanks to miss mandi right here.  You should probably check here out because she’s said some real nice words.  She also reads a lot of real nice words.  Basically, she’s just real nice with a side of cute boyfriend pictures and you should probably check her out right here.


Eleven Facts About Linds 

1.  I recently found this guy, Mike Falzone, from this cute girl’s blog.  I have been watching his videos for days.  So good.

2.  I’m a student at BYU.  I don’t think I ever told you that.

3.  My favorite thing to do is sit under trees this time of year.   The leaves always fall on my head.  

4.  I really like people and grilled cheese sandwiches with raspberry jam.

5.  Pretty words get to me.  More than most things.  

6.  I never really read through these things when other people post them.

7.  I’ve lived in Utah my whole life.. minus the part where I was born in Wyoming.

8.  Forgetting scares me.  So do regrets.

9.  I really like people I can just sit and talk with.  I think sometimes we forget how much we need them.

10.  I’m proud of my family.  Mostly those three little girls.  

11.  I want to be kind, and I want to be happy, but mostly I just want to be like my mama.  

Miss Mandi’s Questions

1. if you could meet any author, past or present, who would it be?


Thomas Payne.  No Doubt.  Have you read The American Crisis?  Read it.  


2. what is your patronus? 


Probably a monkey. 


3. favorite time of day & why?


Have you ever heard this?  

“I’ve always liked the time before dawn because there’s no one around to remind me who I’m supposed to be, 


so it’s easier to remember who I am.”


I like that, and I guess it’s because I like those times too.  It’s that time late at night when I’m all alone, and I lay in my bed and look up at the sky through my window.  It’s just me and the moon, and I like that.  


4. what is your favorite thing to do by yourself?


My favorite thing to do is write the things that make me happy or sad or thankful.  My favorite thing is to write the things I want to remember.  


5. crayons, colored pencils, or markers?

Colored Pencils.


6. favorite quote & what it means to you?


"Live in such a way that people who know you but don’t know Christ will want to know Christ because they know you.”


&

“Sometimes people are beautiful.

Not in looks.

Not in what they say.

Just in what they are.”

Because I really believe that.  Both of those things.  People are beautiful, and the truth is you can teach a lot of people about Christ just by being happy and kind.  You can teach a lot of people about Christ just by loving them.  You can teach a lot of people about Christ just by being you.  

7. if you could meet anybody in the blogging world who would it be? (please leave a link.)

Lexi, she’s really great and really cute.  It’s kinda funny because we used to smile at each other in the hallway with that “we totally mutually blog stalk each other” look.  You all know the one.  But seriously, she’s great. 


8. what do you want to name your first child?


Brandon.  Keepin it simple.


9. what is your "go to" comfort food?


Lately? Coasta Sweet Pork Nachos.  Oh... and cafe rio mints. 
 


10. who is your hero & why?


Blake, Mckay, Brayden, Chris. 

Mostly just because I admire that group of boys.  I admire the choices they make and the people they’re becoming.  

11. what is your favorite family tradition.


Sleep overs with the sisters under the Christmas tree.  


So, I’m not going to tag anyone just because I’m thinking that I kinda missed the boat on this whole thing.  But if you haven’t had a chance, you’re it.


-Linds

Learning To Love Again.

If there’s one thing I am for sure, other than starry-eyed and a bit too apprehensive, it’s sentimental.  

I love pictures, and letters, and I save old ticket stubs-- even the ones from terrible movies.  I keep old fortunes, and I guard every note.  I could tell you where I was a year ago.  I could tell you how it felt to live that day. 

Maybe it’s my sentimental heart, or maybe it’s my eyes that can’t seem to forget all the love they’ve seen.  The truth is, I’m not sure where the idea comes from, but I used to think that in order to love someone it took a lot of time, it took a lot of days, it took a lot of ticket stubs.

I still believe that sometimes.    

I’ve been thinking, though, and maybe love isn’t just about how long you’ve known someone or how many BLT sandwiches you’ve shared.  Maybe, sometimes, love is simpler than that.  

Maybe it’s not about the words you’ve said or the tears you’ve shared.  Maybe it’s not about the days.  Maybe it’s not about the time.  Maybe love is just a choice.

***

Sometimes I find myself looking at old pictures that hang on my wall, and I wonder how I’ll ever find people like you again.  

You’ve blessed me, and you’ve changed me, and you’ve been the subject of many thankful prayers.  

Sometimes I find myself looking at old letters, and I wonder how I’ve already collected so much love.  

There are other days, though, when I hear your laughter down the hallway or I see you walking with your eyes toward the sky, that it’s easy.  

Sometimes I don’t need pretty words or a day full of trampolines and “christmas in a cup” to love you.  


-Linds