Growing Up (14)

Anyone that has been on a mission knows how it is coming home and getting resituated with everything. To be honest, my adjustment has been really good and healthy I think. While I was on my mission, I knew that was where I was supposed to be. Being here at BYU now and living on campus, I know I am exactly where I need to be. I have been back from my mission almost 4 months now (?!?@^^%%!!@#????) That's kind of how I feel about it. Time just keeps going faster and faster. As I've thought about my mission and the things I learned there, I have realized that I learned just as many indirect lessons as I did direct ones. What I mean by that is that there were direct lessons I learned, like being more effective in teaching investigators, how to ask inspired questions, talking to people, etc. We had trainings and lessons to teach us skills. Well, little did I know that all of that practice would literally shape me into who I am today. I needed that year and a half of struggling, loving, serving, and everything else I did to get me started on the right path. 
I remember before my mission I basically knew who I was and all, but I struggled being alone or going to places where I didn't know anyone. I was still insecure. Now, being home, and not due to any specific event on my mission, I am confident in who I am. Ya, that can be bad and become a fault because then I'm TOO confident in myself, so I'm still balancing, but I just feel so comfortable being myself all the time. I love that everyone that knows me knows who I am all the time, that I don't put up a façade. It's not worth it to me anymore. I love that I now know how to deal with the stresses of school, work, dating, roommates with patience and a more optimistic attitude. My whole mission had a lot of stress, but I learned how to deal with it, and I am applying that now to my daily life. I remember having questions in the gospel and not really knowing how to find all the answers to questions. Now, I know how to study the scriptures and find answers to my questions and prayers. I always knew the church was true, but now I know I will stand by and even defend the knowledge I have for the rest of my life.

President Eyring at the Vatican (13)

President Erying with Pope Francis

President Eyring and many other religious leaders met on Nov. 17, 2014 at the Vatican. The topic of discussion among the various leaders was marriage. President Eyring has such good stage presence. I love how he comes across as looking like a really down to earth sort of guy. This was the first sort of big religious event that leaders from our church have been invited to. I think it was huge knowing that the religious leaders that put the whole conference together thought it important enough to invite someone from the "frowned open, mocked, and ridiculed Mormon church." They've got to know that we have something, something that sets us apart. My favorite thing about the whole speech that President Eyring gave was that NOTHING he said surprised me. He wasn't teaching this "crazy off the wall doctrine" that I haven't heard before. In fact, he just focused on the basics of how husband and wife should be married and how they can raise strong families in an ever declining world. I thought the use of the Proclamation to the World was very effective. He was able to quote pertinent parts that really clearly conveyed his point. It was neat how he caught the audience's attention by sharing his personal experience. His story wasn't an abnormal sort of story, in fact, it seemed pretty typical, even humorous in some parts and very relatable. He brought it around full circle and described what he has learned as he has been married and what principles their marriage is founded on. He taught such simple truths and focused on the doctrine. I haven't seen the other speeches yet, but I am interested to see how his stands in contrast to the others.


To see President Eyring's speech, along with other that spoke, visit: http://www.mormonnewsroom.org/vatican2014

Secret Identity (12)

So I'm not the type of person that likes to do weird crazy things. I love to do adventurous, normal things, like for example, I have never been skiing, so that I would enjoy doing that. I don't like going up to random people asking them for scavenger hunt items though. Well anyway, one of my friends took me classic skating at the sketchy place in Orem. It "just so happened to be 80's disco night" (like I believe that it was coincidence for a minute!)
So my friend, Preston, is like, "Ok, we totally have to dress up. So do you have 80's clothes?" 
In my head I'm thinking,"NOOOOO!! I hate dressing up and I will purposely make sure I can't find 80's clothes." 
Ha, little did I know that he already knew I would respond that way. 
He shows up to my apartment about an hour later dressed normally like me, and then he says," Don't worry, I have a costume for you." 
Even worse. I have to admit, the whole drive over, I was thinking of ways that I could make an excuse to not get dressed up in whatever he had. I could say I was allergic to the fabric or I'm a germaphobe and will not wear something that someone else has worn. I was coming up with all sorts of lies to say. We pull up and he reaches in the back seat and pulls out a little package. On the outside was a picture of a power ranger, a blue power ranger. Then it hit me. The costume was a full body power ranger spandex suit. I immediately began protesting because there was NO way I would ever get in something like that. After a few minutes of coaxing, Preston handed my the suit, told me to go try it on in the bathroom and to text him a "y" if I was going to wear it or an "n" if I wasn't going to. He was going to wear it regardless though. I consent to do just that much. I start putting on the slick spandex and realize that the spandex goes over your head and covers everything completely. It was then I realized that no one would know who I was for the next two hours. I could do whatever I wanted. I considered it for a moment and before I knew it, I sent a "y" in a text to Preston. 
We both walked out of the restrooms in these bright full on body power ranger suits. We were immediately swarmed by fans and little kids that wanted their picture taken with us. I felt like a celebrity! We started skating and I could continually hear people talking about the "two blue power rangers." I could look as goofy as I wanted to and dance any way I wanted to! In fact at one point, I was going too fast and I was coming up on a couple that was holding hands. Well, I came full speed between them and said," Good evening friends." I could hear them as I skated away say," Whoa! We got to talk to the blue power ranger!" Now normally, if I would have run into someone, they would have been annoyed, but because the blue power ranger did it, it was cool. I felt so free the whole night, even though I had tons of people watching me. The coolest feeling was changing in the bathroom and walking out in my normal clothes, my suit in my bag. I had a secret identity the whole night and no one knew who I was and never will.

First Time's a Charm! (11)

From left to right: Courtney, Sydney, Quinton,
and Blake

I remember watching longly as he would get all geared up and drive away with his friends. I had always loved my older brother and wanted to be just like him. In fact, I remember in the sixth grade, I noticed my brother walked with a manly strut. Well, in order to be like him, I had to do the same thing. I would practice my strut as I walked to the lunch room with my other classmates. I'm sure my teacher wondered what was wrong with me, like if I had pulled a muscle or something. I was no different just a few years later. I now longed to join him on the slopes. I already knew there was no chance for that, especially because it was so expensive to rent gear and buy a pass. I spent days trying to think of how I could get gear and start learning. Blake was a cool kid and I knew he wouldn't waste a night snowboarding with a beginner. Well, to no avail, I was beginning to give up on the dream of snowboarding. 
It wasn't until one day Blake came home to visit and he brought me over to the computer. He brought up the website for Sundance Ski Resort and pointed down to the right hand corner, where an exclusive offer was posted. For $40, two people could get night passes and go skiing or snowboarding for 4 hours with a discount on rentals. 
He looked over at me and asked," So do you want to go with me?" 
I was beyond myself with excitement! I counted down the days and weeks til our planned snowboarding trip. I told everyone I knew that I was going to learn to snowboard. The day finally arrived and I could hardly sit through class, let alone concentrate because of how excited I was. Blake and I drove up there- me and my college age brother- doubley cool. We get up to the slope and the air was cool and crisp. The temperature was in the low teens, but despite the cold, I knew I was going to love every moment of my ride. We sit down on the ski lift and it whips us to the top of the mountain. 
We finally approach the top, and I know someone I am suppossed to gracefully exit this lift. I set my board down and immediately start leaning back, flailing my arms, trying to keep my balance to no avail. I toppled backwards, hitting into my brother, who mannouvers his board out of my way and manages to stay up. I twist and roll and finally come to a halt. I don't dare to look at the disappointed and annoyed look of my brother. An explosion of laughter fills the air, and I realize instead of feeling embarassed, he is enjoying this episode. I gain composure of myself and attempt to stand, unused to the feeling of having both of my feet firmly strapped to a slick board. 
We start down the mountain and I am constantly falling, rolling, stopping, getting back up. By the end of the first run, I am soaked to the bone, embracing the cold and loving it. I didn't know how to control my board and kept running towards the edges that led to steeper and more intense runs. My brother watched and laughed as I continued to struggle, which made me feel good because then I knew he was having a fun time as well. He taught me the basics of carving and controlling myself and the board. By the end of the night, I could go down the hill with minimal injury, a collection of soaked through clothing, and one grinning exhausted face. Blake never knew what an impact that made on me. To be treated like I was someone important and special to him made all the difference in the world.

Mind Your Own Bees Wax (10)

It's a good thing it is a requirement for me to post this, otherwise, only me and my family would be the ones reading it. I'm usually pretty private with my work and don't let hardly anyone see what I have written. So you can consider yourself lucky or unlucky to be reading this today. I admit, I thoroughly enjoyed writing this experience and remembering the emotions of this day. I hope you enjoy reading about this unfortunate event.
Mind your own Beeswax

Even before the grogginess of sleep had left my eyes, I could feel something in the air, something that conjured up a feeling of uneasiness.

“Drrrring, drrrring!” went the intercom.

“Courtney, time to get up,” came the cheerful voice of my father from upstairs.

I rolled my eyes and tried to ignore the guilty feeling I had as I stayed in my warm, soft covers instead of shivering through the crisp cool morning. I eventually flopped one leg over the other and forced myself away from the static of the blankets that tried to hold me back. I slowly and mechanically pulled on my baggy basketball shorts and wormed my way into an old soccer shirt. I squinted as the door squeaked open and revealed yet another fresh new day. My breath appeared in little puffs of smoke in front of my face. The morning dew stuck to the slivers of grass and the few rays of sunlight bounced off of the extended, moist mass of green. It was still quite chilly, especially for the morning, but that didn’t stop the early risers, my dad being one of them. The air was sprinkled with tweets and chirps and a welcome silence and then…. the sound I dreaded. They were up earlier than usual today. A light buzz filled the air and once again, my worst enemy was set free with the rising of the sun.

“Great!” I thought to myself. “As long as they mind their own bees wax, I’ll mind mine.”

A voice interrupted my slow thoughts with a jubilant, “Gooood morning Court! Hey, how about you go grab a shovel and help me in the back here.”

He said it so nonchalant, so smooth, so easily. He didn’t seem to notice my eyes bulging out of their sockets and my frozen stare of terror.

“Dad,” I gasped desperately. “I can’t go back there.”

“What’s wrong Court? It’s really not going to take that long to take out the weeds in the back.”

“No, no Dad, you don’t quite understand!” I exclaimed. “Dad, the bees. There’s no way you’re making me go back there. I’m not about to voluntarily put myself in front of their beehive and get stung!”

“Court, you are seriously overreacting here,” my dad said in an impatient sort of voice. Listen, if you don’t bother the bees, they won’t bother you. We are going to be behind them the whole time.”

“Well Dad, remember how yesterday you went and checked the bees? Remember how the bees don’t react well to your visits? They are going to be on edge at least for the next four days. And I don’t want to have anything to do with them,” I argued.

“Court. Go grab a shovel. I will see you in five minutes behind the beehives,” he answered shortly.

He turned and walked in the direction of the furthest west corner of our yard. Defeat was written all over my face and I reluctantly turned on my heel and trudged over to the garage. I grabbed my favorite red handled shovel and mentally began preparing myself for the worst. I felt as if I had signed my life away and I was walking towards my death. The two white stacks of painted boxes loomed in the near distance. There sat the home to hundreds and thousands of little tormentors. I could see them flying jubilantly around, ecstatic about the easy target that was approaching. I could sense them plotting against me, the whole lot of them. The distance between me and the flying creatures was drastically decreasing.
I slowly made my way over, purposely making an extra loop around the orchard to extend my route. The sound of the buzzing became apparent and I avoided eye contact with the horrors. I slowly bent down and began plucking the large pesky weeds that had seized control over the small patch of ground. I was minding my own bees wax when suddenly, I heard the dreaded sound approaching. Closer and closer and still closer it came until it was circling around me, just like a lion before it pounces on its prey. I froze in the squatting position waiting and praying for the little dime size tyrant to have mercy on me. Ignoring my pleadings, it came closer. I then broke all rules and began swatting at the bee. The yellow and black stripes beamed with irritation and I could see the bee looking for the most obvious piece of skin to penetrate. I was becoming frantic, even a little hysteric. I hadn’t been stung by a bee for years and I sure wasn’t willing to change that statistic! 
I started walking away from the leaning hives and began swatting, missing the target every time by inches. If nothing else, I made a quick enemy. I continued walking away from the area and still, the bee persisted. By this time, I encouraged and coaxed my legs into a light jog. Still it came. I used the sprinting skills I had inherited from my dad to propel me down the street. This just encouraged the little pest and it increased its speed and intensity. It was going for the kill! 
Against my will, I let out a high-pitched shrilling scream that bounced off the encompassing mountains and resonated in the valley. The buzzing only intensified, a continual reminder of my predicament. I dared to glance left to see the author of the horrid noise and to my own horror, realized the bee was to be my constant companion. The strands of my let down hair created a trap that ensnared the bee, infuriating not only the bee, but me as well.  
My legs continued to progress forward, my scream increased in pitch, and to add to the horrid combination, I desperately started thrashing and jerking my head violently up and down, back and forth. I turned from a victim to a laughing stock within just seconds. My dad followed the trail of screams and caught up to me. I parted the strands of hair in the front and gave a little sigh of relief to see someone come to my rescue. I was puzzled as I saw my dad’s shoulders slump and him bend over, not even trying to suppress his laughing.

“Dad!!” I pleaded. “Dad, I need help!!”

He made his way over, and with a huge grin, he started parting my strands of hair, making grabbing motions at the bee, trying to release it from the claws of my ratty locks. I sunk lower and lower to the ground, succumbing to the flying tormentor, only hearing the buzz of its angry wings grow. And then it was gone. The noise, the fear, my dad’s rough hands on my head. I peeked one eye open and dared to see my fate.

            “Court!” gasped my father in between breaths. “Man, I have never seen something like that happen before!”

His words were cut off as a surge of uncontrollable laughing seized his entire body. Tears streamed down his face as red hot heat filled mine. My eyes burned with tears and frustration.

            “Dad!” I yelled. “This is all your fault! I told you I didn’t want to work by the bees and look what happened! I am never going over there again!”

And with that, I raged off into the house, taking my anger out on my battered bedroom door.

I marinated in my anger for days and stewed over the situation. Even though my dad had apologized for his irrationality, I was not ready to just let the scarring go. I hated the bees and would never like them. My dad appeared in my room a week after the fiasco. He slipped in and sat gently on the edge of my bed, where I was sprawled.

            “Court,” he said. “I need your help. One of our hives just swarmed and I need to go and capture the bees. I need someone to go with me.”

My heart rate doubled in seconds and my pupils must have communicated my emotion because my dad rushed on to say, “Now, I know you aren’t very keen on the bees right now, but we are both going get dressed in our bee suits and I am going to teach you about the bees. You don’t have to just be afraid of them. I will explain to you what the bees do and how they work the way they do. So what do you say?”

            “Dad, I’m too scared to go. Do I really have to?”

            “I just wanted to bring my favorite helper along. I think it will be good for you Court. I don’t want you to be contained by fear. I want to help you overcome your fears,” replied my dad in a sincere, loving tone.

My face muscles began to relax as I considered the offer set before me. I knew I didn’t want to hide behind my fear of bees forever. This was my chance. My eyes slowly met his.

            “Ok, I’ll go.” I timidly replied.

            “Sounds good,” he grinned as he stood to leave. “I will meet you in the garage in a few minutes.” I reached for my long pants and slipped them on, ready to protect myself at all costs, but now feeling prepared to ace my worst enemy. I stepped through my bedroom door, and in an oddly excited and confident manner, shut the door on one of my fears.

Back on Top of Things (9)

This is my first semester back at BYU since my mission. I did one semester before, so yes, I am still one of those freshman that shouldn't be a freshman. It was so weird coming home from my mission and my little 18 year old sister and I were signed up for similar types of classes. But that's ok. My experience this time around has been leaps and bounds above my first semester. I remember my first semester here, I felt insecure about myself. I stressed about grades and tests and how much harder college was than high school. I worried about how I looked to everyone else. I got annoyed with how many returned missionaries I met that would just sit in class and not talk to anyone, especially after they had literally been talking to EVERYONE for two years straight. (And quite frankly, people are still like that, which I think is lame because aren't we all supossed to be helping each other out and being friendly to those around us?) But anyway, it's been neat since being back. 
I feel this odd sense of peace and confidence about who I am and what I do. I don't try to scout out the cutest looking guys and corner them and try to get their number. I don't worry about dating like I did before. Shoot, if he wants to ask me out again, great. If not, I have tons of other things to do. I don't worry so much about what others think of me. I just am who I am and I like it. I try to be honest with people and not fake. If I'm fake and act fake, I just attract the same thing. But I want to meet people who are real and down to earth. I think I have more stress now than I did before my mission, and I am doing fine. 
I don't have emotional break downs, like I used to. I remember calling my dad about once a week just telling him how stressed I was and how I couldn't handle it. I still talk to my parents all the time now, but I feel peace at where I am at and know that everything will work out. I love feeling this content feeling about who I am and what I am doing.