"The object of love is the best and most beautiful."

A friend posted this on her blog and it's been on my mind for a couple of days now.  I think it's lovely.

JOHN E. STEINBECK 

A Letter to His Son, New York, 10 November 1958 

Dear Thom:

We had your letter this morning. I will answer it from my point of view and of course Elaine will from hers.

First -- if you are in love -- that's a good thing -- that's about the best thing that can happen to anyone. Don't let anyone make it small or light to you.

Second -- There are several kinds of love. One is a selfish, mean, grasping, egotistical thing which uses love for self-importance. This is the ugly and crippling kind. The other is an outpouring of everything good in you -- of kindness and consideration and respect -- not only the social respect of manners but the greater respect which is recognition of another person as unique and valuable. The first kind can make you sick and small and weak but the second can release in you strength, and courage and goodness and even wisdom you didn't know you had.

You say this is not puppy love. If you feel so deeply -- of course it isn't puppy love.

But I don't think you were asking me what you feel. You know better than anyone. What you wanted me to help you with is what to do about it -- and that I can tell you.

Glory in it for one thing and be very glad and grateful for it.

The object of love is the best and most beautiful. Try to live up to it.

If you love someone -- there is no possible harm in saying so -- only you must remember that some people are very shy and sometimes the saying must take that shyness into consideration.

Girls have a way of knowing or feeling what you feel, but they usually like to hear it also.

It sometimes happens that what you feel is not returned for one reason or another -- but that does not make your feeling less valuable and good.

Lastly, I know your feeling because I have it and I'm glad you have it.

We will be glad to meet Susan. She will be very welcome. But Elaine will make all such arrangements because that is her province and she will be very glad to. She knows about love too and maybe she can give you more help than I can.

And don't worry about losing. If it is right, it happens -- the main thing is not to hurry. Nothing good gets away.

Love, 

Fa

kindness of friends

have you ever observed a child become so overwhelmed with one emotion and, without understanding what he is feeling or how to deal with it, he bursts into tears and just cries and cries and cries?

well, this has been me for the past two weeks.  i just can't seem to stop crying.  there is so much going on inside my head and heart that i don't understand and don't know how to deal with, so i just cry and cry and cry.  i think i'm getting dehydrated.

tonight unexpected emotions caused the waterworks.  a family at church has been very, very kind to me over the past few months - mainly in the form of delicious home-cooked meals, but more precious to me than food is their amazing example of Christ-like love and service.  in the days immediately following Z's death, their home became a safe-haven for me.  with so many memories and reminders of him at my house, i didn't want to be at home.  so, i spent as much time as possible out of the house - which turned into spending the next several days and evenings at the home of this incredible family.

an invitation to come over for dinner tonight came via text as i sat physically and emotionally exhausted at my desk at school.  i arrived earlier than agreed upon in order to help family members prepare the food and to feel like i was earning my spot at the table.  dinner was fabulous, as usual.  the conversation was comfortable and relaxing.  i helped clear away plates and put away left-overs, thanked my lovely hosts and started down the front walk to my car.  i hadn't even pulled away from the curb when that now all-too familiar feeling spread across my chest, accompanied by a tightening in the throat, a stinging in the eyes.  and then the dam broke and the flood waters poured forth.  cried and cried and cried.  in addition to the constant feelings of sadness and pain were intense feelings of gratitude and humility.

as has been stated in previous posts, i am a fiercely independent person.  it is extremely hard for me to admit when i'm struggling, so asking for and accepting help is not one of my strengths.  but in the past two weeks, i have never felt so weak.  and in my weakness, i have discovered new depths of humility.  i have gained a new understanding of charity as the pure love of Christ.

i am grateful for the kindness of friends - all of them - who emulate the love of the Savior in their actions and words, those who "succor the weak, lift up the hands which hang down, and strengthen the feeble knees" (doctrine and covenants 81:5).  my heart (and stomach) is full.  thank you.

full circle.

back in october, i was working with my english 4 students on their senior research papers.  the assignment was to research a career that they were interested in pursuing after high school.  as part of their paper, they were required to interview a person with extensive experience in their chosen field.  as i talked with various students about the topic of their paper, i was able to give some of them contact information of professionals in the career they were researching.  one student, however, was convinced that he would not be able to find anyone to talk to about the career he wanted to pursue.

"well, what do you want to do after high school?"

"i want to go into the marines and become a sniper.  where am i going to find a marine sniper to talk to?"

"actually, i just happen to know a marine sniper..."

it seemed a little more than coincidence.  on the day my student and i had the above exchange, Z was flying home to texas for a week of liberty before reporting to houston.  at this point, Z and i had been getting to know one another through email, but had not officially met.  i finally had the opportunity to do so when i joined him and his parents at the feedstore that night.  i felt a little silly asking him for a favor when we had only just met, but i ignored the awkwardness and asked him if he wouldn't mind talking to my student about his experiences as a marine sniper.  Z graciously agreed.

the next day i gave my student Z's number.  later that week, Z told me he spoke with my student and that they had had an honest conversation about life as a marine sniper.  i was always so grateful that Z was so willing to help me help my student with his research paper.  this particular student graduated with my november seniors.

this afternoon, as i was packing up to leave for the day, this same student popped into my classroom for an unexpected visit.  seeing him made me really happy.  we talked about what he's been doing since graduation and his plans for the future.  when i asked him if he still wanted to go into the marines, he replied with an enthusiastic "yes, ma'am."

i always associated this student with the first time Z and i met, and as we talked this afternoon i had the prompting that i needed to tell him what happened; or rather, that he needed to know what happened.  i knew it wasn't going to come out very well, but i took a deep breath and asked my former student if he remembered my friend Z, the one he had talked to about being a marine sniper.  i apologized for crying and then proceeded to tell him that this friend of mine passed away two weeks ago.  i explained the circumstances in which he died, again apologizing for my tears.  i then told him that the reason for me sharing this story was that i wanted him to know two things: first, i think a career in the military is one of the most honorable decisions he could ever make in his life.  second, if he does decide to pursue a career in the marines, he will most likely experience trials and challenges that he can't even begin to comprehend - no matter what the challenges, though, he should always, always talk to someone about them.  i told him that there are so many people in his life that love him, that want to be there for him, so if he ever finds himself struggling, he should always, always ask for help.

i apologized, for a third time, for my embarrassing display of emotion, and after a hug and comforting words, my former student left.

i sat down at my desk and felt an odd combination of sorrow and comfort.  sorrow that Z is no longer here.  comfort that maybe, just maybe, his story can save another from the same fate.

my experience this afternoon brought a lot of emotions and thoughts full circle.  i know i still have a long ways to go, but it was a start.

making it up as i go

so i thought i was dealing with my grief pretty well.  i thought i knew what i needed to do in order to feel better, in order to make sense of everything that has happened - not only in the past two weeks, but in the past seven months of my life.

now i know that i have absolutely no idea what i'm doing.  i have no idea how to deal with the emotions and thoughts that continue to flood my heart and mind, leaving me struggling to stay afloat.  i have no idea how to make any of this better.  and i'm a person who needs to make things better, to fix things.  i'm usually pretty good at fixing things when it comes to other people's problems.  but now that i have this very unexpected and painful problem - grieving the tragic death of a loved one - that is mine and that i don't know how to fix, i'm feeling very lost and helpless, drowning in a sea of sorrow and heartache.

so i'm making things up as i go.  my initial thought is to consume as many peanut m&ms as humanly possible, then see how things go from there...

challenge accepted.

last year, i did something insane called the ragnar relay: wasatch back.  and by insane, i mean insanely awesome.

this year, i've agreed to participate in the insanity once more.

last year, my 3 legs of the relay race were hard, but not too terrible.  runner #8 = 3.4 + 7.0 + 5.9 = 16.3 miles.

this year, i've apparently lost my mind.  runner #6 = 6.9 + 8.1 + 3.1 = 18.1 miles.

the 6.9 mile leg?  a "knee-jarring descent" into the ogden valley. categorized as "very hard."

the 8.1 mile leg? a "difficult uphill climb" into east canyon reservoir.  also categorized as "very hard."

and i can only imagine that by the 3.1 mile leg, i'll be borderline catatonic.

last year, superstar runner brother chris was runner #6.  i am not a superstar runner.  yet.

in light of recent sad events in my life, i've realized that i need something to occupy my time, thoughts and feelings.  i need a goal, a challenge.

ragnar relay: wasatch back 2012 is my new challenge.  bring. it. on.

7 Lessons in Losing

The past eleven days have been a painful and emotional blur.  The only thing that has kept me somewhat grounded is being able to express my jumbled thoughts and feelings in complete sentences (ie: blogging).  I've been writing this post in my head for the past few days and it's time for me to actually put it all together.

1. It's gonna hurt.  So let it hurt.  I know I have a very low tolerance for physical pain.  In contrast, I always thought I had a high tolerance for emotional pain, seeing as how I've been through my fair share of disappointments and heartaches, but always seem to recover and move on.  Nothing could have prepared me for the combined physical and emotional pain of losing a close friend.  It hurt.  A lot.  It still hurts.  There's been a constant dull ache in my chest and throat for the past week.  The real hurt comes and goes in debilitating waves of sadness.  I never knew the human body could produce so many tears.  So, yes.  It hurts.  It's probably gonna hurt for a while.  And I'm okay with that.

2. People want to help you.  Let them.  I am a fiercely independent person.  I prefer to handle things on my own; so, consequently, asking for help is not easy for me.  But dealing with the death of a loved one is not a time to be an island.  I've had angels helping me at both home and school.  I've probably never accepted so much help in my entire life.  And I've never been so grateful.

3. Stay busy.  I took two days off of work last week in order to help his family and process my own emotions.  During the day I was with friends, running errands and doing things.  It was only in the evenings, when I finally stopped moving, that I slowly unraveled and crumbled under the weight of sorrow and pain.  Going back to work on Wednesday helped.  Being with my kids kept my mind distracted from other thoughts.  But when I was left alone during my conference period, there were no more distractions.  Thankfully, another class full of frustrating (and distracting) teenagers was only 50 minutes away.  I've kept myself busy and distracted for a while now.  In the past couple of days I've slowed down a bit, which has not been good for my emotional stability.  Time to find a meaningful project to dedicate myself to.

4. Find reasons to laugh and smile.  One of the saving graces from last week was the ability to remember the good times, the fun times.  The ability to laugh at the small things.  Work provided many opportunities for grins and giggles.  Dear friends and simple pleasures put a smile on my face.   Of course it's a sad time.  But that doesn't mean that you have to be sad all of the time.  It's not what he would want.  He would want his family and friends to smile and be happy.

5. Pain is not a contest.  At one point last week I was telling myself that I shouldn't be hurting as much as I was, that there were other people from his life that were in even more pain - his mother and step-father, his sisters and brother, his many aunts and uncles and cousins, his friends that had known him for years, his Marine brothers.  Then I realized that grief is not a competition.  My pain is just as real as someone else's pain.  And my pain is mine, personal.  Comparing grief is a waste of energy and emotion, especially when that energy and emotion could be used to comfort one another.

6. The Plan of Salvation is everything.  Without the Plan, life has no purpose and death has no meaning.  Without the Plan, there is no reason to hope and have faith that we will see each other again after this life.  Without the Plan, there is no reason to believe that we can live with our Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ and our families for all eternity.  Without the Plan, there is no comfort, no peace.  With the Plan, there is everything - purpose, meaning, hope, faith, belief, comfort, peace.  The Atonement of Jesus Christ is the center of this Plan, which provides strength and support to all who are suffering.  I have never been more sure of the truthfulness of this doctrine.  As a dear friend reminded me, I will see Z again, "healed, whole, and blessed."

7. Not lost, but found.  I've thought a lot lately about the phrases we use when someones dies: I lost a friend. I'm sorry for your loss.  But did we really lose him?  Is he really lost?  I experienced a very clear moment last week of being taught Truth by the Spirit in answer to these questions.  In our many conversations, Z would often comment that after 6-7 years of not living at home (due to his military service), he wasn't really sure where "home" was. The Spirit told me last week that Z finally found his way home.  Not to an earthly home, but to his heavenly home, for "...the spirits of all men, as soon as they are departed from this mortal body... are taken home to that God who gave them life" (Alma 40:11).  I wish it weren't so far away, but Z found home.  He was welcomed there by the open arms of those who love him.  He is safe and happy and at peace.  He is home.

finding the happy

early release day at school.
getting a "pony" from my principal.
organizing students to sing the national anthem at a rangers game in may.
grades for report cards = done and done.
celine sing-a-longs with mom.
a trip to wal-mart.
depositing checks at the bank = mo' money!
20 questions with my lifesaver friend.
mayday parade in san antonio on valentine's day = so. dang. excited.
packing for a road trip.
making pumpkin chocolate chip cookies at 11pm with pretty girl.
eating the aforementioned pumpkin chocolate chip cookies = delish.