Only thing I ever could need; Only one good thing worth trying to be and it's love.

This is a little something my brother Bryan wrote and I enjoyed it. So here goes.

Many years ago my family started saying the words "I love you" a lot. I don't recall exactly when or why, or who started it. Maybe one of us took us all to Opposite Land, an imaginary place we invented that is entered when its name is invoked, and forgot to take us out, which is why we still use this phrase a lot.

It's rare for us to get off the phone with each other without saying those 3 words. Sometimes even if our conversation consisted of a bit of an argument, we end with the words "I love you." Because we do.

This habit is very healthy emotionally and helps relationships. But it also carries potential for danger.

If it becomes too easy to say, you'll find yourself saying it, out of habit, to people who might find it odd. Such as IRS employees who are auditing you, who never hear those words on their business phone calls.

I can't tell you how often I've almost said "Bye; love you!" at the end of phone conversations with coworkers or people I'm interviewing for news articles. If I have ever slipped up and said it, they either didn't hear or just took the compliment with gratitude without making fun of me. So as far as I know, I have always caught myself in time to force the use of a business-appropriate farewell, like "I hate you." But whenever a confession of love is on the tip of my tongue, I do have to work hard containing my laughter. Especially because it makes me reflect on times that this slip up has happened.

An uncle of mine (I can't remember which one) checked his answering machine one time and found a message from his boss. The bossman talked for a minute or two about a business matter. At the end of the message he said, "Well, I love you. Bye." The very next message was the boss calling again: "Hey, it's me again... I don't LOVE you..."

One of my favorite moments of Ratatouille was when Linguini expresses his love to the beautiful militant chef Colette. He says he would do anything she told him to because "I LOVE yoouuuu....r advice." It's great.

I have had friends - especially Brooke - who are comfy enough with the word that I could say it all the time. (Love you, Brooke!) But when I went away to college I quickly learned that other girls aren't so fond of those words. I didn't want to have to explain over and over again that saying "I love you" wasn't Bryanspeak for "I want to marry you next month and you'd better retreat if you don't feel the same," so I stopped saying it. Sad day, huh?

I think everyone who is scared to say "I love you" should learn to say it. Those who freak out over hearing it should get over it.

I totally agree with all of this! Luckily, I've been blessed with many friends here at school who are comfortable with those three special words. I think that to be loved is an enormous blessing, and the power to love is even more so. It is a wonderful opportunity--a chance to feel a portion of what Heavenly Father feels for each of us. So why not express it?

Chances are that if you're reading this, I love you. Seriously. I mean it. If you don't believe me, tell me to my face that you love me and I'll probably respond with, "Hey! Guess what? I love you too!" And there will be joy.

Thank you to all of you who love me (and show and tell me) every day. I hope that I have blessed your lives in a similar way. I love you!

"I Figured Out What Your Egg Looks Like."

I love my Daddy.

I was talking with him tonight and we got onto the subject of dating and relationships. As we discussed some things, he related to me a simple analogy that I'm sure many of you have heard before (but just in case, I will explain it in short).

When a baby bird or chick is hatching from its egg, it is somewhat of a grueling process for the poor thing. As it prepares itself to come into the world, it has to peck its way through its shell, pecking and prodding and using every bit of its growing strength to get itself out. The mother will not help the chick out of the shell; this would be damaging to its future development. In order for the chick to develop the muscles it needs, it has to get itself completely out of its own shell.

Daddy then related it to relationships. While I do have help and support and can get advice from plenty of people, most of the things are difficult and are going to have to be worked out on my own. I just have to keep poking, keep prodding, and eventually, I will emerge, fully ready to face the world of marriage (keep in mind that the beginning of marriage-readiness is still at the baby chick stage. Plenty of room for growth!). At that point, symbolized by the chick's emergence from the shell, I will have gained enough patience and knowledge, as well as the capacity for constant improvement and progress in these areas, so that I will be able to love someone forever.

Though some of these experiences may be difficult, Heavenly Father knows that, and He would not put me through them if He did not think that it would be good for me.

As we kept talking, somehow it came around to my mentioning my love for holding hands.
Seriously, I might like it more than I like chocolate.
(P.S. That's a lot.)

A few minutes later, Daddy said,
"Katelyn, I've got it. I've figured out what your egg looks like.
First, you peck.
And you Peck, Peck, Peck. . . .
And finally you get your hand out.
Then you say, 'Hold it, please.'"

We then laughed about how I hadn't even poked my head out when I was ready to have my hand held.

Long story short, though, I am really grateful for the experiences I'm having and for my growing ability to see even confusion and trials in living my day-to-day life as learning opportunities that are going to benefit me for eternity.

Also, can I just say that I love my family?
K. . . .
I LOVE MY FAMILY!

Weeping willow, stop your tears.

For some reason the other day I wanted to watch a sad movie. I just really wanted to have a good cry. School and life in general have been so stressful and confusing that I thought I should watch a sad movie. . . mostly so that I had reason to cry other than only my feeling sorry for myself.

Mission: Accomplished.
And probably accomplished much better than I wanted it to be.

My roommate Natalie and I decided to stay up late and watch a couple of sad movies. We chose My Girl and A Walk to Remember. We knew the latter would make us cry, but neither of us had ever seen the first one.

Be ye therefore warned: My Girl will make you cry.

So we're sitting there, watching the movie, and I don't hear Natalie crying at all. I kind of felt like an idiot, so I tried to keep my sniffles, snorts, and sobs at a minimal noise level (It didn't really work).

Finally, the movie ends, and Natalie cries, "I need a tissue!"

I went ahead and let loose.

We were so pitiful, sobbing our eyeballs out at two in the morning.
I reached for the box of tissue, only to find that there was only one more left! We both needed it pretty badly, so we decided to split it.

So there I am, trying my hardest to tear the kleenex in half, a nearly impossible task with tear-filled eyes. We both got to the point where we couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry.
Naturally, we continued both (I tend to do this often, and it's actually quite hilarious).

Afterward I had probably the best night's sleep I've had in a while. I was so relaxed and I felt like I had sobbed out all of the frustrations I've been feeling about everything.

The problem is, I don't really understand myself--some of these things merit frustration, but other things bother me even though I know I should be able to let them go. I'm really having to learn to trust in the Lord and let Him take care of me. There are days when I don't know why I feel sad or upset, but I do.

One of the hardest things about this is learning that I'm not the one in control. There are things in my life that I thought I had full control over, yet recent events have shown me what little say I have in what happens. But somehow, the choices I make are still so important. I have agency, and I know that if I keep following the Spirit and doing what the Lord wants me to do, I will be able to feel comfortable giving it all to Him. I hate to say it, but I am still very selfish and immature in that I have not learned to do that yet. I still want to hold on to the illusion of control, to this crazy idea that I can make things happen the way I want them to or the way I think they should happen. I know I have to let this go, but it's a struggle that has gone on a long time, and probably will take a while longer to master.

But I can do it . . . I hope!

I know that the Lord loves me and that He will make things happen for my good as long as I'm willing to recognize that He's the one who knows what I need. He definitely knows better than I do. I have trouble making things of myself (shew, I even have trouble making myself get to bed before midnight!), yet He made me. He, a perfect being, created me. And, contrary to popular belief, I am not perfect (Insert smiley face here).

But I know that I can always progress toward perfection.
He also knows that, and He wants that for me.

So I'll keep my chin up and keep moving forward, with the help of prayer, the scriptures, and all my amazing friends and family!

New Church Calling. . .

So this morning I was called to be an Activities Committee co-chair in my ward! I was on the committee last semester, but since my roommate Allison (the former female co-chair) was called to be 2nd Counselor in the Relief Society last week, I was asked to be her replacement. Exciting things are sure to come from this, namely, snow tubing next week. :)

I am really excited for this opportunity to serve the Lord and the members of my ward!

And They Call it Puppy Love.

On September 6th 2006, my Daddy gave me the best birthday present I've ever received: My puppy, Oscar.

Born on July 29th of that same year, Oscar was a precious little Yorkshire Terrier who captured the heart of everyone he met. People who didn't even like dogs loved Oscar. People who hated having their faces licked didn't even mind when Oscar did it, because he was just so cute.

He quickly became my best friend and my favorite male being on the planet.
I loved him so much that I often referred to him as "my baby." Who would've thought that Mama's first grandkid would be so hairy?

Unfortunately, Oscar was hit by a car on Sunday, January 18, 2009 and is not with us anymore. I miss him so much!

But I have so many fond memories of Oscar.
Every time an ambulance, police car, or firetruck drove by the house with the siren on, he jumped in the window and barked like crazy, his little nub of a tail wagging up and down with each bark.
Anytime I spoke to him in a regular voice, he wouldn't pay any attention to me. But if I called him "Oscar Woscar" in my squeaky voice, he could not resist. Also, he loved it when Mama would sing "Oh, Oscar Woscar, oh Oscar Woscar. You are a silly dog, Oscar Woscar" to the tune of "Oh, Christmas Tree."
And I think his favorite words in the world were "bacon" and "Need to go potty outside?"
I know he must have always wished that he were an outside dog--every chance he got, he'd run outside, whether he had his leash on or not (this is what got him into trouble on Sunday). But he also enjoyed being inside in the warmth when it was cold outside.
Oscar was the best cuddle buddy. He loved to sit in my lap while I sat at the computer (this was especially funny when I wore my silky pajama pants; he was all the time slipping toward my feet). Also he always slept at my feet until morning when I woke up; then he'd sit at my head and watch me until I finally got up.
Oscar also liked to get himself buried in blankets. I don't know how many times we've wondered, "Where is Oscar?" and then called his name, only to see the blankets start to move as he tried to get himself untangled from them. One time Daddy lay down on his bed as he was about to go to sleep, and couldn't get comfortable. He said, "there's something in my pillow!" He picked it up, only to see a large lump in the bottom of the pillowcase. He took out the pillow, and there was Oscar, all cuddled up in the pillowcase!
He and our other dog, Saturn, were in love. This is funny because Saturn is about five times the size of Oscar; she's a black lab mix. Also, Oscar thought he was the big dog. Whenever Saturn's other boyfriends came along, he'd growl at them from inside like there was no tomorrow.
Oscar truly brought so much joy to our family. He loved everyone, and I will never forget the times I came home from college for Christmas and summer when he would not stop jumping on me for thirty minutes.
And when I had bad breath, I would breathe in his face, only to have him lick the air between us right afterwards.
That's true love right there, y'all.

I love that dog and I miss him dearly!