Become as a little child.

One night, when I was 7 years old, I laid in my bed unable to sleep. I was really scared and I felt particularly lonely, because Caroline, who shared a room with me, was fast asleep and quite unaware of the thunderstorm outside. Every now and then the lightning would light up my entire bedroom, but other than that, the whole world as it seemed to me was pitch black. The thunder was loud and relentless. I vividly remember comparing it to a lion - roaring louder and louder with every breath. I could hear the screen rattling with the wind and the raindrops hitting hard against the window. All I wanted was to fall asleep, but I couldn't calm my poor little heart.

Then I had a thought. Emily? Say a prayer.

So I climbed out of bed, and I knelt at the very end of Caroline's bed, so I wouldn't wake her up, and I asked God to make the storm stop. The second I said amen, I crawled as quickly as my little, 7 year old self could go under my covers and put my pillow over my head to block out the sound. My curiosity got the better of me, though, and I slowly pulled the pillow away from my ears, only to find pure silence. I was asleep moments later.

Since that night, I've have many times where I've figuratively pulled the pillow away from my ears only to find brighter lightning and louder thunder, harsher wind and fiercer rain. But I do not doubt the Lord - not His ways nor His timing - because He answered the desperate, whispered prayer of a scared, innocent, little, 7 year old girl - who to the world may have seemed foolish to ask for such a miracle - and He calmed her storm.

God hears. God answers. God blesses. Every single time.

The product of too many days in bed.

I was having an extremely excessive amount of thoughts running through my head today, when a journal entry of mine popped into my mind. It helped me immensely. I thought I'd share (with a few minor edits), and maybe it'll help you, too.

"May 21, 2014.

Haven't written since May 17th?! Emily! Okay, to my credit, I've been bed-ridden for the past four days due to what I thought was my body's inability to cope with the cruelty of womanhood, but turns out it was just a bug, because both Mom and Dad have it now, too. We're all somewhat on the mend though, now. I think.
So, because I haven't moved from my bed since Saturday, my "let's be active!" mentality hasn't yet begun. I think Heavenly Father understands, though. I ALMOST DIED.
Last night I spread my social butterfly wings and hung out with people! No, not my ducky, but real live people. Benson and Ashley to be exact. What kids! Boy, am I grateful for them. My heart will break a little when Portugal decides it needs Ash more than I do. Aside from that - almost dying and being social - not much is new in my life.
The family is doing well. Abigail is moving to Highland soon, but it doesn't really effect me till Christmas, because I won't be living in Utah again till then. Beffy and Na'alie both have big kid teaching jobs. Stephen still has two really cute kids. And Caroline is still the same ol' heartbreaker.
Being glued to my pillow all weekend gave me lots of time to reflect, which seems nice, until you've had four days of it. ENOUGH IS ENOUGH. Whatever. Basically I was just questioning all motives in life. Natural, right? Yeah, maybe for a dying person. Will my wrist get better? Will I become the great violinist I dream to be? Will I ever get good at waking up early? Who am I gonna marry? Will I ever go on a mission? Will my stupid appetite ever come back? Will I ever learn to enjoy exerting myself in such physical demand that I want to cry? (Aka exercising) Will I ever get to where scripture study is perfectly enjoyable EVERY SINGLE DAY? Will the kid that lived on Hank 6 ever come back to church? When will my hair be long enough to french braid? Why do I love converse and skinnies and at the same time sandals and long dresses? Gangsta hats and Belle bows? Baseball games and reading all day? Will it ever get easier to miss people? Missing people is so hard. Will I ever write for a magazine or speak to a big crowd? I'm only 19, you know. I've got a long time. But it seems like all the big names were on the fast track when they were like ten.

Will I ever get to where I wanna be?

I love commencement speeches. I love self-improvement. I love hearing how I can change myself and in turn change the world. Sometimes I get so excited to change, improve, grow, be the best when I'm only 19... Sometimes I forget that not only can I change those things simply one second at a time, but that I don't have to know all the answers today. If I'm doing good things, and acting according to my professed faith, then God will handle it. I need to remember that I've done good things up till now, and that means I'm in the right place. I've followed the Spirit and read the scriptures and prayed hard and loved harder. So I'm in the right place. And if I keep doing those things, then 'He who has begun a good work in (me) will continue it until the day of Jesus Christ.' It's not about meeting the standards of the world or of your friends or even of your teachers. It's about pleasing God and in turn pleasing yourself. And the only way to do that is by doing what you know you need to do right now. I know, I know. 'Take it one day at a time'. 'Just breath.' 'Just keep trying.' Well, there's a reason cliches are cliches. It's because they're tried, tested, and true.
So pick up that Book of Mormon and read a verse or two. Practice when you can and go for a quick swim. Tell God thanks and when you start asking, 'When will my stupid wrist get better?' and 'Is he future guy?', be grateful that the Big Man Upstairs has got it under control and that because of that, you can proudly say, 'I DON'T KNOW. And I'm okay with that.' Be proud of who are you. Be proud of who you're becoming. And be proud of who you're destined to become."

I'm officially exerienced enough to tell people why they should go to Vanderbilt. I'm a Vandy expert, practically.

Today I am giving a speech to a bunch of Juniors in high school about why they should go to Vanderbilt. Most of it's true. Most of it as in all but the part where I make it sound like I actually liked Vanderbilt Visions - your individual group of 20-25 Freshman that met weekly for the first 3 months of school. I mean, I didn't lie, cause I never actually said I liked it, I just said I met friends there. Seriously though, don't make me sit in a room with a bunch of strangers and talk about my feelings for 3 months. "This week's low was failing my Econ test..." "This week's high was getting a C+ on my Econ test..." Dude. You should drop Econ.

But really, I want these little children to want to join me as future Vandy alumni. Because Vandy is awesome and I wouldn't trade the experience of the past 9 months for the whole world. I can basically guarantee that's how I'll feel at the end of my 4 year life there. Class of 2017, baby. That's what I'm talkin about.

In my little speech, I talk about how much I appreciate the hospitality of the South and about how much respect I found for my beliefs and about how my professors were really nice to me, even though sometimes I raised my hand like 800 times per class because I'm pretty sure I have a disorder called "I have a hundred questions that probably won't effect anything but I need you to answer them anyway purely for the sake of my peace of mind."I also talk about how they all need to buy rain boots and how they should let go of the perfect college life expectation where you eat three healthy meals a day, always do your homework, and floss every night. It's not like that, unfortunately. Besides, Easy-Mac ain't all that bad when you haven't had a meal all day long. And flossing? Who even does that?

Mostly, I just want them to not be scared of doing college far away from Mom and Dad and I want the Mom's and Dad's to not be scared of doing life far away from their kid. Because even if they don't live at home anymore, they're still your kid and they'll still call you, and tell you they love you and stuff like that. And they will eat good meals at least a few days a week, and they'll pull off those grades (maybe the last week of school, thank you finals) and they may not be the flossing kings and queens, but brushing will probably still happen.

It's fun, you know, this whole growing up thing. It's really fun and exciting. The closing line of my silly, little speech, after I tell them all that flossing is kind of a joke in college:

"But, from personal experience, the number of good days outweighs the number of bad, and the bad really aren’t all that bad: at least not at Vanderbilt University. Anchor down, y’all."

Anchor down, y'all.  

I'm goin 100 miles per hour, y'all.

I've been home, in Utah, I mean, for a month now. More than! A month and 2 days. Time has flown, and it makes me sad to think that I'm 25% of the way done with my summer break.

Break. It's really the best word for it. Working at Orange Leaf is significantly easier than college 1,000 miles away, and working gives me money instead of taking it away. Good thing I like college, otherwise I think I'd work at Orange Leaf forever.

Member when my hair was so short that I laughed at the thought of hair elastics? I sure do. Well, life sure has changed since July 17th, 2013 when my hair covered the floor of the little salon in downtown Pleasant Grove! July 17th. Makes me chuckle to think about. The boy I had a crush on left on his mission on July 16th. I knew he wouldn't like my hair short, so I had to wait till he was out of the country to chop it. Don't worry, Elder. It'll be reallllly long by the time you get home!! Anyway, sometimes I measure my life by the length of my hair because my hair is a significantly different length every couple weeks. "Back when I had a boy cut..." "When I could finally fit pigtails in..." "The first time I wore curls again..." It certainly has made this past year's journey a little more exciting.

A year ago I was waiting in line for my cap and gown so that I could graduate high school with a thousand other kids in oversized red curtains and hats that won't stay on. Seriously though, those hats were so annoying. Every time I had to move my head, my tassel fell in my face. The nerve. A year ago I was standing in front of a high school choir and orchestra waving my hands in the beat of "Come Thou Fount" and praying that we wouldn't go more than a  half step flat by the end. A year ago my sister was still unmarried, and now I can't imagine AbigailandSteven without the andSteven part. A year ago I got pulled over for the first time and cried my way out of a what-should-have-been-a-really-big-ticket. A year ago Nashville was still just a dream and just a place I had spent 13 hours in one time. A year ago I didn't even now who Melissa Gramling was, let alone know that we'd be known as Emilissily just a few short months later. A year ago my "Utah friends" still lived in Utah, and not New Zealand, South Carolina, Germany, North Carolina, Mexico, Peru, and Chicago.

A year ago, I didn't know about half of the people I know now, and therefore was half of the person I am today. A year ago, I couldn't ride elevators without counting to 100 and I couldn't take the step from the tunnel to the airplane itself without closing my eyes. Now, I ride elevators like I was born in one, and I get a little sad when the captain gets on the intercom to tell us we're about to land.

Today I told a friend who is graduating from high school this weekend that his life is starting on Friday. His response? "Good. Cause I'm ready for this pre-mortal stuff to be over." Hashtag Mormon jokes. Also, after I mentioned that "Math is NOT my forte.", he said, "Your'e right, Emily. It's your fortissimo." "No, no, no, more like my pianissimo!!" Hashtag musician jokes.

You know those roller coasters that go reallllly slow at the beginning and then all of the sudden shoot you out going 100 miles per hour? That's how I feel. Pre-college stuff was that slow, preparatory part. The part that makes you all anxious to just get going. The part where you can still talk to the person next to you in a normal speaking voice. Then all of the sudden, they read your name to a million people in the BYU Marriott Center, and 100 miles per hour is the new norm, it's what you get for the rest of the ride.

Life is good, you know? It's crazy. It's unexpected, and sometimes it's hard. But it's good. It's so, so good.

I make two promises in this post that I can guarantee I will not break.

In Alma 49, Moroni and his Nephites get a bunch of cities destroyed. And they have to rebuild them, and that's probably really frustrating after all the work they must have put into them in the first place.

And then in chapter 50 verse 23, it says that the Nephites had never had a happier time.

For those of you who struggle with math, that's ONE CHAPTER LATER. One chapter later, the Nephites are happy and not only that, they're happier than ever before.

Sometimes we get beat, and sometimes we even get destroyed. Sometimes those"cities" that we've put the very most work into get smashed between the finger and thumb of some stupid Lamanite. You sleep through work, you get sick right before Prom, you fail your math final, your grandpa goes to the hospital for the thousandth time, your prime investigator's baptismal date falls through, none of the investigators show up to church, you get (another) ticket, you miss your friend's birthday, you get another bill in the mail, you get within one inch of graduating and can't make it, your mom is diagnosed with cancer, you just plain get beat.

We get beat. But don't forget Alma 49. Moroni, known has a hell-shaking prophet, got beat. You're not weak if you get beat. What you are is in great company. I'd be compared to Moroni any day! Getting beat is not the sign of a weak person. Getting beat is simply a sign to rebuild, try again, and get better. Wake up for work on time tomorrow, make your own Prom in the living room a weekend later, retake that stupid math class, and take flower to your Grandpa. Invite them all again to church, pay for the dang ticket, send a late birthday card with an extra sweet note, ask your next door neighbor for an odd job to help pay for the cell phone bill. Retake the P.E. class you forgot you failed in the 9th grade, and pray really, really hard for your mom. Getting beat happens to the best of us, and that's as far from cliche as I can get, because Moroni really is the best of us, and he got beat.

And then REMEMBER THAT THINGS GET BETTER. It might not be the next chapter of your life like it was for Moroni and his Nephites, but the "happier than ever" time will come. I can promise you that, because it's happened to me, it's been real to me, I've seen it work.

One of my favorites said it well:

“Don't you quit. You keep walking, you keep trying, there is help and happiness ahead. Some blessings come soon. Some come late. Some don't come until heaven. But for those who embrace the gospel of Jesus Christ, they come. It will be alright in the end. Trust God and believe in good things to come.” (Elder Jeffrey R. Holland)

So don't be scared of Lamanites, don't be scared of squashed cities, and most importantly, don't be scared of rebuilding. 

(for y'all that ain't Mormon and don't get my Nephite and Lamanite references, go find a Book of Mormon and read it. it'll change your life. promise.)

this has nothing to do with the post. i just like my sisters. 

5 things for them highschoolers.

1: Respect your teachers. Not only do you have a better chance of getting a good grade, but you learn how to be an adult. Listen and learn in class. If you don't get it, go in after class and get help. Say thank you at the end of class. Don't fall asleep in class (my biggest struggle in class haha!). Turn in your assignments with good handwriting. Always smile in class.

2: Sleep enough at night. Like 8 hours. Or more if you can!! And no, not by missing first period, by going to bed at 10 instead of 1. You focus and energy throughout the day are so much better if you're well-rested.

3: Have a healthy breakfast every morning. It doesn't have to be a 5- course meal, just a banana and peanut butter and a glass of orange juice. I promise early morning seminary will be SO much more bearable.

4: Pray every night. I don't care what religion you are. Pray every night. Count your blessings, tell the big man upstairs what's bothering you, and ask for help. Tell Him how much you love Him. Even if you're REALLY not feelin it, pray every night.

5: Be kind to everyone. I'm not saying you have to go out of your way all day every day to do something nice for everyone you see. I'm saying you should smile at people when you make eye contact in the hall. I'm saying you should tell the girl that had the solo in the choir concert how well she did, even if you've never even spoken to her your life. I'm saying you should ask how someone's day's been and then genuinely listen to their answer. Just be kind.


High school is hard. Academically, physically, emotionally, spiritually. It's a learning experience, the whole 4 years. But never give up. It's gets better. Keep on going.

I'm a mess.

I woke up late again today. I think that makes 643 days this semester. Or something like that.
That stupid natural sign on my theory homework tripped me up again today, even though I had JUST learned how to handle them.
Yesterday made the kagillionth day in my life I didn't exercise, even though it was on my to-do list.
I think I have 3, maybe 4 full outfits on my floor right now. As in, since Sunday happened I haven't cleaned them up.
Also, my bed isn't made. And I think my poor Ducky got to spend another day stuffed under the mess of comforter and sheets and pillows at the end of my bed.
M&M's are still my favorite, even though my favorite should probably be celery or something.
My best friend lives in Mexico, and as much as I love reading her letters and writing her back, I can't help by feel hurt in my heart every time I do because I can't just call her and tell her hiandiloveyou.
Our perfect housing plan for sophomore year fell through, so now we have to try for Plans B, C, and D, and maybe E will end up being the one, where I sleep on a cot in a practice room.
Laundry? Meh. Tomorrow.
Oh... you mean that homework. Yeah, about that...

I'm a mess.

Oh, but yesterday, I listened to my favorite Inspiring Commencement Speech (because it's actually a real live obsession in my life, Inspiring Commencement Speeches) while I iced my wrists.
And my wrists don't hurt so much no more.
And I got to play in studio class yesterday for the second time since my wrists are a little better, and my teacher said, "Bravo!" at the end.
I figured out that I can actually fly home 5 days earlier than I thought I was going to be able to, so that means I'm coming home in T minus 38 days.
You should see the blossoms on the trees in Tennessee. You'd die.
Oh goodness I listened to Oistrakh play Brahms today, and my heart grew a little bit.
I only wore a jacket with my outfit today. No, not a coat, no not a parka, and no not 3 coats, a parka, 2 scarves, 6 pairs of socks, and 4 paris of gloves. Exciting news!
I found my favorite chapstick that was hiding at the bottom of my purse the other day and like YAY!
I got a package in the mail today from someone that I love that apparently loves me, too, and so much happiness came because of it.
I got to play with 10-month-old Amelia May for like 6 hours on Sunday and it was the best thing, mostly because I love babies with my whole heart.

Yeah, I wake up late a lot, I sometimes (a lot of times) don't clean my room, and I miss my best friend like h-e-double-hockey-sticks. But those things pale in comparison to all the happy I have in my life, to all the peace, and love, and worth-it I have in my life.

I'm a mess. A happy, peaceful, loved, worth-it mess.