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.

I hadn't even thought about it.

Yesterday was a BIG day.

Why?

I'll tell you.

Yesterday was the first time in a really really really long time I've walked out of an elevator without even remotely thinking about the fact that I am usually scared out of my mind in elevators until I was OUT of the elevator.

Huge, right?

I don't really remember when or why this fear of mine first originated. I've not always been afraid. It used to not really be that big of a deal, but as I got older, it got worse, until I really couldn't ride an elevator without my heart racing, my breath fast, my knees shaking... I had to count the whole way. If I got to 100, THEN I was allowed to be scared. Usually I only got to about 25 or 30, so I never really freaked out. Just inside of me I did.

I would try SO HARD to be brave, it was just like physically impossible.

Oh. Also, I live on the 7th floor. The highest floor of any Freshman housing. When I figured this out on the first day of Vanderbilt, I figured it was God telling me to shape up and be brave. But I wouldn't be so easily persuaded.... I took those stairs every. single. day. Up and down and up and down! Yeah, it was probably good exercise, but every time I passed the elevator on my way to the stairs, I was reminded of this stupid fear I couldn't get over.

Then, one day I passed the elevator like normal, but this thought when through my mind: "Um. You should probably ride that." I stopped. I pondered. And then I said, "Meh. Tomorrow."

And so tomorrow, I did. I rode it two times. I rewarded myself with chocolate on the 7th floor both times. This was the beginning of my "Quest to get rid of my stupid fear that I hate and that needs to go away". The next day? I rode it 8 times. I was still scared out of my mind. But something inside of me had told me, "Um. You should probably ride that." Something really deep inside told me that without any force or persuasion or coaxing. And I had to do something about it.

And so I've ridden the elevator every day since then. Eventually, I could stop counting. Eventually, I didn't have to reward myself with chocolate, but simply with a sound mind. Eventually, my heart stopped racing, my breathing slowed down, and my knees stayed still. Eventually, I wasn't scared.

But I still thought about it. Every single time! I thought about how I should be scared or about how usually my knees are shaking or "I should probably warn this somewhat-nice-looking-stranger that I might grab his hand at any given moment during this ride".

But yesterday, I stepped out of the elevator and I realized,

I hadn't even thought about it.

5 months after that day that my little something told me to UM RIDE IT, I didn't even think about it.

"Don't quit. You keep walking. You keep trying. There is help and happiness ahead. Some blessings come soon. Some come late. Some don't come till 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

Whether it's elevators, or taking tests, or chronic depression, God's there to help you out.

xoxo

Emily

This is a really blurry picture of me in an elevator. She had to get it QUICK before it closed haha!

My little piece of heaven.

For me, it's beautiful music.

For someone else it might be a piece of literature, for another a painted masterpiece. For some it might be the scene at the top of a tall mountain, or for another watching a child speak his first word.

For me, it's beautiful music.

It's that thing that just really speaks to your soul. It's the language of your heart. It's whatever it is that thing that God put on earth for you that "gives you hope for a better world", that reminds you that good is still winning, that lets you touch heaven.

For me, it's beautiful music.

It's Beethoven's "Pathetique" or Ravel's "Bolero". It's the Finale of Mahler 1, or the 1st movement of the Herbert cello concerto. Or the 2nd movement of Dvorak's 9th or the 1st movement of Beethoven's Triple.

For me, it's beautiful music.

You know, God wants for us to be happy. "Men are that they might have joy"! We are here to have joy! And even when times are the very hardest of all, there are still wonderful pieces of literature, and there are still really tall mountains to climb, and there are still little children saying "Mama" for the first time ever. And there's still beautiful music. There's still heaven to touch  and good to win and hope to feel. There are still smiles to give and smiles to receive. There are still sunrises to watch and hands to hold tight and walks to go on and there's still beautiful music.

What's your beautiful music? What is it that speaks to your soul? What is your heaven? Let it give you hope. Let it give you whatever it is you need to get up another day and try again. I promise there's some good waiting for you today. There's some hope waiting for you today. There's some heaven waiting for you today.

For me, it's beautiful music.

2014, BABY.

Well, it sure has been a while, ain't it.

Don't worry, I'm still alive. I would like to point out, though, that I am now 18 1/2, which is a big deal. Sorry if you missed my dance party in my room that day. Everyone missed it, actually, because I only invited myself.

Anyway, let's get the real stuff!! I checked my Facebook the other day, and apparently I finished my first semester of college!! You see, I slept so much of Christmas Break, these details of my life escaped my little mind. The nice thing about college is you don't have to remember ANYTHING over Christmas Break. (I mean, I tried to remember how to play the violin and how to write my name, but that's about it.) All of my classes only last one semester and then they're DONE FOREVERRRRR. So basically my Christmas Break was spent emptying my brain of all this information and creating room to put a bunch more in this semester.

Now, I will say 5 highlights of my first semester at college. And then I will say 5 lowlights, just to balance things out a bit.

NUMBER ONE:

I learned how to ride elevators. One day, I was marching down the hallway on the way to the stairs, and I saw the elevator out of the corner of my eye. I thought, "I should ride that." It was the first time that I thought of this without forcing myself to think it. And then I thought, "Naw, tomorrow." But, I kept that little promise to myself! I rode it the next day TWO WHOLE TIMES. And the next day? 8 times. EIGHT. Now, I ride it every day :)

NUMBER TWO:

I soloed with the UTAH FREAKIN SYMPHONY! Which, I mean, for a little girl like me was a huge deal. I just walked out there in a bright red dress with two handsome boys and played my little heart out. And it was the very best 18 minutes of my entire little life. I really like my violin.

NUMBER THREE:

I read the whole Book of Mormon in 40 DAYS!!! I was terribly nervous that this goal of mine that I set on November 4th wouldn't actually happen, considering I've never read the thing in less than like a year and a half. But, real life says that I did it! I finished about an hour before my last final as a first semester college Freshman on December 14, 2013. My mind was in a good place and my time was prioritized especially a lot during those 40 days and that's what I attribute my being alive right now to. Otherwise, finals would have eaten me alive.

NUMBER FOUR:

I can, without paying extra money, eat M&M's at every meal if I so desire. They come in the Meal Plan. I think that's all that needs to be said.

NUMBER FIVE:

I've learned more in one semester of college than I have in my entire life, I think. I've learned how to do theory and how to sing DO RE MI style. I've learned how to deal with stupid wrists. I've learned how to read the Book of Mormon super duper quick. I've learned how to go to class even when I would rather sleep for about 46 hours. I've learned how to consistently be close to God. I've learned how to ride elevators, and love my mom even when she's 1,648 miles away, and even how to lower my bunk bed with a broken sledge hammer and no boys to help me. (Melissa and I are awesome.)

All in all, it was one heck of a semester.

Now, my lowlights.

NUMBER ONE:

I lost my favorite ring. Um, annoying.

NUMBER TWO:

I have to shower with shoes on every day. Gross.

NUMBER THREE:

I've lost my finger nail clippers twice now, which is stupid, because I always need to clip my finger nails. I'm on my third pair in this very moment.

NUMBER FOUR:

Laundry costs money. Real money.

NUMBER FIVE:

It's really cold today.

I think there was more good than bad, yeah? Here's to a new brand new semester. Starting in approximately 1 hour and 23 minutes. Night, y'all.

All my love,

Emily

Be happy cause Jesus loves you.

Oh, you know, just on my way to the Rite Aid down the street, just like any ol' day. It's pretty cold outside, so I'm all bundled up in my coat and have my hands stuffed in my pockets. I'm shivering, of course, because I'm pretty sure it's like a disorder I have or something, how much I shiver and all. I'm standing there waiting for a kagillion years for that orange hand to turn into a blue, florescent person in a walking stance. Quite frankly, I'm thinking about very little. I'm just being.

I see this man walking down the sidewalk out of the corner of my eye. He looks tired, and probably really hungry, and like he hadn't showered in a little too long, and maybe even a little unsure about where his bed was gonna be that night. I didn't think much of him, he was just goin on his way like I was goin on mine. When all the sudden, as he was passing me, he looked at me and he said,

him: "Now don't you go on lookin so depressed now!"
*I jumped SO HIGH when he started talking. Like I probably scared the livin daylights outta the poor guy.*
me: "Oh! Uh, sorry! Yeah, I'm happy!"
him: "Jesus loves you! Jesus loves you so much and you never forget that!! Okay? You never forget that!"
me: "Okay! Yeah, thanks! Yes, He does! Thank you!"
him: "He gave His soul for you on that cross, and you never forget that! You never forget how much He loves you! He loves you so much! Be happy cause Jesus loves you!"
me: "Yes, yes, He does! Thank you!"
him: "You know, I'm Baptist, but I know that Jesus loves you! And I love you!"
*he proceeds to shake my hand vigorously*
him: "I love you so much! And you have a good day!"
me: "Thank you! You have a good day, too!"

To be honest, it was one of the weirder experiences I've had upon coming to Nashville. But even this tired, probably really hungry, not terribly clean, and might be sleepin on a park bench tonight guy… yeah, even he knows what's most important. What's very most important is that "Jesus loves you and that I love you". In the end, it doesn't really matter how much money you got, or how big your wardrobe is, or how smart you seem to the world. All that really matters is that Jesus loves you and I love you. 

"I am Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who was ^acrucified for the sins of the world, even as many as will ^bbelieve on my name, that they may become the ^csons of God, even ^done in ^eme as I am ^fone in the Father, as the Father is one in me, that we may be one."
-Doctrine and Covenants 35:2

Not your typical hiking experience...

Sometimes the mountains that we are given just seem way too big. And the fact of the matter is that they ARE too big, if we take them on alone. But if we allow God to help us out, any mountain in our path is a manageable climb. You just gotta make sure you're hikin with an expert.

Someday my stupid tendonitis-ed wrists will get better. Unfortunately, that day isn't day, and most likely won't be tomorrow, and probably won't even be any time this week, and it's a really big mountain for a little girl like me livin on the 7th floor of Hank Ingram House in Nashville, Tennessee to climb.

But God has a plan.
He knows better than me.
And I'm gonna be okay with that.
He'll help me climb up.

Actually, I think He'll have to drag me up because I'm not very strong and I run out of breath pretty easy. My "PUT A SMILE ON THAT FACE!" attitude doesn't last very long sometimes. But, I think He'll let me take water breaks where I'll call my mom and make the missionaries give me another priesthood blessing and eat yet another package of pretzel M&M's (It's a serious addiction. Like, SERIOUS.). Yeah, He'll let me take those breaks. But He'll also reach His arm out after a few minutes and say, "Alright, sista. Let's keep goin." And then someday, well, me and Him, we'll get to the top. And when when we do? I have a feeling there's gonna be one HECK of a view. And I'll be like a kagillion feet higher than I was before, which will be sweet.

So till then, I guess I'm just gonna keep holdin on to God's hand for dear life and do my best to climb up that mountain. Wish me luck?

Besides, I've always liked a good hike.

DON'T JUMP OVER THE FENCE!

When I was in high school, sometimes I felt restricted.
Confined.
"Un-free."

I wanted a later curfew on the weekends.
I wanted to choose what movies I watched.
I wanted to have sleep overs with my girlfriends,
I wanted to be allowed to stay up however late I wanted on... get this... A SCHOOL NIGHT.

And then I got to college.

I can stay out however late I want on the weekends!
My parents don't expect me to text them to ask them if I can watch a given movie.
I live with one of my girlfriends. Slumber party every night!
And ain't no one comin in my room at night saying, "Lights off, please!!"

But you know what?

I still try to go to bed at reasonable hour on the weekends.
I don't watch R-rated movies.
Our slumber parties consist of doing our homework and cleaning our room,
And our lights are out by like 11. Not bad for college, eh?

It doesn't make sense! I should be pulling all nighters every night of the week!! I should be living it UP at college!!

But I learned something at Institute a couple weeks into school that helped this all make sense to me.

When I go to the zoo, I'm grateful for the bars.

When I go to the zoo, I'm grateful  that there are cages, and bars, and signs that say, "DON'T JUMP OVER THE FENCE!" I'm grateful there are zoo keepers that remind me to "Stay behind the rope, please!" And I'm grateful I can enjoy the zoo, despite being surrounded by animals that COULD KILL ME AT ANY GIVEN MOMENT. And, quite frankly, I'd rather not be mauled by a bear.

It's the same in life. In life, I'm grateful for the bars. I'm grateful that I have restrictions, and rules, and people lookin' out for me, whether they by my mother at night telling me to turn lights off, or my Relief Society President asking if I've done my visiting teaching this month. (Which, I totally have, just so you know.) Because, those bars? They're actually not restricting US at all. They restricting the bad, the evil, the extremely dangerous, like you'll realllllly regret jumping over the fence. Because those bars? The enable us to live in the world but not of the world, like Jesus taught us. Because those bars? They're keeping us safe. They're keeping us happy. And, in real life, they're keeping us very, very free.

So, let's decide to not get mauled by a bear, okay? Not at the zoo, and not in life.

UM. EMILY. HELLO.

So, I have what I like to call a stupid wrist and because I have a stupid wrist, I can't play the violin, which is annoying cause THAT'S WHY I'M HERE. But I've learned that God has this tendency to talk to us in lots of different ways even when we have stupid wrists and empty hearts due to such things. Wanna hear an example? Here:

Thursday morning. I wake up at 8:03. Class starts at 8:10. I arrived at 8:09. Please, please, save your applause for later.

Yes, I looked as if I had gotten ran over by a truck on the way to class, but it's fine, cause I was totally on time.

But, even though I was on time, and even though it was a lovely day outside, and even though I was brave enough to ride the elevator, I was still feeling annoyed at frustrated and confused because of my stupid wrist and rough nights and other things that can make my life hard and I felt kind of like this: "I JUST WANT TO GET BACK IN BED BECAUSE MY AWAKENING THIS MORNING WAS FAR TOO ABRUPT."

But then I had a thought. (God's pretty good at putting those in my head when I really need them.) I decided to make two lists. One of things I couldn't change in my life, and things I could change in my life.

(Only MAYBE I was making these lists during class.)

On the first list, I had things like my stupid wrist is being stupid, I couldn't do what I do best, I woke up 7 minutes before class, I looked like that truck that had run over me that morning was actually for real, it was a rough night the night before, I had just gotten a C- on a stupid test, blah, blah blah. Ultimately, I had about 7 or 8 things on that list.

On the second list, though, I couldn't stop writing. I could actually get ready for the day (wait, what?), I could eat breakfast, I could sing out loud (this is real life. no need to make fun.), I could talk to my two very best of friends: Henry and Melissa, I could read my scriptures, I could pray to God, I could dance (also real life.) I could heat up my stupid wrist, I could take medicine for my stupid wrist, the list went on and on and on and on and on. Just a bunch of things that I could change in my life that could make it better.

After class got out at 9:25, I ran upstairs and started to dig into my list. I sang out loud and danced while I got ready for the day. I prayed to God and I walked to the cafeteria to get some breakfast. I sat on a comfy little couch with my strawberries, muffin, and hot chocolate, and pulled out my computer to listen to a conference talk. I listened and I ate and I already felt so much better. Things were already looking a little up.

Quick side note: Once I had written on my list "talk to Henry boy and Melissa", I didn't think much of it, cause I've never actually seen them on Thursday mornings, cause we have different schedules. I was already feeling so much better, I didn't think of that one on my list.

God did, though.

Right as President Holland said, "Amen", I looked to my right and saw Henry walking towards me. He sat down and we talked for a few minutes and my mind didn't even process that God was practically yelling at me that he had been watching over my shoulder in class that morning and was helping me accomplish every last one of my things on my list. We just talked like normal, when all of the sudden, he said, "Hey, look! There's Melissa!" Lo and behold, there's Melissa getting her breakfast. She comes over, and we talk, and my mind still doesn't hear God up there saying, "UM. EMILY. HELLO."

Then, Melissa had to go to class, and Henry had to go to class, and I had to go to physical therapy, and that was that.

It wasn't till, oh, about dinner time that I finally got it. I pictured God sitting on His throne up there laughing and shaking His head saying, "Didn't see that one comin', did ya?"

Nope, I sure didn't. But, boy am I glad that He took the time to remind me through two real live angels that He's there for me and He hasn't forgotten about me, even if I do have a stupid wrist.

He's there. He's watching. He's taking care of us. He showed me through two people who mean the world to me, and He'll show you through whatever makes you smile, even if you have a stupid wrist or you have a rough night or you get a C- on a stupid test like me. I promise it!

"You keep on bein a good girl, you hear me?"

The Vandy Van. Also known as the greatest thing Vanderbilt ever thought of. It's basically just public transportation just for Vanderbilt students that runs between the hours of 5 pm and 5 am every night. For most people, it's so they don't die walking home drunk from the Frats. But for me? So I don't die walking home alone from late night practicing. Sober.

Anyway, last night I jumped on the Vandy Van at, oh 5:30ish, to go do some practicing before I met some friends. I ALMOST MISSED THE BLUE VAN so I had to run super fast. The nice driver, Ms. Stevens, waited for me, and I climbed on, plotted myself on the very first row, and said, huffing and puffing, "Th-- (breath. breath) Thank (cough, breath, cough) you (more coughing and breathing)!!!"

She proceeded to look at me through her little rear view mirror and said to me, in her thick, Southern, black woman accent (the best kind, btw),

"I've NEVER seen you before!! Do you have an ID??"
"Yes, ma'am!" (and then I showed her my lovely student ID)
"Well! I have never seen you before!! I have worked here 13 years and I have never seen you before!"
"Well, I mean, I am a freshman!"
"I know, but I know ALL of the freshman. (just so you know, there are 1600 of us....) I'm the famous vandy van driver, Ms. Stevens. You've probably heard of me before."
PAUSE. Please keep reading this in your best thick, Southern, black woman accent. It makes it way better.
CONTINUE.
"Oh, yes, ma'am! I've heard of you before! You're the one who pulls over to the side of the road to pick up drunk students lyin on the side of the road in the middle of the night!"
"Yeah, you better believe that's me!! I have never seen you before!!"
"Well, I don't drink, you see, and I ain't on the bus, drunk, in the middle of the night, after comin from the Frats."
"You don't drink?? Oh, you are a rare breed!! I am SO glad I met you!! You stay that way!! I am SO glad I met you!! You know, I raised triplets, and they were always studious in college, and they never drank none either. You know, they're all dentists in California now. That's why I have white teeth. And you know, they's the best kids. Oh, they're my pride and joy!! I love those kids with all my heart! And, you know, they's rollin in the DOUGH over their in California, them bein dentists and all. Oh, they's just the best kids!!
"Well, you know, Ms. Stevens, you raised 'em!! You musta raised 'em pretty good if they turned out so good!"
"Me and my husband, we put our ALL into those kids! They told us when they were 8 years old they wanted to be dentists and we put our ALL in helpin them be just that. We taught them how to clean up, and everything! We raised them from the ground up, those kids. And you know, I tell them, that when they do their dentistry over there in California, they needa give their services to people who can't afford none, cause you know, we gotta give back in our world. We need help those that can't help themselves none! It's our responsibility!!"
"Well, Ms. Stevens, I think you're doin just that when you help poor drunk kids on the side of the road! You're helpin them out when they can't help themselves!!"
"You know, when I see them out there, I think 'That is someone's child out there!!' And then I go and help them, cause, you know, I love my kids with all my heart! And, you know, I go through 8 pairs of tennis shoes a year because of those kids pukin' up all over 'em when I try to help them get in the van! But, it's worth it, cause I's gettin those kids home safe."
"Ms. Stevens, that is so good of you! You're helpin those kids so much!"
*then we got to my stop*
"What's your name again? I have never seen you before!! I am so glad I met you! You made my night! I hope I see you again! You keep on bein a good girl, you hear me? And you don't drink none and you be safe, you hear me?"
"I'm Emily! And yes, ma'am! Thank you, ma'am! You have a good night!"

I seriously couldn't stop smiling. Guys, there are good people everywhere. People that will sacrifice 8 pairs of tennis shoes a year. People that'll drag drunk 19 year-olds into their van so they get home safe. There are good people everywhere. And you know what else? You don't gotta do much to share what you believe in. All you gotta do is live it. And people will notice. She noticed my decision not to drink, simply because I don't drink. I noticed her amazing spirit, simply because of how she spends her weekends: drivin the Vandy Vans.

Don't underestimate the power of example. People are watching.
And always, always, always, believe in good people everywhere.

It's story time, ladies and gentlemen.

Here I am, yes, just 6 days after my most recent post. Better than a month, eh? S/O to Henry boy for tellin me to write tonight.

I would like to tell y'all a story. I vividly remember the day when my Mom, my little sister, Caroline, and I were at Kohler's grocery store. Yes, once upon a time, it was called Kohler's, not Ridleys. Anyway, I remember this one day we were going to do our shopping, and right as we walked in the doors on the right hand side of the store, my mom asked Caroline and I what we wanted to be when we grew up. My response?

A cowgirl.

The Strawberry Day's rodeo. Remember? Pleasant Grove City put on the Strawberry Day's rodeo every year and I remember going when I was, oh, probably about 7 years old, and looking at the trees and the sky behind the rodeo grounds and telling my Dad that they looked like a picture, not real life. They looked so still and I thought for sure the whole scene was one giant photograph. And I remember eating bowl after bowl of Strawberries and cream and wondering what could be better in the world. And then I remember the girls on the horses. Oh, the girls on the horses! They had their hats and their boots and their flags! They rode around and around the circle on their horses carrying their flags. And that was the moment I decided that I was destined to become a cowgirl.

11 years later, here I am at Vanderbilt University studying Violin Performance at the Blair School of Music. I spend a good 14 hours a day at Blair, practicing for, I dunno, 6 or 7 of those hours, taking classes for 3 of them, and studying/eating my meals/accidentally (or not accidentally) falling asleep on the actually quite comfortable benches on the second floor. Or just the floor of my practice room, whatever is closest.

So basically my whole 7 year old fantasy of becoming a cowgirl is gone, right? Disappeared. Vanished. Completely extinct.

FALSE.

May I present to you... (drum roll please)....

MY COWGIRL BOOTS.

I, Emily Richards, have OFFICIALLY fulfilled my life long, or at least since-I-was-like-7-years-old long, dream of becoming a cowgirl. 

(No, I don't ride horses. No, I don't carry flags around circles at rodeos. And, NO, I don't fiddle. But, I have my boots and that is most definitely enough to make it official.)

But for real, those are my boots on my feet. And they're genuine leather and they smell like it, too. And I'm wearing them home on the plane ride tomorrow, which is terribly exciting. 

Also, I have another story. Who's ready? Anyone remember story time in the second grade? And everyone racing for the front row of the story time carpet? Well, race, my little kiddies, cause it's story time. 

Mom pulls me into the living room at the beginning of the summer to ask me a question. She sits me down and says, "Do you really wanna do Salute to Youth or not? Cause it's gonna be a lot of work, especially with two auditions, but I know you can do really well if you decide to put the work in. It's up to you."

And I was like, yeah, I wanna do it. 

But, my insides were like, "WHAT are you getting yourself INTO?! This is your LAST SUMMER AS A CHILD. You need to enjoy it and be lazy like kids right out of high school are supposed to do. You need to get 8 snow cones every day and stay out late every night of the week and go to Peaks 4 days of the week and Lagoon at LEAST twice a week, and if you can fit it in, MAYBE practice. You need to have FUN!"

But instead I was like, yeah, I wanna do it. 

And, I really did. I was terrified, though, cause Salute to Youth is such a long shot, and so many kids audition for just 6 maybe 7 spots on the concert to perform with the Utah Symphony. And I would have to make 2 solid recordings, one by myself, and one with my trio and I absolutely HATE recordings. And then, if I made the first cut, I would have to go out onstage twice for 2 nerve racking auditions. Not to mention the double amount of hours I would have to put in for 2 auditions and driving to and from Salt Lake a million times a week and the never ending coachings and lessons and rehearsals and never, ever, ever stopping. 

But even with all these thoughts, I was like, yeah, I wanna do it. 

So, that day, I told my insides to ZIP IT because I was in for one HECK of a summer. And every day I decided to do my best and every day I prayed a million prayers and every day I did stupid, slow intonation work, which really isn't stupid, it's really quite effective. And every day I practiced as much as I could and every day I woke up as early as my little body would let me to get stuff done. And every day I would try to eat healthy so I could have as much energy as I could and every day I would try and try and try. And every day I reminded myself that even if I didn't win and even if I got cut after the first round, and even if I lost my last chance to perform in front of the UTAH SYMPHONY, that I was going to do it, cause it's what felt right and it's what I needed, for one reason or another, to do.

Don't worry, that's not the end of the story, but in reality, it kind of is, because that? That was the best part of all. The "HEAVENLY FATHER. I CAN'T PRACTICE TODAY. HELP MEEEEEE"'s. And the carrots. You know, carrots may give you energy and all, but they're so bland. And the the drone of my tuner yelling at me to PLAY THAT STUPID D IN TUNE. Cliche, I know, but I'm a different person after this summer. I still remember sitting on the couch next to my Dad the night before live auditions and tellin him, "Dad, it's okay if I don't win, cause this process has been the best thing. I've learned so much. Tomorrow is just the icing on the cake." And, it's true. 

It's about the little moments. The millions of little moments. It ain't about winning. It's about the process, the journey, the adventure. So, as Matthew would say, "Words of Wisdom from Emily!!" (in a completely sarcastic tone of voice, might I add. He secretly loves my deep thoughts, he's just too intimidated to admit it, that's all.) I would say to make the process count. Try as hard as your little heart will let you every day. Give it your all. You will feel the rewards in your heart and you'll see it all around you.

I promise it. 

P.S. To finish the end of the story, my trio and I won and y'all should come hear us perform the first movement of the Beethoven Triple Concerto with the Utah Symphony on Tuesday, October 1st, at Abravanel Hall in downtown SLC. Also, I couldn't be more excited. It's some seriously good tasting icing, let me tell ya.

Peace.

Welcome to Nashville, y'all::

I am absolutely the worst "blog updater" that ever was. I'm determined to be better.

Where do I begin?? I've been in Nashville for one month and 6 days. It feels like I've been here a year, but at the same time, I feel like I arrived yesterday. Nashville is the place for me, and I feel like God has prepared me for 18 years to claim my little spot in the Music City of the country. I love this place with all my heart. As in, the WHOLE thing.

I came here to Nashville to study Violin Performance with the one and only Connie Heard. Also known as the most loving, nurturing, yet the most "I expect you to have learned all of the violin repertoire you've ever heard of, including all etudes and caprices, by your next lesson. Which is tomorrow."-esque person in the world. She expects a lot, let me tell ya. But you'll never know how far you can go, unless you push the limits. She's pushin, but I'm pushin, too, and I'm getting better, and that the greatest news of all. Not only a better violinist, but a better musician. Not only a better musician, but a better student. Not only a better student, but a better friend, a better listener, a better worker, a better daughter, a better sister, a better disciple, a better everything. This whole music business is teachin me a lot. It's also teaching me that I love violin, and music, more than I ever knew. This is me. I love the violin. Guys, I LOVE the violin.

So, I came for violin, right? Right, but I'm one of 5 people in the class of 2017 that did. Let me tell you what the rest of 'em came for.

So, Vanderbilt. Vanderbilt is ranked #17 on "National University Rankings" and is also known as the Harvard of the South. The average ACT score of kids coming to Vanderbilt is a 34. As in, you miss like 5 questions on the ENTIRE TEST. Let me tell you a secret. I did NOT score a 34 on the ACT. Conversations between other students and me go a little something like this:

Me: So what are you studying?
The Average Joe of Vanderbilt: Oh, I'm double majoring in NeuroScience and BioChemical Engineering with an emphasis in Mathematics with a double minor in Education Studies of the Early 1800's in Great Britain and Cello Performance along with being on the Pre-Med track. I'm also on a football scholarship. What about you?
Me: Um. I play the violin.
My good friend Joe: .....................oh! Cool!

Okay, okay. Maybe that was a slight exaggeration. But I'm telling you, it's SLIGHT. These people are insane. We'll put it this way. I came for the violin program. They came for the Top 20 school. I came for my lovely violin teacher. They came for the Harvard of the South.

So basically, I'm a little..... well.... different. Not to mention I'm 5'2'', white, from Utah, and Mormon. (wait. so you, like, don't drink ANY coffee? welll... nope. nope, i don't.)

So, yeah, I may be the minority in more ways than 1. Or in more ways than 800. Either works. But honestly, it's kind of the best thing. People notice the minority. They ask questions. They ask why I'm here for music. They ask if I fiddle (UM. NO.). They ask if I'm going out to party this weekend on Frat Row. When they hear my response, they ask, "Why not?!?!" They ask where the "Mormon Community" is. They ask why I go to the temple with my YSA branch. They ask why I don't drink coffee, they ask why I don't cuss every time I miss a note in orchestra, or stub my toe on the sidewalk. They ask, and ask, and ask, and I tell, and tell, and tell. You know, I heard a little while ago, "The best way to share the gospel is to live it."And I, a little 5'2'', white, Mormon girl from Utah, can boldly attest to that. People notice the peculiarity of this whole Mormon thing, and the best part is? They respect, admire, and commend it.

....which leads me to my next point. Church. "I may be small but wherever I go, the grass grows greener still." Yes, that is the Church in Nashville. We're small, but we're strong. We're a little family. My testimony, and forgive this terribly cheesy analogy, was a tiny little sprout when I left for college, and now it's a flower blossoming into life!! Okay, that was way cheesier than necessary, but I'm bein serious. My testimony is flourishing here. Every time I read my scriptures, or say a prayer, or go to church, or go to institute, or tell someone about Jesus, or decide to follow the Spirit, I literally feel inside of me an anchor getting a little more grounded. I feel myself being devoted more fully to God and His work and I feel like I'm one tiny, little step, yet a step nonetheless, to the celestial kingdom. Like I said, the church is small here. When it's small, you're big. And when you're big, you're not only what YOU depend on, but you're what a lot of people depend on. People look to you to help 'em out, to be an example, to be a witness of Christ. And that's really what it's all about: helpin other people get to Christ. Whether they be the kid in your music theory class, or your visiting teachee, YOU are HERE to HELP CHRIST TELL EVERYONE ABOUT HIM. Kind of cool, right? Right.

Sadly, there are lots of people that don't know about Christ, or just plain don't like Him, but whoever they are, it doesn't really matter, cause in the end, they're a lot like you. They're just tryin to do this whole "life" thing, too. So you keep bein Christ's little helper, and they'll keep doin whatever they do and y'all just love each other for what each other is worth. Which is a lot. Once you decide to love everyone despite differences, man, you find a lot of great people.

Lots of those great people I like to call my friends here at Vanderbilt. I'm meeting some of the greatest people here, guys. People like Liz, and Haley, and Mary Grace, and Henry boy, and Matthew, and Ben, and Melissa, and Allie, and Han, and Imani. Every single one of 'em knows something I don't. And every single one of 'em can share with me something that can change me. Every single person you come in contact with can have an impact if you let them. I love my people here.

At college, this is what I do. I wake up. I try to get up early every day, but sometimes it's all I can do to grab the banana on my desk and chuck it at my alarm clock hoping it pushes snooze to give me a few extra minutes of sleep. And yes this really did happen, and yes it totally worked. Boo yeah!! Anyway, I wake up, I go through my morning routine, I got to the music school, I practice, I go to class, I practice, I study in one of my two favorite spots in the music library, I practice, I eat lunch, I got to chamber, I go to orchestra, I practice a little bit more, I eat dinner, I study a little bit more, I go through my nightly routine, I crawl (literally. crawl.) into bed and I'm asleep in approximately .7 seconds. This is college life as a violin performance major, and I couldn't be happier.

I couldn't be happier. (Unless, of course, I could live 100% on M&M's, but unfortunately, that's not the case, so I just try to deal.) The college life suits me well.

There ain't nowhere I'd rather be. Till next time, y'all.

(p.s. I just ordered cowgirl boots yesterday. also know as, I'm the happiest girl in the whole world.)