Conference Craft Run Down

Hey friends! 

 The stomach flu hit our house a couple of days ago and there's not a chance in the world that I get all of the blogging done that I was planning to this week. Booo. 

 I know that Gen Conf crafts take a bit of planning/buying materials, etc...so I decided to compile a list of our favs quickly here for you! 

 Here is a list of crafts that we've tried and loved - along with a Pinterest board I've saved all of the tutorials to!

  Salt Dough! 

 -We love making this at least twice a year for Conference...but it also comes out at Christmas time to make ornaments, on boring rainy days, etc. Grab some food coloring and you're off to the races with endless creative possibilities! 

Easter Egg Suncatchers!

 -We did these this week. Easy, inexpensive. Perfect quiet craft. We colored them with Sharpies (older kids), acrylic paint (stains clothing - so wear play clothes), and also did cut up tissue paper squares with Elmer's glue (older kids). Love love these. They look so pretty in our windows! 

Prayer Rocks!

 -We love doing the traditional "PRAY"-er rock style, but we've also done extras with happy, friendly words and pictures. We put them outside on our front walk. You can find river rocks on Amazon, but I've found that they're significantly cheaper if you go to a craft store like Michaels (or even the craft department at WalMart) instead of shipping them. Paint pens are easy to find on Amazon! 

Popsicle Stick Treasure Boxes!

-My kids LOVE these. You can put them together using Modge Podge or hot glue (you decide what works best for your kids' ages). You can either buy the pre-dyed rainbow sticks, or use the plain sticks and paint them afterward. We've decorated these with beads and glitter afterward, too, or lined the inside with felt. You can tie this in to Gen Conf with the scripture about storing up our treasure in heaven. 

Tin Foil Hearts! 

 -I love the scripture about Christ engraving His love for us on His palms and us engraving our love for Him on the tablets of our hearts. We did a quick chat about that during a song between talks and then handed out the hearts for our kids to decorate. We used the back of paintbrushes to etch the designs. There was a bit of a learning curve in not tearing the foil. but luckily foil is easily replaced. My kids loved writing words and drawing designs that reminded them of God's love for them and their love for God (mostly in the form of things they're grateful for and people in their lives who they love!). 

Magnets! 

 -These are always a favorite. They're a little more time-intensive and require me to be very hands-on, but it probably would be easier with fewer kids. You can either draw pictures or use pretty designed paper for these - my kids love drawing their own designs. It's so fun to make magnets for our own fridge, and make extras for Grandparents or neighbors!

Journals!

 -I've found that my kids are much more likely to take notes if they like whatever they're writing on/in! We've made Gen Conf notebooks in several different ways - usually in the day or two before conference. It's a fun craft to get them excited about taking notes! We give treats for notes...the rule is if you take three notes, you earn a candy at the end of the talk! The notes can be whatever they want - part of a story, words they heard, a picture of the speaker, etc. I've ordered notebooks from Amazon before (click here) to decorate, or we've made them out of boxes or cereal boxes (like on the Pinterest board I linked above). 

  

 **This conference I ordered these absolutely adorable and practical kid workbooks (from Work and Wonder) from Deseret Book's website. They're $15/ea. I can't even explain how awesome these are. Click here to score your own! I'll let you guys know if they make a difference in our note taking at all...**

Puppets!

-The picture I posted on my IG about this blog post shows the cutest little puppets! We ordered the kit from Amazon for $13. They're adorable, SUPER easy...my kids basically did these themselves. One kit makes eight puppets - and the possibilities for creativity are endless. You can hot glue these OR use the little glue dots that come in the kit! We ended up with lots of extra pieces left over after we made these guys - which means we could make accessories or pretend food for our puppets. Highly recommend! Link here.

Peg People!

 - My kids love painting families of peg people! This is the pack we bought on Amazon. I recommend painting these with acrylic paint (play-clothes only! they stain!), but Sharpies also work. I've found that spending a bit of time painting peg people and then doing a different craft while the first layer dries keeps my kids from getting super bored with any single craft. By the time they've wrapped up something else, their peg people are ready for final touches (googly eyes, yarn hair, etc). These peg people are pretty small, but you could spring for larger ones if you care to! This is a craft my kids have played with for months after conference!

Happy Conference crafting, friends!! xo

   

Gen Conf Sugar Cube Temples!

Hey friends!

For the last several years, I've collected (and created) some easy craft ideas that help keep my babes quiet and reverent during General Conference. I thought it might be nice to share some of them with you all as we approach the April sessions - just in case you need help containing the craziness of children during conference, too 🧡 

My kids love Conference - and my hope is that as they get older, they'll transition from excitement over treats and crafts to excitement over feeling the spirit. (I'll check in in about a decade and let you know how it works out for us...)

DISCLAIMER: I'm not a professional blogger - I'm a very busy Mom of six. You're going to have to forgive my lack of amazing professional pics here, folks. Please see my very unprofessional home video of this specific craft at the end of the post haha. You're welcome!

I'll be posting as many of our crafts as I can before conference rolls around in a couple of weeks - starting wiiiiith...::drum rolllll:::

Sugar Cube Temples

This is my kids' fav craft we do at Gen Conf time. Is it because they love engineering their very own temples because they are so very righteous? Or is it because they love having a delicious supply of sugar cubes in their bedroom room for the six months following GC when they get to build another one..? The world may never know...

In any case, they love it and it keeps them quietly entertained and engaged for at least a few talks.

Supplies needed:

-sugar cubes! (duh)  // You can get them in the baking aisle at any grocery store. I usually get each kid two boxes. You can get more or less depending on how big you feel like building them.

-glue! // I've found that Elmer's glue works the best - but BEWARE...sugar cubes dissolve if they get too wet! see below for more info... we've tried Modge Podge, hot glue, glue sticks, etc...white craft glue works best!

-a surface to build on! // We've used everything from paper plates to cardboard boxes to foam board. 

-decorations! // The first couple of years we did this, we kept it very simple with no extra decorations - just sugar cubes on paper plates. The kids love this craft so much, though, that we've gotten more and more creative with it lately - see below for more. 

Directions:

1. Plan out how large you want your temple to be. Grab your building surface and decide how many cubes you're going to use for the perimeter. For younger kids, I've found that marking a square or rectangle out on your building surface with a pencil helps them from building wonky/unstable walls. They can just follow your outline!

2. Pour glue into a bowl or onto a plate and dip! Lightly dip each sugar cube square into the glue and place it on your building surface. *LIGHTLY DIP is the key phrase here...if you submerge your entire sugar cube in glue it will slowly dissolve! Ack! We tried using paintbrushes to paint the glue on one year and it worked for a minute, but inevitably the kids got tired of it and went back to dunking. Just do whatever works for you!

3. Stack your cubes! You must hold the sugar cubes for a few seconds after you place them beside/on top of each other so they bond together - it might take a minute to find your best sugar/glue ratio for making them stick. The good news is that your learning curve will be accompanied by sticky and sweet mistakes! (...even if they get a little glue in their mouths with the sugar,  Elmer's is nontoxic, right?? haha...it's fine...) 

*My younger kids don't add a roof - they're just not coordinated enough to manage the drying times or build high enough walls. So their temples look more like forts, but it's cool. They'll be stoked if you're stoked! My older kids leave spaces for windows and doors, build steeples and separate rectangles of sugar cubes to add (after they've dried) as roofs!  

                                    For parents of super little kids, you're done! That's it!
                                         OR for parents looking to keep things simple? DONE! The end!

For everyone else:

4. Make it beautiful! As we've grown to love this craft, we've added the following to our process:

-paint: before we tried any of the other ideas listed below, we got out some paint and painted grass and flowers around our temples on the paper plates we built them on. It's a fun way to finish off the project. You could also START the project by painting the grounds, too! That would probably be even easier!

-mini landscaping: you can buy a pack of trees, bushes, flowers and rocks on Amazon. DM or comment here for the link and I'll find you the ones I buy! We stick them on using hot glue.

-modeling clay angel Moroni toppers: this part helps the craft absorb more time and adds a new tactile component. Just when my kids are getting sick of sticking sugar cubes together, it's time to bust out the modeling clay and they're reengaged in a snap.

-fake grass: I purchased a roll of fake grass last conference and I wish I had been filming their faced when I brought it out haha. They were SO EXCITED that their temples were going to look like they were actually ON temple grounds! They loved it.

-let your kids pick their fav temple and print out a picture for them to use as they build! I have dreams of doing this craft still when my kids are bigger (traditions are my favorite!), and I imagine making it competitive (timed temple building) or turning it into a guessing game (whoever can guess which temple the others made wins a prize) or whatever!

Unrequited Love and Remembering What I Know

You know what hurts? Unrequited love.

I remember my first experience with that kind of hurt happened in third grade.

(haha! I actually just snorted laughing at how ridiculous that is! Oh heavens.)

Derek Simper.

He cared more about baseball at recess than he did about marrying me.

(actually I'm not even sure he knew who I was in the third grade. so, in all fairness maybe he WOULD have wanted to marry me if we had, in fact, been properly introduced.)

(see? this is why I blog. I wasn't expecting to make peace with that this morning, at yet here I am.)

Anyways.

It really hurt.

I wanted him to want to talk to me and chase me at recess and think I had pretty hair and tell me my backpack was cool.

He did none of those things. (rude.)

Lest you think that youthful experience with unrequited love was a solitary one confined only to my elementary school years...pick any of my older sister's boyfriends and I promise I felt that with them (except for the few that I ended up dating after her. I'm not sure why. Maybe I just was totally incapable of originality as a teenager? Maybe I just didn't trust my own judgement, so I just decided to like whoever she did? I'm not sure haha but I'm sure it was insanely annoying to her! Sorry, Nik!).

College was the same. Lots of dudes I liked didn't like me.

(who are these men?! did they even have eyeballs in college?!)

You know what I WASN'T expecting, though..?

The weirdness that is loving your children more than they love you.

Especially when that weirdness comes as a result of blending a family.

I had kind of hoped that my earlier blog on this subject would be the beginning and end of my need to talk to about this. Like the summer would just resolve all of the issues involved and it would be put to rest forever and we'd be seamlessly blended by the time the school year started again.

Wouldn't that have been lovely?

I think so, too.

Last week one of the kids was chatting with Violet and the conversation turned to wishing things were the way they were before.

'Before' meaning...before we were a family.

I wasn't there for the convo, so I can't say for certain what exactly was said...but the overall sentiment was that things were somehow better before.

(for clarity's sake: we just had a baby a few weeks ago and everyone is exhausted and running on fumes. I get why this conversation would be coming out in light of how the last month or so has gone. new babies mean the older kids don't get as much attention or exciting parent time...because the parents are usually in survival mode.)

Even knowing all of that ↑, though...hearing that the kids somehow prefer the way that it used to be over how awesome it is now? It made my chest hurt.

I get it. I really do. But it still really, really hurt.

It made me wish for time to fast forward ten years. In ten years from now, we'll have been a family for almost 11 years! Whoa! Hopefully I won't be blogging blogs on this subject anymore (enter nervous smiley emoji with the sweat drop on forehead). We'll have our oldest heading off the college (oooooook I had to take a break for a minute to cry postpartum hormonal tears of sadness thinking about the fourth grader leaving...), and Ava will be rioiweohtoheghuehoeiowiowrqiqhqh

Ok I can't type about how big our kids will be in 10 years because I'm crying too much and I have to finish this blog before Ava needs to eat again.

YOU GET THE PICTURE.

In ten years we'll have had a lot of time to BE together as a family.

But how do I make sure my heart doesn't hurt so much in the next few years of blending that I close off..? Sometimes it feels like I WANT to close off...step back somehow. Protect myself from the uncomfortable comments and unintentionally hurtful comparisons.

I'm not the way that it was. I'm the way it is now.

...and that's hard sometimes - for all of us.

****

When I first found out I was pregnant, I thought about canceling my Time Out for Women/Girls event in Sacramento this last weekend. I knew I'd have a five week old, and that I would be recovering from a c-section (and that recovering from my first c-section was an absolute nightmare). As I prayed about it, though, I felt like everything would be ok...that I should still do it.

I didn't feel particularly nervous about it until a few weeks ago when Ava first came. I looked and felt like I'd been hit by a bus and I wasn't particularly excited about getting up on stage in that condition haha. Again I prayed - and again I felt reassurance that everything would be ok...so I packed up my babe and husband and headed to CA on Friday morning.

The event was wonderful. I only missed my cues to be on stage twice (ha! ugh!!) (in my defense, I was nursing backstage for the second one and was truly caught off guard. my bad, guys.) and even though I was so, unbelievably tired, I felt so grateful to be back. Time Out feels like home in so many ways to me now - and I didn't realize how badly I needed to connect with that feeling.

As I was mulling all of the blending-family/unrequited-love-issues over in my head this morning,  I thought of Time Out for Women this weekend in Sacramento. I thought about standing on that stage in front of hundreds of girls (and thousands of women) and testifying that our worth lies in who we are - not what we do (or don't do). I thought about testifying about God's timing...that our hurts and pains and struggles are meant to SANCTIFY us, to perfect us...not to destroy us.

And then I thought about Elder Boyd K Packer teaching us that "a testimony is...found in the bearing of it."

I suddenly felt like my being at Time Out was just for me this weekend. I needed to remember those things. I needed to reconnect with that testimony that I learned and earned through years of struggle and questioning.

Even when I want my kids to love me as much as I love them - to want me and choose me and love me...but they don't? I still have (and will always have) God's love - and that is more than enough. It's ok for them to take their time. It's ok for it to not happen all at once. I am worthy of love, I am good enough, I am loved and seen and known by a God who chooses me every single day.

Even when the struggle of learning how to be a mom to all of my kiddos and this new baby (and try to continue building relationships with new family members and maintain relationships with my original family members and friends and callings and etc etc) feels overwhelming and like I'm failing WAY more than I'm succeeding...

Even when the weight of that failure feels heavy and I want to run away...

Even when all of those things are true/present - I believe that God's timing is perfect, and that all of these things are working together for my good (Romans 8:28).

The hurt? The struggle? It doesn't have to have a quick, easy resolution.

I know how to handle struggle.

And I bet you do, too.

****

I'm putting this blog out in to the universe today because I needed to remember something I already knew. I was forgetting to connect with what I'd already knew; and remembering feels like taking a breath of fresh air. So...maybe...hopefully...reading this will make you take a second to ask yourself what it is that YOU might need to reconnect with. What are the truths you have already learned in your life (that maybe you've forgotten) that could help you face your challenges today?

Sometimes all we want is to see the light at the end of the tunnel, right? To know the end of the struggle is coming soon?

I once read something really profound about the light at the end of the tunnel and wanted to leave it here at the end of this blog to wrap things up (so I googled it, duh). Before I found it, though, I came across these gems that I want to share first:

-The light at the end of the tunnel isn't an illusion; the tunnel is.
-The light at the end of the tunnel is your life; it's the tunnel that's temporary.
-I stopped waiting for the light at the end of the tunnel and lit it up myself.

and my favorite:

-The light at the end of the tunnel might be an oncoming train.

(hahahaha just dark enough without being tooooo dark, right? ...right, guys..? ...guys?)

When I finally DID find the quote - I realized it actually doesn't reference a tunnel at all (oops) but it's still awesome:

"I'm not waiting for the sun to shine; the light, it comes from within me." - xan oku

Remember what you know.

Remember that the light comes from within you (a gift from God) when you find yourself in that deep, dark tunnel.

Stay strong, my friends. Have the best Monday. ♡

Outrun the Rain

Writing a song is an interesting thing.

I wrote Outrun the Rain as a prospective track for my second album - What Heaven Feels Like. It got cut in the final rounds of track choices and I was super sad about it. (I was thrilled when I pitched it for Believer and it made it all the way to the album!)

For anyone who doesn't remember what that phase of my life was like (when I was writing for What Heaven Feels Like): I was living in a tiny duplex with my ex-husband who was working two dead-end jobs and hating every moment of it. We were living paycheck to paycheck with a newborn who never slept, was sick and screamed constantly. I remember feeling so stuck...my marriage was struggling, my baby was struggling, and it felt like my life was one, endless string of challenges with no ending in sight.

My team at Deseret Book had listened to my first round of demos and came back with the critique that I needed to focus on writing "happier, more upbeat" music haha.

I cried after that phone call.

I didn't feel happy or upbeat at that point in my life. I felt tired...so, unbelievably tired...in my body, my heart...my spirit.

I just wanted reprieve. I wanted rest. I wanted someone to come and tell me it was all going to work out and everything would be just fine - because I really couldn't see how that was possible.

(I wasn't wrong, either...I mean, things got a lot messier and harder before they got better. But I digress.)

As I sat up one night with Violet - who back then hardly ever slept (I wish I were exaggerating right now) - I felt such a desperation for sunrise. When morning came everyday, I could ask for help. I could call someone; I could feel more like a human instead of driving myself insane searching the internet for ways to calm my poor screaming baby all night long. I desperately, desperately wished and prayed for sunrise.

But it didn't matter HOW HARD I wished for the morning to come, though...it would only come when it was time. I couldn't rush it. I couldn't make it happen a moment sooner or later, not with all the prayers and wishing in the world.

That's how this song came into existence. As I considered the metaphor behind my prayers for light to come, the imagery for the first verse came into my mind:

You can't rush the sunrise....
The brilliant color through the grey.
No matter how you ache for light...
You can't rush the sunrise.

I remember feeling quiet when I wrote that. I wouldn't say that I felt defeated...but I felt resolved. I felt certain that God was going to keep handing me difficult things until I learned whatever lesson it was that He was trying to teach me. A part of me had decided to stop fighting against life - I didn't want to feel frustrated and confused anymore. I felt acceptance - a sort of "Thy will be done" mentality permeated my heart.

The chorus came to me next:

You can't outrun the rain...
So lift your arms open wide.
Feel the cleansing that comes through the pain...
You can't outrun the rain.

(have you guys noticed that I write a lot of songs about/with water?? It's interesting that water can drown things, take life away...but it also GIVES life, it makes things grow. It cleanses, purifies, shapes even the hardest materials. Anyways. Water is cool. The end.)

I knew in my heart that there was no easy way out of the storm I was facing in my life right then. There was no easy path.

In my mind, I could see my heart being polished like a stone in a river. I could see myself standing in a torrential downpour with my face turned heavenward and my arms outstretched in complete acceptance of God's will in my life. The acceptance wouldn't take the pain away, I knew...but it would turn that pain into something useful...something helpful, positive even.

The rest of the words came less immediately than those two pieces of the song did. They took work to carve out of my mind/heart. The last verse came as a prayer...something I wish so deeply to believe more fervently:

So push through the ache...
Light waits around the bend.
He'll give more than He'll ever take,
so trust in His time, my friend.
Just trust in His time, my friend.

The 'friend' I was referring to was actually me. The last verse was written as a reminder to myself that I want to have hope that God makes things right; that He blesses us beyond measure in His own time...even when it's hard to keep that hope alive.

For what it's worth...for anyone who is currently in the middle of an emotional/spiritual hurricane in life...after many years of struggle and prayer and waiting, I can testify that I've seen God in action when it comes to compensatory blessings. I don't just HOPE that God will bless me beyond what I can even imagine - I'm living it. I am living proof that God hears prayers in His own time, and can reach down and help us change our lives. There is a plan. There is a path. It can take a LONG time for everything to fall into place...but oh, when it does...the happiness is almost indescribable.

I'm not saying my life is perfect - it's crazy and wild and unexpected and full of surprises (good and some not-as-good). What I AM saying, though, is that I finally feel like I'm where I'm supposed to be, sharing my life with who I'm meant to share it with, doing what I'm meant to be doing.

Jon always tells me that I'm 'refined' (haha stop laughing! anyone who knows me personally is imagining me telling fart jokes and laughing at YouTube videos of cats running into sliding glass doors. #superrefined) I think what he means is that the last decade of struggle wasn't a waste. He can see and feel the benefit of how those challenges shaped my heart; how they changed the way I think, the way I feel, the way I am. I'm so grateful for a partner who chooses to see the best in me - as imperfect as I am.

Ultimately, Outrun the Rain is a song about hope - and finding peace in the midst of our storms, instead of continually running away from them.

Here are the lyrics:

You can't rush the sunrise
The brilliant color through the grey
No matter how you ache for light
You can't rush the sunrise

The waves crash when they will
You can't keep stars in the sky
You try to stop them but
They will still - come
Crashing down when they will

You can't outrun the rain
So lift your arms open wide
and Feel the cleansing that comes through the pain
You can't outrun the rain

Cold and winter they come
Deaf to summer's dying cries
For good or ill, we pray for the sun
But cold and winter still come

We beg for time to stand still
Or plead for time to fly
But eons past and future pass
In perfect time til
The One who created time wills

You can't outrun the rain
So lift your arms open wife
and Feel the cleansing that comes through the pain
You can't outrun the rain

So push through the ache
Light waits around the bend
He'll give more than He'll ever take
So trust in His time, my friend
Just trust in His time, my friend

You can't outrun the rain
So lift your arms open wife
and Feel the cleansing that comes through the pain
You can't outrun the rain

xo.

Want to watch the lyric video?
Here you go:

Broken and Beautiful

I realized that the lyrics for Broken and Beautiful aren't available on the internet anywhere.

That, my friends, just won't do!!

So here they are.
(the story behind the song is below the lyrics...)

Broken and Beautiful

Calee Reed and Aaron Edson

When the light shines through me

All the broken pieces

Reflect His light

It's a beautiful sight

All the scars and spaces

Where the battles hurt me

Let more light in

Flood me with Him

You may see

Flaws in me

I'm not perfect

But I was never meant to be

Keep your view

of your perfect world

I was never meant to be that girl...

Broken

And I am beautiful

He'll use each piece

To make a masterpiece

From the ashes

He's creating me

I'm broken

Broken and beautiful

Every shade and color

All fit together

Each break designed

With me in mind

Every brilliant facet

Tells a different story

In every broken dream

His love is seen

Keep your view

of your perfect world

I was never meant to be that girl...

Broken

And I am beautiful

He'll use each piece

To make a masterpiece

From the ashes

He's creating me

I'm broken

Broken and beautiful

I'll give Him what's left of my shattered heart

He'll piece it together brand new

And each empty space that was damaged and dark

Will light up with His love and truth

Yes, that's what His healing can do...

Broken and I am beautiful

He'll use each piece

To make a masterpiece

From the ashes

He's creating me

I'm broken

Broken and beautiful

I wrote this song with Aaron Edson - the same person who produced The Waiting Place. Besides being fabulously talented, he's been through his fair share of difficulties...and I knew that sitting down with him to write a song about brokenness would yield something great. 

We played around with several ideas - but kept coming back to brokenness being a beautiful thing. Stained glass was a big part of that conversation - the facets and colors and each piece of glass contributing something different and beautiful to the piece as a whole. In my mind, I could see myself sitting in a sacred space...a church, maybe...with light streaming through beautiful pieces of stained glass all around me. That mental image transformed into ME being the glass...and Christ's light streaming through all of my brokenness to reveal something glorious and whole. Not broken at all.

As a person who has spent a decent amount of time feeling broken over the last decade, the idea that God's love and plan could ultimately make a masterpiece of all of my chipped pieces and emtpy spaces feels a little unreachable sometimes. I truly believe, though, that none of us were ever MEANT to get through this life without breaking at least a little. We are MEANT to be molded, changed...and if it takes breaking to get to the place where God can create something different - more, better - out of us, then so be it.

I'm sure most of you have seen the reference to kintsugi in the music video already, but in case you haven't:

kintsugi: (Noun) To repair with gold; The art of repairing metal with gold or silver lacquer and understanding that the piece is more beautiful for having been broken.

 As I discussed the treatment for the music video with my Deseret Book team, the parallel between kintsugi and Christ's atonement (being the gold that fills all of our brokenness and holds us together) was so powerful that we couldn't see any better way to illustrate the message behind the song.

I am so grateful for all of the artistic, wonderful people who helped create the song and video...from beginning to end it was truly a labor of love.

To all of my friends who are out there spending this season of your life feeling broken...consider for a moment that maybe God hasn't abandoned you. His intention isn't to leave you as a pile of rubble and broken dreams. He is CREATING you from the ashes. He has a plan. Work hard to understand what that plan is. Be patient as He shows you where the pieces go. Believe that He loves you enough to turn all of your messes into a masterpiece. And if you forget and feel discouraged? I wrote this song to help you remember :)

xo.

"...but what if I don't like the plan?"

Most of you know that the man I married last year is a widower.

I haven't gotten into the details of how and where and when with all of you lovely humans for a few different reasons. It isn't my story to tell, number one. Number two, I have a limit to HOW open I get with my life (haha shocking, right?? I have boundaries?! who knew?!).

Anyways.

I've done my best to provide a safe emotional space for the kids concerning that loss. I know what it feels like to lose your Mom...and it sucks. If they want to talk about it? Let's. If they don't want to? Let's not. Want to cry? Ok. Want to share funny memories? Cool. Whatever comes out that day, let's just roll with it and let it be.

Losing my Mom sucked as an adult - an adult who could understand the details of how bodies and cancer work, an adult who could process grief and loss and emotionally brace myself for the high probability of losing her.

Experiencing that kind of loss as a kid??? The shock? The inability to understand the logistics of how this thing even happened? I can't even imagine.

Last week one of my bonus babes sat me down in tears. Big, heartbroken tears. She asked me why. Why did Mommy have to die? I sat there on the bed and felt distinctly like I was floating outside of my body for a moment. Am I really sitting here having this conversation with this child? What do I even say? How do I explain this when I haven't made total peace with my own loss? 

I said a silent prayer that the words God wanted me to speak would come out...and that if they didn't/couldn't, that He would communicate in unspoken peace to her heart.

We talked for a long, long time.

I shared some of my feelings about my own Mom. She shared some of hers. We talked about grief being a cycle...sometimes it feels ok, and sometimes it feels VERY NOT ok. We talked about crying and how that's healthy, and we talked about distracting ourselves from the grief and how that can be ok, too.

At the end of it all, though, she still had the question...why?

I looked her square in the eyes and knew I couldn't lie to this kid.

"I don't know why...

...only God does."

Her emotional response told me that this was not the answer she was looking for.

Bear your testimony, came the thought into my head.

About what?? I don't know enough to say anything?? I responded to the voice in my own head.

Bear your testimony, the thought came again.

I took a deep breath, opened my mouth and these words came tumbling out:

"You know what I do know? I know that God loves us more than anything...and that means that when sad or scary things happen to us - there's a reason. There's a plan."

She thought about that for a moment. "But," she said through her tears,"...what if I don't like the plan?"

I have to admit that I laughed when she said that.

"I get it," I said. "I haven't always liked the plan, either."

We talked for a few more minutes before she suddenly transitioned into chatting about school and summer and things she wants to do when the weather is sunny everyday. She bounced out of the room and it was like nothing ever happened.

*******

Fast forward to today.

I was sitting on a chair outside watching the kids on the trampoline.

The two year old came and sat on my lap.

"Mama! MAMA!" she yelled over and over again.

I was trying to listen to another kid who was telling me a story from the trampoline.

"Hang on, baby." I told her.

"CALEEEEEEE!" she squealed as she grabbed my cheeks and forced my face to look at her's.

I laughed and pulled her hands away. One of the twin boys came and sat next to me.

"She doesn't call you 'Mama' because of our other Mom. She remembers her. We show her pictures at Grandma's house and tell her that's her real Mom," he offered matter-of-factly.

My heart jumped clear up into my throat and I choked a little bit on the emotion. It felt like someone had sucker-punched me right in the stomach.

"Oh? Ok." I managed to say.

I took a deep breath and acknowledged that I had heard the rest of the story from the kid on the trampoline. I then turned my attention to the toddler who was halfway through telling me a story at a mile a minute.

I suddenly felt so tired. I tried my best to answer each child as they called out for me to watch them, or listen to their stories, or answer their questions...but I suddenly felt like a balloon that someone let all the air out of.

I thought about the late nights and early mornings transitioning that baby from crib to big girl bed. I thought of the messy snack times, the baths, the tantrums and endless kissing of ouchies. I thought about the hours Jon and I have spent talking and strategizing about each child and what they need and how to parent them the best way possible. I thought about teaching that littlest one how to talk, reading to her, singing her lullabies at night. I thought about the hard mornings with a grumpy two year old, the time outs (for me AND her haha), the negotiating shoes and clothes and yogurt flavors and nap times. I thought about all of the years of life ahead of me as a mother to not just her, but to all of those kids who were jumping happily on the trampoline. The endless school projects, worrying about whether our diets are healthy enough, praying for them at night and while they're away from me...the hours of conversation yet to be had about everything from grief to dating to the gospel to which college to choose.

I'm just the babysitter, I thought. I'll always just be their babysitter.

It isn't fair.

I chose them...and they might never choose me.

That thought brought hot, stinging tears to my eyes and I had to shift my mind away from it as quickly as possible so I didn't turn in to a huge mess right there in the back yard on the morning of the first official day of summer. Oh how that thought felt like a knife in my chest.

Then my mind shifted. I thought about the woman who carried these babies inside of her body the way I'm carrying this baby now. The way she must have worried about and loved and cared for these kids. The way she must have daydreamed about their lives and choices and who they'd grow up to be. I thought about the weight of that kind of love.

I thought about how unfair life must have felt for her as she contemplated her final few days and all of the life she was leaving behind.

"...but what if I don't like the plan..?" is the thought that came to my mind last. I could see that child's face in my mind - her big eyes full of tears.

"What if I don't like this plan..?" I thought.

I thought of what the Spirit had prompted me to share that day: "God loves us more than anything. There's a reason. There's a plan."

God loves us more than anything.

******

I'm sitting in my living room now. I'm surrounded by toys and clothes and groceries needing to be put away and hungry kids in the yard who are threatening to ransack the kitchen at any moment. The feeling of being so tired hasn't left yet. My heart feels weird and sad and I haven't decided yet whether I'm horrible and selfish or just human and figuring it all out. Maybe a combination? Haha. For the record, I don't really think I'm horrible. This is just really, REALLY hard sometimes and I don't know what on earth I'm doing most of the time except trying to love this family and be what they need and that, my friends, is a really tall order on some days.

I guess the point of this blog is to share some of the mess of my life...some of the unanswered questions - in case your life is a little messy, too, and it hurts and you feel alone. Sometimes it's nice to know that there are questions that other people have that they don't have all of the answers to. Sometimes it's nice to know that there are challenges and difficulties that follow other people around, too...that it isn't JUST you who can't figure everything out right this very second. That it's ok to only know that God loves us...and to not like the plan when it hurts.

******

For what it's worth, I do believe that God loves us more than anything - and even when that doesn't fix all of my problems or take all of the pain away, it does give me hope that someday He will make it all ok; that someday things will make sense.

If you're struggling with intense things, maybe start there...start with a testimony of God's love for you and see if it doesn't make all the difference.

xo.

Mother's Day

I'm awake and can hear my multiple children running around the living room and kitchen.

I looked across our bedroom and noticed a new, beautiful gardenia bloom just opened on my potted gardenia near the window. Gardenia's were always my Mom's favorite, and having one growing in my house always makes me think of her and smile. I miss her this morning.

My husband told me to stay in bed (he usually gets up with the kids because morning is the best sleep time for pregnant-leg-cramping-Calee) (and also because he's an actual angel masquerading as a regular human). "Don't get up!" he insisted as he walked out into the fray.

It took me a minute to remember that today is Mother's Day.

I know what the kids are doing in the kitchen, and why I need to stay in bed. They're making me breakfast in bed and I'll ruin it if I get up.

I know because they've told me that's what they always did for their Mom who lives in heaven now on Mother's Day.

My heart hurts.

My heart hurts because I love them and knowing that they might be hurting this morning hurts me.

I know that they love another Mom - a Mom who I've heard endless stories about. It's so bizarre that there is a huge part of their life that I was absent for, because I feel so connected here. Like we've always been together.

But we haven't.

I think of all of the other stepmoms/bonus moms that I know. I wonder how many of them are hurting this morning...I think about the sacrifice that is letting new children have your whole heart, while knowing that you'll never be able to have 100% of their's. Don't get me wrong - there is SO much joy, too. So much. I never considered the painful part, though...at least not until I felt it for myself.

I think of the adopted moms that I know. I think about their struggles...I think about that kind of mothering experience. I imagine it's a lot like building the connection that I have with my bonus kids...only their kids might not understand what love even is. These kids have no concept of a family. Permanence. Stability. There are so many foundational pieces to put into place before deep connectivity is even a possibility.

I think about the decade I spent wishing I were married and had children. I think about watching everyone I knew announce relationships and engagements and marriages and babies. I remember when one of the girls I used to babysit announced her engagement. It was like salt in an open wound. I think of the women my age (and older) that I know personally (or who I've met at events) who are in that space...just...waiting. Searching. Praying. Feeling the sting today.

I recently read a quote by Sheri Dew that I feel like I should share:

"Of all the words they could have chosen to define her role and her essence, both God the Father and Adam called Eve "the mother of all living" - and they did so before she ever bore a child. Like Eve, our motherhood began before we were born." -Sheri Dew (Are We Not All Mothers?)

(This talk is incredible and everyone should read it, btw.)

I'm running out of time before I have to run to speak in a sacrament meeting in Bountiful. Don't get me started on feeling like a bad Mom this morning...it's my first Mother's Day with my new kids and I totally spaced the MOTHERS DAY PROGRAM in church that's happening today. So I'll be missing it. Yes. Missing our very first one. Because I committed months ago to speaking in another ward that meets at the same time as ours. I may or may not have cried a little bit when I realized. They cried, too. I feel awful. Happy Mother's Day.

So! QUICKLY BEFORE I HAVE TO LEAVE AND THE REST OF THIS BLOG NEVER HAPPENS:

I want to put it out into the universe that I believe Sheri Dew is right. I believe that as women, we are each called to motherhood - even if the maternity part of motherhood doesn't happen to us in this life.

"While we tend to equate motherhood solely with maternity, in the Lord's language, the word 'mother' has layers of meaning. Motherhood is more than bearing children, though it is certainly that. It is the essence of who we are as women. It defines our very identity, our divine stature and nature, and the unique traits our Father gave us. Some of us, then, must find simply find other ways to mother. And all around us those who need to be loved and led." Sheri Dew

As a testament to that truth...I want to share that one of the best mothers I've ever known is a woman who was never able to have children of her own. She lived through years of grief, struggling to understand the why. You know what, though? She didn't let that heartbreak stop her from developing her own divine characteristics of motherhood. She learned to serve, to love deeply, to give of herself wholly.

That woman is now who my children will grow up calling Grandma. She chose to take on a whole slew of adult stepchildren - including myself - and grandbabies when she married my Dad after Mom passed away.

She stepped up.

She didn't let the fact that her calling to motherhood looked different than she expected stop her from being an incredible mother.

I've experienced the power of unconventional mothers in so many aspects of my life since Mom died. I've needed Mom so deeply...through my divorce, trying to figure out my first baby. Heavens, I need her now to figure out ALL of these babies haha.

I am so, eternally grateful for the women in my life who have stepped up to mother me in her absence.

Some have had their own kids, some haven't.

ALL of them have fulfilled roles as mothers to me in my life.

So...here's a shout out to YOU, my beloved mothers. Some of you conventional, some of you not.

I believe this day is for all of us. Today is for my Moms who are in the trenches of motherhood...sleepless nights, poopy diapers or struggling adult children, stress and schedules and exhaustion.

AND it is also for my sweet sisters with no babies (who aren't married, or struggle with infertility), to my friends who have chosen to not have children, for my empty-nesting-mothers, my fellow bonus Moms, adoptive mothers, aunts, cousins, friends, neighbors who don't fit the mold of "ideal" motherhood.

We are ALL mothers. All of us.

I love you. Happy Mother's Day.

xo.

My Picky Eaters Ate This. You're Welcome.

Finding something my boys will eat is a real challenge sometimes.

I'm not sure what traumatic experience they had in their early development, but a dinner consisting of anything other than corndogs and Kraft mac n cheese sends them into hysterics.

It's difficult, y'all.

(Ok that's a little dramatic, but it feels like that's reality like 90% of the time)
(I'm done Mom-whining)
(...for now...)

Here's the link to the yummiest meatloaf recipe: CLICK ME!

Notes:
*I sprayed a cupcake tin with Pam and made mini-meatloafs because when food is cute sometimes it entices my kids to eat better (??). The cook time was the same. Deliiiiiiicious.
*I also added a half tsp of onion powder and garlic powder. Next time I'd skip the onion powder!

I made it with glazed carrots (super easy!): 
(I can't find the recipe I used now...and I don't have time to hunt. SO!)
1. Fill a pot with 1/2" of water and bring to a boil
2. Turn heat to med/low (simmer) and cover
3. Dump a bag of baby carrots in (I peeled a half pound of regular old carrots and cut them into small pieces)
4. Add 1 tsp salt and 1 TBS of brown sugar
5. Let carrots cook 7-8 minutes covered
6. Uncover and bring heat to high. Let boil until water reduces to a sugary glaze (about 10 more minutes).

**these are super easy and delicious!

Good luck with all of your dinner endeavors, my friends. My thoughts and prayers are with you!

xoxo

Believer

I was flying home from Time Out in Spokane, WA in Spring of 2014 when I wrote the first set of lyrics for Believer. I recently found a picture of the actual TOFG journal I was writing in on that airplane:

I don't think it was coincidental that the title of the page is "God's Plan For You" with Proverbs 3:6 beneath it. Vi was turning 1 and was smack dab in the middle of her battle with reflux with no relief in sight for the constant night wakings/screaming. My marriage was on the rocks and I didn't know how to deal with it or talk about it...I wasn't sure how much of our struggle I should share (even with my closest family and/or friends). I had just spent the weekend feeling spiritually fed and uplifted and happy, and was now on my way back home to the battlefield...and I felt so tired about it. Have you ever felt like that..?

There are certain things I've always known. I feel like I've always known that God is real. Even when I struggled believing it when Mom was so sick with cancer, I just always knew. I think that's a part of what made everything during that time so horrible, you know? I knew God could fix it...He just didn't. He wouldn't.

Another thing I think I've always known is that God loves us...which has often left me asking,"Why?"

"Why is this so hard?" ←I'm not talking about normal, everyday kind of hard. Not the kind of hard that makes you frustrated and upset for a few days or weeks. The kind of hard that doesn't have a foreseeable end. The kind of hard that just goes on and on and on. Why is life THAT hard sometimes..?
*or*
"Why is this happening to me?"
"When will it get easier?"
"How do I get through this without becoming bitter and jaded and a crazy, nightmare mess of a human?"

I get that God needs us to be refined, you know? Trials and challenges push and stretch and shape us into better people (ideally). I get that pain and hurt can do that for us. But knowing that's true, and allowing that knowledge to comfort you while things are painful and awful are two very different things.

As I sat there on that airplane, I thought about the things that I knew(/know) and wondered how I could get that knowledge to relieve more of my pain...I wondered how I could get my faith to swoop in and save me when I found myself and my baby awake, delirious and miserable at 11pm, 12:15am, 1am, 3am, 4:30am, 5:00am. Every.Single. Night.

I wondered how I could fight the urge to blame all of my marital struggles on my husband or our circumstances...how my belief in charity and patience could change from things I felt in my heart to words that came out of my mouth in the middle of hurtful arguments. How my faith could go from theory to reality, you know?

Ultimately, I thought about the kind of believer I wished that I were. I thought about Peter having the faith to step out onto the waves and walk on water to the Savior. That's the kind of belief I wanted to have; enough to walk on water. Enough faith that it would manifest clearly in my life.

 I thought about how the scriptures talk about having even a tiny mustard seed of faith - and how even THAT amount of faith would allow us to move mountains. I wished I were more steadfast...less prone to moments of doubt and weakness in the face of hardship. I wished I didn't fight against the struggle and pain so much...I wished it were easier for me to accept life's disappointments.
Those thoughts tumbled around until they came out as a clear set of lyrics - the chorus of what is now the title track of the new album - "Believer". If you look at the journal pic above, you'll see that there were basically no edits in the original lyrics. They just came out that way and stuck in my brain for three years until I sat down with Stephen Nelson (of Gentri) and Anji Mickelson to flesh out the rest of the lyrics and song structure.

I'm so glad that Stephen and Anji saw such potential in that one set of words...so grateful that they felt the power and vulnerability there. I love the message that doubt and fear and pain can motivate us to come closer to God...that we can't fully let God in when we shut those things out of our hearts and minds.

I wonder how many of you reading this are in that space right now; facing challenges that seem to be never ending. I wonder if you've found yourself asking these same things? I hope that if that's you...if that's where you are...that you listen to this song and know that you aren't alone. We all need help believing sometimes. Every, single one of us.

Believer

Help me to be the believer that I want to be
Want the things You want for me
When I'm lost along the way
Help me find patience in the moments when it's hard to see
Your hand guiding me
Help me get out of my own way
O, Lord
Help me believe

Help me to be the believer that I want to be
Feel the things You feel for me
When the feeling doesn't stay
Help me to see the things I don't want to see
As Your hand showing me
Help me Lord, I pray
O, Lord
Help me believe

Give place to the voice that always questions
Give voice to the pain, the fear, the doubt
Give way to the moments I am faithless
I can't let You in if I shut them out

Help me to be the believe that I want to be
Give the things You've given me
The words You'd have me say
Help me to walk this path that You've set for me
Help me walk with steady feed
Help me get out of my own way
O, Lord
Help me believe

Help me to be the believer that I want to be
Want the things You want for me
When I'm lost along the way
Help me find patience in the moments when it's hard to see
Your hand guiding me
Help me get out of my own way
O, Lord
O, Lord
Help me believe

PS want to watch a clip from the Q&A from that same TOFG event?? and marvel at my hair transformation over the last four years 🤣?? here you go: click me!

What Six Months Can Do

Every time I sit down to write about my life lately, I immediately feel so overwhelmed with the sheer amount of change that's happened in the last several months that I just stare blankly at my laptop for a few minutes before closing it.

Where do I even start? How do I even attempt to do this story justice?

 Good news for you guys: I'm exhausted today and exhaustion is often the cure for my perfectionism (ha!). So here I go:

I love this quote:

 Trust the wait.
Embrace the uncertainty.
 Enjoy the beauty of becoming.
When nothing is certain, anything is possible.
--Mandy Hale

 Earlier this year I was a single, full-time mom living in my Dad's basement. I was working two jobs - one in a urology office (which tested my ability to answer the phones/questions and maintain a professional demeanor on a daily basis haha) and as a singer/songwriter for Deseret Book. I had never dreamed that I'd get a divorce. Never anticipated living in my Dad's basement in my thirties. I was writing for my third album (and struggling through every moment of it). I'd been dating a really nice guy for several months and was thinking we might move forward...when...nope. We broke up.

Dating.

Sucks.

Fast forward to July. Just some random Saturday, doing what I always do...wake up, play with Violet, wonder if/when Dad is going to kick me out of his basement, respond to emails. The usual.

(Just for the record - reading emails/messages is one of my favorite things. Even when I'm super busy and terrible at responding, every single message that I read is like a tiny reassurance that I'm doing the right thing with music. The stories vary - but the main theme is that music helps people connect with God and it's so humbling and fulfilling and beautiful to be just a tiny part of that.)

Anyways.

On this Saturday, one message struck me in particular. This message came from a follower on Facebook - his profile picture showed him with two young boys on his knees. They all looked so sweet and happy...and the message was heartbreaking. The man wrote about losing his wife suddenly and very unexpectedly earlier this year - and thanked me for releasing Lead Kindly Light (a super rough live video release on my Facebook page). That song had meant a lot to him through his grieving process and the arrangement I put together with Stephen Nelson (Gentri) touched him deeply.

I remember staring at his profile picture, looking at the little boys, and wondering why the world has to be so unfair. Who would raise those tiny babies? What did their life look like in the wake of such an unimaginable loss? How does it make sense for God to take a mother of young children? What on earth would *I* do if I knew I was going to die and leave Violet in her infancy? How would this man with his kids ever continue with any shred of normalcy?

I responded with a heartfelt "thank you for your kind message" and told him that stories like his are why I make music...because I know what it feels like to have the rug pulled out from under your faith and endlessly ask a silent God "why?".

I remember shaking my head as I set my phone down and sending up a little prayer for that guy in the picture and his two little boys. I always pray for people who send me messages.

I checked my emails later that day (I don't usually do that - but for some reason I did?) and - much to my surprise - that guy had messaged me again.

It wasn't flirty.

It wasn't awkward.

Just...open.

He had an eight year old. She sings, too, he told me.

"He probably needs a friend," I told myself.

I responded.

He responded.

I responded.

It took me a couple of hours before I realized I had been chatting with him basically all afternoon via Facebook. I couldn't believe it - how on earth was this dude THAT engaging? I felt like I was talking to a friend that I'd known for years. Funny, easy, quick, kind. Emphasis on easy. So easy to talk to him. It was bizarre.

He asked me out.

"Nope." I thought in my brain.

But do you know what my fingers typed..?

"When?" (enter face slap emoji.)

"What's the worst that could happen?" I thought. "I end up falling in love with him and he's emotionally unavailable? Meh. I've had it worse. Besides, he's funny and fun and I *really* like sushi. So."

I told him I had events (and dates! ha!) scheduled for the next two weeks straight except the very next night - so he asked if I could meet in Salt Lake.

I remember walking down the sidewalk to meet him. We'd been texting nonstop. "There's no way he's this handsome and charming in person," I thought.

But you know what?

He was.

Seriously. So handsome and so unbelievably charming.

And...unassuming? Genuine? No pretense...no ego. Just...Jon.

** If you've been dating for any period of time (especially in Utah, IMO) then you understand how indescribably refreshing that kind of attitude and approach is. **

By the end of the night he told me to cancel all of my other dates for that week and just go out with him instead.

I laughed.

He wasn't joking.

I told him no way because I'm a normal human who doesn't just stop dating other humans who I've been dating and have relationships with just because I meet someone who seems perfect for me because I'm way too cynical to believe that anyone actually IS perfect for me.

ESPECIALLY after one date.

I went out on four other dates that week (Jon snuck in a lunch date haha).

By that Friday, I just couldn't do it anymore.

I didn't want to date anyone else. He knew it. I knew it.

I just wanted to date Jon.

(Please feel free to throw up now. I throw up when I read peoples' stories that go like this. My brain yells,"THIS KIND OF STUFF DOESN'T HAPPEN. IT JUST DOESN'T. DATING IS AWFUL AND PEOPLE ARE THE WORST AND JUST NO. NOPE. NO." and I roll my eyes until they're falling out of my head. Go ahead and do it. I won't be offended.)

Things escalated so quickly. All of the rules I've had for myself about dating - the hard and fast "date for a year before engagement" went *right* out the window. I met his kids. He met Vi. I actually met his whole family. I met his deceased wife's family. Meeting her Mom and getting a huge, warm hug and a "I'm so happy to meet you" whispered in my ear will remain one of the most surreal experiences of my life. I met her sisters. He met mine.

Every single time I'd start freaking out because of the endlessly unknowable things involved here - a calm, quiet reassurance would come into my heart.

There are so many stories I could tell. I probably will tell them eventually haha - because I can't NOT tell you guys things. Things like...how welcoming, loving, and accepting this entire family has been. It's shocking. My brain can hardly comprehend it. Things like how it took less than 6 days for our sealing approval to come back once it was submitted (I guess this generally takes 6 weeks to 6 months??). Things like how I have an almost 2-year old who readily calls me Mama, and a crew of siblings who encourage her to, even when they still choose to call me Calee most of the time. Things like how the perfect house fell into our laps, our wedding happened seamlessly in the middle of an insanely busy season, we've had answered prayers and love and support from so many people and sources that it's felt like I've been floating for six months straight (full disclosure: Jon is buoyancy incarnate - and has lifted me each time my heart and/or brain get a little sideways in all of this).

I'll end with just this one (because I'm tired and need to go to sleep bc you all *know* V is going to wake this whole house up at 5:30AM). One of the earliest experiences I had with the kiddos that I now call my own:

The first time we went to church together, I was nervous. Going to church together is a big deal in my world - and we had all of the kids and I was half expecting it to go so horribly that we'd just break up and never speak again afterward haha.

About halfway through the service, one of the twin six year old boys (from that original profile picture) was sitting next to me, nestled under my arm.

He looked up and whispered, "Do you know where my Mommy is..?"

My mama heart wrenched inside of my chest as I said,"Yeah, buddy... She's in heaven."

We sat in silence for a moment.

"Do you know who she's with?" I whispered.

"Who?"

"My Mommy," I said. He smiled.

The love that I felt as I looked down at that little boy was so overwhelming that I had to quickly wipe away the tears. A Christian song that I know and love came into my mind and these lyrics rang in my ears:

"Love like a hurricane, I am the tree...
Bending beneath the weight of it's wind and mercy."

That was the perfect way to describe it - the love I felt in that moment. This love. A hurricane. A massive, unquantifiable explosion of love for him. For them. That's what this has felt like for me.

I feel like I've treading water for so long...waiting to feel like I was where God wanted me to be. Aspects of my life have felt like that along the way, you know? Signing with Deseret Book and performing with Time Out for Women has been a big one of those. Having Violet was another. I just knew I was supposed to be having this baby (little did I know the adventure I was setting out on haha). Overall, though? I feel like I've just been...waiting. Waiting for things to fall into place. Working so hard to try to make things happen...dating (ew. dating is the literal worst.), trying to magnify my callings at church, focusing on self-improvement and getting closer to God...and nothing seemed to be happening.

And then all of a sudden? Everything happened.

Everything.

Trust the wait.
Embrace the uncertainty.
Enjoy the beauty of becoming.
When nothing is certain, anything is possible.
--Mandy Hale

xo.

True Story

I have a plethora of embarrassing stories, you guys.

A PLETHORA.

("...do you know...what a 'plethora' is..?" - movie trivia!)

I like to share them with you because you seem to enjoy them and that makes me happy.

Ready for your next installment?

Here ya go:

Once upon a time I was asked to sing in stake conference. I was in my early twenties (not endowed) and I sang frequently for things like that...so I wasn't super worried about it.

Day of, however? Super nervous.

So nervous, in fact, that I found myself frantically fighting with the zipper on my pencil skirt in the bathroom just a few minutes before I was supposed to sing (much like my last-minute bathroom fiasco when I dunked my dress in the toilet right before leading stake choir - remember that little jewel of a tale?!). After hearing a little "pop!" from the general area of the zipper, I decided to forego the unzipping of said skirt and rushed out of the bathroom.

I tried to look nonchalant as I waltzed into the chapel and onto the stand.

I got up.

I sang.

I sat down.

I remember glancing over at my sister after I finished singing like I always do (she was accompanying me for that performance), and her face...it was super awkward. She looked like she really wanted to tell me something, but she was sitting at the piano and too far away for me to chit chat with. 'Did I sound bad or something..??' I wondered.

After the meeting, I got up and began making my way off the stand to say hi to people.

I felt my sister's hand on my arm and she began yanking me toward the side door - telling me to not talk to anyone and to just get out of there ASAP. I was SUPER confused at this point.

'What the heck, Kristina?! Why are you depriving me of the chance to say hi to everyone in the stake right now!? RUDE.' = inner me.

We got out to the parking lot and she breathlessly said something like,"CAN'T YOU FEEL THAT?!"

I'm sure my response was something witty like: "...[blank stare]..."

I can't remember if she pointed it out, or if I simply reached back and FELT FOR MYSELF what she was talking about...

...but...you guys...

that "pop!" I had heard in the bathroom...?

...the one that happened right before I wandered in to stake conference..?

...and down the aisle and up the stairs...and onto the stand...and in front of the stake presidency...?

Yeah. That was the sound of my zipper popping OPEN.

Popping open and revealing what can only be described as straight gluteus glory.

In plain sight of all the nice people who watched me waltz in late to that meeting.

At eye level of the poor men sitting behind me as I sang.

I honestly cringe at this story still. AHHHHHHHHHHHAKCMIENSIRNGSINLSZCLKZME.

So, so embarrassing.

ACK!!

OHHH IT'S JUST SO UNCOMFORTABLE.

But you KNOW WHAT?! I survived.

I survived unintentionally flashing an entire stake conference full of people including the leaders of my local congregation.

I'm even surviving the PTSD flashbacks that are washing over me as I type this haha. AAAAAAACK!!!

I hope that whatever embarrassing/awkward thing that's threatened to take you down recently feels a little less horrifying after reading my story.

If nothing else, you are not alone...and sometimes that's enough.



That is all.




xo.

This is The Christ

Just in case you haven't seen this on Facebook yet...here is my brand new music video of an original arrangement of "This is The Christ" (arranged by the unbelievably talented Stephen Nelson of Gentri music).

The words of this song always make me emotional...and I had to practice singing it over and over so I wouldn't ugly cry while recording (both the audio and video). The lyrics...the feel. It's just a beautiful tribute to the love that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ have for each of us. 

A blog might be a weird place to pour your heart out about faith...but the last verse of this song always gives me chills as I sing it:

"With saints of old, in joyful cry -

I, too, can testify,

'This is the Christ.'"

I hope you're all having a beautiful, blessed Holy Week and are finding time to connect with the Savior and His incredible sacrifice that was made for you all of those years ago.

xo.

The Truth About Quitting

This picture has nothing to do with this post. 

I've been working on crocheting baby blankets for a friend who is adopting a little boy from the other side of the world and I'm trying to decide if the yarn pictured is just too hideous to do anything with?? I've tried like five different stitches. Thoughts..?? PS How cute is Violet..?? All the heart eyessss....

Anyways.

On to the REAL post...

So, I'm writing for an album, right?

I've been writing for over a year now. That's longer than I've ever written for any single project.

A plan was set in motion LAST SPRING for this album to be written and recorded by the fall of 2016, and then for it to be released THIS spring...like...this month, actually.

And yet - I'm still writing for it.

Still. Writing.

I've had SO many ideas, you guys...so many demos, so many parts of songs come and go...written and then scrapped...this album has felt impossible to complete. The criticism I hear in my own mind has been deafening.

I want to quit.

Even just typing that out seems so crazy to me. Quit?? Really?? Quit what I LOVE? What I've felt so CALLED to do?? (...even though it doesn't pay well [haha - difficult truth], even when it requires more of me and my heart and my time than I feel like I can give...even when it forces me to stare into the ugly face of my feelings of inadequacy...I've felt called.)

But...yeah. Even acknowledging that feeling of being called...I've wanted to quit.

Quitting would be easier, you know? At least initially.

It would be easier to look at this whole experience and say - "I had a good run. God wanted me to be there, doing that, at that time...but now it's time to move on and do something else." That would be easier than coming back again and again for more frustration and insecurity. That would be easier than taking good, long, hard looks at myself and trying to dissect WHY the music isn't flowing the way it has in the past. Quitting would give me an easy out right now.

Have you ever felt like that? Like whatever project or goal or dream you have is so difficult, it's so frustrating and irritating and confusing...that it requires so much of you/your time/your energy...that there isn't enough promise of success to justify all of the work...that you just want to throw in the towel and just...QUIT?

Quitting would definitely be easier now.

You know when it wouldn't be easier..?

In six months from now. A year. Five years.

I know I'd look back and wonder.

I'd wonder what would have happened if I had just stuck it out. If I had truly waited on the Lord...just a little longer, you know?

I'd wonder if I had truly given everything to the task. I'd wonder if I had done everything I could have...written with everyone I could have. Tried all of the techniques I could have, set aside more time than I did, prayed harder, fasted more sincerely. I'd wonder if I made everything about ME too much...and not enough about HIM.

Listen. If you're wondering if you should give up...maybe don't..? If you think you'd look back in six months, a year, five years...and wonder...keep trying.

We're all failures. Every single one of us. Failure isn't the opposite of success, it's a part of it. We fail until we don't. And then - after we've achieved what we set out to - we set a new goal and begin the process of failure all over again. That's life. That's how it works. That's how it's meant to work, because that's how we grow.

I feel like I'm writing this blog because it's what I NEED to hear right now haha, so welcome to my brain and the way I talk to myself.

I need to believe this. I need to embrace it.

I'm not quitting...yet. Not tonight, at least.

Maybe I'm supposed to be learning something through all of this trial and error...all of this frustrating failure...all of this painful and humbling learning. To let go of my ego more? To ask for help? To ask more fervently and listen more ardently? Who knows. I don't. At least not right now.

In any case, I'm not quitting.

Let's not quit together, ok?

xo.

I Know That My Redeemer Lives

This is one of my favorite songs about the Savior - in large part because of the arranging skills of the talented Michael R Hicks. Is it just me, or does this arrangement bring this song to life in a totally new and beautiful way?? I love it - and I hope you do, too :)

I hope you have the best Sabbath, my friends! Love to you all - enjoy!

The Perils of Fold-Over Yoga Pants

When I was in college, fold-over yoga pants were a staple in my wardrobe. You remember those, right? The yoga pants with the big flap of fabric at the top? Those stretchy pants of goodness were my *favorite* (much like my black Nike running leggings are my favorite now). I wore them every. single. day. 

Isn't my baby sister beautiful?? Goodness gracious.
This is what I looked like when this story took place.
I wasn't wearing yoga pants because we were at a nice family dinner.
So I wore jeans. Duh. Super fancy.

One day I was at institute (institute is a religion class for LDS kids who have graduated high school). 

Right after class, as everyone was filing out of the room, I stopped to talk to a group of boys (because I was boy crazy, remember?). I dropped something and it rolled behind me, so I quickly turned around to retrieve it...

As I bent over, I reached for the undershirt I was wearing and pulled it swiftly DOWN (to cover my spandex-clad bum. because *modesty*, hello.), and immediately realized something was VERY wrong. It turns out that I had not, in fact, grabbed the undershirt I was wearing. I HAD ACCIDENTALLY GRABBED THE BOTTOM OF MY FOLD-OVER YOGA PANTS...and had, yes, pulled them *swiftly* DOWN.

The combination of the pulling-down motion on the bottom of those blessed fold-over yoga pants and my bending over produced what can only be described as a FULL MOON, GUYS. AS A YOUNG ADULT. AT INSTITUTE. WHERE I WAS TRYING TO BE COOL AND SCORE DATES AND MAYBE GET MARRIED SOMEDAY.

I wasn't endowed back then, you guys. People saw things they can't ever un-see.

YEP.

Is that the only time I accidentally flashed people inappropriately? NOPE.

A couple years later, I had a migraine and went to the doctor for help. As luck would have it, my usual physician was out - so I got an appointment with a new doctor at the office. This particular doctor, it turns out, was SUPER hot. (Ugh. I hate that! STOP BEING ATTRACTIVE, MEDICAL PEOPLE. I DON'T FEEL WELL AND YOUR ATTRACTIVENESS IS STRESSING ME OUT.) Anyways.

He said I needed a shot, and that it would need to be in my bum. (seriously?? yep.) He left to get the medicine, and I sat there thinking, "DON'T BE AWKWARD. DON'T BE AWKWARD. DON'T BE AWKWARD. THIS IS NORMAL. THIS IS FINE. WE'RE ALL ADULTS HERE, STOP FEELING WEIRD.”

So, in order to make it LESS awkward, I got all prepped and ready. What did "prepped and ready" look like to me in my hazy, migraine state? Well, I took my pants off, for starters. Like, 100% off. No pants. I remember feeling like it was the reasonable, logical thing to do. I folded them neatly at the end of the table.

Then I stood up and leaned against the table in the position I imagined the doctor would need me to be in to give me a shot in the bum. THAT felt pretty awkward, but I was trying to just keep it professional and remind myself that doctors probably see people without pants on all the time and this is just no big deal.

So Dr. Hot walked back in and his response...hahaha...that's a moment I *WILL* rewind in the eternities.  I couldn't see him at first because - hello - I was facing the wall (waiting patiently for my shot. duh.) "OH!" he blustered. "Oh...ok. Wow. Umm...Ok..."I turned around and realized that he looked very much like he did NOT - in fact - often see people without their pants on in his office (laughing/crying emojis forever followed by embarrassed and skull emojis for forever). "You can definitely keep your pants on for this shot. I just need about a half inch of skin at the top of your hip...so..." :averting eyes: :looking uncomfortably around the room:

YOU GUYS.

I WANTED TO D.I.E.

I put my pants on, he gave me the shot, and I never went back to that office again. Not even to see my regular doctor. Haha. 

What's the point of this post?

The point, I guess, is that embarrassing things happen to all of us and you *can* and *will* recover from whatever your latest embarrassing situation is/was (even if the other people involved never do hahaha). 

I'm so pretty.
Was then. Am now.
Why am I single.

xo.

Worst. Date. Ever.

Once upon a time (December 2010), I found myself excitedly traveling to Utah for New Year's Eve.

I was living in San Diego at the time (I grew up there! sigh. I miss you, California!) (enter crying emoji), but a veeeeeery cute boy had been texting me for a few months and had invited me to come watch him sing at a big NYE event. (You've seen this boy on a televised singing competition called 'The Voice'. He's freaking dreamy as all get out.) (Note to the boy I'm currently dating: I am absolutely crazy about you. Don't freak out.) (Anyways.) I had packed a cute outfit, had a double date planned with my sister and her husband for earlier in the evening, and then was planning on partying the night away with this handsome fellow (I shall henceforth call him 'Dreamy Guy') - and, let's be real...I was excited for the possibility of our first kiss happening at midnight. Sigh. The idyllic, romantic stars were aligned perfectly to launch this text-flirtation into full-blown dating-exclusivity-bliss. I was PUMPED.

The afternoon/evening started off well enough. Dreamy Guy came to dinner and was handsome and swoon-worthy. Check and check. My sister and I ordered the same dish - smoked turkey leg - from the menu (a delicious-sounding option from one of Provo's high-end, trendy establishments).  I remember thinking,"The texture of this meat is a little weird. Kind of...chewy? It turkey supposed to be this chewy??" As I went to ask Nikki (my sister) if her turkey was chewy, too, her phone buzzed and her face went pale as she read the text...

My Mom had been battling a resurgence of her colon cancer and it had been difficult enough to leave CA even for a weekend, so it was terrifying to hear that the text was from our family back home - letting us know that Mom had been rushed to the hospital and was in critical condition. Suddenly the chewy turkey didn't matter at all. We quickly got up and left. (Dine and dash is ok under those circumstances, right?) (JK we paid.) (When I say "we" I mean the men at the dinner table. Duh.)

By the time we got to the party I had cried all of my make up off and was a mess. We looked for flights home, we talked about leaving right then and driving all night to get there. After debating what the best move was, we decided that sleeping for a few hours first would be best - instead of taking off right then and driving our emotionally-drained selves through the wilderness all night.

Nikki and I spent most of the evening in the truck, instead of inside the party, watching Dumb and Dumber (or was it White Chicks, Nikki? In any case, it was something REAL dumb.) I think we might have napped. By the time 11pm rolled around, we went in to watch Dreamy Guy sing some songs. YOU GUYS...watching a man pour his soul out through music when his voice is as deep and rich as raw honey - whhhhheeewwww hand me my fan, Josephine! (I don't know what I'm saying right now. I'm imagining myself as some old lady in Alabama complaining of the sweltering summer heat. Am I the weirdest or what?)

This is a pic of me and Nikki that night. Post-crying, post-redoing make-up, post-terrible-bangs-and-bleached hair decisions.
What am I doing with my arms..?? Am I a genie? Smell-checking? I honestly don't know.
My family has a running joke that I always take really awkward pictures. #proof

Midnight came and went. No kisses. Boo. My emotional-wreck-status was transitioning into numbness and exhaustion.

"Want to come back to my place and watch a movie?" Dreamy Guy asked.

My brain quickly translated his request into what he really meant: "Want to come to my place and cuddle on the couch and maybe kiss me while a movie is playing?"

NOTE TO ALL TEENAGE GIRLS: THE ANSWER TO THIS QUESTION SHOULD HAVE BEEN "NO". "NO, SIR DREAMY GUY. WE SHALL NOT SNUGGLE ON THE COUCH LATE INTO THE NIGHT AS IT IS NOT AN APPROPRIATE ACTIVITY FOR OUR (TECHNICALLY) FIRST DATE." (Also, kissing on the first date is not cool. We'd just been texting for so long! And, you know, I like kissing. I digress.)

So, you know, I said yes.

Off we went.

The drive to Dreamy Guy's house took about 15 minutes. Approximately 5 minutes into the drive - you know, while I've got my flirt-game going STRONG - my stomach suddenly threatened to send its contents directly onto the dash of his car.

I asked him to pull into the Del Taco so I could use the bathroom real quick.

I ran a little faster than was attractive, I think, into the bathroom and waited. "What is happening??" I thought, "Is this karma for planning to kiss Dreamy Guy?! ...am I going to puke right now..??"

After a few minutes, the sensation passed. I chalked it up to having an incredibly emotional and draining experience earlier in the evening that I was still processing/dealing with, and got back into Dreamy Guy's car.

NOTE TO SELF: If, at any point on a date, your body warns you that puking may be in your immediate future... END. THE. DATE. Right that second. END IT!!!!!!

I did not end it.

I went to Dreamy Guy's house.

...and then it happened...

(No, not the cuddling and kissing. That was fated to never, e.v.e.r. happen...)

As we sat on the couch mulling over movie choices, he looked up and asked, "Hey - are you ok?"

I realized that no, in fact...I did not feel ok. I was sweating. Like, DRIPPING SWEAT. Hahaha I'm actually giggling so uncomfortably as I write this because I remember wanting to die in that moment. WHO just starts sweating profusely for no reason?! ON A FIRST DATE?! COME ON, BODY, GET YOURSELF TOGETHER.

Then the rumbling. The sound of what a breaking dam sounds like, I think, only happening on the inside. Then cramping. Like bolts of lightning tearing through my abdomen.

"Where's your bathroom..??"

Curse you, Provo. Curse you for your tiny, adorable townhouses. Curse you for your 200 sq ft living rooms with tiny bathrooms attached RIGHT there. Curse you for your awful construction, for the huge gaps at the bottom of the bathroom doors...which allow sounds and smells to escape that should NEVER escape. Curse you for forever.

I'll spare you the details (although, I REALLY don't want to haha)...I'll just tell you that I had to yell for a bigger trash can. I think I shouted it, actually. Screamed it.

Yes, Dreamy Guy brought me a trash can. Into the bathroom of death, so I could empty myself of all contents from every possible bodily outlet with total confidence that absolutely NOTHING remained.

It was...horrific.

The sounds, you guys. Oh my gosh. And I can only imagine what he must have smelled. WHY, DATING GODS? WHYYYYYYYYYY?! Hahaha I seriously have tears rolling down my face...I did that night, too, but they were out of fear because I honestly thought I might need to go to the hospital haha. ACK HE WAS SO DREAMY!!!! THE UNIVERSE HATES ME!

Unfortunately, this episode was only the first of many.

MANY.

Hours.

All night.

Just when I thought I couldn't possibly have anything else inside of me, my body proved me wrong. It was violent. I texted Nikki desperately all night long,"WHERE ARE YOU FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY ON EARTH COME AND SAVE ME FROM THIS NIGHTMARE I AM LIVING."

She was sleeping.

I couldn't bring myself to get into Dreamy Guy's car to let him take me home, because I couldn't go longer than a few minutes without getting horrendously sick. Getting horrendously sick all over the leather interior of his nice car?! UMM NO THANKS.

At one point I came out of that stupid tiny bathroom that was literally 5 feet away from the couch Dreamy Guy was sitting on, to find candles lit on the floor outside the bathroom hahahahaha AAARRGHHHHH noooooooo

Poor Dreamy Guy. He's probably scarred for life. I know I was.

Fast forward to about 6am. Nikki shows up. "Are you ok?! Oh my gosh what happened?!"

I cried as I told her. I'm sure I looked like a nightmare.

"Wait...where's your bathroom??" she suddenly asked mid-story.

Remember how we BOTH had the smoked turkey leg..? YEP.

My sister and I tag-teamed that tiny bathroom for the next several hours. Too sick to get in a car and go home.

You guys...there aren't even words.

Can I tell you something incredible, though? That Dreamy Guy...he lived up to the nickname I've given him in this blog post. I was too sick and wobbly inside to get on the flight I had scheduled for later that morning. You know what that dreamboat did..? He offered to drive me. And he did. He drove me in his nice car all the way from Utah to San Diego. Even when he knew he'd have to immediately turn around and drive right back to make it to work the next day.

Want to know what happened on that drive?

There was a freak snow storm in the high desert we were driving
through - and a drive that normally takes about 10 hours took 17. SEVENTEEN HOURS. Also, he leaned over to kiss me on the cheek as we sat in stop and go traffic for the fifth straight hour, and he rear-ended the lady in front of us (so many alternating laughing and crying emojis in a row). I honestly couldn't even make this stuff up.

We never did kiss on the lips. (I'm sure you're all shocked hahaha.)

I see Dreamy Guy on social media now. He's still dreamy. Still single, from what I can tell. I blame myself, you guys. I really do. I hope he can recover someday from the trauma.

Anyways. I hope your Valentine's Day is less painful, awkward and embarrassing than that one time I got food poisoning on that first date. That is my wish for you. Because I love you. You're welcome.

xo.