glowing marigolden hues.

sometimes your youngest ten-year-old cousin is taller than you.

or at least the same height.

normal. over it.

shortlifeprobs.

stopping in and watching the darling bates family sit around a table and talk and laugh together?

iwantmyfuturefamilytobejustlikethatsomeday.

birthday week.

birthday week.
brought to you by:

navajo dresses and hippie dresses.

laying in the morning sun on memorial day.

fresh, cold, juicy grapes.

endless sunshine.

free pizza at work.

lunch breaks in the park.

seeing elder parkinson (cousin) in the mtc.
(yes, he's that tall and i'm that short.)

birthday sunshine flowers.
irresistible burning heat.

more sunshine.

(i am a maychild of the sun.)

people who love. me.
funny coworkers.
jokes that aren't actually funny.

hope in possibility.

birthday wishes.

beautiful hollyhock cards.
swinging.
an impending party.

all the little things that i can't give words.
secrets.

i'm feeling. 23.

that foreshadowing love.

some raw moments. concerning love.

the day before i received my mission call as i was attempting to fall asleep, i had a moment. an experience. a surging of love course through my veins for a people somewhere out there on the other side of the world. because i always knew that my call would take me to the other side of the globe. somehow, i just knew. and on that day, i felt an overwhelming love for ukrainians and americans and all those related to my mission. a love for people i had not yet met, but soon would. a love like this.

on one summer day when i was in ukraine, and then a few evenings ago while walking home from swinging, and then again tonight, i had a similar something. that surging of love for people i have not yet met. a surging of love. for my future. a surging of love and deep gratitude for my муж. future husband.  for who he is. for what he means. for what he will be to me. for what he will understand. for who he will be in my family. but also for his family and their love and goodness. and for the growth we'll experience together. for the family we'll create. the life we'll build. together.

while studying for the gre today, i learned a new word.
concrescence - the growing together of parts originally separate.
and i think. that's what love is.
growing. together.

foreshadowing love.
a feeling in my bones.

we've been feeling restless lately.

they say that home is where the heart is. i guess i haven't found my home.
and we keep driving round in circles, afraid to call this place our own.
they say you're really not somebody, until somebody else loves you.
well, i am waiting to make somebody somebody soon.

are we there yet?
(ingrid michaelson)

5,000 miles.

this. is absolutely unreal.

read here.

watch below.

darling.

we must plunge.

// i've been feeling like a boss a lot lately. i am. clearly everyone should know that.
// i'm having a hard time focusing on my gre math review class right now.
// today was a perfect weather day. there's nothing lastingly bad about a may day.
// i work. with some very delightful humans.
// the swinging. it's still a thing. they heal souls. and let souls dream.
// i forget sometimes how much changed while being gone for a year and a half.
// for my bday we're having a partay next week. a birthday party. cue this song.
// there are a lot of things i wish i could write about. wish i knew how to write about. but i can't.
// i was enchanted. this is me praying that. wonderstruck.
// i'm going through a major obsession with this song. because it is now. perfect. are we there yet? somebody.
// some of my mission 'daughters' are in the same place in their mission now as i was when i trained them.  #weird
// steve and i speak in hashtags more than should be acceptable. #soulsoldforarioporkburrito
// my mtc companion called me for a quicksecond today. i adore her. gwennie.
// jillian and i are so almostmarried that we spend our lunch breaks together. haaha.
// now gre math is over. i got a gold star from the instructor for thinking quick.

time for swingdate. no better way to end a long all work, some play mayday.

that restless soul.

let me run through a field in the night.

let me lift from the ground 'til my soul is in flight.

let me sway like the shade of a tree.

let me swirl like a cloud in a storm on the sea.

wish me on my way,

through the dawning day 

i wanna flow, wanna rise, wanna spill.

wanna grow, wanna grow

on the side of a hill.

i don't care if the train runs late.

if the checks don't clear, if the house blows down.

i'll be off where the weeds run wild

where the seeds fall far from this earthbound town.

and i'll start to soar.

watch me rain 'til i pour out.

i'll catch a ship and it'll sail me astray,

get caught in a wind and i'll just have to obey time.

time flying away.

flight.

let me leave behind

all the clouds in my mind.

i wanna wake without wondering why,

finding myself in a burst for the sky.

flight.

i'll just roll.

let me lose all control.

i wanna float like a wish in a well,

free as the sound of the sea in a shell.

i don't know, but maybe i'm just a fool.

i should keep to the ground, 

i should stay where i'm at.

maybe everyone has hunger like this,

and the hunger will pass,

but i can't think like that.

all i know is that somewhere in a clearing

there's a grain of sunlight on a river long and wide.

and i have such a river inside.

let me run through a field in the night,

let me lift from the ground 'til my soul is in flight.

let me sway like the shade of a tree,

let me swirl like a cloud in a storm on the sea.

wish me on my way,

through the dawning day

i wanna flow, wanna rise, wanna spill.

wanna grow, wanna grow

on the side of a hill.

wanna shake like a wave going on

wanna drift from the path i've been traveling upon.

before i am gone.

flight, sutton foster

i'm a little bit home, but i'm not there yet.

i've been a little bit resentful of provo lately.
these streets, corners, houses, apartments. the millions of times i've passed them. passed through them, and they through me. millions. i've been here forever. and ever.
or so it feels.
my mom says someday i'll look back and this time here will seem short.
i tell her there are a lot of long days in that time that may seem short.

but. this morning. i ran through these streets for the millionth time.
ran to my swings. because i'm obsessed lately, and they keep me sane.
(literally. almost every single night jillian and i go swinging. and in the morning they're just as good.)
because for just a second, the world can realign.
for just a second, i know again. i know that everything's going to be just fine.

this is my home.

where i go when i don't know where else to go.

home, ingrid michaelson.

 provo has been good to me, really. all these days and months and years we've shared together. all the days in the sun and days in the rain. (and let's not forget the days in the snow.) all the suns rising over the mountain and setting over the lake. all the walks and runs and streets and houses. that little house with the porch swing with a heart on it. the apartment buildings. the parks of refuge. all the places i've taken long walks past. or driven past. or explored. or ventured through. the memories dripping from every piece of pavement. people and their faces in a mist, like the mirage of heat waves on asphalt. sweet and sour in a perplexing combination. each infiltrating their own place.
one more year is relatively short. and. i think. i think maybe. though most is behind me, provo has just a little bit more waiting for me. a little bit more coming. some more to offer before i am through. i surely hope so. i surely wouldn't mind. but i can't forget to credit how far i've already come. how different i am from almost five years ago when i first entered this city.
there are good people in this place, i must admit. a beautiful camaraderie in shared lifestyle. and so i wait and watch in wonder as the sun daily rises over Y mountain, never losing delight at the beauty all around as i run about my restless, busy, can't-sit-still life. so provo and i are going to be okay.

cause here it comes--it's a light, it's a beautiful light.

over the horizon into our eyes.

93 million miles, jason mraz

the best song to listen to from a swing as the morning sun rises over the mountain.

though some ingrid follow-up is also always a good idea.

currently obsessing over this and this.

do you feel safe?
this is my home.

i have seen the face of love.

i forget.
i forget sometimes.
sometimes i forget how much i love them.
the way it burns through my soul.

Неверс! Ты уже говоришь по-русский!
because, uncle sashka. because we met my first week in ukraine.
but now. now i speak. speak out loud. with fire in russian or english.

- - - - - - - - - - -

it's all thanks to you. now i read the scriptures. and i look and see.

all these people, they don't know. but we know. i know, thanks to you.

i'm so grateful to you.

-- why?

because you both helped me to see more clearly.

i knew it was true. i knew it was all true from that first day i met you.

i looked in both of your eyes, and i knew.

- - - - - - - - - - -

sasha. we talked to him today.
he gives me hope again.
even in the only three seconds i got to be there.
his one-liners.
things he says only when he means it.
the things he saves for megan beth and me.
the way he loves us. the way he watches out for us.
the way he trusts us.

that golden autumn.
really finding the people we were meant to.
old friends. brothers, sisters.
sasha, tomara. so many more.
in that ukrainian land.
all those street corner conversations.
the street corners where you meet your long lost uncle sasha.
the one you were meant to meet that rainy october morning.

sometimes i forget.

but then.

i see their faces again, hear their voices.
listen to them speak, watch them look to me and hear them laugh.
see how sincerely their open and kind, soft hearts have taken me in.
and i remember.

a love that has no definition.
a love that comes from a place all its own.
a love reserved for ukraine.

and my heart burns with a flame dedicated forever to them.
a flame that engulfs my heart.
oh, how i love them.
the word 'love' itself doesn't quite seem to do the sentiment real justice.
the way they spark my soul.

song of the day:

the face of love, jewel.

a day for the mothers.

and Adam called his wife's name Eve; 

because she was the mother of all living.

genesis 3:20

don't mind the cutting out of doug. and the rest of the fam.

cause who doesn't love that 90s denim obsession?

   i don't really like the traditional concept of mother's day. i adore all of the motherly figures in my life, including first and foremost my very own, but that's just it -- they are motherly figures regardless of the biological connection or lack thereof. i think. i think that motherhood has, in fact, very little to do with the birthing of a child, but instead is moreso reliant on the character of a woman's soul.

   ukraine led me to a new love of that glittering thing: a woman's soul. that sparkling existence. i learned that love because of witnessing the squelching and oppression thereof--a clouding of that glow seen not only in myself, but also in all the women around me, ukrainian and american alike. (so yeah, maybe i came home much more of a feminist than i ever was and more consciously aware of the sexism that is nearly everywhere.)

   the ukrainian woman leaving early in the morning and returning home exhausted from a long day of usually menial work. stopping at the store on the way home. coming home to make dinner and prepare children for the next day. carrying the family. carrying the weight of everything. because the man? either a stalwart family man or much the opposite: drunk and needy, if present at all. a gross polarization, and yet nearly always found itself to be true. but the ukrainian woman? ignored and oppressed though she is, she is strong.

   somehow, someway that transferred to missionaries for a time--at least to the culture at the beginning of my mission. some bad eggs, yes. that's not unique to just elders or just sisters. they can be anyone. but as such a small number facing a different experience within the same work, intentionally or unintentionally, we were oppressed. most always unintentionally, i know. ignored, because no one quite knew what to do with us--especially with there being so few of us, spread far apart. no one really knew what to do. mission culture or ukrainian culture. all those people that expected less of sisters. all those people that never saw sisters as real missionaries. all those people that fawned over the elders and respected their work, but at sisters just looked sympathetic as if we were a fragile child being left to play in a room to the side. they say they want us to play with them, but do they really mean it? even though. differences are individual-based, not gender-based. because. because sisters can work their tails off too. because. we did--anyone with whom i ever served. we. do all the same work, face all the same--albeit slightly different as women interacting with many a ukrainian man--rejecting, insulting, derogatory, and degrading reactions.

   and by those means i learned and saw the shining beneath the soot and dust of life. womanhood inherently contains essences of the divine. and that. that i think. is true motherhood: those essences of the divine that play so powerful an influence on the human souls around it just by being, to say nothing of things taught directly.

this is motherhood.

and for teaching me to be strong and feisty and wise, to be boxed or stereotyped by no one--

to defy stereotypes and incorporate reason and practicality into everything,

i thank my angel mother. 

(the pretty one in denim that learned to smile with eyes to the burning sun before i ever did.)

come in through the back door.

this home doesn't feel like my home. 

family doesn't feel like my family.
25 december 2013.

those are the words i wrote, christmas day 2013. mere days after returning from ukraine. days after an entire life shift, culture shift, everything shift. because. nothing felt like home, family felt like this odd something from another life. foreign to me. (dear family, please don't resent that. it's not personal.)
and so. i had to re-fall in love with my family.

redefine relationships with them, and realize also how quickly you just fall into rhythm again with these people who know you better than you remember. because sometimes i forgot. sometimes in ukraine, i'd get lost in ukraine. lost in that world, forgetting about whatever i'd once called mine. because in ukraine, nothing was my own. because i laid everything down and let go. i had to. that's the only way to ever succeed as a missionary. the only way to ever truly consecrate yourself. let go. and step back.

doug, deb (cousin), mike (cousin), me, and steve.
christmas 1997? 98?

have you ever noticed that in most homes, the residents almost always go in through the back door? apartments are different. but homes? the front door is for guests. those living there use a side door or back door or go through the garage.

i think our minds are the same way.

we enter and view from the back or side of who we are, others are seeing only the front. and vice versa. looking at another, so often we see only the front door and porch. but unfairly look at ourselves focusing on the messy garage of our soul. the injustice of it all.

i don't know what it means. it's just this thought i have.

earlier this week i met a stranger, cause in college that happens. a lot.
especially after serving a mission,
in which case i feel like it's acceptable to talk to more strangers than probably actually is acceptable.
and this get-to-know-you conversation was completely devoid of all those typical questions.
the ones we ask, but never actually listen to the answer.
but we ask anyway. just to ask. for something to ask. cause it's what people do.
but this conversation. we didn't.
where is this human from? i don't know.
how many siblings do they have? i don't know.
what do they want to do with their degree? i don't know.
because those aren't the things that make up a soul.
those are just the flowerpots and numbers hanging from the front porch.

maybe we ought to enter from the side door more often.

because the may is mine.

just a few little tidbits of life. 

picture's worth a thousand words, they say.

"better to see once than to hear ten times."

that's what they say.

the gift of liliacs.

cause there's something about sundays.

we call sundays my day of love.

i'm incapable of sitting still.

i feel like the warm weather outside won't last, like it's about to end.

so i can't get enough sunshine.

i've taken a lil walk to a nearby duckpond or the swings a lil too frequently in the past week or two.

i can't get enough.

swings are therapeutic, especially when looking to stars.

but also make me want to hurl if on too long.

yesterday as i was leaving church, everything around was very calm.

i sang 'nearer my god to thee' to myself. in russian.

and right there on the road, i went past this lil deer. just eating away right on campus.

i gave a privet and went on my way.

it seemed like it was supposed to mean something, though i don't know what.

the winds are blowing.

change in the air.

i do love the month of may.

i claim it as my own.

welcome, may.

do stay.

good on the soul.

i can already tell.

the history of sunshine begins in may.

that's why we call them sisters.

i've been thinking all week about my companions. my sisters.

i'm not sure where it started, or where it ever ends. (it doesn't.)

but. i realized. i don't laud them enough.

i had a lot of companions in my day. three threesomes did wonders to boost those numbers.

the beauty that is my mission is largely due to the beauty that was in other missionaries.

and my companions nearly all the time took the prize.

so consider this a tribute. to them.

though it is by no means all-encompassing.

to that which they taught me, to that which i love about them.

(and because i know you've just been dying to put faces to names.

though i have others, all photos were taken in the time we were serving together.)

but first, a disclaimer:

length is no equivalent to measure of love.

some take more words, others less.

love is not measured in words, but in the heart and soul they carry.

and my words with love are saturated.

i adore all my sisters.
and those who were not my companions deserve the same respect, love, and adoration.
this little ditty, however, is reserved for companions.

companion: a person or animal with whom one spends a lot of time or with whom one travels / a person who shares the experiences of another / one of a pair of things intended to complement or match each other

18 july 2012 - 1 october 2012--sister coulson.

sister coulson. (the mtc.) the origin of my justice complex. learning to lose ourselves while learning the value of other missionaries and in caring also for them. the way she gets so excited. her love for gala apples. where i learned for the first time what it is to be a companion. learning how to work together, but independently learning. the way we both threw ourselves in, both wanting to do the very best we could. and therefore, willingness to raise the bar above that which was asked of us. learning that there absolutely is a place for feistiness, demanding goodness, and standing for what you believe. and the way she so ardently was willing to fulfill god's will, even when that can be a path filled with hardships. to purposeful walking and our favorite perch.

3 october 2012 - 22 december 2012--sister armknecht.

sister armknecht. discovering best-mother-daughter-sister-kindred-spirit-friends. because no one can hope and dream the way sister armknecht can. teaching me what hope and faith really mean. learning my own mission within a mission. unknowingly (on my end) experiencing together miracle after miracle. because together we were just so happy. so content. so balanced. the way she knows, loves, and trusts her savior so deeply. her graceful awkwardness and the way she owns that. because she was always herself, and always advocated and encouraged me in becoming and thriving in myself. because of the way we delighted in who she was as she, in who i was as me, and who we were as we. the golden time. the stilled happiness, learning, and miracles of beautiful people to love. because of the special way she listens and so fully takes in all that you are and all that you say. her beautiful voice and singing together so very often. to poppies and sunflowers and a perfect brightness of hope.

22 december 2012 - 21 march 2013--sister bull.

sister bull. novels could be written about any of our time together, but on this winter of our discontent i will focus. where i learned what it means to pour out your heart to god. learning to run after what you want with all your energy of heart and soul. chasing dreams. fulfilling god's will and finding significance. because although we were both so inexperienced together, we were the most skill-balanced companionship i ever had. the greatest complement to each other's strengths and weaknesses. her cakes, my wafers. understanding and opening to one another while surrounded by suffocation and darkness. the delight in rare light. the kinship i never knew i was missing, though in the pre-existence we think we promised to find one another so that we could save one another. learning what it means to give yourself to god. what it means to be his. to fight. with all that you are. to fight for him, and be slaughtered for it. in this winter, where any remaining fragments of childhood or innocence were lost as we chipped at solid ice, learning what love truly means. loving those who are ostracized by the rest, those who hate you, those who call you enemy. learning that the ultimate kingdom of god has a place for everyone, even if people don't know how to make that place. because of the way. every door meant something. every effort was for him. the way. her voice and words can move nations, while still being personal enough to touch a single heart. because she gives those muted hearts a voice. to the mountains we climbed and the brownie batter and fruitladies that kept us sane.

21 march 2013 - 18 april 2013--sister wagers.

sister wagers. because she let me love my loves. because she told me my love wasn't foolish. learning the real meaning of charity. coming to understand that faith is trust. hope is faith. faith and hope require trust. her heart for other missionaries, so open and deep. conquering fears and healing eyes.  letting me love these people i had come to be delighted with, though they were new to her. the magic gift she has with ukrainians, and the way they so quickly adore her and connect with her. the way she trusted me and what i knew. her patience with my boldness and willingness to yield to that and let me almost always lead even though she was at the end of her mission and i was much younger in the mission. to 'little life' and firebugs.

18 april 2013 - 30 may 2013--sister erekson & sister pharis.

sister erekson (left). she is, in fact, the purest and kindest human in the world. because of her patience with us. the way she had a gift with talking to english nika. having the most delightful summertime together because she had trained sister pharis and i already felt like i knew both of them. having a transfer to be calm before the chaos of many new missionaries at once arrived. because being with sister erekson is like having the temple brought to you. having members immediately trust her. the way she gets excited when talking about history or the gathering of israel. making contacting creative and going chalking in the evenings because she is an artist. to ice cream, no plumbing, and good thesis statements. 

sister pharis (right). being in that horrible middle together and sharing our 'mid-life crisis' time. knowing the donbass like the back of her hand. because she's probably one of the funniest humans on the planet. the way she's so chill and so easy to be around. riding to and from donetsk on sweaty busses more times than should have been humanly necessary. going without water and without a toilet. because she's so good at pressing forward. and people absolutely love her (sometimes too much). because she glories in running in the sunshine each morning. the way she knew how to do what's right and press onward, even when it's seemingly impossible. because only six weeks with these two went way too fast. to mental hospitals and completely unexpected miracles among the crazies.

30 may 2013 - 24 august 2013--sister hassard.

sister hassard. my firstborn love. the first i trained, and yet she never needed the same kind of help from me the way the others i trained did as they were still so young and learning. come to be my replacement in the mission and culture of the mission and culture of the sisters. i knew we were made for each other when, during sister's conference that happened in the day her group arrived, we hardly saw one another. because we were tending to others. learning how to breathe as i taught her how to breathe. the storytimes and bluntness. the way she needed me to be frank with her, and so i was. learning patience and trust. learning how close a conversation with god can be. working with all our souls whilst realigning her expectations. the way she found her mission within a mission. the way she trusts me and so purely adores me, despite the aching hardships her first transfer entailed. learning what it truly means to be human again. because there's no number for miracles. they don't count those. this beautiful woman gives all energy of heart. because she just wants to love and to serve, giving her all to everyone else. her creativity and willingness to throw herself into the new as i threw her in. to nightly talks to the stars, running by our lake, and a mutual adoration for sunflowers.

11 july 2013 - 24 august 2013--sister andrade.

sister andrade. my solnichka. baby. because she wouldn't tell me she loved me until she really meant it. so we went from, 'i like you' to 'i really like you' to 'i really really like you, it might even be love' to 'i love you.' the way she throws her heart and soul into working out the mysteries and keys to the universe, and when she finds her answers, gives all that she is to supporting them. learning what miracles look like through different eyes. finding answers and finding peace in that summertime. following impressions, even when they don't make sense. learning to learn, learning trust. the way she trusts me and comes to me. our storytelling. her beautiful california soul and solnichka face. because when she knows, she really really knows. to sappy hippie journals, walnuts, and navajo dresses.

24 august 2013 - 3 october 2013--sister rohrbaugh & sister beaudin.

sister rohrbaugh (center). i was always more like an aunt than a kind-of-trainer to her anyway. because there's something about the way she listens and knows exactly when to say what. the way she craves this so deeply and delights in it. she knows how to make any person she's talking to feel like they're the most important thing in the world. her willingness to give up her own desires for the greater good. learning patience, learning together the levels of honesty. being movers and shakers, moving as soon as it gets going. the way she would observe me in action with eagle eyes, soaking in everything i ever did and then copying as much as possible. the way she understands and adores me more deeply than i think i deserve. because she brought me to nikolai, and helped resolve my nikolai. not broken, just bent. to citrus and the feels. to watercolors--watercolored souls. and to making any place a home.

sister beaudin (right). because she gets lost in the beauty of everything she sees, teaching me that the world ain't half as bad as people paint it to be. learning. a lot a lot of learning for all three of us. loving and loving. her voice, her songs, and singing to us. the way she wants so badly for everyone to feel pure love. responding to our bluntness. the growing pains that lead to changed hearts. caring for hearts while throwing them in.  because she told me she'd do anything to be a missionary like me. the way she adored me too, despite my firecrackered soul. to babushka's potatoes and free babushka skirts.

3 october 2013 - 12 december 2013--sister finlayson.

sister finlayson. harvard girl. glorying in the process, in the labor itself.  the way she thinks, the intellectual conversations we had constantly. because she so earnestly cares about the role of women in the church and the change in culture--feminism. the way she was so good to me, she in her first two transfers, me in my last two transfers in ukraine. because she thinks i'm funny, and she thinks she's funny, and we think we're funny. our house-tilt (it's a real thing) and knitting. the way she made tracting enjoyable and was constantly delightful. being spontaneous and laughing when possible. giving theme names to our weeks--faith and humor with the situation we were given. our special project at the end and new obsession with familysearch. because she was a gift for me--only the most delightful human in the universe can make it a little okay that you've been sent back to your place of hell (everyone has one). the way she was willing to carry it and for the first time, i could start to let go and know she would catch it. staying calm as our separation approached and we both were freaked for different reasons. because she's brilliant and talented while being just a genuine real person at the same time. to chai during studies, bring a friend week, and that bleening shlyakh.

12 december 2013 - 20 december 2013--sister pharis.

sister pharis. we got to end our missions together - the last week and the airports. being able to pull it all together, and process all that we'd just been through. because being together through it all was such a tender mercy. seeing ourselves phased out, realizing fully that our time was done and we were no longer a part of the mission. the goodness of the lochheads and a final surreal evening together. to busses and parks, being in love. to final goodbyes and paralyzing anticipation.

-   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -

these words are not complete, but instead only a snapshot.

a look at these women who shaped so much of my time in ukraine,

i wish i had better words, but words don't quite suffice.

the ones who taught me more than could ever be put into words.

those with whom i walked those streets of shared experiences,

learning and becoming while working together towards our common goals.

becoming one, and in the midst of anything else, finding sisters.

sisters i love.

and for that, i am grateful.

i am glad.