What area of your life do you tend to enjoy in excess instead of moderation?

Filtered sunlight comes through the window shades. It's morning. Another day's beginning.

I listen to the silence, reveling in the thought that soon, the house will be filled with noises from my children, and all sense of calm will be shattered.

I roll over and cuddle deeper into the warm blankets. The smooth sheets caress my bare legs. I wish I could stay here all day, wrapped in my cocoon.

My mind slowly rolls into gear, a list of things to do start popping up. I shove it back into a mental filing case.

Closing my eyes, I bury my head in my feather soft pillow.

The day will begin when my kids decide it begins. I'm too comfy to get out of bed.  

Have you or a character ever experienced something that just could not be logically explained?

Clasping Hands

The scans have come back with little hope for survival. The time has come for the hard decision of life or death.

The respiratory therapist turns off the heart monitor's sound. He says he will just watch it. No need for the noise.

The life support machine is turned off. No more breathing help.

We stand around is a circle. Holding hands. Waiting. Hoping. But ultimately knowing that there's no turning back after this moment.

His chest does not rise. His coloring does not improve. If anything, his face is becoming more pale.

I squeeze the hand holding mine.

This can't be happening. I'm only twenty two. I've only been married a year. He barely knows the love of my life. He hasn't even met the children I will bear. He leaves so much behind.

I glance over at my mom, the tears making her blurry. Her cheeks are flushed, the pain evident on her face.

His hand starts to pull away from mine. His arms flexing, bringing his hands together in front of him. Clasping.

Hope blossoms in my chest. If he's moving, that's a sign he's still alive. His spirit is still inside his body. Maybe he can make it through this.

Minutes pass. The waiting is agony.

The therapist turns off the machine and places a stethoscope to his chest. He moves it around. Listening.

The look he gives us is one he's probably given countless times. One of compassion and sympathy.

There are no words needed. Just like that. The rock that our family has been built on is gone, ripped from this life.

My father's dead.

List a few phobias you have. When and how did you discover you had these fears?

Disclosure: This one reads like a journal entry. No story telling today...but maybe this weekend, because I could come up with some pretty funny stories related to my fears.

Deep water

Progressive water fear. When I was younger, we took swimming lessons at the local pool, and I loved to swim. My parents would tease me that I was like a fish. And I was. I loved the water and swimming. I still love swimming and the water. But in controlled environments.

I don't know how to explain this. But I feel like water is such a complex thing. It is needed for life, yet it takes away life. So, I have conflicted feelings about it. I am okay with water in controlled circumstances. But when it comes to open, deep water, it becomes a threat to me.

I think the first time I realized my water fear, or maybe what created my water fear, was watching a movie in elementary school about water safety.

A young boy decides to get in a river without a floatation device or parental supervision, and is caught in a whirlpool and drowns. It shows his friends and family mourning him, wondering where he went, why he hasn't come home, imagining what his life could be like, all sorts of traumatic things. I'm sure the video was meant to instill the importance of water safety, but it downright frightened me. Ever since then, I have been extremely afraid of rivers, lakes, and especially the ocean.

When we lived in Hawaii, I got taken out by a wave and dashed into some black lava rock. If you're not familiar with those rocks, they hurt and really cut up the skin. It was crazy because, the waves we small and coming in so peacefully until I stepped onto the beach. Then a couple huge waves came tumbling in, taking me out in the process. I don't know if it was the law of attraction or what, but it sure shook me up. That was the one and only time I went into the ocean the whole time I lived there.

I don't think I'm afraid of drowning, but I think I'm afraid what is lurking below the surface. Like a whirlpool. Or a shark. Or a man eating fish. If I can't see the bottom of the water, it becomes unknown, and that unknown is scary. As you can imagine, living on the lake and overcoming this fear is quite the complex situation, especially with a husband and son who love water and have no fear. It's definitely going to challenge me. I guess we will see if I can overcome this fear in the future. But as for now, I still feel like running away from the water.

Wild animal attacks

This is something that I have struggled with since I was a child. Was it just me, or did anyone else's dad watch the nature shows on TV? The ones where they show predator attacks?

I am very tender hearted, especially when it comes to animals. Well, animals that are not predators. As for wolves, bears, mountain lions, and all those, I would kill them without a moment's hesitation, because it's either me or them. But with tame animals, or animals that are prey, I couldn't hurt them if it meant life or death.

When we lived in Island Park, Idaho for the summer, we lived in a cabin in the woods where bears and moose were prevalent. I never took walks alone. And when Ted and I did venture out, I was always on guard, constantly checking our surroundings. When it was after dark and I needed something from the store, I let it go until the next day. And, if I did get home after dark, walking from the car to the house felt like the longest journey of my life. It was all I could do to get inside without freaking out.

Now, I'm completely okay with driving through Yellowstone National Park, and other areas that have wildlife. But I feel safe because I'm in a car. I'm also okay with camping in a trailer, because I feel like I have a wall of protection. But, being in a tent is like torture for me. I can't sleep at all because of the fear.

Ted and I went on a hike in Yellowstone last year. I was a busy conservation area, with nice, well groomed trails and amazing views. It rounded at the base of the tetons with a lake, which provided quite the backdrop. As incredible as the hike was, I remember feeling on edge the whole time. I don't think it helped that there were bear warning signs posted all along the trail, and we hadn't planned on hiking, so we didn't prepare ourselves with proper protection. Because of that, I had a hard time enjoying myself, and probably won't do a hike like that again until I am more prepared.

We really enjoy going to the badlands and hiking. I always felt extremely safe, because I didn't think there were any predators, aside from the occasional badger or coyote. But, when I was driving through with my parents, we saw a mountain lion, which is a very rare thing, because they usually avoid people. But it was in a high traffic area at the beginning of the park, which makes me rather nervous, aside from the fact that my mom and step dad had just hiked a trail not 100 meters from the spot. It made me imagine up all sorts of scenarios. None of them good. So, this whole last summer, we haven't went out to the park and hiked once. Whereas last year, we were out there almost every weekend. It's sad how my fear has overtaken our lives. That and we were super busy moving and doing other summer activities. But still...

Spiders

This one is not completely irrational. It used to be. But not anymore. When I was in third grade, I remember looking at a book full of spiders and their anatomy. I was intrigued and fascinated by them. But after learning that they had eyes that could see all around their bodies, it kinda freaked me out. Strange that eyes would do that to me, but it did. So, I started to avoid spiders. At this age, I remember my parents also teaching me about black widows, because we used to get them in our barns, so that also increased my wariness of them.

As time went on, I gradually got over this fear. But, a couple years ago, Ted and I were in a desperate situation, and we had to move into the farmhouse, since it was cheap rent. The cheap rent came with the bonus of the spiders. Hobo spiders. And my fear became renewed, rightfully so. Hobo spiders are fast, big, and aggressive. They are also poisonous.

I brought Hesston home from the hospital to this house, and I spent countless nights not being able to sleep, sitting up in bed, listening for Hesston's breathing, hoping he was okay, because I was afraid a hobo spider was going to climb into his crib and bite him. I can't even tell you how terrifying night feedings were. I didn't want to turn all the lights on to wake up Hesston more, so I snuck around in the dark, only turning on a single lamp, which was dull light. It chased away the shadows, and I prayed the spiders too. I think the worst was when I found a couple hobo spiders, thankfully dead, along the baseboards of Hesston's room. They were big, and I could never convince myself to remove them. So, they stayed until Ted or my mom could come pick them up.

Luckily, we had an awesome pest control service that knew how to spray for hobos. They did an excellent job, and the sightings decreased to only one a month by the time we moved out. I remember packing all our things, and praying we weren't packing any spiders. I just couldn't stand the thought of bringing them to North Dakota with us. And as we were doing a last sweep of the house, a big hobo spider had gotten stuck in one of the sticky traps, making my relief for moving that much more. I don't think I ever felt one hundred percent safe in that house. There was always a threat, lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce.

Scorpions

This is one that came unexpectedly and then got resolved quickly. I was never afraid of scorpions until they were inside our house. When we moved to Arizona, we bought a home that hadn't been lived in, and had sat vacant for a year. It was also out in the country, on a large lot, where scorpions made their home. Well, they must've liked our home, because we started to find them everywhere. The most frightening thing was, they were small scorpions, baby ones, so they weren't older and bigger, so they could hide better. They also didn't know how to control their venom, so their sting was much more risky. When I found on in our bedroom, I was ready to move out. I would check under our sheets every night, afraid of what I was going to find. During the summer, I would come home to a dead scorpion in the house, every day. Thankfully, we had a good pest control guy there, and he sprayed every month. So, they were usually dead. But sometimes we would find one alive, like the one in our bedroom, and my fear would spike. We also had spiders, but spiders took a back seat to the scorpions. As I mentioned earlier, the fear came and went quickly. We sold our home and moved to Island Park, and the threat of scorpions vanished. So, as long as I stay away from places where scorpions are, I am just fine.

Anything that could injure the people I love

This is such a broad one, but I am constantly scanning my surroundings and looking for a threat, especially when I am with the people I love. I feel like I am responsible for protecting those I love, and so I want to be prepared to protect them. When Hesston and I go on walks, I am constantly listening to our surroundings and scouting every inch, looking for a threat. I worry a lot about dogs, because I know dog attacks escalate with children.

I think this fear started when I had Hesston. Before that, I didn't have a lot of fears when it came to me and Ted. Ted is an excellent shot, so if someone was to break into our house, their chances of survival are really low. And, Ted is super buff, so that's an added bonus. I have also taken self defense classes that have helped boost my confidence and prepared me to better protect my family.

Well, I think I have written enough about my fears. We will close this chapter for today.

When was the last time you (or a character) got lost?

I'm so lost I don't even know where to begin to get unlost. Is that a thing? Unlost?

The equation in front of me looks like hieroglyphics from another era. How can I put a number into this and make it come out the other end looking like it belongs?

I close my eyes. Maybe if I clear my head for a few minutes it will help.

Setting down my pencil, I run my hands along the desktop. The wooden surface has dents, probably from other frustrated students getting stuck on the same equation. The edges are smooth, rounded in a half moon shape. The metal legs are cool to the touch, but warm under my hands quickly. I bring my hands back to my lap.

The smell of paper and old books relaxes me. Thanks to my limited budget, my Chemistry book must be 10 years old. But the smell of the worn pages bring back memories of relaxing at home with a good fiction novel to ease my mind.

The gum in my mouth has about lost it's taste. I wonder if I have another piece in my backpack. Oh well, doesn't matter now. If I look for it, the teacher will get suspicious of me cheating and instead of hoping to get a passing grade, I will surely fail. I chew slowly, trying to make the flavor last.

Pencils scratch papers around the room. One taps in front of me, no doubt by the smart boy who is waiting for everyone else to finish so he can get on with his life. I wonder how that would be. To never be challenged by school. I'd guess, boring. The tapping increases, pulling me from my thoughts.

I open my eyes and study the equation again. I know I copied it correctly. I have been studying for this test for weeks. Sacrificing time with friends and family felt like such a big deal at the time, but now it feels worthless since I can't seem to come up with the correct sum.

There, an error. I'd added an extra division that didn't belong.

I rework the numbers, the sum coming out looking much more appropriate for the question. Yes, this must be it.

I sigh of relief.

"Okay class. Time is up. Please pass you tests to the end of the row and I will collect them. Results will be posted by the end of the day." My teacher begins to walk up the row, collecting the tests.

I stare at the rest of the students. Most look dejected, like someone just robbed them. But some look confident. I don't know how to feel, but I hope I look confident. The genius in front of me has his shoulders thrown back and a cocky smile on his lips as he scans the answers of someone else's test from down the row. I wonder if that's permissible.

The overall somber mood is capped like a soda bottle, waiting to be opened. The only sounds are the shuffle of papers and the scuffing of our teacher's shoes on the worn carpet. I wonder how old it is as she walks back to the front of the classroom.

"Class is dismissed. Enjoy the rest of your day."

And just like that, the balloon is popped and everyone rushes out of the classroom, ready to be free.

"Thank you, Mrs. Stephens." I wave goodbye as I leave.

She gives me her best smile, which makes her look just like Nicole Kidman, but with curly hair. I'm curious how many of the boys in my class signed up just to admire her. Bet they didn't anticipate the class being such a challenge.

Outside, my friend Teresa is waiting for me. We give each other a tentative smile. I think she's thinking the same thing as me, did we do the right thing in signing up for such a hard class?

Talent Shared Short

Lights switch from off to on.
Darkened faces stare. I smile and scan, look for the one that will anchor me there.

My smile wobbles. My name, announced. Introduction made.

I continue to search.

My hands feel slick. My stomach sick. The scratchy organza under my fingertips.

My qualifications make me stand a little taller. My smile will not falter.

Introduction closed.

I find him. My strength, my love, my everything. I pause and let the moment carry me.

He's in the crowd. He looks proud. All the things I wish I could be.

He's the one that should be sharing his dream. After all, how many dreams has he sacrificed for me?

Applause. It's time to begin.

I turn away. Legs shake. Please dress, hide my insecurities.

Lights reflect on the shiny piano surface. It beckons for me.

Hands on the black and white keys, I close my eyes. A deep breath, filled with polished wood and warmed fabric.

And begin again.

Were you born to shine in one special way? What makes you really stand out?

I have pondered these questions for years. I think it's something we all ponder. I mean, we're all different, and so we have qualities that make us stand out from one another, but what is the main one?

For some people, this question is simple to answer. Their talents may be easy to display. They could have a talent for singing, dancing, or playing a musical instrument. Others could be less obvious. A good listener, compassionate, peacemaker, or a talent for giving service. All of these talents are special and individually bless the lives of others. And multiple talents are given to multiple people. I imagine a great pianist would have to feel emotions at a deeper level so they could pour their heart into their music, thus making them a very sensitive individual. This can make the question of 'what makes you really stand out?' have multiple answers.

Being a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints has shaped my life for the better in countless ways. With the knowledge of the gospel, I have discovered that each one of us are choice and cherished children of a loving Heavenly Father, who wants us to succeed in life. As such, we all have a divine destiny, purpose, and reason we are born on the earth. It isn't an accident that we have been born now, during this dispensation, in the fullness of times, and as such, we have a sacred duty and responsibility to bring others to know Christ and Heavenly Father. This is a blanket purpose, but we each have individual strengths and talents, that if we develop, we will be blessed and given more talents. And with getting to know our Heavenly Father, our talents become more obvious, not only to us, but to those around us. It's like they're brought to the surface, with the help of the Lord. Maybe it's because we see each other through Christ-like eyes, seeing strengths instead of weaknesses. No matter the reason, we are all important and have a purpose.

If I were asked what makes me shine, the first thing that pops into my mind is my happy disposition. I feel like I have been born with a naturally happy and optimistic outlook on life. I see others as children of Heavenly Father, with divine worth. It is something that has helped me to reach out to those that have been shunned or forgotten, and bring them into a loving circle. I feel like we all need wholesome associations with friends and neighbors to strengthen ties and relationships.

I think my parents realized I had a special talent for making everyone feel loved from a young age, and they always encouraged me to be friends with people who were left out, and to be nice to everyone, no matter their circumstance. Those small life lessons, have taught me that we are all important, and even if it feels like the world has forgotten us, there will always be someone who remembers us, and loves us, even our Heavenly Father. I know this can be challenging at times, because living in the world feels like such a long way from heaven. But as we come closer to Christ and live worthy, we will feel a closeness to our Savior that fills every void in our hearts.

I use Christ and Heavenly Father alternately, because they are one in purpose. They both love us so much, and want us to return to them after this life is over.

In conclusion, to answer the questions today, I would have to say, I am the least intimidating person you'll ever meet, because I love to wear a smile, and that smile is genuine. Because I am happy. It's not just a facade. It's something that is real and tangible, and if I can make a person's life a little better each day, then my purpose in life is fulfilled.

May we all discover our own unique and special talents. Share them with the world. If we all did this, the world would be a better place to be.

　

I wish I had paid more attention when...

Days fly into weeks and weeks into months. Before I know it, I'm switching out another calendar for a new year. The holidays have passed. Celebrations now memories. I'm left with a nostalgic heart, wishing times like these never ended.

How is it that all the planning and preparation took months, but the day of celebration felt like a few small moments. The anticipation built, but the climax didn't last.

The kids are back in school. Doing their routine. I'm at home. Doing my routine. And all the memories will fade, just like yesterday.

It's moments like these when I wish I'd paid more attention to the small details. Like the smile that crossed my son's face. The laugh of my husband. The way a hug warmed my soul.

When my dad passed away eight years ago, only weeks before the holidays, I remember feeling such a deep sense of loss, that I didn't think the holidays would ever be the same again. As a family, we remembered and cried over past family gatherings, and told stories of our favorite memories. My mom suggested many times that we need to write down our memories of dad, and the stories that he shared, before we forget them. With his loss so fresh, I didn't think I'd ever forget him or the things he did. But time has had a way of filling those memories with new ones. And the layers make the memories more faint.

So, I wish I had paid more attention to the details. The stories. The memories shared. I wish I had written them down. Because now, all I have are vague recollections of the man who is my father. And how am I to teach my children about the amazing man he was, if I can't even remember myself?