My Kindness Shall Not Depart From Thee

Things aren't perfect. I haven't suddenly realized that when I thought I was wrong, I was wrong. I still feel lost and unsure and like I need to make some decisions again, come into my own again. But I have felt God's love for me today. I have heard the Spirit's sweetest, most precious assurances that I have not been forgotten, that the Lord loves me because I am His, that He will continue to love me and to care for me wherever my life takes me. I don't feel empowered as I once did. But I feel loved, and it is enough. I know that I have an incomprehensible, difficult journey ahead of me. But today, at least, I know the Lord will never leave me to suffer alone.

Maybe it's time to grow up. Maybe I need to start letting go of my childish fears and longings. Maybe I'm starting down a path that will change me, make me stronger and better and older. Maybe this week the Lord let me feel so utterly alone so I would remember that I don't have to be lonely anymore.

This illness, these disorders, or whatever it is- it's something I've been hiding behind. I've been using it to rationalize my behavior to myself. I can't accept that anymore. I have to come to terms with my mind and my thought process, with my particular line of reasoning. This low that I'm experiencing will not be the last. I have to learn to live within the realms of my emotional capacity. I do not, however, have to let these moments (hiccups, stumbles, temporary regression) define me. The Lord has given me this life. It is a precious, brief gift. I can't waste it in misery. The atonement makes my happiness possible. I pray that I may find joy in these brief, shining moments. I pray that I may remember the warmth of His eternal embrace and perfect love.

So what am I going to do about it? I feel like the answer to that question is the answer to all of my problems. It's there, lurking somewhere beneath the surface of my hopes and dreams, and if I can persuade it to show itself, I'll know how to make this sorrow mean something more, become something better.

"The son of God hath descended below all things. Art thou greater than He?"

Borne on the air by a choir angelic
Your words fly to me and adhere to my failing heart

And in that moment, I'm in thy loving arms
Filled so completely
With
What it is to be
A child of God.

~~~

Recorded 6/27/10

Twenty-One Going On Three

An inexplicable sadness washed over me this morning as I cruised State Street on my way home from rehearsal. You see, there was this awkward moment after I said goodbye to Meg when we ended up walking the same way to our cars. For some reason, I was unable to find anything intelligent to say. I ended up babbling about Sub Zero ice cream and the summer heat.

Meg is so grown up, so mature, so personable, so very much a woman. I, on the other hand, am awkward and juvenile. I still love Disney movies with all my heart; my favorite band is Hanson; I tend to watch movies over and over again; I live in a state of immediacy, concerned with my immediate future and feelings; I find it hard to express myself, and therefore spend much of my time being frustrated. All things I associate with childishness. By the next light, my mind had drawn a vivid parallel to a small child imagining that she is a mother, cradling her baby doll, smothering it with sticky-faced kisses, placing it gently in her own bed and insisting that it sleep. Then, satisfied, she toddles off to her plastic kitchen to place pizzaappleburgercorn in the oven for "some bites".

I have been playing at adulthood. I have created this life for this version of myself who yearns to live abroad and to really make her mark, but I live at home, safe in my bed with my teddy bear and my Harry Potter books on tape. The whole situation was punctuated, perhaps, by how deeply I was touched by Toy Story 3 and how out of place I felt at Jenn's bridal shower; my thoughts neatly illustrated by the day's events.

I really honestly feel like I've been living a lie. The sadness and the horror and the loneliness of such an epiphany seized me, and my confidence died. Today I grieve for myself, for the person I was, the person I thought I had become. I am alone and uncertain, stripped of my identity. Square one. It's time to set out to find me again.

What I don't understand is why I feel this way. Why should one failed conversation mean that this collection of personality traits and habits and interests I've carefully cultivated is irrelevant? How can one insignificant moment shatter my reality so thoroughly? Why should I doubt myself and my progress over the years? I was finally sure. Do I question my confidence, or do I scrap it and start all over?

I'm really glad that tomorrow is Sunday. I always seem to feel better, securely anchored after a good church session. I'm grateful that I always have something to fall back on, somewhere to start afresh when I need to.

I used to feel that looking for synonyms in a thesaurus was like lying, that my writing wasn't honest if I had to consult one to find an appropriate word. I've come to realize, however, that the thesaurus is an opportunity for growth. I use words that feel good, words with which I can really connect and relate. The thesaurus enables me to speak my mind, maybe a little more eloquently than I otherwise would have been able to.

"Soul n. 1. [Essential nature] spiritual being, heart, substance, individuality, disposition, cause, personality, force, essence, genius, principle, ego, psyche, life. 2. [the more lofty human qualities] courage, love, honor, duty, idealism, art, poetry, sense of beauty 3. [a person] human being, person, being."

"Hope n. 1. [reliance on future] faith, expectation, confidence."

"Experience v. undergo, feel, live through; see ENDURE."

~~~

Recorded 6/26/10

I -Wish- My Teeth Were That White

This is what I just wrote for my Romeo and Juliet bio:

"Aubrey is excited to be making her Shakespearean debut with Utah Shakespeare in the Park. She's a junior in UVU's theatre program who loves Hanson and aspires to have a working cell phone.

Some of Aubrey's previous, less Bard-ish roles include Little Becky Two Shoes inUrinetown; Fantine and Mme. Thenardier in Les Mis; Alice, the miserable ghost in The Secret Garden; Mrs. Smythe in A Christmas Carol; a manic, borderline dissociative identity cast member in Holiday Night Live; and myriad nameless ensemble characters. She wants to thank her daddy for shelling out gas money and otherwise being incredibly supportive."

I don't know why writing about myself in bio format is so hard. I guess I just always feel the need to be clever, entertaining, or funny, which is difficult when I'm just rhyming off past credits. I feel okay about this one, though.

I feel okay about a lot of things. Shelli and I finally made up, Jess and I finally made up, I'm only eighteen pounds away from my goal weight, I'm finally making money, I just saw a super racist anti-littering PSA from the 60s, Kyle bought me Shout It Out, it's summer, etc. etc.

Summer.

Camp.

That's right, folks, I am now officially 1/5 of the way through the inaugural Noorda (star!) Summer Camp.

Umm..

Um..

I really don't have much more to say about it, except this: it's fun, it's great, it's wonderful, it's my dream job, it makes me exhausted, and I think a month is just long enough.

So...

Okay, there is one thing. You see, there are seventeen characters in the show I'm ASMing. Unfortunately, we only have 14 children in the cast, so Jeremy asked if I would step in and take on two roles, except that there was no asking involved, and I can't exactly say no because this is my job. It wouldn't be a big deal (it isn't actually a big deal) if I didn't have another show that I was trying to memorize

Other than that, though, I feel pretty okay about it. Also, I used this camp as an excuse to buy some delicious and nutritious snacks, about which I feel okay. :)

Summer is the best.