A Continuing Love Story (October 27th)

Yesterday was October 27th, and even though I wish I could have posted this yesterday I would like to take the time now to tell you why October 27th was a day worth remembering. It makes sense that one would hold dear the day that changed their life forever, but it will never cease to amaze me that what changed my life was a simple date. But I guess what's more important was not the date but the man, the man I'll always love. So I decided to share the moment I first fell in love with Spencer. This past summer I did a lot of writing...actually I amend that statement the first couple days of summer I did a lot of writing. In one day I wrote 20,000 words about our love story. Here's the prologue:

             “And that’s how it happened…” I said as I concluded my story. I looked up at him expecting him to be upset or at least a little annoyed at my actions. I mean I felt like he had deserved an explanation and wouldn’t have been surprised at some sort of a rebuke, but with a smile in his voice all he said was, “What are you getting yourself into?” Without a second thought, I burst out with, “A whole lotta great!”

At that, his smile broke through and he couldn’t help but laugh. Maybe he thought I was funny, or cute, or something silly, but as he smiled at me I could see contentment. I was glad I could make him smile that way. It was one of my favorites. The kind of smile he gave me when it was obvious how much he adored me, the kind of smile he gave me when I would pray that maybe this time he’d kiss me for the first time…the kind of smile that peered into my very soul and gave wings to the secret dreams of my desperate heart.

And I never looked back.

And this is the beginning of our Continuing Love Story...

Spencer and I had just arrived at the Maesar Building and stepped into the world of "Ghost Stories." There were four rooms and in each was a character that embodied one character trait. Like living ghosts, each obsessed, were hollowed out by, and all consumed by this one idea.  In the first room, the girl was surrounded by clocks and ran around in nervous twitching at each defining tick of the clocks. She was whispering, “Not enough time, not enough time.” And compulsively winding and rewinding each clock. On a chalkboard at the front of the room was a list of things many of us all hope to accomplish before our time runs out.

In another room, the boy was seated at a desk and surrounded by bits of ripped pieces of paper. Each bit of paper had a secret written on it and he seemed to just rock back and forth in the company of a million secrets.

In another room, the girl looked a lot like an Alice in Wonderland. She was in a pretty dusty rose dress and was talking to someone none of us could see. She was surrounded by mirrors and empty picture frames hung from the ceiling. By this point, I was quite confused as to what we, as the audience, were supposed to do. But then out of nowhere, Spencer stepped forward into a picture frame. The girl jumped at his sudden “appearance” and he began to talk to her. He just kept it casual asking how her day was and I think trying to gauge anything about her that he could. At first, I was slightly alarmed not knowing if we were supposed to jump in like he had just done, but then I was impressed because he’d understood and acted. He had just broken down the fourth wall of performance. He eventually came back and after a minute he nudged me to walk up. It didn’t really occur to me that I should feel uncomfortable, because if he could do it then I knew I could. So, without a thought, I walked up to a picture frame and waited for her to “notice” me. She acted a little startled, but eventually, she started talking to me. Our conversation didn’t really get anywhere but Spencer says this is where it started.

The last room had a girl standing on a desk. She was dressed in white ripped clothes and she was covered in works scribbled and scratched in black eye-liner. Phrases like, “not guilty,” “I didn’t do it,” and “innocent” covered her arms, face, and clothes. Something about the scene disturbed me but I couldn’t tell what it was.

What was it on her face and in her eyes that pulled at me so much? Somehow I understood her, the feeling of being trapped; searching for escape and solace from my mind and my expectations. Then I noticed a projector with a stack of slides sitting next to it. Without even really meaning to I walked up and put a picture up. She jerked. Then it clicked. She would respond to the pictures! Perhaps I could take the slides and manipulate the meanings, colors, and emotions to get through to her. Much like my own mind, I felt like if I could just work backward fast enough then I could unravel the person behind the mask of her mind.

I proceeded to show her pictures of the blue sky, Ferris wheels, flowers, and strictly avoided the pictures of bars, solemn staring statues, and crosses over graves. I tried to talk to her about anything but I couldn’t seem to break through. In that split second, I didn’t know what to do, I realized it wasn’t about luring her outside of her mind with the “happy things” of the world but rather, showing her that “happy things” can belong in her mind. I know it sounds crazy but I started telling her all the wonderful things she could think about; I started telling her about color.

About a year earlier I remember walking with McKenzie outside and stopping to watch the sunset. It was mostly pink and orange and very lovely but McKenzie was in awe.

“Natalie, Natalie! Look at all the colors!” she cried.

“Yeah, it’s pretty, pink and orange . . .”

“No no no! Don’t you see it? The greens and blues on the edge with a tint of purple on the line of the horizon?”

“Umm…well I really do like the pink and orange…” I said. Honestly, I thought she was crazy but as she explained and got more and more excited I was shocked to realize she actually could see blue, green, and purple where I could only see pink and orange. Well, we went home but that really bugged me for the next month, so every night I’d go watch the sunset and just strain to see the colors she had talked about.

“Natalie, it’s not just a sunset, it’s a painting.” I would hear her say over and over. I tried to imagine a brush stroke or God giddily playing with watercolors and then one sunset it finally clicked. I don’t know what happened but all the sudden I could see the purple, I mean it wasn’t really purple but if I had to duplicate it or move it into my mind I would have to use purple to paint it.

“So color was not a fact but rather in the eye of the beholder?” I remember thinking dumbfounded.

And this is why I was telling this girl about color, of all things. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and color is just one those things that help us define all that is worth seeing and remembering. But being happy for me has always been a three-step process. First, you have to be able to recognize joy. Second, you remember joy. You create a memory to think of when you have no joy to recognize. And third, you find joy in yourself. So I decided to find something about this girl that had beautiful color. Well, I’ve always loved eyes. For me, their like windows to the soul and every fleck reflect the many facets of a person’s existence. And this nameless girl had beautiful eyes.

Looking at her I paused and said, “You know what?”

“What?” she replied hesitantly.

“You have beautiful eyes.”

“Really?” For the first time, her voice fluctuated to a higher pitch.

“Yeah, they have such beautiful color. They’re the color of . . . well . . . you know when there’s a storm on the sea and things have finally come to a calm and the waves have stopped tossing and crashing? Well, there is always a clear sheen of sea foam where the clear blue sky collides with the green undertones of the water and that’s the color of your eyes. Or you know in early springtime when you wake up really early and go on a run and come back and collapse on the wet grass? And out of the corner of your eye, you see the sparkle of dew reflecting the blue sky onto the tender green blades of grass? That’s the color of your eyes.”

She just looked at me smiling. I was so totally lost in our conversation I actually jumped when Spencer began talking. For the past little while, he’d just been looking at me, watching me interact with this girl. But then he joined in, and I was honestly shocked when he picked up the thread of my thoughts and as though he knew exactly what I was trying to do he began talking, saying the exact words that needed to be said. Weirdly, I felt like he was talking to me, telling me what I’d only wished I could hear. Then, while listening to Spencer, I realized why I’d connected so intensely with this girl. In a strange way I felt just like her; trapped in my mind and weighed down by the unfathomable weight of my expectations.

“But how! How could I guy I’d just met know exactly what to say? How could I come to a theater performance and find a glimpse into my own psychological state?” I racked my thoughts. “How did he know what to say? How?”

             For me, this is where it started. Because without even realizing it I fell in love with a man who knew how to say what no one else could.

 You see it's been a year since that day, and I promise life only gets better. Sometimes life is busy, most often it's difficult, and we learn to become acquainted with the words "C'est la vie." But even so it's always worth it. By taking the time to weave ourselves into someone's story we create a beautiful array of colors in a future of possibilities. And that's what love is, coming to understand that we're not here to escape pain and hardship, we're here to triumph over it. We're not here to waste away in a solitary similitude of apparent spiritual elevation, we're here to live. We're here to marvel and wonder and change the world. And we're not here to do it alone. We're here to love. And as my life keeps turning and I keep trying I'll never stop loving, because from the first moment I met him I knew that Spencer was a man I could love forever.

-Natalie Cherie

It's the Little Things

Today I want to take a moment to notice the little things. Life is always busy and I've discovered that I will never stop running. Ever since I was little I would run till I dropped, really, not an exaggeration. As I've gotten older this hasn't changed. I have always seemed to expect near perfection in all I do, and if I'm not demanding inhuman efforts with how I use my time then someone else is. This is not entirely a bad thing, since it speaks volumes about my reputation, for I was generally thought capable, efficient, trustworthy, and always willing. But in my pursuit of potential, I lost my anchor to sanity and pure and blissful normalcy. And one day I woke up in the hospital.

I remember the walls were white, my head was pounding, and I was swimming among a muck of confusion and disorientation. Where was I? Why did my tongue ache? Why am I drenched in sweat? Why does my mouth taste like rust...wait am I bleeding? And then I saw my doctor. He briefly informed me that I had experienced a seizure and was in the emergency room. It didn't really sink in all I knew was that I hurt everywhere and my doctor was very very attractive. You see it's the little things. ;) I later learned that my sister had been suddenly awakened by a piercing thought, "Wake up, Natalie is dying." She found my bed shaking from my vibrations, and with my head buried in my pillow, I was quickly changing colors. With my tongue shredded she held my shuddering body in her arms as my other sister ran for my parents. I changed nothing and life went on.

A month later it happened again. Both starting with migraines, probably originating from pure exhaustion and stress. And though I didn't end up in the hospital this time and the pain was duller I was taken to a Neurologist and told that I had literally collapsed my Corpus Colosseum from an overload of information. Yep, something needed to change. It's been almost 3 years since that time, and from that day on I've never been the same. I have since learned that stress is a choice, sleep is essential, and it's the little things that make a difference.

The other day I walked home in a rainstorm. It made my day to have it rain, then again I love rain. I got to call my best friend for the first time in weeks. I got seven hours of sleep last night versus the previous three nights of 5 hours each. I cut nine inches off of my hair and was told it was adorable. Jason (my four-year-old brother) called me and told me a bedtime story. I went to Wendy's with Kenyon and Paige for a Frosty. I have no homework tonight and tomorrow night is a barn dance. Last night my roommates saved me dinner and I got to dance with Spencer at the Folk Dance Rec Night, and after watching The Perks of Being a Wallflower he told me why he loved me. Paige brought my glasses to school because I was having allergies, and a random kid smiled at me and in a broken accent told me he like my braid. Tonight Spencer wrapped his arms around me, and Kenyon talked to me for an hour even though we were both exhausted.

This list only covers a few days but each of these moments has made a valuable impression. And sometimes I wonder how I lived before I learned what I was missing. You see, for me, it took a near-death experience to realize that I needed to pay attention to what mattered. and I'd never give that up. I've learned that it's the little things that make a difference, and taking time to notice is what makes each little moment enough to change a life.

-Natalie Cherie

A Return to Existence: Waking up to the New Day

Hello everyone! It's been ages, literally. But I am back and ready to fill you all in with the daily happenings of my busy life. It has been almost two months since coming back to BYU and it has been fantastic! I'm currently taking 17.5 credits, and I'm very busy with school, but it's a blast so I'll take it. So here's what happened over the past couple months:

I got called to be the Relief Society President in my Young Singles Adult Ward . . . after a short freak out session and minor discombobulation, I decided I was simply not of cut out to be a relief society president due to my neglect of tablecloths and center pieces and decided it wasn't real. Then after a pep talk from Spencer I've decided that maybe my lack of confidence in this arena is exactly why I have the calling and perhaps I do have what it takes. I've been running and doing my best ever since. Yay for blessings and awesome counselors and loving girls. : )

Spencer and I hiked to the Summit of Mount Timpanogos with his marvelous Jerusalem Center friends. It was a two day hike. We left at 6 or so Friday night, camping at Emerald Lake with s'mores, laughs, and bedtime stories. The next morning we hiked to the summit and let me tell you, it was literally a scene from Mordor. It was all rock slides and shale and as the light rose a dull gray sheen covered every thing in in sight. But shin splints, heavy packs, exhaustion, and altitude headaches set aside it was so worth it! The sunrise was breathtaking as the pink hues crept along the horizon to herald in the beam of radiant light that followed. Then we sang and talked all the way down and my friendship with many a Jerusalem student was born! 

Sleepovers! Every Thursday night brings a delightful sleepover with Kenyon, a recent tradition we've started due to Basement Politics at the Moore's, my constant plethora of homework, my laziness in walking the 30 minutes home, and in general wanting to spend more time with Spencer and then girl-talk with Kenyon after. I'm never quite prepared though leading to the discovery that sleeping in one's clothes is not entirely uncomfortable, tooth brushes though lovely are a bit overrated, and Reeses Puffs are a must if Kenyon has them in her cupboard. Also snuggling is lovely.

Folk Dancing is wonderful as usual. I'm still on one of the Basic Wilk Teams which is great because I'm on Amanda's team, a friend of mine from home. I'm also taking four other dance classes (Beg. Ballet, Beg. World Dance, Beg. Clogging, and Beg. Irish Dance) so we'll see where I go from here. : ) We also just got to be in the Homecoming Parade. It was like running a marathon, trust me. And because I foolishly had not been drinking water for about 24 hours previous by the end of the parade I was dry heaving from dehydration. Lovely...But it really was a blast. We got to do a fun Bhangra Indian Dance, and a crazy American Country Dance, along with a fun cheer a couple of the boys on Spencer's team (backup) put together. In the crowd I saw a lot of friends and even some family friends from home so dry heaving set aside, I once again say it was worth it. 

So I'm sure I'm not the only one who will soon say goodbye to many close friends but with the new age options regarding missions, many of my close friends (Annica, Kenyon, Paige, and Sarah) have decided that they will be leaving anywhere between January and May. Kind of crazy but exciting nonetheless. I've always wanted to go, I even took a mission prep course this summer to help make my life a mission. But I need to be be here so whatever life has for me bring it on cause it looks like I'm sticking around! :)

I also got to go to my first concert ever! It was Train with Matt Kearney, Andy Grammer as pre-performances. Basically, it was amazing...we saw a couple get married by the drummer, and the lead singer gave away his guitar to a girl in a wheelchair. Paige got touched by both Matt Kearney and Andy Grammer and it was a great time. : )

We also got to go to the Relief Society Broadcast in Salt Lake City. The Bishop asked me to go so I got to take my roommates except for Ruby who couldn't go and instead we had Adria come with us. But it was of course a wonderful experience. The Second Counselor's talk really touched me, and if for nothing else I went for that talk. And I even made it back in time for a little bit of folk dancing.

I have recently become an expert in constellations thought my skills still need to be tried and tested so romantic dates are sure to be in store. And...oh oh oh! I can't forget Miyazaki Movie Nights. One Sunday Spencer, Abby, and many other friends had congregated in Jon Fox's apartment and decided to watch a Miyazaki film and like magic, it caught on and we've been watching Miyazaki every Sunday since, with the exception of Origins: Spirits of the Past. So far we've seen "Nausicaa," "My Neighbor Totoro," "Howl's Moving Castle," "Origins: Spirits of the Past," "Castle in the Sky," "Princess Mononoke," and in my own time I've also seen "Kiki's Delivery Service." Abby is a film major and I a music buff, so we have fantastic conversations every single week about the genius of Miyazaki, and regardless of whether his animation style or plot lines are your preferred medium, it's hard to disagree with the fact that each film is truly memorable. 

I'm getting better at French, which is magnificent. Nathan Jellen, my teacher, also happens to be a guy that went to the Jerusalem Center at the same time as Spencer which is a fun connection. Well, he keeps class exciting, hilarious, and fun, especially with all the random outburst and activities like our French Fashion Show today. It's still occasionally frustrating...okay all the time, but I love the language more and more with every passing day. I also just finished a class on Islam which was fascinating but I'll go more into that in my next post about my adventures with Spencer. 

All in all, I've been enjoying the simple pleasures of existence. To be constantly exhausted yet always wide awake. Having good days and less good days and trying to make every day the best day. To collapse at the end of each day knowing I could not possibly have worked harder, laughed longer, or loved greater, but always still searching for ways to do just that. Rising every morning and literally crawling out of the covers to fall from my overly tall bed and trudge to dance class only to emerge confident and graceful in nothing but pink tights and a leotard. Rolling with the punches, dancing in the rainstorms, and starting all over again. And now as I get ready to end another day, a day which I wish I had more time to tell you about, I look forward to the bliss of nothing, but even greater is the moment I wake up, my return to existence.

-Natalie Cherie

Home Away from Home at Last

I am finally back in BYU! It feels like a dream almost like I'd never left. Yet while nothing seems to have changed, or at least it looks the same, I feel as though the life I knew only four months ago is gone forever. All shall continue though, for while I grasp at a feeling of displacement and suffer from a strange daze, I continue to find small tokens or happenings of the life I knew before. The most defined would most certainly fall to Spencer. To talk, to laugh, to cook, and love. None of that has changed, though the depth and maturity have perhaps grown due to the four months of letter writing that has now come to a close. Next I find that campus is almost entirely the same. This time is more comforting of course, as I'm not now walking with wide eyes and a bewildered mind wondering how I shall ever learn the vast campus I now know. To make my return even better was the opportunity to run into old friends. In the bookstore I came across Carl. He was a distance runner under my father (the coach of the distance team) and I got to know him through Anatomy and Physiology my Senior Year of High School. It's amazing how time passes. And while I was sitting on a bench by the HFAC (Harris Fine Arts Center) Alex, a fellow folk dancer, bounded up all aglow just like he always is. Then I hear the bells toll as I take a familiar walk to the Moore House. Tomorrow morning Paige arrives. This means I won't have to sleep in an empty apartment for a third night. Tomorrow night is the kick-off to our Folk Dance Auditions, which means that perhaps my nerves will finally die away. This Friday Annica arrives and Ruby will soon follow. Classes begin soon and my daze seems to have returned.

One can only hope that the daze will wear off but after clinging to the past I find it almost awkward to transition to the future. Much like trying to fold one's arms a certain way, opposite of what is most natural or comfortable, or like trying to write left handed for a right-handed person. Yes, I think I am most grateful we are given a present for I think I shall focus on that. 

For now, I find myself lying on the Moores's couch, typing the thoughts that come to me as my computer is quickly depleted of its power. I have forgotten my power cord, and with a 30-minute walk back to my place I think I had better just do without it. Especially when taking into account the fact that my leather boots have rubbed a little spot on each ankle to a rawness that I'm currently attempting to ignore. Spencer taught me to pick a lock today and I have acquired all my books. Merritt will be here in the next hour or two, and I wonder what I'll have for dinner . . . Perhaps more of Spencer's pasta. Either way, it's good to be back, in this home away from home which seems to have supplanted my first home in a way I didn't think possible. Here it's always changing, in Twin Falls with my family life seems to stand still. Here I'm always progressing, in Twin Falls the monotony lends to near madness. Here I have a place, a purpose, and a passion. To Twin Falls I may always return to the ones I love, but the other is non-existent. So yes, even with the dazed feeling I still feel that it is good to be home at last.

-Natalie Cherie

For Fears Shall Flee at the Angel's Landing

My eyes flutter open. This is the fourth time in the course of the past 2 hours. You see, today is the day we hike to Angel's Landing in Zion's National Park. Grabbing Brittney's phone, as mine is charging upstairs, I realize this time I've woken up seven minutes late at the time of 5:37 a.m. The alarm didn't go off, just like I'd felt it wouldn't and with a sense of responsibility, I began to awake all of my siblings, starting the ready-ing process.

~

Soon I find myself driving on roads I've never driven with slight direction from a GPS that speaks too slow. The sun begins to break across the red rock skyline and the pressure of this day becomes more palpable. Why must I feel so burdened by responsibility? Mom hasn't come with us, instead opting to take care of Jason so I'm in charge of the group. I suppose McKenzie is older but I was asked, so there I sat watching the dawn break from the driver's seat.

 ~

 Now I'm on the shuttle being borne away to the base of my fear. I really am excited to hike Angel's Landing. I'm sure the pictures I'll have the opportunity to capture will be awesome, and I really want to be able to say that I've done it, especially in the light of my absolute fear of heights. Unfortunately I've fallen sick, and the pain begins to dampen my resolve. The faster the shuttle whisks me towards the site the faster I lose my stomach. The queasy-ness begins. My insides are experiencing quite a debilitating tension. Every time I'm hit with a new set my mind falters. "Okay deep breaths, don't make it look worse than it is. Worse than it is? You've got to be kidding! Just try not to think about it Natalie." My internal dialogue strengthens as it gets worse. I've gotten very good at  masking this timely and inescapable pain but I usually have the blessed relief of very very strong pain relief pills. Today I have none, I'm about to begin a strenuous hike, an emotional journey that will test my muscles, my mental resolve, and my psychological fear. I fear I don't have enough water but decide to let a good attitude prevail. After all I'm here to take pictures, be with family, and prove to myself that I can do it! With that I step off the bus. 

~

I'm looking at chains. A little string of chain link that follows the edge of a cliff and they expect me to climb that! Joking! Must be! I'll die! As of now I've climbed paved uphill trails and red rock switchbacks and it's been relatively easy taking out the fact that we're at an elevation of almost 5,000 feet, and it's been uphill. So far Kristen has been my buddy and we've had a blast taking pictures and walking with our walking sticks and talking. It's been great! But now I look with mounting fear at the summit I'm expected to climb. The tension is thick. My Uncle Shawn has in large part been in charge of the group and we are all aware of the danger of the hike, especially if kids goof off. I can tell the tension is wearing on him. It's definitely no comfort that Kristen and I are both scared of heights. So with resolved determination, I decide to not burden Shawn more. "I'll be fine," I tell myself. "No big deal."

~

The climb has begun. We've been going for quite a while now. There are many people and it makes me increasingly nervous every time we have to maneuver around someone. I'm sticky with sweat and sunscreen and I notice that each time I grab the chain my hands seem to show the symptoms of instant clamminess. Perhaps it's an epidemic. Bad jokes don't seem to be helping my psyche. Good thing I have Kristen. She understands my fear and keeps me talking. Slowly I fall into the monotony of taking one step at a time. Forever looking at the rock below me, occasionally taking a look to the side and looking down in time to ease the pit in my stomach. Awe-inspiring? Yes. Sickeningly high? Yes. Amazing pictures? Yes. Scared out of my mind? Yes. But I am doing it! By golly I am doing it!

~

At this point I've run into the first counselor of my BYU bishopric. I've listened to the past 30 minutes to a scout troop climbing behind me. Honestly they seem as scared as me. Well that's comforting. ;) And I finally made it to the top! Water depleted, muscles shaking from swallowed tension and beautiful pictures taken, oh and Shawn's bag of jerky sadly depleted as well, but regardless I've made it to the top. Freaky pictures on top of frightening rock. Check! Suddenly I take in the surrounding landscape and feel wonderful. I feel empowered. I feel alive. To think that I almost let a small, or perhaps large, psychological fear hinder this experience! For fears shall flee at the Angel's Landing. For fears shall flee. But all too soon we begin to leave. And now we go back down. The fear returns and I hear myself mutter a very sarcastic "Great!"

~

Soon enough I'm down and begin the lengthy descent. My nerves are definitely shot and muscles sore but I'm fine and alive. No death! The hike down is a little hard for me. I almost ripped my ACL last March and I can feel the strain on my knee. Tanner decides to walk with me and I can only say thank you I'm so touched by his thoughtfulness. 

~

I just finished driving home. It was terrible! Everyone fell asleep and I myself was feeling completely drained, utterly exhausted, and was dozing at the wheel. How ironic to die by falling asleep at the wheel after having hiked Angel's Landing where I was sure I'd fall to my death every moment. I chuckled to myself at that thought and kept forcing my eyes open. We didn't die, I'd made it home in one peace, and I collapsed exhausted. Was it worth it? Are you kidding me! Then with a passing thought, I admit "...well I guess it was." After all, anything is worth feeling fear flee for even a short moment. And if my fears flee on Angel's Landing, then I'll go again.

-Natalie Cherie

Becoming a Cougar...No Big Deal :)

Hey, so today I finished a video of my freshman year of college. Needless to say it was epic! So here it is for you all to enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gLTAyuCWabQ&feature=plcp

And now I continue my endeavor to scrapbook over 300 photos! And in nine days I'm back! Back to school, folk dancing, my wonderful roommates, and my love, Spencer! Can't wait can't wait can't wait! I take it back, whether you are becoming a Cougar for the first time or returning like I am, let me assure you it's always a big deal. :)

-Natalie Cherie

Auld Lang Syne

For starters, though I'm sure we've all heard it, I think we should all take a moment to listen to this song again . . .

It's an old Scottish poem by Robert Burns and literally translates to Old Long Since. I like to think of it as long ago. Anyway, I was listening to the song on my drive home and it inspired this poem. I wrote two separate poems which you can read right side or left side but if you read it like a book, left to right, the two poems intertwine . . .

The day is long.                                                                                             I wait to meet.

The night is short.                                                                  For all is there.

The time draws nigh.                                    My future wrought.

The phase of fear.                 Oh, will we fair?

Auld Lang Syne I loved you then. Auld Lang Syne shall never end.

The sun still shines.               I will endure.

The tides still roll.                                           Till waiting ends.

The seasons change.                                                           It’s all of worth.

The growth of love.                                                                                        And all will mend.

Auld Lang Syne I love you then. Auld Lang Syne shall never end.

While it's true that this is traditionally a New Year's Eve song, I'd like to put it into a different context. When life moves on, times change, and the sand of the hourglass runs thin we can all look back to the memory of Auld Lang Syne and find the strength to wait, the courage to move forward, the hope that our future will be brighter. 

-Natalie Cherie

Mountain Memories: An Emerald Green Dragon of Oil Paint

So today I began my day by singing about Emerald Green Dragons and oil paints. Why? Because my older sister McKenzie was threatening to not finish her oil paint series of the Inheritance Cycles' dragons...at least before I went back to BYU. This was, of course, an awful thought, so...I sang to her. Meanwhile, we were trying to leave town while our car was refusing to start. But eventually, we were able to go and spent a wonderful day down at the 7 Peaks water park in Salt Lake City. Then the next day, after a long night of being lost and dodging deer on the road up, we explored the Uinta Mountains at our extended family's cabin, "Christmas Meadows."

So I got to thinking that the mountains are like an Emerald Green Dragon of Oil Paint. It sounds really cliche since I had just sung about it, in an entirely different context this morning, but it's true. The Mountains have a stunning beauty, yet the fierceness of a Dragon. One moment it can be as idealistic as an oil painting by Thomas Kinkade, and the next change into a dangerous and terrifying Emerald Green Dragon. Yet, I suppose that therein lies the true beauty. Making mountain memories in all it's sweet perfection and unexpected ferocity. Just being alive together. And enjoying our Emerald Green Dragon, a creation of oil paint. 

-Natalie Cherie

Discovering Kindred Spirits

Ever since I was little I've loved Anne of Green Gables. I love the books and I adored the movies. Honestly, if you had to pick one character to most represent me it would be Anne Shirley (with an 'e'). I've always identified with her funny ways and passionate feeling (especially her love of places with lots of scope for the imagination). Well, this last weekend I reconnected with this love and re-watched the movies. I had to squeeze it in between work shifts and late at night when I should have been sleeping, but I assure you it was well worth it. And it once again reminded me of the beautiful concept of Kindred Spirits. I, like Anne, used to think that Kindred Spirits were rare. But I have since learned otherwise. How wonderful to be able to say with Anne that, "Kindred Spirits are not so scarce as I used to think. It's splendid to find out there are so many of them in the world." And now as I turn my life over to the consistent ebb and flow of change I find it my only comfort to know that "true friends are always together in Spirit." 

This last Sunday my Kindred Spirit, Sarah Anne Dodds, came home from BYU-Idaho. It was a lovely time to spend the day attending farewells, making cookies, and sitting together in church. We giggled and reminisced and felt no other joy than to be together.  Today we went to the temple just like we used to every Wednesday morning before school. We sat by the fountain and talked about the future, having already covered the bliss of the past. And true to tradition we returned to my house to make and delicious breakfast. But finding perfect contentment in reliving tradition and treasuring the past all the while barely containing our excitement for the future is not why Sarah is my Kindred Spirit. Sarah is not my Kindred Spirit because we find perpetual bliss in each other's successes and joys nor because we understand each other on a level untouched by others. It is not because of the unconditional love, acceptance, and need that seemed innately present in the other nor is she my Kindred Spirit because our experiences, beliefs, and very beings are so uncannily similar. It is not because she knew me better than anyone, nor is it that no sacrifice would be too great if it was needed of the other. I am certain, without a shadow of a doubt, that I could not be happy if Sarah were not apart of my life and that perhaps our children may play together while we take walks. She will be at my wedding and I hers, perhaps we will travel, and someday we'll once again reminisce, but this time on a front porch swing with the aroma of chocolate chip cookies wafting through the parlor, our grand-children playing in the yard. But not even this is why Sarah is my Kindred Spirit. 

Sarah is my Kindred Spirit simply because she always has been. I may not remember what happened before this life had begun it's course but I do know one thing . . . when I first met Sarah I wasn't meeting her for the first time. We simply picked up where we left off. What a glorious feeling to realize that though time may always move forward it never has to mean the end. One may simply pick up where they left off. The strands of a memory or the sensations of a past are enough to give meaning and hope that a brighter future may be sparked and ignited into a beautiful present.

Sarah is my Kindred Spirit and I daresay she always has been and always will be and I love her for it. 

So it seems to me (at least from my experience with Sarah) that Kindred Spirits are not made but rather discovered. If we keep our eyes and hearts open I'm sure we will find them, perhaps even in ourselves. For with a Kindred Spirit distance can not part nor hardship waver. A Kindred Spirit does not falter with change or grow weary with years. They do not simply exist in books or in the forever young characters of Anne Shirley and Diana Barry. They are all around us and it's time to start discovering . . . discovering Kindred Spirits. 

-Natalie Cherie

A Past Not Yet Gone

So a couple nights ago I decided to go on a little walk before the sunset. Without even really thinking about it I set off towards my old Elementary School, a path I've walked a thousand and a half times before. But a walk I could take backward and with my eyes closed suddenly became very nostalgic, as I realized that nothing seemed to have changed. The little wildflower garden next door was in bloom and the little path through the fences was just as weathered as always with leaves forever caught between the slats and the sidewalk and vines growing between the posts. The playground was just as bright and the swing sets sat peacefully still like a pencil sketch waiting for the children to play and squeal and once again bring life and color to the scene. And the sunset was like a painting as it decorated the sky and slipped behind the line of darkened trees. Nothing had changed...nothing but me. Yet somehow, I could still step back into a past not yet gone.

Oh, the solace that comes from a fixed point. A moment in time where we can always return. In a world where all pride themselves on consistent progression, constant change, and the struggle to not be left behind, it remains ever more precious and significant to find and keep those places that cannot be marred by the passage of time.

For Wallace Stegner in "Crossing to Safety," his fixed point was Baker Hill. Marcel Pagnol, a French filmmaker and writer, found his solace in the Hills of La Treille, France. And Anne of Avonlea would always return to her beloved Green Gables on Prince Edwards Island. It seems to me that we must each have one. A special spot where we can remember days gone by and rest from the racing world. A place, when all else changes, life move on, and friendships decay with distance, where we can return and find ourselves in the dusky twilight of a memory, the peace of a previous life, and the solace of a past not yet gone.

-Natalie Cherie

Happiest in the Rain

The missionaries stopped by on their P-Day and ended up
helping us move our TV, playing pickup sticks and of course
ending with a deep doctrinal discussion. A lovely rainy day.

 I've always loved the rain. Most of my childhood memories belong in Oregon where I felt happiest, and I was always happiest in the rain. I've now lived in Twin Falls for over 10 years and I've never lost my love of the rain. I love the feeling as it slides off my skin and streaks my hair. I love the smell of rain, as the dampness and vegetation mix to create a beautiful cleansing. I love the look as droplets touch every surface, window panes, street gutters, leaves, a pool surface, the tops of umbrellas. I love the sounds of splashing puddles and dripping water. And most of all I love dancing in the rain, singing in the rain, and feeling alive, at peace, and renewed in the rain.

This rainy morning I was coaching Sagebrush (the YMCA summer swim team)
and loving every minute of it! Juble found a butterfly and Lindsey and Abby were
definitely enjoying their woman cave. :)

-Natalie Cherie