“please look to your faithful mothers for a pattern to follow. model yourselves after them. look to your mother. learn from her strengths, her courage, and her faithfulness. listen to her. she may not be a whiz at texting; she may not even have a facebook page. but when it comes to matters of the heart and the things of the lord, she has a wealth of knowledge. no other person on earth loves you in the same way or is willing to sacrifice as much to encourage you and help you find happiness—in this life and forever.
love your mother, my young sisters. respect her. listen to her. trust her. she has your best interests at heart. she cares about your eternal safety and happiness. so be kind to her.
a mother-daughter relationship is where a daughter learns how to nurture by being nurtured. she is loved. she is taught experiences firsthand what if eels like to have someone care about her enough to correct her while continuing to encourage and believe in her at the same time.”
-elder m. russell ballard, april 2010 general conference *
my mother has always been my best friend in the entire universe. she is seriously the most kind, selfless, and beautiful lady that i know. the woman answers my daily 300 phone calls and counsels me on how to talk to a boy without being awkward or listens to my rants about this and that and some other things or tells me when target closes in orem and treats each phone call like it’s the most important thing in her day. she is the most supportive person in the world and is always there for me, 24/7.
while i’m here at college, i am realizing how much i miss her. i don’t just miss her home cooked meals (i would kill for some moo shu chicken tacos or sunday stew with ketchup on top) and folded, clean laundry piles, but i miss her being there every time i get back from school, anxious to know about my day and asking what she can do to help. i miss going to lunch every day (yes, every day folks; my mom was the best school lunch date ever!) and random grocery store runs and late night real housewives sessions.
this week i was hammered with stress and chaos. i felt like i was running around like a chicken with its head cut off. i was forgetting assignments, switching my schedule around, and sweating the small stuff. my week was completely lifted when i received a random package from my mother filled with cute fall nail polish, a crafted notebook for my college adventures, a card with an encouraging message, and little trinkets to spice up my dorm. she knew exactly when and what i needed and truly made my week.
i’m so grateful to have her as a mother and a best friend.
miss you, mommy!
*let it be noted: my mom is a whiz at texting, checks her facebook daily, and, upon my request, has activated a twitter account. booya.
Post-devouring three oatmeal chocolate chip cookies(with grated Hershey Kisses sprinkled on top), a glass of milk, a bowl of Life cereal, and a slice of cheese, I decided it was time to hit the gym.
Fortunately and unfortunately, I misplaced my key to the gym. Which leaves me here.
Yesterday I waited in line in the snow for a whole 45 minutes to hear Jesse Jackson speak at the U of I.
(Blurred picture below)
Let me reitterate: 45 minutes. In the snow. In line. Alone.
Why you ask?
Well, partially because Jesse Jackson is a well-known civil rights activist who was standing next to(near?) MLK Jr. when he was shot…I think. Partially because, once upon a time, he ran for president. Partially because he is a Baptist minister and I may or may not have been seriously hoping we would all clap and swing and sway and sing. But primarily because he has his own South Park. And all people who have their own South Park are worth standing in line for(for 45 minutes…in the snow…alone).
As I was waiting in line(for 45 minutes…in the snow…alone), three large, important-looking men were talking. Since they looked important(two of them had beards, the other was wearing a jacket with fur), I strained my ear through my too-tight parka to hear.
They were talking about MySpace.
“It’s being sold, you know?” bearded man #1 said to the others.
“The government should just integrate FaceBook and MySpace together. Making MyBook…or FaceSpace!” furry coat man retorted (I said they looked wise, not witty).
“…is it just me, or is that girl in the parka staring at us?” bearded man #2 whispered.
…and that is when I stopped listening and, apparently, staring and was sent back into a fit of nostalgia.
Do you remember when you would spend hours upon hours on your profile? Finding the perfect background(I remember I liked a boy in the 7th grade and his MySpace background was a scantily clad girl in a scantily clad bikini…hormones…!), adding songs, rearranging top friends(I was in a few people’s ‘Top 4’, n.b.d.)?!
I miss those days.
But actually, not really.
Curse you Tom!
Oh, and Jesse Jackson was good. I forget almost everything he said because I was focused on keeping a safe distant between me and the frat boys who unwillingly sat right behind me(if I leaned too far back, frat boy #4 would be straddling me; if I leaned too far forward, crack might kill frat boys #1, 2, 3, and 4) and simultaneously looking over the quirky Asian girl’s shoulder and reading her surprisingly juicy texts about ‘laundry day’ and ‘Super Walmart’ (code? I submit yes).
And yes, I did refrain from asking him if he enjoyed his South Park.
In other news, San Diego in T-Minus 2 weeks and a hair cut tomorrow.