Something New

scdone.blogspot.com

A fresh start.

A new beginning, if you will.

Call me a conformist.

A little bit of Tim

I tell her I love her about four times a day, and if you know me that isn’t normal. But it’s just that… she’s alive. She’s alive and breathing with a big smile on her face like nothing ever happened.

“Did you hear about Macey?” I hear a voice across the room casually ask another. I stopped – I only knew one Macey in ninth grade – Macey Richardson. Who was, coincidentally, one of my best friends. Confused, I looked around to notice my phone buzzing. It was a text from Riley, the third point of our friendship triangle, “Sarah, do you have Lynzi Richardson’s number?” I started scrolling through my phonebook, “Yeah,” I typed back, my fingers shaking.

All that night I got forwards on my phone “Pray for Macey”, “Pray for Macey”. She had collapsed, Coach Gardner performed CPR, the paramedics had to use an AED to start her heart again, but no one really knew what happened. All we knew was that her ride home from school that day was in an ambulance.

She’ll be fine, I told myself. So I did what I do best – I pushed the chaos to the back of my mind and chose not to deal with it. The next day came and went with distractions, but she was only getting worse. Her lungs had collapsed and filled with fluids and the doctors didn’t know what was wrong. I didn’t want to think about it, so I continued to cling tightly to my small string of vain optimism. She’ll be fine, I insisted, she’ll be fine.

Then I heard the news that broke me. “Sarah, I just talked to Coach Riggs.” A girl on Macey’s track team came up to me with a worried face, “Macey is in a coma. They don’t know what’s wrong.” A… a coma? What? No! That only happens on TV. But as she finished talking the reality sunk in. The image that ended up haunting me for the rest of the week flashed in my mind for the first time. Macey, lying in a hospital bed with tubes all around her - Tiny Macey, Fragile Macey, Shy Macey. My friend who I was always trying to protect was lying there, not alive, but hooked up to a machine with only descending mountain peaks on a screen to keep her heart beating.

I spent the rest of that week in a haze. I would barely start to care about some new story we were reading in English when I’d turn to see the empty desk where Macey should be sitting, and have to leave the room in hopes to compose myself again. Three days passed and we were all loosing hope. That image wouldn’t stop plaguing my mind. Macey in a coma, a cord filling the space between death and life. I thought of a book we read in the fourth grade by Judy Blume, the one called “Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret,” and with tears streaming down my cheeks I thought, “Are you there God? It’s me, Sarah.” At church they always told me to say ‘let thy will be done’ when I prayed. But this time I left it out. “Are you there, God? It’s me, Sarah. Don’t let Macey die.” Please, I thought again. Don’t let Macey die.


And He must have listened. Because a few days later she woke up, then after a few tests and surgeries, the doctors figured out what was wrong and she came home. So now she’s here -

Alive.

Breathing.

With a big smile on her face like nothing ever happened.

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I tell her I love her about four times a day.

Way to be Speechy

Okay, so the title doesn't technically have anything to do with my point, but I DID go to my first official Speech & Debate tournament today and it WAS freakin' awesome. Here are some thoughts I've been thinking today...

P.S. I know I have a whole post dedicated in depth to not judging, but this is a bit lighter with a few minor examples and a bit different, so bear with me.

Mother Theresa said, "If we judge people, we do not have time to love them."

Think about that. If we judge people, we do not have time to love them. It's totally true! There's a girl on the team who I had basically written off as rude and flippant because of what I had seen in other classes, but I hadn't ever even talked to her before, so how could I have made that call? Today I got to know her a little bit better, and even just from on conversation I had with her, I could tell that my previous judgement was totally and completely wrong. Better yet, I later ended up talking at length to her mother, who was volunteering as one of the judges, and we started to talk about said girl (her daughter). It was definitely eye opening to see her through her mother's eyes and it really reinforced my realization that I had no idea what I was talking about when I judged her character before.

And what about Stapley? I hated that school with a passion. When I met friends of Hannah's who were from Stapley, I automatically had a slightly lower opinion of them simply because of where they went to school. Wow. Did that thought process hold any water? HECK NO! Every single person that I've met from there is completely awesome, not to mention that every single one of my favorite new friends went there. So why did I feel justified in making such a blanket statement? I don't know. I just know that it was dumb.

By judging those people, I ruined any chances I had of getting to know them any better so that I would be able to love them. Luckily, I realized my poor judgement in those cases and am now on my way to change my views of them. Hopefully I'll continue to be able to notice and fix my prejudices in the rest of my life along the way, too.

(Okay, so I know you don't think I post on here a lot, but I feel like I do. Because I write ALL the time, I just seldom finish a thought. So anyway, the above statements were not actually today, but I'm gonna leave it. Now it's today, today. The real one.)

I really admire those who do not form opinions of people. (Yes, YOU! You know who you are.)

All of my friends, really, have this talent. I am constantly amazed at their ability to see through people's flaws and appearances.

In church on Sunday we were talking about individual talents that we all have and one of them in a quote by Marvin J. Ashton is the gift of not-passing judgement. Think about that. It really is a gift. Those people are able to love everyone around them more fully and easily than anyone else. I think it's awesome.

I'll leave you with a quote I found in seminary last week from this past general conference,

"Charity is having patience with someone who has let us down. It is resisting the impulse to become offended easily. It is accepting weaknesses and shortcomings. It is accepting people as they truly are. It is looking beyond physical appearances to attributes that will not dim through time. It is resisting the impulse to categorize others... Charity has been defined as “the highest, noblest, strongest kind of love,” the "pure love of Christ..." Charity never faileth." - Thomas S. Monson




I hope that wasn't too jumbled, and if it was, just go read this

Plato and his Wisdom

Two weeks ago, I attended M-Ace Rich’s talk in sacrament meeting.

(Can I take a small parenthesis break here to tell you how good it was, Mace? ‘Cause it was – I loved it. Now on to the meat of the story…)

I’m not sure what caused me to pay more attention than usual in this particular sacrament meeting, but it seemed that my ADD mind had decided to take a break from distracting me and actually let me get something out of the talks I heard. After Macey finished, a lady in her ward spoke on filling our lives with positive influence - both in our attitude towards life and towards each other. She delivered her talk with enthusiasm and had many good quotes and anecdotes to share; she then made an end to her speaking by leaving the congregation with this quote, which has since become somewhat of a new life motto of mine –

“Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.” – Plato

Isn’t that an awesome thought? Kami wrote a couple posts with the same idea, and if you haven’t read those I recommend that you do. (She even wrote them before she had ever heard that quote and they are almost the exact same idea, which proves her crazy awesome insight on life.)

I fell in love with this quote as soon as I heard it and have since written it in both my planner and on my bathroom mirror, making sure that I read it at least once a day. I thought to myself “This is so true! Everyone deserves our kindness no matter what, and we never know when what we do and say will make a difference to them. Man, I’m going to do this ALL the time!”

Alas, once again, I failed to follow my own advice.

This past Sunday in church, my mother leaned over to talk to me right before the sacrament
“Sarah, Sis.____ has a missionary coming home soon, should we tell Hannah?”
Ha! I thought, “Yeah… ‘Cause their family is so cool… Right.”

See, I know their two younger kids and I’m not gonna lie, I think they’re kind of… weird. Let’s just say that we don’t get along that well. After responding with an ‘Are you crazy?!’ look to my mother’s comment, she leaned over again,

“I bet your opinion of them would be different if you knew their background.” She then proceeded to tell me a couple relief-society-sensitive things that absolutely stopped me in my tracks. Are you serious? What kind of person am I to be mean to them? That’s horrible! However, right after that, another thought entered my mind Dang. Too bad all the youth in our ward don’t know that! They would all be so much nicer to them!

What a horrible thing to think! Why should we need a reason to be nice to people? Even if all the youth did know more about that family and were nicer to them, the kindness would be artificial – fueled only by false sympathy given to boost our own self-esteem.

In the past two days, I’ve thought much more about that event and thought I had learned something from it. But did it stick? Not at all.

I have a Spanish II teacher that I must say, I really dislike. I laugh when people make fun of her, make the same kinds of jokes behind her back, and critique every aspect of her personality. I agree with my peers who think she is an awful teacher who is rude and untrusting towards her students.

Well, I was proved wrong today. Ironically, my opinion was quickly changed as I was sitting in detention for and fuming in my head about this exact teacher.

I looked up from my homework to see one of the cleaning ladies, whom I had seen around school before, enter the room and happily greet my teacher. The two sat down next to me and started chatting, so naturally I tuned out of my homework and into their conversation.

These are just some of the things I learned through my eaves-dropping:

1. My teacher (sorry for repetitiveness of ‘teacher’ but uh… It feels weird writing names, you know?) has put forth the effort to making this cleaning lady, who I’m sure is looked down upon by many teachers, her real, sincere friend. She hasn’t ignored her, she hasn’t judged her or looked down upon her, she didn’t do it for her own self esteem, she has just been a true friend and a good listener. How completely awesome is that?

2. She is very religious, and has a strong testimony of what she believes – she was talking about how she has been praying for an offer on her house for the past couple weeks and on Saturday she all of a sudden had six calls and two offers, both ready to buy in cash. AND when she was telling her friend this, she said “There is no way that that was a coincidence, that was my own little miracle in my life, and all I keep thinking is ‘Thank you, God, thank you!’” Again, how cool?

Because of my stupid, self-centered attitude, I couldn’t see through a teacher that I don’t get along with and see the real, good, down-to-earth person beneath.

I guess the first example better exemplifies the quote I used, about being kinder than necessary because of what people are going through, but I think that a HUGE part of that is just not judging people. It’s so dumb. What right do I have to do that? The answer is absolutely none. No one deserves that,

“Who am I to judge another when I walk imperfectly?”

There we go. A new motto to go along with the other.

This time I REALLY hope it sticks.

Spark

Yo, kids. I wrote a poem for English and this is what came of it - it also coincidentally coincides with the title of this blog. Here we go!

A spark, one small thing that changes a lot
Then growing, growing, taking over –
consuming and showing the world your power

Goodness, love, charity,
All embodied in your flames
Everything powerful popping and cracking

But the black fog will come, as if you produce it
when in reality you only attract
the evil wind that surrounds you
wafting, waiting, wishing to overpower

The ignorant say there is no use –
that when the embers barely glow,
the smoke engulfs the world.

Not knowing it takes merely a twig,
some small branch of fuel -
something to live for, something to love
for you to roar once again

Amidst all the evil and despair,
there is hope.
The spark.
We must learn, and start our own fire.




Poetry may not be my forte, but I do love being a pyro!

Long Overdue

June 2009 – Girl’s Camp Year 3

Don’t worry, these conversations are going somewhere.

Monday

Me: “Have you seen those redhead girls before?”
Jen (my best ward friend): “No. But I think they’re in our year.”
Me: “Seriously? They look like they’re twenty! I thought they were junior staffers!”

Tuesday

Me: “So I found out more about the red heads today.”
Jen: “Yeah?”
Me: “They’re twins – Haley and Hannah. And they are SO COOL. I want to be their friends.”
Jen: “Well invite them to do something at our cabin during free time or something.”
Me: “Nah…”

Wednesday

Me: “Seriously. They are so cool. It’s crazy.”
Jen: “Have you even talked to them?”
Me: “No… not directly. They’re too cool.”
Jen: “I bet they don’t think that.”

This continued on for the rest of the week – “Hey Jen! I finally talked to them! But I didn’t really know what to say. They’re just all amazing, so I didn’t really know how to act.” etc.

After camp, it continued on for the rest of the year. I would turn to Jen at any stake activity and say “Man, I want to be their friends.” But I never acted on it.

THEN, it was this year, A-Camp, in which we weren’t separated by wards anymore, and it just so happened that I ended up in a tent with the redhead twins that I wanted to befriend so badly. And let me say this – they are really awesome. Which is exactly the reason why I shouldn’t have worried so much.

On one of the last days of camp, Haley and I were reminiscing about past summers,

Haley: “You know, Hannah and I thought you were awesome last year. We saw you and said to each other, ‘I want to be her friend’ but we were too afraid to talk to you.”

So there you have it, we could’ve been friends this entire year, but we were both too afraid about what that other person thought to do anything about it.

Here, when I wrote ^that^ post, (no, I’m sorry, I never did get around to actually posting it), I thought that I had learned my lesson, I thought I knew that it was easy to make friends and that I shouldn’t really mind what people thought about me.

THEN, I got to high school - a wonderful world of new people and new opportunities constantly presenting themselves all around me. And, once again, I fell in love with the idea of making new friends, especially with all of the dang-super-awesome-cool-amazing-beautiful-magnificent-wonderful-incredible-excellent-marvelous-everyotherpositiveadjectiveyoucanthinkof people that I was meeting. Unfortunately, with that new desire to make friends there also came a new fear – fear that they would think I was dumb and obnoxious, fear that they wouldn’t want to be my friend, and in short, fear of all around rejection.

Every so often, I would get sudden bouts of confidence; I forgot about my self-conscious and self-absorbed ways, and remembered for a moment that people didn’t really care and I didn’t need to worry. However, the bursts of confidence always inevitably came to an end and I went back to what I do best – over-analyzing and worrying about everything anyone ever said or did.

Then I received sage advice from a wise friend (ahem, ahem, MACEY!)

“Listen, Sarah. You don’t need to worry so much. Friendships happen because they happen – I’m sure that they want to be friends with you just as much as you want to be friends with them.”

And it’s true. Friendships do have a way of happening naturally. We (me) don’t need to be concerned with other’s opinion of us because…

#1 – Ninety-nine percent of people we meet are so worried about themselves and what other people think of them that they don’t have time to think much about us.

Something I often forget is that EVERYONE has these same fears of rejection. Some may more than others, but everyone has the same doubts and reservations that we do.

#2 – And more importantly, the old adage rings true that “Those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind.”

Chances are, if we think someone is awesome and we want to be friends with them, they feel the same way about us. AND, the very fact that they are such good people ensures that they are not the kind of person who will judge us or think ill of our intentions because those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind!

I had absolutely no reason to worry about Haley and Hannah’s opinion of me because they were feeling the exact same way.

And really, if someone does happen to think differently, it still doesn’t matter because D&C 3:7 reminds us “You should not have feared man more than God.” because Heavenly Father’s opinion of us is the only one that matters at all anyway.

So the moral of this rambling post is that we don’t need to worry. If we love life and love everyone around us, we will be surrounded by sincere friends who love us no matter what and we won’t ever have to worry about what anyone thinks about us again.

I just hope this time it sticks a little longer than before…

I'm Sorry Your Finger Isn't a Cheeto....

A rather amusing anecdote from my younger days... This may help to explain the complicated relationship between Hannah and I.

It’s the beginning of those lazy, carefree summer days in Utah, the sun is shining and there’s a slight breeze. And yet my sister, Hannah, and I are stuck inside, sitting on the top of our lofty staircase staring at the wall with a family size bag of Cheetos wedged between us. We shove handful after mindless handful of the cheesy snacks into our mouths, not uttering a word. Sometime during this junk-food binge I hear a high-pitched shriek coming from my sister and am shaken from my previous zoned-out state. “Ouch! Mo-om!!!” She exclaims, “Sarah just bit my finger!” My mother rushes in, and, after hearing my sister’s theatrical retelling of what I had supposedly done, sends me to my room without any explanation. I, being only five at the time, was somewhat perplexed by my current condition; all I knew was one moment I was lazily munching on my favorite snack and the next, was sentenced to my room by a stern looking parent. After what seemed like an eternity, my mom came in and told me it was okay to come out now, as long as I promised to promptly apologize to my “injured” sibling. Still unsure of what exactly I was apologizing for, I started the long, shameful walk down the hall to where Hannah was sitting, looking down and sniffling, holding ice to her finger. That’s when it hit me – my sister had told my mom that I had purposefully bit her finger, and while I’m sure that was true in her mind, in mine I wasn’t even aware that what I picked up, assuming to be a Cheeto, was in fact, my own sister’s pointer. Realizing this, and immediately feeling terrible for causing her any pain whatsoever, I closed the few remaining feet between us and, with that irresistible puppy-dog look on my face, said, “I’m sorry your finger isn’t a Cheeto.”