Baby sisters are the best

This is a repost from October 21, 2008 Original Post Today is my baby sister's birthday, so this is for her! (who also made all the simple prettyness on my blog!)

I Love you, Pen!

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Chicken, rice, and corn from a can

Disclaimer: this post is dedicated to my baby sister, Pene. It just might get cheesy or sad or personal. If you don't want to hear about it, I suggest you move along.

Usually, I say that I cannot remember life without my sister. I'm here to tell you it's a big, fat lie. But not a horrible one, I don't think. I have exactly one memory from before she was born.

My earliest memory is from when I was about 2 years old (plus some 5 or so months) It was the night my baby sister was born, and actually the only memory I have without her in it.

I have a vivid mental picture of our house in Salt Lake; it's night time, and we are eating dinner. You guessed what's for dinner; chicken, rice, and corn from a can. Nothing too fancy. Just fried chicken, sticky rice, and corn. I don't remember much beyond that, except that my older siblings were there, and I colored a picture. I also remember a man there, who I'm assuming was probably my cousin Tui, who I guess babysat us a lot.

After that, pretty much all my memories involve my sister. We were always "the little girls" and did pretty much everything together. Whether it was bullying the girl next door into letting us play (she had THE coolest toys) and then fervently denying it to our mom, or trying to convince a neighborhood kid that we could get him deported to Canada, we were quite the pair. We fought constantly with each other, but I knew she always had my back.

When I think of how a good sister should be, I usually think of a Jane Austen book. The sisters in her books were usually pretty close to perfect, and always totally devoted to each other. My sister has always been the Jane Austen sister, and I'm so grateful to have her in my life!

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Focus

I know that I am biased because I am their Auntie, but I just think these kids are so adorable (it's ok that I am often grateful I can return them!) I love this picture; they are so little, but they look SO grown up at the same time.

This picture captures their personalities so well; the Princess is the center of those boys' universe and she knows it. (lets be honest, we are all guilty of revolving around her) She has a horrible need to know EVERYTHING, so it's no shocker that she is not looking at the camera, but off to the side, probably at what her Uncle is doing. She is a big girl, and don't try to tell her otherwise. She can do everything the boys do, and will not tolerate people doing things for her. She is strong-willed, stubborn, and loving. She cannot be bothered to do things on your timeframe, hers is much better. My mini-me in more ways than one.

The Monkey on the left can be perfectly content just doing his own thing, and is easily distracted. He looks like he is ready to pounce, leaping off into some imaginary adventure that only he sees, or maybe just off to talk to a bug before getting scared and running back. Luckily for the rest of us, he is always willing to tell you about his adventures, and test out new words. He is curious about emotions, asking you how you feel and why you feel that way, or straight up telling you how he feels ("I'm ANGRY!") He notices things that no one else does, and is so thoughtful. He is the social butterfly his mom always was, and set to be just as happy and fun as she is.

Little Mohawk on the right looks like he is pondering some great mystery of life, and is on the verge of understanding. "Auntie Latu? Why is ____" he will ask. The questions he comes up with usually shock me for a while. I have to gather my thoughts and figure out how to answer most times, and my answers usually don't sate his curiosity. But he is patient, the perfect big brother. He is coming up to that threshold of "big kid"ness. He wants so badly to be a big kid and grow up, but he's still such a sweetheart. If you need someone to feel your pain, he is your man.

So often of late, I have felt blank. Not the blank of a canvas, prepped for paint, but a different kind of blank. It seems like these kids have been the only part of my life that is in focus. The further the eye gets from them, the more blurry everything else becomes.

These kids represent the exact center of my culture; family. When I have that part of my life in focus, a lot of other stuff seems to fall into place. It is when I try to distance myself or be selfish, that things start to go wrong. It's a great thing for me that I have these kids in my life to remind me what is important, and more importantly, what is not.

They are Happiness. In every sense of the word.

Bucket List

I was looking at a family crest I did for my mom's class a few years ago. It was just a simple drawing in black ink, on white paper. When explaining my crest, I talked about how the white represented peace and the black represented hardship and trials.

The black by no means dominated the page, but the way the eyes were drawn to it, you would think so. I spent a few minutes examining the black lines, scrutinizing them. Until I realize that the page was completely dominated by white-by a huge majority. But, the eye has a hard time focusing on the white (the peace), of the page when the black stands out so well. I think it is a good analogy for life.

Most peoples' lives are peaceful and enjoyable, with small splotches of trial thrown in. You must have both pieces, the peace and the trials, to make a succesful life. Otherwise, it is just a page of white or a page of black. It is when the peace and the trials fit together well that the picture becomes visible. But it is so easy for the eye to be drawn to the trials in your own life, and make no further effort to find the peace.

No single situation is pure peace or pure trial, no matter how solid the line may look. There are shades of grey everywhere, and those shades of grey are where I want to live my life. They are the points where peace is reconcilled with trial, because you need one to fully experience the other. With no reference point, the greatest joy in your entire life is merely just another day, floating on by.

Well, when I was cleaning out some of the junk I have stored at my parents house, I ran across a bucket list I made when I was 14. I am 23, so the 10-year mark is approaching for that list. I completely forgot making that list, so it was quite shocking to realize that I have done quite a few of those things in the past 9 years.

I wanted to see the Mississippi River, the river that dwarfs all others and makes every other river I have ever seen look like a quaint little creek. Done. A few times :)

I wanted to see the Atlantic Ocean. Done (side note: It is colder, uglier, and just all-around second rate to the Pacific.)

I wanted to go to the Land Down Under. Done (urban legend or not, I REALLY did see water drain the opposite way while there)

I wanted to go to Nauvoo, the City Beautiful. Done (while there, I found out I had ancestors who lived/owned land there. I for sure visited!)

I wanted to buy a Durango. Done.

There were lots more I have yet to do, but here are a few of my highlights: I want to kiss the Blarney stone and walk the Giants Causeway. I want to swim in the English Channel, Visit Neuwanschtein Castle, see me some real Shetland Ponies. I want to take pictures in Times Square, see the Statue of Liberty, visit the city of Brotherly Love, see Niagara falls, walk the Mall in DC, visit the Smithsonian.

I don't remember making the list, but I remember thinking more recently about the things I wanted to do before I die. It seemed like some huge, impossible task. Looking back at the last 9 years I realize that it was not that hard to accomplish most of those things. In fact, it was effortless. I was not thinking about checking items off my list or having awesome experiences. I was just living life, and those things just happened.

I realized that I need to focus more on the parts of my life that fall in the shades of grey, and less on the black, gloomy parts. It takes more effort, but the bottom line is this: The more I focus on on the parts that are at least partly white, the more I realize my life is shaping up to be AMAZING!

The post I should have posted

Well, it's a day late and a dollar short, but here is something more like I should have posted on Father's Day.

Well, this is my Daddy through the years. He will give anyone the shirt off his back without hesitation. It's a trait that drives me crazy, because if I am around, it usually ends up inconveniencing me. However, I think it is a trait that most of us could use more of. The things I want to say about this man are too personal for me to share here, but I want my Daddy to know that I love him and I am so very grateful for his presence in my life.

My Grandpa is one of a kind. Literally. He is the only Grandfather I have, and honestly, I have never wanted that to change. I stole this pic from my sister's blog, mostly because I think it really captures my Grandpa. On the outside, he can be a bit gruff, especially if you make him angry, but you soon realize he's just fiercely protective of his grandkids. He is truly one of the hardest workers I have ever encountered. He taught me that any job worth doing is worth doing well, and it's stuck with me. When I need advice on life, money, spirituality, or anything else, he is my go-to guy. Life would be a whole lot different without the influence of my Grandpa. I don't want to even imagine it.

Picking up the pieces

Well, long story short: Today has been a really bad Fathers Day. Just kind of disappointing. I went to sleep at about 3am last night. All good and well until 8am rolls around this morning, and I realize I have to work from 9 - 4. When I got off at 4, I decided to head up to Idaho to see Grandpa. All good and well until I hear about some horrific storm that I will have to drive through. At that point, I decide to turn around and go see my sister instead. All good and well until I decide to stop and visit my niece's grave. I get out of the car and am sitting there for a bit. All good and well until a car pulls up behind mine, (literally about 15 yards away from me) a guy gets out, breaks my window, and grabs my purse.

Was there much of value in there? Nope. $21 in cash, and even less attached to my debit card. A pack of gum, hair brush, pair of socks (not brand new, gently used) a book, a dozen pens, and a half dozen chapsticks (not cherry, thank you) I feel slightly vindicated that my purse looks a lot like a laptop bag, and I am pretty sure the dude who stole it is pissed off that he took that and left the ipod on the seat, because it sure will not pay off.

I am oddly ecstatic that I had my journal with me at my niece's grave. Not because I think the tweaker who broke into my car is interested in my deepest thoughts, but because I have been so faithful in writing in this journal. This is my first successful journal I have ever kept. Usually, I last all of about two cookie-cutter entries before the journal joins the other discarded, failed journals in my drawer. Not this one. I am going on two months, and it is nearly full. I am so proud of myself, and so happy that it was not stolen. I can handle having to buy new gum, chapstick, and paying the $18 to get a duplicate license. I don't know if I could handle losing my journal.

While I was vacuuming up the pieces of glass (which literally flew EVERYWHERE in the car!) I realized how ironic the phrase picking up the pieces is. This is not a hugely traumatic occurrence. It happens every day, and to be honest, I was asking for it to happen by leaving my purse on the front seat. I usually am not that careless, but part of the problem is that I trusted too much in the goodness of people today. I assumed that everyone else in the world would be celebrating Father's Day, and not plotting to do evil. I assumed that people pulling into a cemetery are there to find peace or mourn the dead, not scoping out cars for valuables. I assumed that my car was safe because I was so close. None of those proved true.

I feel more violated that I want to admit. The things in my purse are all completely replaceable. I have a passport, so proof of citizenship and identification are non-issues. I have my beloved journal, the record I am keeping for future generations. I am just angry that my purse is likely sitting in a dumpster a few blocks from the cemetery at this point; discarded as worthless by the thief, but infinitely valuable to me. I am angry because I got that purse in Australia. My sister gave me the yellow wallet for my birthday. Both are truly irreplaceable. I am angry that my lips are feeling chapped, and not only do I have no cash to buy chapstick, I have no cards to use either. I am angry that this happened to me. But, there is still a silver lining.

I heard the infamous still, small voice. I absolutely did not heed it, because it told me to just go straight to my sister's house, and then to just visit fast, then leave. I followed it not at all, but I heard it. This is possibly the first time I have recognized that voice, and the knowledge feels nice.
My journal is here. It seems so trite, but I am so grateful for it.
I am fine, and they didn't steal the car.
I still have my ipod, thus my music. It is shocking for me to think about how much time I spend listening to music. I fall asleep to hymns, and they play all night long. I listen to music in the morning while getting ready, I listen to it any time I am in the car, and then once I get home at night. The cycle repeats daily.

The situation is more annoying than I can express, but there is still much to be grateful for, and thankfully the pieces I have to pick up were mostly vacuum-safe.

Purpose

Well, I love to go on night drives. They calm me and make me a much happier person to be around. I have never thought much about why I love night drives until I was asked last week. I honestly did not have an answer at the time, and it kind of bothered me.

Tonight was a gorgeous night. I could tell it was going to be pretty at sunset. It was not a red-orange-pink sunset, but a simple blue. Just the bluest blue imaginable. There was not a cloud in the sky, and the moon was nowhere to be seen. Those kind of sunsets turn into beautiful nights. The kind that make the mountains leave a black outline on the sky; the kind that make your heart feel like it's fallen out of your chest.

Nights like this make me ancy. I need to drive on nights like these. On nights like tonight, I feel like there is nothing in the world but me, the sky, the mountains, and the Lord. Nights like tonight thoroughly convince me that there is some sort of plan. Nights like these are not some interplanetary happenstance that I stumbled upon. It's part of the plan.

On nights like these, I see so vividly my role in this plan. My life has purpose and meaning. I live for these nights. I want to soak them up, because I know it will not last, but while it does, I am happy. Nights like these convince me that if it all ended right now, it'd be ok. You see, I am more content than I have ever been.

Uncle Sila!

Well, one of my sisters is pregnant, and she found out on Friday that it is a boy. They are naming him Silakivai, after my oldest brother. My 4-year old nephew is more than happy to tell everyone who will listen about his new baby who is coming soon, and will be named "Uncle Sila"

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One of my sisters recently realized that the top on a tanning bed is meant to be pulled down over the top of you. This same sister once engaged my mom in an argument about whether "a quarter to 5" meant 4:35 or 4:45 (a quarter=25, right?)

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Well, the inevitable has happened- I am beginning to plateau. School is not quite as new and fun, and not having as much expendable income is becoming old. I think Melancholy is probably the perfect way to describe this feeling. I knew this day would come; that I could not surf along on the high of making a life change forever. I just wish it had not come so soon. Nevertheless (I love that word, but spell checkers don't) I know that I am doing the right thing, and I am so excited for the way things are headed!

I started training for this volunteer program called CASA (Court Appointed Special Advocate) that works with the Guardian ad Litem's office (What I want to be when I "grow up") It is a pretty long training, and all volunteer, but I am so excited and hopeful to begin! I know it will be so fulfilling, and I am excited to finally have the ball rolling.

Anywho, this was kinda a disjointed post, but there's an update for anyone interested!