It's How You Get There

I walked through the night, and found him there.  It wasn't God, He wasn't missing. This is the one I always wonder about. Wondering if he'll be part of this life or not.  Wondering if he's real.  Wondering if I'm crazy for wondering anymore... And on this particular night as I wondered, I looked up and whispered.  Whispered a wish to the stars I couldn't see, about the man I couldn't find. Then the night went still, and for a moment I felt a wondering back. The beat of a heart. It echoed mine. Curiosity.  Confusion, excitement,  Hope. Then the red and blue lights of a patrol car swept by, slicing the air. And in their passing left just God and I,  walking the empty street. Only this time, I wasn't left wondering. -Shayla

"...I know in whom I have trusted." (2 Nephi 4:19) My entire life I've been almost entirely surrounded by others. With 7 kids (who act more like a pack of puppies than not on any given day) none of us were ever truly alone. At 19 I left on a mission for my church where I was always with another missionary...the only time I slept in a room by myself was my last night before I went home. Then I was back home, and my 19-month-old baby sister was always among the first of my siblings to pop into the guestroom as soon as the sun would start to shine.  In college I had roommates, and whenever I visited home though I often had a room to myself, there was almost always someone there with me. Someone coming to just sit on the bed. Someone coming to talk about their day. Someone, there was always someone.  It wasn't until shortly after graduating that I got my own apartment and truly lived on my own. I remember that first night in the apartment. My family had left, and I wa...

We don't stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing. -George Bernard Shaw Their eyes are gleaming in anticipation. White teeth glinting. They stomp eagerly at the line, aching to dart forward, but are held back by the invisible force of command. I begin inching backwards, knowing that if I move too quickly the tenable control we have will break, and I may not be able to get it back before the damage has been done.  I stretch my legs a little bit, all the while watching them carefully. Looking for signs that one of them might snap. They chatter excitedly, fidgeting, but they stay behind the line. Taking a couple steps backwards I look over at the others then nod. They back away from the sides of the line, leaving me alone to face the eight kindergartners twitching for the signal to charge into the playground.  Eyeing them suspiciously I address my little pack: " Now, remember, we run when I say 'go'."  Shouts of agreement come from the gr...

  There's a kind of magic that comes with rainy days. It whispers enticingly, the urge to curl in bed with a blanket, to listen to its whispers as it empties the streets of regular passers-bys, lets you catch glimpses of the shadow figures you'd regularly miss in the bright sunlight, reminding you that there are worlds within worlds, and asking you to find some of that in yourself. The majesty of stillness in the presence of constant rainfall and taxi horns, the deep baying calls of busses as they continue their rhythmic looping, the cough of the ahjussi smoking under the eves, sounds so common you'd say they might as well not exist until you're suddenly faced with their absence. It isn't until then that you realize those moments fed your soul.