Getting out the gratitude lawnmower

I've been having a bit of a rough patch lately.  There are several big things floating around in my mind, and they're not the most positive.  I'm sure everyone out there can relate to being in a bit of a funk and feeling down.

In thinking about this today, I try to remind myself about the small things--those cute, small things that are good.  Sometimes, the only way I can feel better on a given day is to shift my focus from the overwhelming big-ness of yuck to the happiness that can be found in little pieces.

Several years ago, I kept a little gratitude journal.  Each day (or at least most days) I would take a moment to jot down something that I was grateful to have experienced.  Something that brought me a little spark of happiness.  Sometimes the things I wrote down were kind of significant or connected to bigger things, but most of the time they were very simple.

I thought that, by sharing a few examples, that maybe I can help lift my own spirits and those of a few readers.  Some of these might seem really weird, but, news flash...I'm super weird.  It comes with the territory.

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"Sophie and those teasing scrub jays" (explanation to follow)
     My cat, Sophie, had a hilarious relationship with some birds.  There was a tree out in front of the condo I owned in Utah.  There were these birds, which I think were scrub jays, who would squawk and squawk at Sophie.  She would, like a true cat, sit on the window sill, flick her tail around, and make that weird clicky dolphin noise that cats make when they are looking at birds.  There was even a time when Sophie was outside with me, enjoying the nice weather, and those birds got down on the ground and got much closer to her than I think was wise.  However, unlike a wild cat (or sometimes simple domestic cats who have a craving for bird flesh), Sophie did not chase the birds.  She would stalk them a little, but never try to catch them.  Had she wanted to, I'm sure she could have.  The birds would hop toward Sophie, squawk at her, then hop a few feet away.  Then they would repeat it.  This became a regular thing, and it made me smile.

"Fresh pineapple"
"Taking a walk"
"Quails in the grass"

"I got a hug from Carlos Moreno!" (explanation to follow)
     In the beautifully glorious year of 2004 (really, 2003-2004) I was a sophomore in college.  My roommates and I were obsessed--and I mean truly obsessed...to the point of it being a little unhealthy but completely awesome--with the BYU men's volleyball team.  We had favorite players.  One of my roommates had deep and abiding love for Carlos Moreno.  To her, he was "the hottest man in the world" (said with an accent we pretended was Brazilian since that's where Carlos was from). We semi-stalked these players and had complete pretend worlds we made up about their personalities and lives.  Well, to skip over a trillion details in order to get to the point, there was an evening when a few of us were over at his apartment/apartment complex and Carlos walked up to me and gave me a hug as he was leaving for a basketball game or something.  I freaked out like a 12-yr-old at an N*SYNC concert.


"A squeaky paper cutter"
"Feeling valued"
"Movies with Audrey Hepburn and/or Cary Grant"
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The whole point of this is to bring up good, positive, gratitude-inducing small things.  It took me only a few seconds, really, to write down a small moment from the day.  On some days I would write down more than one thing.  Some days required me to sit and really think about what specific thing I could feel thankful for experiencing.  But, I tell ya, I have referenced these little journals more than once, and they always ALWAYS bring a smile to my face.  It's great how a small fragment of a sentence can bring back a complex and detailed memory of happiness.

We can mow over those rough patches with thankfulness, and it's not all that hard to start.

Small things are powerful.  Taking a moment each day to reflect on the good can benefit our perspective in both the short- and long-term.  Beauty in life is abundant and here to bless us.  We just have to take a moment to notice it.

And hey, I feel much better than I did when I started this post.  That's pretty great!

Boom--gratitude lawnmower-ed!

What people notice

Have you ever had one of those days where you feel so down about yourself that you want to sit on the floor in the middle of your living room and just cry?

I had one of those days a couple weeks ago.  Honestly, they come around more often than I’d like.  This particular day I was just having a hard time with myself.  I am a perfectionist, a woman, and a new mom.  Combine those things and it’s kiiiiiind of a recipe for disaster in the “judging oneself too harshly” department.

Instead of allowing myself to plop on the floor and cry this particular time, I pulled myself up by the imaginary boot straps and decided to go on a walk with my baby girl.

I got her in her seat, got my water and shoes, and was out the door. 

There is a nice hill close by my apartment complex, so that was my place of choice.  I discovered a little while ago that not only was it a great hill to feel like I’m actually exercising and not just taking a leisurely walk, but it was the perfect distance as well.

I reached the beginning of the hill and started up.

After a long stretch of uphill walking while pushing my not-so-little infant in her stroller, I finally stopped for a little breather.  A few moments into my break, I heard someone coming up behind me.

“Wow!  That was quite impressive!”

I turned around to see a woman who had been walking up the hill as well.  

She said that she had seen me pushing that stroller all the way up the hill and thought it was great.

“Way to go!  Good for you!” she said.

I thanked her, and she continued to offer me encouragement about how I was doing a great job, how it was wonderful that I was getting out and scaling a hill on a walk with my baby, and how I should be proud of myself and keep it up.

I wanted to cry (which, let’s be honest, is an incredibly frequent feeling for me ever since pregnancy), but for a different reason than before.  This complete stranger offered me unsolicited encouragement that I desperately needed.  

It got me thinking.  This sweet woman knew nothing about me, and yet she noticed the good in me at that moment.  She didn’t comment about any of the things I was feeling bad about.  And you know what?  I bet you a million dollars that she didn’t even notice any of them.  She noticed the good I was doing in that moment, and she told me so.

We are too hard on ourselves most of the time.  Stop—take a moment to think about the actual reality.  Not the perception we have where we hyper-analyze all our faults on every level, but ACTUAL reality.  In actual reality, we are doing much better than we think we are.  And you know what?  People notice.  They notice nice, good, positive things about us.  

So, to everyone who may be having one of those sit-on-the-floor-and-cry kinds of days, let me be the one to say, “You’re doing a great job!  Way to go!  Keep it up!”

Why we should all be mountain rangers

(Warning: very long but awesome story ahead)

Quite a few years ago, I had an interesting and moving experience on a hike.

Here’s a teensy bit of background.  I love love love hiking.  I lived in Utah for 8 years (almost 12 if you count college) and would go hiking nearly every weekend of the summer.  There were dozens of hiking trails within about 20 minutes from my house, and I took full advantage.  

Ok, so, making our way back to my interesting experience.  There is a particular mountain very close to where I used to live called Mt. Timpanogos (which I will refer to as “Timp” from now on), and it’s frequented by many hikers.  I have, in total, hiked Timp four times, but it is no short hike.  It’s an all day excursion (it usually took me 10-12 hours) unless you’re abnormally athletic and want to run up and down the mountain.  The experience I’m about to share comes from my second trip.

My sister and I were, you guessed it, hiking Timp one summer.  We had hiked it once before a couple years previously but hadn’t been able to go all the way to the summit because of snow that was hanging around.  

It was a gorgeous day and the hike was beautiful.  We were enjoying nature and how breathtaking it all was.  Because of our inability to make it to the summit on our previous adventure, we decided that this time, we were definitely going to do it, and all things seemed to be going well and working in our favor.

We got a certain point in the hike where we were almost (depending on whom you ask) to the summit, but we knew we needed to turn around and head back if we wanted to be able to have daylight the rest of the way down.  We didn’t have night hiking gear or extra layers of clothing, so we made the smart choice and saved the summit for some other time.

On our way down from the upper portion of the mountain, we were heading downhill on a trail that was almost all loose-ish rock.  This is typical in this upper area where there isn’t much plant life or soil around because of the altitude.  No big deal, though, because it’s not like we were racing down the mountain.  We had time and weren’t in a hurry.

B’cept it actually became a big deal.

My sister ended up twisting her ankle a little bit on this stretch of the hike.  It was minor, but still, twisting an ankle sucks.  We slowed down on this portion to exert some extra caution so as not to make it worse since my sister was able to walk alright and wasn’t in too much pain.

We saw a mountain ranger hiking on the trail around this time.  He noticed that we had a slightly injured party, so he asked about it.  We explained the minor twist.  We knew that if we kept up at this pace, we would still be fine getting down the trail before it got dark.  The ranger was helpful and kind and wished us a safe rest of our hike.

However, as we continued to hike, as careful as we were, another twist happened to my sister’s ankle.  This one was worse, and as anyone who has ankles can attest, it hurt a lot and made using said ankle increasingly difficult.  Then it twisted again.  Our pace slowed dramatically, and the light of day disappeared quickly.  

There we were, not even a third of the way down the main stretch of the mountain, and dusk was upon us.  I had no headlamp, no flashlight, and we were getting cold quickly.  My sister was in tears from the pain (and probably the cold and stress and worry).  I was racking my brain for ideas of how to do this.  What could I use for light?  What could I do if we had to stop because it got too dark?  What could I do to keep us from freezing if we couldn’t make it all the way down?

All I had for light was a little (and not powerful) keychain light.  I held off using that until it became so dark that I couldn’t see on my own anymore.  That moment came pretty soon.  And boy oh boy did I pray.

I was the most scared I have ever been.

By the grace of God (and no, I’m not just using that as a phrase…I’m being serious), we made it down to the very last portion of the trail.  We were at a point of the hike where the trail was well-defined and we were past the most precarious parts of the path.  I finally started to feel like we were almost safe.  At the very least, we were more than halfway down the mountain.

As we were on the final chunk of the trail, I thought I saw some lights way up behind us.  I thought they might just be people camping, but I was desperately hoping that those lights were held by hikers who were on their way down.

As my sister and I kept trudging along, I looked back again and saw the lights, and they were moving in such a way that I knew they were on fellow hikers.  As soon as they were within earshot, I waved and called out to them.  As they approached, I explained our situation and asked if they would be willing to share one of their lights with us as we walked the rest of the way down.

So, these amazing people (who had obviously planned for their hike to extend into nighttime hours), did much more than that.  One of the men took his sweatshirt and cut it into pieces, then tied it in a brace around my sister’s ankle (hooray for boy scouts!).  Another hiker gave me her headlamp to use, and two strong men acted as crutches for my sister.  The group stayed with us the rest of the way down the mountain and even drove us a few miles down the road to our car.

And do you know what they said to us when they first approached us on the trail?

“You know, a mountain ranger told us to keep our eyes out for you.”

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This was such a moving experience to me.  

If you will, wax metaphorical with me for a minute.  My title for this post, “Why we should all be mountain rangers,” is obviously not a literal suggestion for one’s career choice.  

I like to think about the mountain ranger, who was having a normal day out on the job.  He saw us, noticed we weren’t doing that great, inquired after us, and gave us encouragement.  BUT, the kicker to me was the fact that, as he ran across other hikers, he told them to watch for us.  I would bet that this group of people, who quite literally rescued us, was not the only one the ranger encountered.  And I bet he told other people to keep their eyes out for us too.

Though I believe this group of people would have helped us regardless of whom else they may have talked to on their hike down the mountain, I feel like the insightful words from the ranger may have prompted them to look for us.

We should be mountain rangers because we all need someone to look out for us.  We all need someone to care about us.  We all need rescue on occasion.  

Let’s keep our eyes open for those who might need help, either now or down the road, and let’s pass the word along to others we think can help in the effort to rescue one another.

Elf ears? Pretty stripes?

I thought I could start things out by explaining my blog's title.  It may seem quirky to most people, but hey, I'm a super quirky person!  Also, I'm verbose, as I find that background stories can make things more meaningful... so prepare yourself. :)

Life is amazing, beautiful, hard, exhausting, precious, and everything in between.  There is so much goodness which I sometimes fail to recognize or appreciate until after-the-fact.

Elf Ears

Here I am in grade school
(2nd grade, I think)

When I was in elementary school, I was teased by some of the popular boys in regards to my ears.  They poke out, especially at the top, and these *awesome* young men would make fun of me for it.  I brushed it off and pretended that it didn't bother me, because I knew that if I gave them a reaction I would just be fueling the fire.  

However, I became incredibly self-conscious about my ears.  I always wanted them covered.  One time, when going swimming with my friend, I made sure to do my hair in two braids that went over the tops of my ears and covered them as completely as possible.  I never wore my hair up, and I even hated to tuck my hair behind my ears.  For a band parade, the girls were supposed to wear their hair in a ponytail, and I worried endlessly about how on earth I was going to keep my ears hidden.  True story, I once used some kind of glue for fake nails to glue my ears back.  This absurd level of concern followed me everywhere.   

The thing is, I didn't like those boys who teased me and I didn't truly care what they thought of me.  BUT, if they thought my ears stuck out and that they were worthy of taunt and scorn, other people (aka everyone else) must have thought the same thing.  Right?

Wrong.

It wasn't until I was in high school that I started wearing my hair up. I came to a point where I decided on a whim that it was more convenient for me to pull it up in a ponytail one day.  In my mind, I began to worry.  Everyone was now going to notice my ears and how they stuck out, and the comments and whispers would start.  Right?

Wrong.

I got nothing but compliments that day about how I looked.  Someone, and I wish I remembered who it was so I could thank them, even commented that my ears were super cute.  MY ears?  Cute?

So I took a good, honest look at my ears in the mirror.  And you know what?  They were cute!  The way they stuck out was adorable.  I began, for the first time since I was nine years old, to think of my ears as a normal, human, non-embarrassing feature.  In fact, I came to love my ears.  They have become one of my favorite features.  I adore my elf ears!

Now, here's the thing: we sometimes spend so much time worrying and feeling insecure about things that are actually special and--dare I say--cute.  I love to rejoice in a feature that I used to ache over.  It just took a change in my own perspective to recognize that those same ears I had all along were an awesome, lovable part of my physical being.

Pretty Stripes

I recently became a new mom.  I had my first baby in spring of 2015, and I adore her.  I have struggled a great deal, but I think all moms do. I especially struggled during pregnancy.  It was a rough experience.  While I am deeply grateful that I was able to carry and birth a child (it's miraculous), pregnancy was gross.  I especially had a hard time with the emotional side-effects that came as a result of all the changes happening to my body.  My healthy, generally fit, active body changed completely.  Many times, I would see myself in the mirror and begin to cry.  The first stretch marks I found were especially devastating.  I simply felt horrible about the way I looked and could hardly bear to look at myself.

It was depressing, and sometimes still is.

During my pregnancy, I was having a conversation with one of my sisters who has a few children of her own.  When she was in the last few months of pregnancy with her second child, her first saw a fresh batch of stretch marks that went all the way across her belly.  This precious little girl told my sister that she had such "pretty stripes" as she gently touched her.  I wanted to bawl my eyes out when I heard this, not just because I was pregnant and therefore emotional about everything, but because it resonated within me and I recognized it as truth.

Women, in a pretty literal sense, sacrifice their bodies in order to bear a child or children.  Those stretch marks are marks of love and sacrifice.

The poignant truth of that little niece of mine has stuck with me.  Any time I see those stretch marks from my pregnancy, I think to myself, "Pretty stripes, pretty stripes," and I feel encouraged.

It can bring joy instead of sadness.  I can see those scars as badges of honor and divinity.

Our "Pretty stripes" are reminders of the experiences that make us the kind of people we need to be.


There you have it--the reasoning behind this quirky blog title.  I want to be able to post about experiences that gave me encouragement and insight, in the hopes of passing those feelings along to others.

For now, my statement is this: rejoice in your elf ears and pretty stripes!  They are beautiful, unique, and powerful.