She is your partner in crime, your midnight companion, someone who knows when you are smiling, even in the dark.

A few days ago, my little sister fell and hurt her foot. She was inconsolable, and my grandmother heard her yelling at me while I tried to calm her. "You wanted me to get hurt! You don't love me!" The biggest fear of an adopted child, heartbreakingly expressed in a moment of insecurity. 

"No," my grandmother said softly, "Heather's loved you since the first time she saw you." I remembered that first moment with baby Trinity, a year old and staring fearfully at the strangers who would soon become family. I still feel that love, even more for the sassy 8-year-old than the sweet baby she once was. She is and always has been one strong little girl.

I remember the day I learned that a camera was the quickest way to turn her tears into a smile. I remember the first time she looked at a picture of her own tear-streaked face and squeaked, "Cute!" I cried for her the day she noticed me taking her picture and said, "Don't take my picture anymore. I'm not pretty." Later, "Take my picture off Facebook. I'm too ugly." The insecurities of womanhood begin far too soon. 

I remember, as a teenager with too many burdens and no idea of where to find hope, listening to her soft toddler snores while I wept. I wanted to die that night, just like so many others. But when I held her hand, I felt the peace I needed to get through the day. 

She came into my life, so tiny and already having survived so much, during one of the most difficult times in my 8-year battle with depression. I was a stranger to her in mortality, but I know we've known one another's souls for ages. 

As she neared two years old, I remember listening to her giggles and wondering how anyone, even a baby, could be so happy. She had tantrums like any other toddler - okay, probably more - but to me, she was pure joy. 

When all I wanted to do was lie by myself and stare at the ceiling, she would run up to me, beeping my wheelchair's horn and demanding, "Picture, Issy! Tongue out, now!" There was no saying no to that.

I remember when she began to realize that disability wasn't normal, and most big sisters weren't in wheelchairs. I remember her tears of frustration as she asked me, "Why can't you just walk?" 

Just yesterday she asked me, for probably the hundredth time, "But do you like being in a wheelchair?" 

Five years after her first realization, disability is still a big thing for her to come to understand, but she has learned that wheelchairs can be fun and that if Sissy (finally earned that beginning "S"!) can't do it with her, she can probably call some missionaries who can. 

She's also learned that the missionaries are a lot cooler than her Sissy is, anyway. I don't deny it.

Attachment in adoption can be hard, and we've had some difficult times these past few years as she's tested me, seeing if I'm really here to stay and love her forever. It's worn me down many times, but I try to remember why this little one needs to know our attachment is secure. I can't promise her that I'll always be physically by her side, but I can promise that my love will never, ever change.

I won't hear the words "Can I sit on your lap?" from her many more times, but I do hope for a lifetime of hearing "Sissy, I need to talk."

That's what big sisters are here for.

I love this little girl -- young woman -- 60 pound Southern spitfire with all my heart. No matter how we were brought together in mortality or what may happen while we're here, I know beyond any doubt that our sisterhood began long ago as our spirits were formed and will last for an eternity more.

 

honesty & hypocrisy.

Sometimes I feel like the biggest hypocrite in the world.

I have a reputation for being "real." Frequent readers of my (other, semi-anonymous) blog tell me how great it is to see someone being super-duper honest about all of the hard things in life. After I spoke at stake conference a couple of months ago, I was stopped by everyone and their brothers and sisters (see what I did there?) to be told how great it is that I was so honest and real. My two best friends in college sometimes complained about how hard it is to get me to lie about anything, even for a good cause (i.e. a successful prank).

I L O V E that reputation. Being known for being the honest one, the one who will tell it to you straight, the one who isn't afraid to tell her story... it can be pretty great sometimes.

The thing is, I don't feel that honest. There are so many things that I've only talked about with my closest friends, Heavenly Father, my priesthood leaders, and/or my cat. (Okay, not so much the cat... she has a big mouth.) Just like anyone else, I have secrets. There are things that are way too personal to share. There are many things that I'm way too ashamed of to tell, and other things I keep to myself because I worry about how they would make other people feel.

Despite what sometimes seems like a huge amount of honesty and realness, I feel as though everything I present to the world is incredibly sanitized. Sure, I'll give a sacrament talk about the struggle of coming to terms with my disability. My struggle with mental illness throughout my teenage years is fair game too. You want to hear about a really bad decision I made and how the atonement helped me fix it? I've got just the story for you. But you want me to talk about what I'm going through right now? You want to hear the stories that I haven't figured out how to wrap up in a bow? Um, I think I hear my cat calling for me.


I don't want to be a hypocrite. I know that some of my friends, reading this blog, might think that I am. Sometimes I let the little devil on my shoulder tell me that I'm just another one of those hypocritical Christians, talking on and on about the gospel while few people know what's behind the curtain. I used to hate those people.

I've realized that sometimes it's okay to keep things between myself and God. Y'all don't need to know everything. I don't have to share the things closest to my heart until I'm ready, and I don't have to put a disclaimer on my blog in flashing neon lights that says "HEY, I'M A SINNER TOO." If it benefits someone individually to know about a sin I've committed in the past or something crappy that's happened to me, I freely tell it. I'm really good at that. Someday maybe I'll be ready to tell those things to the world in a way that glorifies God and doesn't totally humiliate me. ;) But today isn't that day, and that's okay.

What I do want you to know right now:

I'm not perfect, and I don't want to pretend to be. I've made some pretty huge mistakes, and I've done things that have hurt people badly, things that I on my own could never fix. Every day, I feel unworthy of the blessings in my life and especially the opportunity to someday stand in my Father's presence. I'm absolutely blown away by a God who loves me enough to keep on forgiving me and welcoming me back despite all of the mistakes that I make. I'm not a perfect disciple, sometimes not even a good one. But I've been blessed by a perfect Savior and a perfect gospel, and regardless of my own hidden sorrows and guilt, I refuse to stop talking about Him and telling others what He's done for me.

hy·poc·ri·sy noun the practice of claiming to have moral standards or beliefs to which one's own behavior does not conform

I believe that I should be better than I am, and I encourage myself and others to reach towards a goal that we can't possibly achieve without divine intervention. If that makes me a hypocrite, that's exactly what I am.

I guess I can live with that.

OYM... just do it.

As baptized members of The Church of Jesus Christ, we're under covenant to tell others what we know. Sometimes, even for those who've spent years preaching the gospel, speaking up can be really hard. I'm as guilty as anyone of looking at someone and thinking, "oh, she has a religion, she wouldn't care about mine" or "that guy would NEVER give up alcohol." Don't ever hesitate to share the gospel of Jesus Christ with someone because you think they won't accept it. Opening your mouth can be scary. It's easy to justify not doing it by judging someone, but the truth is, not one of us can truly judge the heart of the person beside us. We never know what another person is thinking or what she's been praying for behind closed doors. 

A few years ago, I felt prompted to share my testimony with one of my neighbors. Every time I saw him, I thought about saying something, but I always brushed it off thinking that he wouldn't want to hear it. I never said a word, but a year later, he learned of the Church by other means and was baptized. I had nothing to do with it, but I was blessed by the humbling experience of seeing it happen after I decided it couldn't. Heavenly Father didn't withhold any blessings from that man because of my failure to act -- He made another way for His son to find his way home. But I learned an important lesson from it.

Watching that man soak in the gospel and make changes in his life was one of the most humbling experiences I've ever had... yet I'm still prone to do this. To tell myself "there's no way" and comfortably keep my mouth closed. To say "I don't want to be a Crazy Jesus Girl" and keep what I know to myself.

On an even more personal note, I was the kind of person who many would never expect to take an interest in the gospel.

I wasn't just an atheist, I was a LOUD and PROUD atheist. I took every opportunity to slam religion and insult people who believed. I cursed like a sailor and bragged about things my Mormon friends thought of as sins. My beliefs, my behavior, and my words conflicted with the gospel in every possible way.

Yet, deep in my heart, I wanted something to believe in.

It would have been so easy for the Christians in my life to look at me and say, "There's no way that girl would ever want to hear about my faith." Or even, "If I try to talk to her about the gospel, she's just going to argue with me." (And at times, they would have been right!)

When I was 16, I was lucky enough to have a friend who saw past the walls I'd built and recognized my potential. It took me a long time (we're talking years) to admit it, but every time he shared his testimony with me, I was left questioning my most strongly-held beliefs and yearning for more.

How many others out there are looking for truth despite outward appearances? How many people would leap at the chance to put aside their sins to gain the peace that comes from knowing their Heavenly Father?

If there's even one, isn't it worth the risk to try? 

Opening your mouth to share the gospel won't always end in a baptism -- duh! -- but I believe that someday, I'll come face to face with each of my brothers and sisters and remember the promises I made to them before this life. I don't want to be asked "Why didn't you tell me what you knew!?" I want them to know that I tried.

Young Women's Value Cards

A few days ago, I came across this post at BCC while searching for inspiration for decorating my young women's classroom. I loved the idea, but of course I wanted to put my own spin on it with a different design and quotes. So, I hopped on Canva, and this is what I came up with. 

I'm not sure what I'm going to use these for, but it was fun to explore my feelings about the young women values and learn a little bit of church history along the way. 

Faith

Jane Manning James was one of the first African Americans to join The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. You can read more about Sister James here. 

Elaine Bradley is the drummer for the Neon Trees, a pop rock band based in Utah. You can watch her I'm A Mormon video here. 

Divine Nature 

Eliza R. Snow was the 2nd General Relief Society President of the church, but she's probably best known for her poetry. The first LDS young women's organization was created while Sister Snow served as Relief Society President.

Rosemary Wixom is the current Primary General President and a former member of the Young Women general board. She's given some of my favorite General Conference talks. 

Individual Worth 

Neill F. Marriott is currently the 2nd counselor in the Young Women General Presidency. Sister Marriott joined the church at the age of 22, and she has an awesome Southern accent that's a delight to hear at Conference. 

Chieko Okazaki, a Hawaiian sister of Japanese descent, was the first non-Caucasian woman to serve in an LDS general presidency, and she's one of my heroes. 

Knowledge 

Malala Yousafzai is one of two non-Mormons I chose to quote on these cards, and is also the youngest. Malala is an 18-year-old Pakastani blogger who was shot in the head for blogging about life under the Taliban's rule and promoting education for girls. She's continued her advocacy despite threats against her life, and received the Nobel Peace Prize in 2014. 

Mary N. Cook is a former counselor in the Young Women General Presidency. She was married at the age of 37 and has served with her husband in his callings as a full-time missionary, mission president, and Asia area presidency. You can find a brief biography and a list of her excellent talks here. 

Choice and Accountability 

Barbara B. Smith was the 10th Relief Society General President of the church. She has a fairly lengthy bio on the Church's official website. 

Bonnie Oscarson is the current Young Women General President. Her official bio includes the wonderful line "She doesn't regret any of the sleep she missed while teaching seminary." That's one dedicated lady. 

Good Works 

Who better to represent the value of Good Works than Mother Teresa? It's recently been announced that Mother Teresa will be canonized as a saint in the Catholic church in September 2016. 

Silvia Allred was born and raised in El Salvador, served a mission in Central America, and then attended college in the United States. She has served as a member of the Young Women general board and was a counselor in the Relief Society General Presidency. 

Integrity 

Elmina Taylor was the very first president of the Church's young women organization. She was introduced to the church while working as a schoolteacher as a young woman.

Al Fox is a one of the most well-known Mormon bloggers and writers. She was baptized in 2009, and you can read her conversion story in her own words here. 

Virtue 

Sheri Dew is a former counselor in the Relief Society General Presidency and the CEO of Deseret Book Company. She's also been involved in humanitarian work, sending children's books to impoverished countries.

Ruth May Fox was an early member of the LDS church in England. She later moved to Utah and was an active suffragist. She served as the 3rd General President of the church's Young Women organization, and, of course, wrote the popular hymn "Carry On." You can learn more about Sister Fox in this episode of the podcast Legacy.  

Please feel free to download, use, and share these! 

All credit for the idea belongs to Tracy at BCC.  

Great pearls of wisdom

For the past 2 1/2 years, I've kept a running list of important life lessons as a note on my iPhone. All of them are things I've learned over time, through trial and error. (Read: I messed up a lot before I figured them out.) Here are some of my favorites. The last two are the best!

Pay extra for cheese dip. 
Don't pay extra for guacamole. 

This is important stuff. Cheese dip matters. The only good guacamole is free (or homemade) guacamole.

It's okay to ask for help. Even when it's inconvenient. Really. 
Don't be embarrassed.

Thanks to the missionary who basically followed me around saying this for 3 months, it finally sank in. It's okay to let others see me in the midst of a trial. It's okay to admit that I can't do everything by myself. That doesn't mean I have to tell everyone on Facebook what I'm going through (thank goodness), but I can live with it when someone sees me struggle.

Get to know the stranger who holds his umbrella over you. 

One of the best experiences I've ever had was getting caught in a rainstorm and having a freshman boy run up and insist on following me across town with his umbrella. I didn't want to let him, but the Spirit gave me a nudge. I still got soaked, but it was awesome.

It's never a bad idea to become best friends with someone you'll probably never see again after 6 months. Those are some of the best friendships you'll ever have. 

Three years of crying every sixth Thursday morning... that's only a little bit of an exaggeration. This isn't just true for missionaries, though. Life is full of transitions, but you can gain a lot from knowing someone for two weeks or six months. Sometimes you need to let go of those friendships as circumstances change, but you can take what you learned from that person forever. It's worth it.

Befriend the person whose eyes light up when you mention baking brownies. 

Sometimes you need to be reminded that the simple act of giving away baked goods is enough to make the world a better place.

If you give everything you have serving other people, your every need will be met. You are cared for in even the smallest of ways. 

I've seen this principle work in my life so. many. times. One of my favorites was finding a pack of tampons in the bottom of my temple bag the night I spent the last of my money to drive a stranger to the hospital. That's just one example of many, not all of them financial. It can be a struggle against the natural man to give the very last of what I have to someone else, but the blessings of doing so are too great to turn away.

Don't let whether you're going to church this week be a question. Just go. 

It took me  f o r e v e r  to figure this out. Even when I was super active and involved with all my callings in college, I missed church way more than I personally thought was acceptable. I knew I needed to be more consistent, but I didn't know how. At some point in my last two semesters, the switch finally got flipped. 

I stopped getting up on Sunday morning and making a decision about whether I was going to attend church. There's no longer any decision to be made; going to church on Sunday is as automatic as checking my phone when I wake up. #workinprogress Now I only miss sacrament meeting if I'm legitimately too sick to drive. No other reason. And it's great.

The Holy Ghost doesn't always give you promptings you understand. Follow them anyway. 

"But WHY!?!?!?!?!?!!!!" - my response to any given prompting 

"Oh. Thanks." - 5 minutes later

Sometimes it's okay to break earthly rules when you're following the Spirit. 

(This explanation is super Mormon specific.) There's a difference between policies and principles. The rules and policies of the church are put in place for good reason, and following them is smart. However, policies are written by human beings trying to follow principles given by God, and when it comes down to it, the principles are what really matter.

One example: Anyone who knew me well in Morgantown knows I was a fan of the missionaries' white handbook. (Newsflash, lists of rules make me happy.) OBEDIENCE MATTERS. But there were a couple of elders who I wrote to after they left with no regrets. I was prompted to keep in touch with those specific people, and I saw blessings in each of our lives from occasionally (like once every six months) sending uplifting letters. I didn't distract them from the work and maybe even helped, so... principle > policy. The policy of not writing to missionaries living in your mission is good and important, but sometimes the principle of loving your neighbor and bearing one another's burdens trumps it. 

These last two are my favorites!

Don't let pain go to waste. 

Mortal life is full of all different kinds of pain. It's unavoidable. So, this is my mantra. Every pain I endure has the power to teach me something - either something I should do differently, or some way I can help others. Some of the worst pains of my life have helped me to relieve the hearts of others who see no path back to their Heavenly Father. I've learned to embrace pain because of what I've seen it enable me to do.

Likewise,

Don't let the Savior's pain go to waste. 

The atonement is real; it's not just a hashtag. I strive to follow the Savior to the best of my ability, but sometimes I fall short. Okay, I often fall short of even doing it anywhere near "to the best of my ability." Instead of beating myself up about that, I've learned to keep in mind that this is why the Atonement happened. I won't waste the Savior's pain by either giving up or trying to redeem myself. Either of the ends of that spectrum are wrong and failing to acknowledge what Christ has done for me.

If you didn't catch the sarcasm in the title of this post, you must be new. Welcome!