Decisions, decisions

I think it's warped that in our society, we will make most of our most important decisions while we are young adults. What do I know about life? How am I supposed to be smart enough to choose where to go to school, who to marry, where to start a career, and where to live, all before I turn 25? How am I supposed to know when I am ready to make deeper, more spiritual commitments in my life? There are just so many unknowns up in the air right now, and while that can be exciting, it is mostly just frustrating.

But I guess there is some sense to it. We need to learn early to rely on God. When we are children, we rely on our parents, but once high school graduation hits, that relationship isn't as protective as it used to be. Suddenly, God is a much bigger part of the picture because while we may feel ready to conquer the world, we really have no idea what we are doing. There are so many decisions we have to make that no one else can make for us, but at least God knows everything—he can help us out a bit. The hard part is trusting that he will help us out, maybe even point the way every now and then.

So we young adults may feel like we are blundering through every decision we make, but even with our lack of knowledge and understanding about the world, there is a purpose for all the confusion: God wants to be a part of our lives. Maybe some day I'll be granted a tiny bit of his knowledge, but until then, I guess I had better be content riding a bike with the training wheels still attached. At least I know that they'll keep me from falling.

The magic of a new series

I have always loved books. I love the way they smell, I love the way they feel, and I love the excitement of discovering new worlds. Every summer I have the same dilemma—what nonsense should I fill my head with this year? I don't want any of the nonfiction stuff or the classics—I want something diverting and fun. I spend hours staring at our bookshelves, weighing the pros and cons of all of the unread books. (Although I usually ignore my dad's Star Trek bookcase unless I'm really desperate.) And I almost always end up by the bookshelf that contains Harry Potter and all of our Mormon fiction books. Every summer I have the same debate without myself—has it been long enough since I last read Harry Potter? I try to not read the books two years in a row, but that is awfully hard sometimes. Especially when you don't have anything else to read and the person next to you is giggling at their Harry Potter book.

But yesterday I was in the sampler section of the library, and I found The Runelords by David Farland. I was recommended these books by a friend years ago, but I have never had the chance to get my hands on one. Until yesterday. To my delight, I learned that there are at least 8 books in the series, which means I won't have to struggle finding a book to read for a while. I was distracted for the rest of the day at work because I just wanted to go home, put on my pajamas, and delve into a new, unexplored world.

For me, starting a new series is a lot like going on a long-anticipated vacation. I have no idea what I am going to encounter, but I know that I will create good memories along the way. Stand-alone novels are wonderful too, but they are missing . . . something. They aren't as magical because you don't spend as much time with the characters, watching them learn and grow, becoming acquainted with their world. One of the reasons why Harry Potter will always be so special to me is because I grew up with Harry Potter. I read the first book when I was about 12, and I read the last one when I was 19. I was with Harry every step of the way, chronicling facts of his life and memorizing favorite scenes. Along with the rest of the world, I would eagerly anticipate the release of the next novel after years of speculating about who would be the next Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, who would die, and how the series would end. It was a truly magical experience, and I am sad it's over.

But experiencing the magic of a good series isn't a once-in-a-lifetime type of experience. In fact, it can be revisited as long as you keep finding new series to read. Even if the books aren't that good, you are still taking part in a world that an author passionately created. That was one of the main reason why I was able to stick out the Wheel of Time series—I was a part of Rand's, Egwene's, Mat's, and Perrin's lives and I wanted to stay with them to the end. And being able to brag that I have made it through 10+ really long books can be a magical experience too.

You know the magic is working when you look forward to your evenings alone with your books. Whether you are joining forces with Harry Potter, Jim Hawkins, Nathan Steed, Rand al'Thor, or Frodo Baggins, you will remember those late nights of reading by lamplight. You will remember the tears and the laughter. You still may not know how to pronounce some of the names, but you will remember the characters. You know the magic is working when you feel a void inside of you when you finish a series and are unsure about how to recommence normal life.

Every series is a new adventure. Each book is a fun ride if you just let the magic overtake you.

I Will Always Return (Spirit)

So, I was bored at work (big shocker there), and I was wasting time on Facebook. I came across a post Melissa had made and decided to do one of my own. It's one of those answer-questions-with-your-iPod things. I get a real kick out of these things.

1. IF SOMEONE SAYS, "IS THIS OKAY?" YOU SAY:
That's How You Know It's Love (Deana Carter). Apparently I'm okay with whatever someone just asked me.

2. WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
The World Will Know (Newsies). Wa ha—it's a secret until I see fit to let the world know.

3. WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
Send Me a Song (Celtic Women). Actually, any guy who sends me a song won't have to do much else to woo me.

4. HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
I Promise You (Backstreet Boys). Um, not really sure what that means.

5. WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?
The Ride of the Rohirrim (The Return of the King). Yes! I'm going to save the world with Eomer!

6. WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
Bad Day (Daniel Powter). That sucks.

7. WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Africa (Toto). That's random.

8. WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
Spiderman Theme (Vocal Point). Well, that song is stuck in my head a lot.

9. WHAT IS 2+2?
Have I Told You Lately that I Love You (Roger Whittaker). Way to avoid answering the question.

10. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
Some People Change (Kenny Chesney). This could either be really good or really bad.

11. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
She's Everything (Brad Paisley). Um, that's just wrong . . .

12. WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Callin' Baton Rogue (Garth Brooks). I don't think I know this song. Apparently my life story is a mystery to me.

13. WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Strangers Like Me (Tarzan). Awesome. Goes along well with #2.

14. WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Diamond Dolls (The Chipmunk Adventure). Apparently this guy is really rich and good-looking.

15. WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
I Want to Be the One (Lonestar). Of course, everyone would want to be my parent.

16. WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
Real Love (John Michael Montgomery). Uh, no. A little bit too tacky.

17. WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Blood Ritual (Pirates of the Caribbean). That's it, I'm never going to die.

18. WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
What a Comforting Thing to Know (Slipper and the Rose). Maybe it's making up poetry about dead kings.

19. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
Runnin' Away With My Heart (Lonestar). No one can catch me.

20. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
You Found Me (Kelly Clarkson). How touching.

21. WHAT IS THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU?
In Another's Eyes (Trisha Yearwood). I don't know what to say about this one.

22. HOW WILL YOU DIE?
From This Moment On (Shania Twain). Now that REALLY sucks. But, it's also kind of true.

23. WHAT IS THE ONE THING YOU REGRET?
Walk in the Woods (Jon Schmidt). I probably would regret that if I got attacked by some creepy guy.

24. WHAT MAKES YOU LAUGH?
Loving You (Elvis Presley). That makes sense. Usually the only people that can make me laugh are the ones I love the most.

25. WHAT MAKES YOU CRY?
Once in Awhile (Billy Dean). Well, I do cry once in a while . . .

26. WILL YOU EVER GET MARRIED?
When You Believe (Prince of Egypt). So true. Dang it.

27. WHAT SCARES YOU THE MOST?
Beautiful Disaster (Kelly Clarkson). Um, yep.

28. DOES ANYONE LIKE YOU?
Amazed (Lonestar). Apparently, someone is amazed by me.

29. IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN TIME, WHAT WOULD YOU CHANGE?
Softly (Lonestar). This shuffle doesn't work very well.

30. WHAT HURTS RIGHT NOW?
Voice of Truth (Casting Crowns). Are you trying to tell me something?

31. WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS?
I Will Always Return (Spirit). I do love this song.

The Amazing Carter/Rushton Race

Playing a game with competitive people doesn't have to be exasperating and frustrating; it can actually be pretty fun. Proof of that was seen when 55 members of Julie and Welby Rushton's family decided to play a little game—the Amazing Race.

We were split into 10–15 teams—Gary and Bob tried their hardest to keep families split up, and they did a pretty good job. I have never been particularly close to my Carter/Rushton cousins or aunts and uncles, but I have always loved spending time with my dad's family. For that reason I was glad that the teams were divided the way they were. It not only forced family bonding, but it also added a new level of competition to the race. Everyone wanted to beat the members of their own family more than anything else.

After Bob, Gayla, Gary, and Paula were to their respective stations, Dad set us loose. He was bombarded by team leaders—the brothers, the sister, and their spouses—all of whom were pushing and shoving to be the first to get their clue. Then a long line of cars shot down the street and began making its way through the suddenly dangerous town of Payson, Utah.

Everyone was in on the game. Even the small children who didn't really know what was going on were excited. Brooke—at least I think it was Brooke—kept calling everyone losers and then giggling away. Brad was convinced that we won the game every time we ran back to the car after doing some ridiculous stunt like mummifying ourselves in toilet paper. That stunt greatly contributed to the "not breaking any traffic laws" because most of the drivers hadn't recovered from their dizziness when they hurtled back onto the road. Too bad Gary didn't get to see his brilliant plan in motion.

We spent the next hour or so zooming past each other on the road and doing whatever we could to slow other groups down when their stations overlapped with ours. No one questioned putting pantyhose on their head if it meant beating their spouses or siblings back to Bob's house. No one had a problem with fishing for a lamp shade and then putting it on their head if it meant having bragging rights for the rest of eternity. These were sacrifices we were all willing to make.

In the end, it was Rod's group that won. (And Kenny's group—even though he wasn't driving he had to make sure everyone knew that he played a part in winning.) The cars trailed back over the next half hour, along with the complaints and excuses for not winning the race: the roads were different than they were 20 years ago, the old man in front of us was going 20 MPH the entire time, our route was strategically inconvenient, the clues were confusing (about half of the groups ended up going to the wrong ballpark), I got stuck with all of the little kids, or—this was probably the most popular excuse—I was actually following traffic laws the entire time. But we all know that no one really did follow the traffic rules the entire time. Rod summed it up pretty well when he said, "When I went to Payson High School, the speed limit was 55." That's probably why he won.

Amidst all of the playful banter, I think I detected a strong desire for a rematch. And I am sure that will lead to another rematch because none of us will want to stop until we have our fair share of winning. Which is never going to happen, by the way, because even if all of us could satiate our desire to win in a normal lifetime, we would never get to that point; eventually the competition would get so hot that innocent bystanders would end up in the hospital and various family members would have to be bailed out of jail.

But until the Amazing Carter/Rushton Race is banned from the universe for the better good of mankind, I'm pretty sure we'll create some pretty legendary stories. I can just see all the uncles 50 years from now—all of them completely bald and unable to walk—telling their grandchildren, "When I was your age, I nearly killed your great-uncle when I towed his car into the swimming pool down town."

You gotta love family reunions.

No matter where you go, Elk Ridge is the best place to live

I have always been a small-town girl. For me, going to BYU was going to the "big city." My first week of college was stressful mostly because of all of the big buildings, the many traffic lights (Payson only has like 9; Elk Ridge has like 9 stop signs, but no lights), and too many people. I was used to walking down the halls of the high school or the streets of my neighborhood knowing that most of the people at least recognized me. That was not the case when I first started college. I was invisible. Invisible in a big, scary city.

But it is hard to experience college life when you are living a half hour away with your family. So I moved out my sophomore year—I had great roommates, a great ward, I loved my classes—it was what I always thought college should be. But I missed seeing the stars at night. I missed having a yard. I missed Elk Ridge water and having access to a piano all the time. However, despite all the things I was leaving behind, I knew that Provo was where I needed to be because it was an environment that allowed me to grow and develop my independence; I needed my independence more than I needed good water and grass. After moving home for the summer at the completion of my junior year, I vowed that I would never move back home again—I just wasn't happy in an environment when I was another one of the kids rather than an equal.

However, I ended up moving home this summer anyway, and this time I will probably be home for more than just the summer. A combination of intense senioritis, roommates, and just plain being sick of life in BYU-Provo led me to think that even living under my parents' roof again wouldn't be so bad. And I was right, mostly because my parents started treating me more like and adult and I tried harder to act like one. Happy at home again, I was able to enjoy all that Elk Ridge has to offer: the people that wave at you on the street whether they know you or not; the nights out on the porch watching the sun set, reading a good book, or talking; the quiet, peaceful setting; and being surrounded by good people that you grew up with or that helped raise you.

The only way that Elk Ridge could be better would be if it were smaller and more remote. Oddly enough, while we were on our way to Bryce Canyon, we passed a gate that said Elk Ridge across the top. My dad immediately turned around and parked the car next to the gate. We all got out and took our picture, and then we did a little bit of exploring. All of the "houses" in this little area looked like summer cabins. All of them were big and beautiful, and were surrounded by land—not buildings. They were completely cut off from civilization, alone in a beautiful setting. We all wished that we could just stay there for the rest of the summer. However, keeping everyone fed would have been a problem. The nearest grocery store was hours away, and for a family that goes through 12 gallons of milk a week, that would get old fast. Going to a movie or even seeing a town required even more driving. So while this Elk Ridge certainly wouldn't be a permanent place of residence, it would certainly be heaven for a few weeks or months.

It's nice to know that there are Elk Ridges wherever you go. I don't have to resign myself to the fact that I may have to raise a family in a place where there are no stars, no magical snow, and no stunning summer sunsets. I don't have to settle down in a place that is full of pollution, cars, and Walmarts. Because, at least in Utah, all you have to do is drive a little bit out of the way—and you will find your Elk Ridge.

It's amazing what God can do with some rocks and bunch of dirt

My family did something a bit different this year for the 4th of July and went down to St. George and visited some of the national parks. Throughout the course of the trip, we saw Zion's, Bryce Canyon, Dixie, and I think a little bit of Capitol Reef. Despite my Utah bearings, this was my first time visiting any of those parks. My family's idea of a fun vacation has always involved amusement parks, not hiking, which is why I have been to Lagoon about 30 times. I had a couple of bad experiences with hikes during girl's camp, and I just haven't been a fan of hiking since then. (Young Women leaders are professional manipulators—they tell you a hike will only be a couple of laid-back miles, but they always end up being 8-mile strenuous hikes.)

But this year we just wanted to get away for a little while, so we decided it was time to see some of the national parks. (Actually, all of our other options sort of fell through, so seeing the national parks was about our only option.) And we didn't even do a whole lot of hiking. In fact, I wore flip flops the entire trip. It was sweet.

But I soon realized that national parks are not just for hiking—they are for seeing. As I looked at the majestic red, rocky mountains, I was filled with a sense of wonder that I usually only feel when I'm looking at one of God's unfathomable creations, like the stars. Give God some water and some dirt, and he can create something that people all over the world will come to see.

Spending the last 4 years of my life at BYU, I am ashamed to say, has made me a bit . . . reluctant, I guess, to claim my Utah heritage. People come to BYU from all of these exciting places, places that don't have really long winters and places that don't have a whole lot of Mormons. We Utahan natives often get put into a bubble—a bubble of naive, boring, Molly-Mormons. I have always resented that. I wished that I had an exciting place to call home. I wished that I could claim a heritage that wasn't shared by virtually every Mormon in Utah. I wished that I had seen something more exciting than the Rocky Mountains. Maybe then people wouldn't think they had me all figured out the minute they found out I was born and raised in Utah County.

My trip down south has changed the way I feel about some things, however. First of all, Utah is gorgeous. I used to think that southern Utah was ugly, dusty, and dry—once you got past Santaquin, all you would see were dead trees, broken-down houses, and people mowing the dirt. I would hear my grandparents talk about their growing-up years in Genola and Wayne County, and I would be thinking to myself, "Well, Grandpa, I'm pretty sure your memory isn't what it once was." But now I know that I was the one that was a bit deluded.

After seeing the impressive sights of Bryce Canyon, we took the scenic route home. Every time we go on a road trip, I always have at least three things in the car with me: a book or two, my cross stitch, and my iPod (although in the olden days I had my tape player named Corder). I usually try to last as long as possible in the car without using any of my sources of entertainment. During our long drive home, I didn't have to pull out even my iPod until we were a few hours from home. For three hours, I stared out the window, amazed at the beauty around me. I watched the mountains turn from red to green, watched the scenery turn from rocks to trees, and I never got bored. There was just so much to see, even when we hit the areas that I had previously thought were just dead trees, broken-down houses, and dirt. My lack of boredom may have been in part due to my fear of heights, but that didn't stop me from appreciating the grand sights below me. I even managed to keep my eyes open while we drove on the road that had huge drop-offs (as Tyrel liked to call them) on each side of the road, although I did have to hold on to something the entire time. Thank goodness I wasn't driving.

Having seen some of God's incredible creations—the mountains of Utah—I feel a bit more cultured and a lot more proud to claim this state as my home. Utah has a lot more to offer than just a bunch of "naive" Mormons. People come from all over the world to see our rocks and dirt, and I am proud of that. Utah may not be as exciting as the coastal cities of New York and California, but it does allow us to glimpse a little bit of paradise. I don't think anyplace else can top that, no matter how interesting the culture may be.

Maybe, just maybe, this July won't roast us all

For me, July has always kind of been a miserable month. Growing up during a long drought, we rarely got any moisture after May and it was always so HOT, especially in July and August. By this time softball season would be over and we would retreat inside for a couple of months, although we would usually emerge from our houses when the sun was going down to enjoy those amazing summer nights. Because of the dry and miserable heat, we were often denied the pleasure of doing our own fireworks—one of the only good things about July. For several years, the only opportunity we had to watch fireworks was from the roof of our house when the Stadium of Fire was giving its show 20 miles away.

But this July just might be different. Today on my way to work, it actually rained—and some of those raindrops were BIG. Yesterday we got a pretty impressive rainstorm (however short it may have been), and I was very grateful that my car hadn't started that day so that I could be home during all of the excitement. Tyrel grabbed his video camera and me, Kimberly, and Shannan opened the doors and looked outside in awe. I love seeing the water flood down the roads. I love watching the rain gutters overflow. I love watching nature rage such an awesome battle. I have been severely thunder-storm deprived, and even wimpy Utah storms never cease to amaze me.

I checked the weather forecast for the next 10 days and couldn't believe what I saw—the hottest temperature for the next 10 days is supposed to be 93º. The 4th of July weekend is actually supposed to be in the 80s (too bad I'll be in St. George that weekend and will still have to endure the 100º+ temperatures).

Maybe this month I'll be able to look out the window and never have to see the heat sucking the life out of the atmosphere. Maybe I won't feel near death every time I am out in the brutal sun for more than 30 seconds. Maybe we'll actually see RAIN this July. Maybe the grass will be green and healthy rather than—dead. And maybe, just maybe, I will experience my first pleasant July ever.