We're Just Good Ol' Pals

6 years ago I met someone that would change my life forever.

She was lost. Like so many other times in life, we helped each other figure out where we were going.

I asked her to sit by me. It was a simple question, but one that has changed my life forever. You see, that seemingly unimportant exchange, was actually a profound moment : I met Whitney Smith.

This is a list for all the world to see! This is who Whitney Smith is. Isn't she beautiful?

She has been my ultimate source of friendship
She has made me laugh when all I wanted to do was cry
She has given me self-esteem when all I saw were flaws and defeat
She has allowed me to be who I am and loved me for it
She has supported me (and my family) despite set backs, disappointments, and tough times
She never gossips (and that's sayin' something!)
She always sees the best in people
She is forgiving - she holds no grudges and never looks back
She is an example to me of who I can become and the power of free thought, dreams, and hard work
She is absolutely gorgeous and doesn't even know it
She willingly sacrifices for others
She's not afraid of anything...including the words, "I'm sorry" and "I love you"
She lights up any room she walks in
She has this special talent of making people feel special and comfortable with who they are
She has SO MANY TALENTS I don't even know where to begin...
She grabs life my the horns, firmly with both hands. She rides life. Not the other way around.
She has a strong and steadfast testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Evident by the way she lives.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY WHITNEY SMITH.
I Love You.

Ode to my Father

It's eleven-thirty at night, and I'm watching an infomercial on television because it reminds me of my dad.

The infomercial is one based on music from the 1950s. Displaying such pleasures as bobby darin, the everly brothers, paul anka, the shirelles, and the chiffons. (Man, they certainly don't name music groups like that anymore, eh dad?)

Every time the hosts appear, dressed in their ridicules pseudo 1950s outfits, I cringe at their over the top selling schemes.

But I patiently sit through the less-than-tasteful salesmanship, and wait for the music. It's the sounds of my childhood. It's the sounds of my father. It's every saturday morning as I groggily rolled out of bed. It's part of why I love him. It's part of him, and consequently a part of me.

I am sitting here listening to the infomercial repeat through the words, and through the music for one reason; because it makes me feel as if my father is here.

I'd give anything to have him here with me now. Singing along, and hearing the stories he's attached to these songs. In other words, to be with him and hear of his life. I'd give anything...

I miss you dad.

The Writing Place

A real writer told me once that you have to go to the painful places and stay there.
Then when you think you can't stand another minute- you write.
You write about THAT place. You write about THOSE feelings.

..............................................................

I stare into my eyes - all blemishes and flaws melt away.
What remains is foreign. I don't recognize her.
There is only Potential staring back - timid and scared.



This is called Ramona by Cassandra Christensen-Barney, one of my favorite artists. I went to a lecture of hers. She inspired me.