I haven't always kept a journal, but over the years I've collected quite a few of them. Today I was organizing a bookshelf that mostly has my books on it, including quite a few of those journals. I ended up doing a lot more sitting on my haunches reading through them than organizing.
Annnd... I'm okay with that.
These particular journals cover bits and pieces of my life from when I was 10 years old until just before I left for Russia at age 19. Those nine years held a lot of adventures and challenges that shaped me into the person I am now. I started out as a stubborn tomboy of a 10-year-old, then stumbled through my difficult (and very character defining) teenage years, discovered what a wonderful place college can be, and then fell for the man I would later marry, all in those nine years.
Flipping through the pages of the journals took me back and reminded me of what a surprise my life has turned out to be. I would never have guessed that I would be where I am now. It's quite a bit different than the plans I made when I was a little 18-year-old. I thought I was so wise then, but little did I know what was in store for me, namely a dashing young(ish) man named Dallin and a game of ultimate frisbee that would end up taking my life in a different direction that I planned.
My life has not turned out as I expected, and every day I'm thankful for that.
I'm thankful for the prayers that were not answered the way I wanted, the life plans that fell through, and the unexpected changes that landed me where I am now. I know I owe my happiness to failed plans and letting myself take chances.
During lunch today, when I was snuggled up to that husband of mine with my head on his chest and our little son kicking in my belly, I couldn't help but feel grateful. Grateful to be here.
Here, with a husband that is my bestest friend and makes me happier every day.
|At the Mesa Temple a couple months ago.|
Here, with a wee man-child that we get to meet in about 13 short weeks.
Here, living a life that is perfect for me.
I think this picture that I posted on Instagram a couple days ago sums life lately up pretty well.
Here's the caption:
"I wanted to take a "baby bump" picture and started moving all the clutter out of the frame, but then I realized that sometimes "clutter" tells a story. So... here I am with le bump wrapped in my favorite comfy sweater, paint samples/masking tape on the wall, the one closet door (of four) that has made it back upstairs since I refinished them, a bunk bed waiting to be moved downstairs, bags of baby clothes from my mom, and the ipad I was using to prepare tomorrow's seminary lesson.
Life is messy and imperfect, but oh so good."
(Most of this was written yesterday but didn't have time to post it until today, just FYI)