Bad-ish

My tagline says "Good ishes happen every week." Which is quite true. Sometimes, though--well, most of the times--bad ishes happen during the week, too.

Honestly I don't really have bad days, but Friday was a bad day. (Mind you, the evening was much better. We're talking about the day, however). Granted, most everything of the bad-ish-sort was my own fault.

I woke up late when I wanted to wake up early. I got interrupted in my scripture study by two texts--one from my mother and one from Verizon Wireless--both telling me that I need to send in my broken phone or else pay for the new one they gave me. Panicked, I set to work trying to figure out how to erase my old phone and send it in, figure out where to send it and how. Then my mom was like, you can go get your passport today. My cousin was going to the post office to renew his, it was a perfect time. But I also had to do homework and finish writing an essay for an internship application. I did almost no homework. The application essay didn't get finished until Saturday. I waited in line at the post office for about an hour in vain--no passport for me yet.

Perhaps it is because I am just me, perhaps it is because I am a girl, perhaps it is because of both ("me" rather implies "girl," you know)--but I was stressed and upset and down as all this passed throughout the day.

But as I said before, it only lasted a day.

Bad ishes are temporary. They are much more temporary than good ishes, because once they are gone we are much more apt to cast off the memory of them, as it is unpleasant. A bad day comes along every once in a while, but it is only that.

Only a day.

Follow Up/Through-ish

About Tuesday of last week, I started feeling that one feeling (that little niggling feeling that suspends somewhere between my heart and my stomach), but deeper, and more niggling.

I had written on my planner "SNIP" because I knew I needed to follow my own advice and visit someone. I even had someone in mind! But it took a while to actually follow through.

AKA two days.

Nevertheless, two days is a long time when you have a niggling feeling between your heart and your stomach. It borders on guilt as if anticipating that you won't follow through in the end.

Luckily for me, I did follow through, on Thursday night around 7:00. I took a piece of the treat my friend had made. went over to the girl's house (conveniently next door to mine). I saw a guy at the table through the window, though, so I passed by her door and scurried into my apartment. It didn't matter: the feeling in my stomach was no longer niggling, but determined, set, decided. So I went back out, telling myself it didn't matter about this guy, and knocked on her door.

The guy was just a guy--he was leaving as I came in. I set the treat before her and asked about her life.

The conversation was short, just skimming the surface of details about the week. She loved the treat. I expressed my willingness to help her whenever she needed it. Then I left.

Just a few short minutes. I don't think she'll remember it for the rest of her life. But I think it helped.

Point-ish

This week I had two pairs of friends come visit me, each pair on separate occasions.

They may have come on church assignment, but that's not the point. Far from it, in fact.

The point is that I had two pairs of friends come visit me! On separate occasions!

If only we could all understand the influence we can have in others' lives if we just go see them. If only I could fully understand. I know how great I feel when people snip a decent half hour out of their calendars just for me, yet how often do I snip one out for others? Boy, do I need to sharpen my time scissors.

Notes, hugs, and friendly smiles can do wonders, but there is something special about a one-on-one, ya know? (Or a two-on-one, in my case.) A special sense of support. Of care. A person wants to know that you have prepared and wanted to come see them. Or that you didn't prepare at all and just wanted to come see them! Good gravy, if that Dollar Giver didn't have the right idea... We need each other! So take your scissors to your planner for this week! Cut out a half hour, or five minutes, or two hours--just enough time to serve, love, visit, minister to someone. You'll really be helping lift the weight of the world from their shoulders.

Snip.

Happy-ish

Today I have been so happy.

The reason this is such a good ish is because weeks can get crazy in college. Trying to get homework done, going to bed too late, waking up too late, having trouble concentrating, wanting to be a better person, visiting people, wishing other people would visit people, wasting too much time, not taking enough time, trying, deciding, praying, walking, listening, practicing, writing, doing, living, breathing--

There's just so much to life, and sometimes, I am sad or worn down. I know that I don't have the worst life ever. Not even close. But for me, for where I am right now, for who I am right now--sometimes it's hard.

Yet here I am, sitting in my friend's apartment, tired, but softly, freshly, oh-so momently content.

Not everyone is happy. Not everyone knows that they can be happy, or how to be happy. So how could I not be happy that I get to be happy?

Who knows what this week will bring. Who knows!

It doesn't matter though. Not yet. Because right now, I am happy.

Songs-ish

Today I decided to go singing at a rehabilitation center with a church group.

Well, actually, I decided on Tuesday night to go singing at a rehabilitation center with a church group.

I was on my knees in prayer thinking about the notes I had taken about the devotional that day. Elder Don R. Clarke spoke to the students about doing what the Savior asked us to do--one of the things being to care for the widows.

Care for the widows? I asked myself. How?

It quickly came to me--the church group that goes singing at the rehabilitation center on Sundays. Surely there are widows there at that rehabilitation center. There are plenty of elderlies there.

So I was on my knees in prayer and there was that feeling--that little niggling feeling that suspends somewhere between my heart and my stomach. It's a feeling that says, "You've already chosen."

So I did.

And it was a blessing. We sang hymns to a few of the seniors (one of them, I believe, was a widow), and the music lifted us up and away in the testimony of Jesus Christ. It was a special experience to be with these fragile people and to play tunes of praise on my vocal cords. A wonderful combination for a wonderful Sabbath.

Change-ish

Yesterday, I had the chance to hang out with three of my freshman year roommates (one of which lives in my same complex now), just the four of us. At one point during the evening, we drove past the dorms where we had lived together.

I was a little surprised but pleased to find no feelings of regret, no desire to return, inside myself as I took in the red-brick, castle-looking buildings. Freshman year was a good time. My roommates were good roommates. It was good to be together again.

But I don't want to go back.

I don't need to. I am older, different, and better now (I hope at least a little better).

It is fascinating to me the way that time flows and shifts; how it turns and pulls and pushes. It carries us from one point to the next, but doesn't exist by itself. It is connected to words, feelings, even smells and sounds. "Freshman year." That was a time. It is gone now. But it was, once.

So driving along and talking, it wasn't like I had time machined back to freshman year. I presented myself to my old roommates as the "now" me, not the "freshman" me (thank goodness).

It was pleasing, then, simply to taste the past again, and know that I can change.

Auntie-ish

I have a little niece--almost eighteen months old--and she is just the cutest.

She makes cheesy grins and has a scant inch of wispy blonde hair, and she dances and gives kisses and tries to sing.

My little niece lives across the country from the rest of my family, and I had to say goodbye to her yesterday. It will be months before I get to see her again.

I held her as much as I could and asked for as many kisses as she could spare. As I stood in the entry way of my home, I held her toward me and looked into her face. She looked back and then put her little hand--thin-fingered and baby-wrinkled--to my cheek. Just held it there, for longer than the typical toddler moment. It was so, so sweet.

Being an aunt is a great job. It has the essence of being not so critical, but still important, and then just plain fun. I get to help when she goes floppy and cries her crocodile tears; I get to pull the bib over her head and hear her satisfied "mm"'s; I get to hold her when she pops her thumb in her mouth and rubs my hair between her fingers. Months and months won't change those things.

It is lovely. The toddler moments are lovely.

Because she is the toddler moments, and she is so lovely.