November 3, 2013

Your Bright Story

**Disclaimer: this post isn't very well written, but it's little things that are real to me, so they're significant.**

At work this holiday season we have this little theme of "bright." And, as silly as it may sound to be carrying it over to here, I'm doing so because it impacted me.

Your "bright" is what inspires you. It's what gives you confidence, and makes you feel successful; happy. All of us have a "bright" and a "bright story." And I'm going to open up and be vulnerable for a moment and share with you mine.

So as we were told to think of our bright and I heard everyone's words that in short described their bright story I tried to think of something artistic and creative, different than everyone else, but the same thing kept coming back to me. Home. Home is my bright. And I don't mean home as a physical place, but a state of being, or a state of mind.

Home is my family. The way that McKay snapchats me every morning, and I talk to Owen on the phone, and the feeling I get when I hang out with Dalton and his best friends. Home is the way my mom texts me and that my dad calls me just to say hi.

Home is the way that my mom's coffee is made for her when she gets to Beany's in the morning, and that my dad knows where all the soda machines are in Utah County. Home is the smell of laundry on Sundays, and the smell of outside when the boys come in from playing. It's baseball season, and football season, and wrestling and eating out because we're all running a million different places that's home. Dad's truck is home. Home is kisses on the forehead and holding hands.

Lehi City is home to me. It's where so many memories were made. It's the way I feel when I walk in the Legacy Center--like I am safe, and known, and missed. Suzanne smirks at me, and Taylor is there to greet me at the front desk. It's the people in Lehi. Taylor and I so quickly fit. It's Ali, and Maddie, and Emmaline. I couldn't even call them my friends, but they feel like home. It's Taylor and Turner and the way they interact and that when I tag along, I feel at home. We disagree, the three of us, on most everything, but I feel safe, loved and at home.

Home is church. When I went to church the first time here, I just cried. It was a little piece of home. The spirit felt, and the values shared are home. You can walk into a sacrament meeting anywhere and just feel home. Home is missionary letter writing on Sundays, and Monday's inbox. It's journal writing and re-reading.

Music is home. The emotions evoked while listening to certain music is home. Missionary letters are home, and having 6 pillows on my bed is home. Home is the smell of chlorine, and my little swim kids.

Home is Eliza, flat out. Eliza is home. Her smell, her food, her laugh, her charm. She's home.

Home is the holidays, and buying gifts and Christmas music, and way too much food.

The smell of the auditorium, and that feeling of peace after walking into J's classroom is home. I walk in and people know who I am. I'm usually asked a question, or asked to run an errand, or fix something, and that's home. Reading a script, or going to a show, is home. Theatre is a home that I never thought I'd call home.

Home is Taylor and I's recent nightly phone calls just to catch up because those mean the world to me. It's Addy's texts, and Eliza's snapchats, and Turner's music. Emma's comfort, Young Nav's humor, and Kenzie's familiarity are starting to become home. Thank you, girls.

These are pieces of me; my heart of my sleeve. This is my home, and my bright. These things keep me going and keep me smiling, and I feel so blessed to have everything that I do. I can not imagine what life would be like without all these silly little things. Take a moment to step back tomorrow, to realize what you have, to come up with your bright story.

Happy Holiday Season, my loves. Thanks for always being there.

No comments: