If only I could explain the change that has happened over the last few months. It would be a miracle for that to ever happen. 

I think God is sitting on a cloud right now, reading a chapter book titled "My Morgan" and as he turns the page he says to himself, "Oh, this is going to push her." But, before it pushes me, he places his hand in mine so that when it does he is being pushed right alongside me. Sometimes I feel like only our pinkies are keeping us together, but then he interlocks the rest of his fingers and I'll feel safe again. 

I'm not trying to be negative in the slightest, but the months since graduation have been the greatest and hardest climb that I've ever made. I don't know if I've ever been this strong and weak all at once. I've had my faith tested almost every day since June, and I've never prayed so much in my entire life. Here's the thing about it all, though. I've never LEARNED so much either. There is really so much that I could tell you that I don't even know where to begin, or even if I should begin to tell you. I've had this blog post screen in front of me for about 2 hours now and I've only gotten to this point because I'm at a loss for words on a page because my mind is so full of them.

I want to be so many things and do many things but there is literally not enough time in the day for me to do everything that my heart desires and that has been one of the biggest challenges. I want to be in Salt Lake County and Utah County and Brighton, England and Spain and running and in bed and in love and singly independent and everything that contradicts itself and can't happen in the same day-- in the same day. 

Growing up is such a weird thing. Everyone tells you how different it is from what you imagine, or they tell you that it will go a certain way, but it doesn't. It never goes how you want it to, or maybe it does--just not the way you think it will. As much as I say that, though, it's one of those things that you have to experience for yourself. 

Senior year of high school I told everyone that I was going to save the world one day. (Don't worry, I still tell everyone that.) I told everyone that I was going to be off, far away from home, in this big place doing wonderful things and being instantly successful and completely fine. So, when I moved only 45 minutes away from home I started getting the attitude that I was letting all those words go to waste. I never thought I would be the one to come home on the weekends just because I wanted to, and I never thought it'd be me that doesn't know exactly what she wants to do in the future. 

I've realized that it's okay, though. It's okay to not be out of the state and far away from home. It's okay to love Utah and to love the friends I had before college just as much as the new ones I make. I'm young and it's okay to be dependent sometimes. 

It's been such a journey for me, and I have so much more to tell you, if you're reading, keep reading because I'll keep writing. Thank you.

enduringly,

morgan.

april.twentythird.twothousandfour.

my mom's version of birthday candles.

My littlest of the littles turned nine today. He's growing up, and losing teeth, and playing on two baseball teams. He's one of my best friends, really. (I want to wish him a happy one on here, even though he probably won't read this until I am married and we look back to laugh.)

There are days when I want to go back to being nine. When the stressors are which dress to wear, and who to play with after school. Where getting frozen yogurt was enough. (okay, that statement still stands still at seventeen.) Being nine isn't completely care free because you do have friends, and chores, and scratches, and homework and trying to color inside the lines. Nine is where coloring inside the lines begins.

Coloring inside the lines. This isn't the easiest of tasks. Sure, literally, it's not that hard. Metaphorically it is. Coloring inside the lines metaphorically is living a near perfect life. 

I started coloring inside the lines, but then came jealousy. Slip. Jealousy isn't something I like to discuss, or feel, or participate in. While "make 'em jealous" is a repeated phrase at high school I just don't like it. But, it happens. My best friend is extremely successful and beautiful. My brother will be an olympic athlete. Julie always saves the day. On occasion it's hard not to be jealous. 

I started coloring inside the lines, but then came college. Slip. Here, I'm mostly too excited to stay inside the lines. First was getting in. Second was not getting in. Third was deciding. I'm decided, and housed, and waiting for a roommate to come and give me more color outside my lines. 114 days 1 hour 49 minutes.

I started coloring inside the lines, but then came anxiety. I get anxious.

I started coloring inside the lines, but then came graduation. In a task to make senior year the best one yet I bit off a little bit more than I could chew for the time being. If I were a sophomore doing all the things I am, well, I'd be dumber, but I think I'd have the energy and motivation to keep going. I'm just ready to be done. All that being said, looking back, I wouldn't change a thing (other than maybe a grade or two.) I'm almost done. 36 days left. I'm scared, people. I'm scared of not finishing. I'm scared of missing J, and Hayden, and Madeline. I'm more ready than scared. I'm ready to enjoy the last 36 days.

I started coloring inside the lines, but then came God. He took me a different direction than what my head had pictured. He gave me weaknesses. Big weaknesses. He handed me a plate of a dozen cookies and told me to eat them all at once, and then bake them again. I'm learning so much about how to cope and what's important in my life. He's teaching me to make certain things priority over others, and coloring inside the lines isn't priority. Wrecking a car, and planning for surgery, and being jealous, and failing, and making people mad, and getting complaints, and hurting people were all part of what He wanted to show me. Making a best friend, and teaching, and crying happy tears, and finding a teacher, and writing, and photographing, and not caring was also there. Learning was what He wanted. It's still coming, but it's happening.

The thing is. No matter how crazy my writing is when I'm sick, and no matter how many mistakes I've made lately, there is a gorgeous picture outside of those lines. There's places that mean a lot. There's a painting, a crayon drawing, and a sketch of who I'm becoming outside those lines. There's a little drawing of a broken heart, and a little bit bigger heart that's full of hope. There's laughter outside those lines, and there are tears, too.


"What's your purpose in life?" -Addyson

enduringl.y
morgan

The Minute My White Shirt Comes Clean It's Dirty Again

I used to blog, because I knew how to arrange my words into sentences, and my sentences into paragraphs, and my paragraphs into posts. They weren't ever well written, really, or even grammatically correct always, but they were at least words. Words with occasional attempts at wit or inspiration. Words that made me feel semi-important, and semi-important is good enough, right? It was good enough for me.

Now, things aren't sitting well with my words, and I can't arrange them into posts. Nothing comes out right, and nothing is really worth actually writing down. But shouldn't anything be worth writing down? It's writing, and well, I'm not sure. My words, actual words worth reading, come and go. They come and go like the rain and the sun, like the leaves in the fall, and like all my stains in those white shirts; they always come back after they are gone.



Hey, come back to me.
Perpetually Yours,
Morgan