Mele Kalikimaka

I feel bad for not posting in so long. I've been soaking up the wonderful month of December. Last week I returned back to Washington after living in Hawaii for almost six months. Before I left the island of Oahu, I tried to take in every ounce of beauty that surrounded me. I can still picture the mysterious green mountains and the soft sand that meets the blue vibrant waves of the ocean. I was excited about transferring to BYU-Idaho until I realized how much Hawaii had become my home. While I was in Hawaii I learned a lot about myself and who I want to become. I also learned that I have so many options in front of me, the hardest part is just choosing the right one. I'm always looking forward and making new goals for myself, but for the first time I'm having trouble envisioning what school in Idaho will be like.

I'm a little scared. 

I keep thinking about how I wish I could return to my new found home in Hawaii. It's funny because back in September all I could think about is how I couldn't wait to go somewhere new. 

I try my hardest to not take things for granted, but somehow I did. 

My last couple weeks in Hawaii were the best of all. I knew I was leaving soon, so I made sure to spend time with people I cared about. I paid extra attention to the beauty around me. I let my senses take control so I could easily tap into the memories of the wind blowing through my hair, or the sound of crashing waves, or the feeling of sand between my toes. 

I'm not sure why transferring to Idaho was the answer to my prayers, but I'm going to make the best of it. I almost feel like every emotion has been put into a blender, mixed on high, and poured into my heart. Happy, sad, excited, scared, confused, confident, indifferent, motivated, deranged. 

It's all about attitude though. I can continue to look forward and enjoy this card that has been dealt to me, or I could live in the past and wish away. The power to choose is something I'm extremely grateful for and I hope I can choose to make the best of whatever situation comes my way. 

Relating back to the beauty of Hawaii, obviously Hawaii is a gorgeous place, but you can find beauty everywhere you go as long as you open your eyes. The morning I flew into Seattle was beyond beautiful. The sky was tickled with pink clouds, while the skyscrapers of Seattle were peeking out behind walls of mystifying fog. The drive to Sequim was gorgeous. 

I made sure to notice the tall evergreens and majestic mountains. 

If you look close enough, everything is beautiful. 

It doesn't have to be towering trees or rippling cool waters. Beauty can be found in your everyday life. I look at my mom and her accomplishments of raising a crazy family and see beauty. I look at the chaos my little nephew creates and I see beauty. I see my brother's love for his wife and I see beauty. I see the living room made into a mess by toys and see a day well enjoyed. I see chicken noodle soup spilt all over the floor (my fault...) and laugh because well, it was just dumb to put soup in a packed freezer and not expect the bowl to fall out. Choose to see the beauty around you. Especially during this special holiday season where evenings are filled with laughter, silly accidents happen, songs are sung, traffic gets unbearable, and love is expressed. Learn to love your crazy beautiful life.

 I've certainly learned to love mine. 

P.S. Mele Kalikimaka from me and Ethan! 

Memory

Sometimes 

you will never know
the true value of 
a moment
until it becomes
A MEMORY.
                                                     {unknown}


I found this quote the other day and thought I would share it. It is such a true statement and definitely holds significance in my life.

The other day I was having a conversation with a friend about my blog. The entry about my dad left a big impact on this person and how important it is to make the best of the relationships we have with others. Sometimes we just need to see past the indifferences we have with the people around us, especially family, because you never know how much longer you will have with them. 

When I reflect back on some of the memories I have with my dad, they are the silliest little moments in time. I feel like I took those times for granted and didn't fully appreciate them. I would have never thought that years later I would be clinging to those simple moments for comfort. That a simple thing like how my dad would fall asleep in church (in the middle of singing a hymn) or his disgusting homemade macaroni and cheese would be something I'd treasure in my heart forever. I know now the value of moments in time, because I have experienced those moments fade away into a distance memories. 

With Christmas around the corner, I thought I'd share one of my favorite Christmas memories with my dad. I'm fortunate to have a video of it. It is from 2006 and I am absolutely ridiculous, but it always brings a smile to my face. You can hear him talking in the background. At the time, it was just a silly moment. Now it is a treasured memory.

Live each moment 
like it's going to be a memory
 you'll cherish forever 
because someday...
you probably will. 

Random Acts of Kindness

Anyone that knows me well is fully aware that I'm a true Washingtonian. I have an unconditional love for rain and apples, both of which are plentiful in my wonderful home state. 

Back home I used to eat at least one apple a day (to keep the doctor away!). However, apples in Hawaii are ridiculously overpriced, so I only treat myself to them occasionally. 

The other day I went to the campus snack bar to buy myself a delicious Fugi apple. As I waited in line, a nice older man in front of me said he'd pay for my apple and told me to enjoy my day. First off, I hate it when people buy me things, but I was pretty dang stoked. Secondly, that small act of kindness turned my whole day around. My spirits were lifted and I devoured a fantastically scrumptious apple. 

See what one little random act of kindness can do? 

What if we all made a goal of doing one kind act to someone we don't know every day?

It is so simple, yet can leave a huge impact.

I have a second story with a similar theme. 

A few weeks ago I was feeling pretty lonely and was having a rough day. When I got back to my dorm someone had left me an anonymous note on my door. This is what it said:

Honestly, I broke into tears. I had no idea who the note was from, but I'm sure it had a larger impact on me than the anonymous sender expected. Just knowing there was someone out there caring enough to write me a note made me feel so good inside, especially on a lonely day. I felt so loved and my heart was filled with gratitude toward this secret person. Just a few kind words was enough to turn my day around and put a smile on my low-spirited face. The feelings were so wonderful that I wanted others to feel them too. So I made a goal that each week I will give someone, anyone, a kind note to hopefully make their day a bit brighter. I have been successful thus far and love deciding who my next target will be. I hope these secret notes are having the same impact that my note had on me.

It is so easy to share a little love, you just got to get out there and do it. 

 A few words on a notecard or even spare change spent on another can be so powerful.  

So next time you're lonely, write someone else a note.

Next time you're at the store, buy me an apple! Just kidding. 

Next time you're at the store, do a random act of kindness for someone you don't know. 

As you do, I can guarantee that it will not only make their day, but it will make your day too. 

My Story

I think that everyone has a special story, or some kind of pivotal life changing moment. Perhaps some people know what their story is, or maybe they are still waiting for their story to unfold. Some can be happy or sad, good or bad. 

My story can be all four. Happy, sad, good, and bad. It really depends on your perspective. 

Rarely you will find me talking about it because it is so personal. It was difficult for me to write, but it is straight from my heart.

Here is my story:

It was one of those warm and breezy summer days. I played some badminton, did my chores, went grocery shopping with my mom. Typical day, but something felt wrong. My older brother and sister were visiting from college and my dad was out of town. He was in Redmond, our previous city of residence, repairing our old home so it could be put up for sale. The day was coming to a close, but something still wasn’t right. I remember laying in bed reading my favorite book and listening to “I Feel Fine” by The Beatles. That’s when my mom walked in. She was struggling to keep calm when she told me something happened to my dad. I was instructed to pack some clothes and get ready for the next ferry heading to Seattle. 

Clothes...toothbrush...shoes. I was struggling to think straight. I had no idea what was going on. My brother was on the phone, and I could hear my mom’s smothered cries. Words like “hospital” and “ambulance” echoed from down the hall. I went outside, away from the inhospitable words, to apprehend what was happening. I began to pray with all my heart that my dad would be okay. Minutes later, my brother came outside and sat me down on the hot tub cover. With yearning for good news, I received just the opposite. My brother said five words I will never forget: “Rachel, dad has passed away.” Screams. Tears. Agony. 

My mom came outside too. I was the first my brother told and my mom didn’t know yet. Once the words were said again, there was no stoping it. More screams. More tears. The pain was insufferable until a blanket of numbness sunk upon us. 

An hour earlier, my mom had called a family friend that lived in Redmond to check on my dad, because she had not heard from him all day. Our friend was the one that found him upstairs on the bed in our old house. There was nothing the paramedics could have done. My dad had been cold for hours. 

I will never forget that night. I was just fifteen, and I had so many more experiences to share with my dad, but that future with him was over. My first prom date, graduation, my wedding. Gone. It wasn’t until the morning after that I found out there was a letter with him on the bed. It wasn’t what I thought. I was sure he died of some natural cause, but not this. Not suicide. My dad had suffered from clinical depression for twenty-five years, but I thought he was improving. The last time I saw him he was the same wonderful loving father he had always been, not someone tortured by the encumbrance of depression. Once reality set in, the questions of “What if?” began to haunt me every waking moment. Guilt opaque as tar smothered me as I began to condemn myself for my father’s suicide. I was the one that made him stay in Redmond that weekend. I told him to stay there and not waste gas by driving all the way  to Sequim for only a couple days. I truly thought it was my fault. What if told him to come back to Sequim? Would he still be alive? It felt like eternities for me to finally digest that it was not my fault. I couldn’t have stopped the depression overpowering him; his escape was already planned, regardless of what I said. 

He left us a six page letter. There was a portion reserved just for me, part of it saying: Leaving you is one of the hardest parts of my decision to leave. Even though it was so hard for him, he still left me alone. I no longer have a father to turn to. With time, healing of my broken heart has come, but there will always be a void. I’ve learned that my dad wasn’t the one that decided to leave me and my family, it was the depression. But shackled to that depression was my father’s exquisite spirit, unable to be free from the mental illness that plagued him. My dad was a wonderful man. He was a perfect representation of charity and integrity. I will never forget the lessons he taught me and the kindness he expressed to all. He had a heart of gold and a spirit brighter than the sun. 

My life has changed. In obvious ways, but also ways in which have helped me become a stronger and better person. I have learned to become strong when others are weak; to succor those who are faint from adversity. Persevering with determination and confidence was my only option. I have continued my father’s legacy of trying my best to be a friend to everyone and to greet opportunities of service with a willing heart. I do everything in light of my father, to help me remember the good times when life was painless and whole. To remember the days when I ran home to tell him about my day, making him breakfast in bed, or helping him fix cars much past my bedtime. I love my dad.

This experience has been the mold to shape who I am. Everything I do reminds me of my father and the path he put me on, which led me to learning who I really am. I wouldn’t be me if it weren’t for that summer night, not so long ago. 

So is my story happy, sad, good, or bad? 

I don't think it is any of them. My story is perfect. This is the way things were meant to be. I have learned so much and have gained a stronger appreciation for life. I know that my Heavenly Father would have never dealt me a trial that I couldn't handle. 
I have the power to choose to be happy and to reflect on the memories of my father.
 I can push forward with faith that my family is forever. 

I know I will be with my daddy again. 

Building My Wings

This saying became my inspiration for creating a blog. The past couple months have been filled with ups and downs, and I have come to the realization that all too often I am afraid of being myself. Lately I have been writing in my journal about things I want to improve on in my life, or important lessons I have learned. Every time I write I discover a new piece to the convoluted puzzle of who I am. I thought I would share my puzzle pieces in hopes that through my trials and triumphs I could help someone with theirs.

She took the leap and built her wings on the way down...

Many times I have wanted to spread my wings and fly away, but I've realized I don't have my wings yet. Sometimes you have to take the leap and trust that everything will be okay. You build your wings as you embrace each experience that comes your way. 

I am someone that has always had a plan. I was going to go to BYU-Hawaii, graduate with my bachelors degree in hospitality and tourism management, and work my way into the cruise line industry. I was going to follow the same typical road that everyone else in the world seems to take: Go to college, graduate, start your career. But what about the road less traveled? I think part of the reason why I can be afraid of being myself is because I feel like I have to live up to everyone's expectations of me. That I will become a failure if I don't do everything according to plan. But which is the bigger failure? Failing to become what people think you should be, or failing to become what you want to be? As my freshman year of college is winding down, I have decided that this plan I had in my head isn't what I want. What do I want? Well, I don't really know. That is why I'm going to take the leap into the unknown. To build my own wings instead of flying with the wings of the world. 

I want to fly, but I only want to fly with the wings I built myself.