Carthorse

I often find that feeling there in the muscles of my back, tense and twisting, forcing me to double over in fear. What should I do? How do I deal with this?

No. I shove those questions down, deep, further than I knew I could. Lowering my head, I barrel forward, forcing my way through my path.

Stop. Please make it stop. You're hurt.

Head down. Push forward.

It won't work. You can't go on like this.

Head down. Push forward.

Kacey, it has to stop.

No stopping. Head down. Push forward. A carthorse pulling a heavy load up a steep hill. Just keep going forward.

But you're not. It's too muddy. You're slipping.

I dig my feet in further. I will not stop. I cannot stop. To stop is to say that I can't do it. I must do it.

If you don't stop and listen to me, you will stop completely.

I can't stop. To stop is to fail. To stop is to end. If I end, if I fail, I will have no meaning. No worth. Nothing.

Stop.
Just Stop.
Stop it all.
Now.
Right now.

I can't. I can't stop it. It keeps coming. The rain, the mud, the burden of the yolk. I can't stop it from coming, pushing me toward the muddy banks of the river, swirling with darkness.

Take another path.

THERE IS NO OTHER PATH! CAN'T YOU SEE THAT? THERE IS NO OTHER PATH! THERE IS ONLY THE RIVER BESIDE ME! THE WIDE And deep river...

The river is wide. And deep. And cold.

And dark...

Is it worth it?

Darkness. Void.

The river is deep. The currents are fast. But there is another path.

I want that one.

Take the other path. There are so many to choose from!

I want the river. I want the swirling eddies that mirror my fear, my feelings, my guilt. I want it to wash me clean as it pulls me down, down where I don't have to be anymore.

You must choose another path. You know this.

I should never have been.  I should no longer be. The realization hits me like a spotlight. It is so clear and vivid, I know what needs to happen.

Don't. Don't walk so close to the banks.

Just let me peer into the water. Let me see the hole.

You will slip if you don't walk away now. Please walk away.

I can't walk away. If I go back to the cart, I will die from exhaustion before I reach the top of the hill! I will be nothing more than a shell, barely resembling the being I once was. Everything that brings joy is gone, far far away from here. I can't push forward anymore.

Please. Please walk away. You're going to trip on the branches of despair.

It looks so empty.

Please, Kacey. You don't have to do this.

It feels cold.

It's lonely there.

I'm already lonely. I'm already completely alone. Don't you get that? Don't you see that? I am totally alone! I am a nothing, shrouded in pain and fear, failure and disgrace. Nothing is around me except the entities that drain me. I give, and I give, and I give. Do I get anything back? NO. NOTHING. NO ONE.
I am so totally alone.


Run. Run away from the river. Run NOW.

So I run. I ran. I ran without looking and ran into a field. There was nothing in this field. Whatever crop had been there had been harvested, the remains removed. It was nothing more than a wet, muddy field, with rows plowed in straight lines. I lay there, sobbing, letting the numbness subside as the fear and hate and discouragement slowly surfaced from the deep grotto where I'd buried it. The pain, the loss, the loneliness. So much more than I knew was even there. It filled me up and boiled over, frothing like a rabid animal, incoherent, inordinate, inconsolable. What can I do? How do escape this deep dark place?

Then I remember, I know this field.

I remember the seeds I tried to plant months earlier.

This field hadn't been harvested. It had never been sown. Except for those few seeds I scattered in fear and hesitation.

I start to scratch at the dirt, throwing clods of messy mud all over myself. My fingers run through the grains of mineral as I pray for roots to be there.

Finally, I grapple what once was roots. An undernourished plant that failed to live.

I had failed. Again.

And now I was undeniably completely alone.

I curl up in the mud, my eyes resting in their open position. No more tears could be produced, and the visions of failure danced before me when my lids slid closed.

The rain masks the footsteps.

The footsteps of the gardeners.

"What are you doing here?" the new voice asks me.

"I thought I planted something here. But I can't find it." My reply is weak.  I can't even move my head to look at the girls.

"Oh yeah, I remember seeing those. They sprouted a few months ago."
"I remember you planting. You never came back."
"Was that what was happening? Sprouts? I thought they were weeds."
"Well, you obviously didn't look close enough, either of you. They were quite certainly sprouts."

They argue among themselves, unwittingly soothing my tension with their banter. I look up.

"Yes, I planted those seeds. I didn't think anyone noticed."

They look at each other. One gardener looks down at her shoes. She speaks next.

"Where have you been? On the hill all this time?"

I swallow hard as I decide to be honest.

"I just came from the river."

One gardener looks unremarkable. Two, the one looking at her shoes, and the one who noticed my sprouts, quickly glance at each other in alarm.

"Why were you by the river?"
"It's dangerous there!"
"You could have died!"

I look down again.
"I don't want to go back to the river. But I can't pull that cart up the hill anymore." A loud sob escapes my mouth, violent and sudden. My hands slide to my neck and rub the spots where the yoke had lain not ten minutes earlier.  "It chokes me," I whisper, "and drains me."

A gardener kneels by my side.
"I know just the cure for that."

She offers her hand. I stare at it silently, deciding if I'm ready to accept what might come with her offer.

I decide to accept.

"I know an easier yoke," one said.
"Same load, lighter burden," another chimed.
"And you'll have help."
"There's no way you're going up this hill alone."
"Ever."


The top of the hill wasn't what I'd expected.

But I got there.

My load was intact.

My soul began to mend.

And as I stood at the top, I decided not to look back.

I didn't look back until I was at the bottom.

On the other side.

Starting a new climb

Similar, but not the same.

For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.

When the going gets tough, Kacey gets frustrated Pt. 1

Can I just talk about how bizarre my first month has been??


Let's start with my car.

It died.  Yup.  It died.  In Kingman Arizona.  Actually, about 15 miles from Kingman AZ. At about, hmmmm, 230 a.m.? Yeah that sounds right.  Dad called AAA.  I paced the forsaken highway and hyperventilated like mad. "Do You not want me to go??" I asked over and over again. It felt like God was sending me a message.  Well, that's what I wished it was. You see, my car wouldn't start when we tried to leave so we had to jump it. And by we, I mean Michayla and Dad had to do it because I started yelling at the car so Michayla made me go lie down in the house.  And when I was lying down, I asked over and over again "Do You not want me to leave?" I can look back now and see that I WISHED He would tell me not to leave. Coming here was scary. It was so scary. I don't think I realized how scary it would be. I thought going on a mission had cured me of living away from home fears. Heck no.  I forgot how much of a controlled environment a mission was!  I didn't want to leave home, then my car breaks down. While we waited for the tow truck, I enumerated all the reasons I had to go. "I can't sell my contract, my tuition is already paid, and where in the world would I work? What job would I do?" 
Dad: You have to go, Kacey, that's not the question.
Kacey: It was earlier!
Yup, around the time we hit Bakersfield he asked me if I really wanted to/ had to go.

Anyway. We get to Kingman after our nice tow truck driver found us a place to park my little Amandine all week. Dad and I sat and waited for the sun to rise, and I looked for cars. Dad thought maybe we should just buy a new car in Kingman. But we nixed that idea and just decided to rent a car.  Rent a car we did, costing us an unholy amount, and drove to Texas. We stopped for the night at Brandon and Sarah's and I realized how seriously relieved I was to have them so close (7 hours is closer than 30). While sitting around on Sunday morning, I made a post on Facebook about my car dying.  I apparently made it sound like we were still stranded because a  deluge of comments and messages came in about needing to be picked up? needing money? Are you okay? Hahaha, okay, my favorite though came the next day when Dad made me call Joe to make sure he was awake for seminary.

Joe: I heard your car blew up.
Kacey: Yeah. Sigh. It did.
Joe: While you were still in it??
Kacey: It didn't literally blow up, it just died.
Joe: ... oh.

Anyway. I got a message immediately from Benji S.... YES, THAT Benji S. Ex boyfriend still friends Benji S. He asked if I needed him to wire me any money.  I said no, my dad was with me and we're gunna make it to Baton Rouge. 

Benji: Ok.
Kacey: I'm just trying to figure out how I'm going to do my internship in BR.
Benji: Where in Texas?
Kacey: Dallas. My dad is with me, we rented a car. We'll get to BR okay, it's just after that that I'll be screwed.
Benji: If you can drive a stick, I have a little truck I'm not going to be using for the next four months. I'm planning too drive a motorcycle to Houston next week, but I can put it in the back of my truck, drive the truck to BR then continue on my way from there.
Kacey:... I can drive stick......... would you be coming through BR? or is that totally out of the way?
Benji: it's not out of my way. Can you hold out for a week?
Kacey: ARE YOU FOR REALS??



Yes. He was. We worked it out that he would come by that next Monday.

Well.  On Thursday I get a phone call.

"Kacey, I can't fit my bike in the back of my truck. But I can fly you out to where I am and you could drive it back to BR."
"Um, I think that's the best shot we got."

It would be a 10 hour drive. I can do that. I drove to Seattle and back by myself, and that was a 14 hour drive.

Then he calls back/

"How about flying to Atlanta? That'll knock three hours off your drive. Then I'll just take the greyhound back home."
"I can't let you put yourself out like that."
"Kacey. Let me do something nice for you, please."

He wouldn't let me pay for the flight. He was very sneaky about it saying "Oh I'll book it for you because you don't have internet so I don't want the price to shoot up on you." Then he wouldn't let me pay him back once I got to Atlanta. And then, he finds out his sister is driving back to his neck of the woods from Atlanta that day, so he didn't have to take the greyhound.

Wow.

This little truck is so great. His name is Danny Cooper.  We are friends.  Benji saved my immobile butt.

Actually, Heavenly Father helped both of us. I seriously couldn't imagine something like that happening. And working out so well.

Maybe it's sacrilege, but I thought of the pioneers. When Dad and I were sitting in Arizona for nearly six hours, I had time to ponder. We were still close enough to home that if I wanted to bail, I still could.  Maybe all these problems really were God's efforts to stop me.

How many pioneers could say that?  On levels much deeper than I've experienced.  I remember saying to Dad as we watched the sun come up, "Lots of pioneers had broken handcarts too, huh?" He chuckled. "Yup."  "But, that didn't mean they weren't on the right path, did it?"  "Nope."  "I kinda feel like a pioneer. Except I had a tow truck. And no one has died. And I still have all my earthly possessions."


And maybe Heavenly Father was giving me that opportunity. "If you want to, Kacey, you can still back out. No one is forcing your hand."  And that's just it; I've never felt PUSHED to go to grad school. I have felt guidance in choosing a major and career, but never pushed. I feel like Heavenly Father let me decide. Maybe it didn't really matter. Or maybe He knew I'd pick the right thing. Or maybe, and I lean towards this theory, Heavenly Father lets us make so many choices for ourselves. He has missions in mind for us, but where we are, what career we have, and maybe even who we're with isn't as important as we humans like to think. Sometimes, for sure. Maybe even half the time. But for me? I try to make Him dictate my life to me. So in return, He makes me make my own decisions. Gosh, just like my parents. Wonder where they learned it :)

I don't think Heavenly Father NEEDS me here in Baton Rouge. I think I wanted to go! So He said, "Okay! I'm okay with this, because you'll still do what I need you to do, and you'll still learn what I need you to learn."

Now, I do feel like I have had lessons here that I wouldn't have learned elsewhere. And it's not that I feel like I don't belong here. (Well, in some ways, but only worldly ways). It's more like Caen- I knew I was there for a reason, I just didn't feel it. The only area I felt that in was Valenciennes. And in a way Versailles as well.


End of Part 1

Who knew a human bio class was food for the soul??

So. I'm in this human bio class that is KICKING my big fat behind. And my behind is only getting bigger and fatter because I'm sitting on it all day trying to get through at least one lesson a day. (A lesson includes at least one 15-25 page chapter and a 30-60 minutes lecture presentation, plus a self check assignment). I've gotta finish this class before I go to Europe or I can say "Buh bye Master's program!"

The first two lessons blew. Majorly. You know, one is a basic, "SHOVE EVERY BIT OF BASIC REVIEW YOU NEVER NEEDED TO KNOW BUT NOW YOU DO!" type lesson. Three chapters in that one. Shoot me. The second was on the chemistry of life. OMG. This lesson is still kicking my butt. I'm studying all the other chapters that are going to be on my test so I can compensate for the crappy score I'll get in that section. And then lesson three- the cell. That's when the fear of lesson two kicked into overdrive and I took meticulous notes on EVERYTHING.  But that's when I started to really get intrigued by my topic. 

Our bodies, heck matter in general, are incredible. Like, who thinks up "See those little pieces of matter? Let's make a nucleus of neutral and positively charge particles, then circle these negatively charged particles around it like a merry-go-round on cocaine!" Seriously? And who thought that would work? I mean, come on. BUT IT DOES! IT TOTES DOES!  And chemical bonds? BRILLIANT! Those are like the only thing I remember from lesson two cause I made really easy mnemonic devices for each one ("Ionic bonds are ironic bonds cause opposites attract!"). But seriously. Who figures that out? Well, God. Obviously.

So yeah, being totes amazed by creation. But, oddly enough, the next lesson actually... dude, it was something I totally wasn't expecting.

The next lesson was on reproduction and fertilization. Now, I took family life in middle school, but seriously, nothing this chemically in depth was discussed. I thought this lesson was going to swallow me whole with all the new vocab and internal anatomy I had to learn.  But as soon as I started reading about how everything is set up to have maximum opportunity to reproduce... okay, don't laugh, but... I felt the Spirit.

No joke.

It snuck up on me, the feeling of comfort and amazement at how we have been made to create. Have you ever learned what has to happen for a child to be created? I mean, SERIOUSLY! It's a battle against the odds! Against external and internal situations! And then, once an egg gets fertilized, does that mean there'll be a baby. NO! It has to go through even more crap, so to speak, to begin growing!  And have you ever seen the stages of development from a zygote to a fetus, to a baby?? It's a drastic difference! Do you know what has to happen for everything to work out? Holy. Crap.

So maybe all of you already knew all this, and in some basic middle school level I did too. Honestly, though, the more I read the more I realized that creating a person is... it's incredible. And to make a person is the same basic cellular process of making any other organism. Which means... you are literally creating life the way Heavenly Father did. You have turned two haploid cells into a diploid, and this cell unwinds its DNA and copies it over and over. And over. And over. And then these cells with infinite possibilities start turning on certain genes so they can form bodies.

We can do that. We can create. We can be like Heavenly Father.

Oh my goodness. It just... hit me. Hit me like a brick wall. What we have been created to be able to do.

And, sorry guys, but this whole section made me so grateful to be a woman. Even though I'm not really experiencing on the level of the fetus, I get to be there for all of it. All of it. And I get to help. I get to be the home, the incubator for this body.
Maybe I won't. I mean, I've never been in a position to know if my body will support pregnancy. For all I know I could be barren. Seriously. So maybe I won't get to experience that till the Millennium. But oh man... I'm looking forward to it.

I still don't know when a spirit enters the body. But the moment the sperm is absorbed into the egg, meiosis is resumed. Life commences. There's no denying it. So whether the spirit is there or not, I don't know. But I do know that life begins at conception. The moment those chromosomes drift towards each other to form a whole new set of DNA. The act of trying to become a live being.

Gosh, I'm probably coming off as some crazed fanatic. But I'm telling you, this chapter seriously enriched my perspective on 1) THE Creation, you know, the 6 day one; 2) Human creation, you know, the one most of us can do; and 3) the sacred and exciting role I have as a woman. (All y'all can keep the Priesthood, I'm keeping my ovaries!)



How can anyone learn about science and not see God's hand? How is that possible?



We had this young man who is Catholic attend our New Testament Institute class. And one night one of the class members went off about some miracles being explainable and how that's sucky, blah blah blah. But then this guy raises his hand and said something that I completely agree with. He said, "Just because you can explain a miracle, doesn't make it any less of one."

BAM!



Humans. We are amazing. What we are capable of is both incredible and sacred.  I wish I had the words to truly express how I feel.



This class is kicking my trash, but hey, it's strengthening my testimony, so how can I complain?

Things I say without really saying them

"You are not supposed to make me happy."

He's not. He's supposed to be someone I don't really give a second thought about. Not that way. But I do. I give him second, third, fourth... on and on.



"I want to come inside, but I don't want you to invite me out of politness."

He was surprised last night to find out that I pay attention to what he says, how he says it. That I noticed things about him that no one "ever has before." Well, duh. I mean, I don't know how to show it, but I feel it. How should I show it? Questions are so limiting. They are far too often superficial. I want what you don't mean to say. I want what you don't mean to show. I want that part of you.


"I trust you. That doesn't mean others don't frighten me."

There has been nothing but opposition from our peers since this began. People whom I didn't even speak to --about anything beyond work, weather, and which day of the week it is-- all of a sudden felt it their duty and right to develop an opinion on the matter. And though he doesn't let it get to him, it makes me edgy. I hate knowing that coworkers feel it their job to inform him how aweful I am, and how I'm not right for him. How he's just a rebound.  Ah, yes. Thank you.  Even though you don't believe them, it still hurts me.



"I wonder if our obstacle will get resolved, or will I just have to leave?"

He knows my expectations. They come up at least biweekly. He appreciates, understands, and is working on them.  I worry that I will have to leave this relationship because I can't see his efforts leading anywhere, or if we'll actually make it to the more obvious and direct pinnacle.  I'm praying for pinnacle.  I have faith in him.



"I know you don't believe me; welcome to my world."

We both express emotions that the other has a hard time accepting. Until our discussion last night; in fact, I think the direction our chat went has dissolved this issue a bit. I'm trying to get past that disconnect.



"I limit this not because I don't want it, but because I want it so badly how it's supposed to be."

We have bounderies and standards set up. I don't do this to make us jump through hoops. These are not arbitrary limitations I set up. But understand why I do this. It's not because I don't care.  It's because I care far more than I'll admit.



"It not only crosses my mind, it also crosses my heart."

Sure I contemplate certain things. But I also feel them.



"Are you ready to accept the consequences of letting me in?"

Ha, talk about honey moon phase...

(side note, when I was younger, I thought "honey dew" was just another way to say "honey moon.")




And finally,

"When all is said and done, I pray that this works out. I pray that we can be together forever. Because no one sees me like you do."

The Turning Point

Benjamin was instructed to go to The Book to begin his search. It was pretty cool, actually. This book was about 1.5 feet by 3 feet, and one inch thick. The cover was made of wood from the Tree of Life. It seemed appropriate seeing as this is the Book of Life. It is sometimes kind of creepy to look at because if you look at it long enough you notice that the grain of the wood actually moves. Weird, right? I think so. And when you open it, the pages are interactive, like a touch screen tablet.  It saves on space. You can look anyone up, alive or dead by family, geographic location, era, or… name. Alphabetical is usually how I go. Be aware, however, that those who have yet to be born are not in the Book.  That is a different category all together. There’s a Book for that too, though.

Anyway, back to Benjamin. He entered the cubicle sized room and went directly to the Book. He really had nowhere else to go seeing as in the middle of the tight space was an ornate table with the Book atop it and overstuffed chair for perusing. The chair was another nice touch from my Boss. It changes to fit the desire of the person in the room. Benjamin likes overstuffed chairs apparently. And he likes flopping into them and pulling the Book into his lap, because that’s exactly what he did. Being a technologically savvy man before death he quickly caught onto the cataloging system in the Book. But where do you start when looking for your wife’s next husband? Obviously with the living. He quickly found the button that applied a living filter to his search. Next-- maybe location would be a good idea. Hmmm, no, he thought. She’ll probably move to be closer to family, especially once she discovers she’s pregnant.  But will it be her sister in France? Or the brother in California? He didn’t know what to expect, so he decided to leave the geo filter off. What to look for next… oh yes, an easy one. Age. He gave her a fifteen year window. He didn’t want someone too young raising his daughter (he didn’t actually know if the baby would be a girl, he just liked to think of a little mini Alice), nor someone too old that wouldn’t want to have any more kids.  Baby should have siblings. Then again, if he’s older, maybe he already has kids.

“No. I’ll set the limit at fifteen years older,” he muttered as he set the filter. “I mean, look at David Tennant and Georgia Moffat. It’s working out for them.”

Finally he decided just to stop there and see if any names or faces spoke to him. He was tired of trying to think of characteristics that he wanted, dare he say it, to replace him.

“Oh, Alice. I love you so much," he whispered to the empthy room. The familiar lump started to form right behind his adam's apple. "Please." The word slipped out of his mouth without permission, like a puppy escaping from the backyard. It was both freeing and scary as it ran away from him into his hearts deepest more selfish request: "Don’t love him more than me.”

The Turning Point

Benjamin was not my first rodeo. I’ve been taking assignments since before his great granddaddy was a twinkle in his great-great granddaddy’s eye. I’ve worked damage control, surveillance, deaths, tender mercies, comfort, communications, and integral interventions. I’ve protected the innocent and supported those under heavy burdens. I was in Caen when the American troops liberated the French from German forces. I crossed the prairies with countless wagon trains and handcart companies. I lived in the slums of New York just waiting to help a ward. I’ve danced with the devil, and I’ve used guile to help people see the truth.

 

I have never, and I mean NEVER, helped someone find a replacement spouse.

 

The closest I might have ever come was with the Bjork’s. I helped them find their next child. Oh what a sad case that was, but with a happy ending. They had both wanted a huge family, but she had health problems that made it difficult for her to get pregnant. Finally they had their first son. However, after seven weeks of a wonderful life, I was commissioned to take him to the veil. SIDS. We hate it just as much as mortals do. I remember Caryn begging her husband to undo what had been done, but he knew he couldn’t. No one could. It was the will of the Creator, thus there must be some purpose in it. Eventually, after it had been determined that she was unable to bear any more children, they decided to adopt. They tried to adopt 13 times. One success was Michael. He sadly… was another trial they had to live. After Caryn and Luke had taken Michael home, but before the adoption was sealed and official, Michael’s birth mother was faced with a dilemma: another family offered to pay her substantially to give them Michael instead of the Bjork’s. My boss tried to stop her. He sent Hall in a dream to Michael’s maternal grandfather. Hall and I were partners at the time and were often assigned to complimentary cases as was the usual protocol. Hall told the grandfather that Michael was meant to stay with the Bjorks, that they had been prepared to raise him as he should be. Grandpa told his daughter, Michael’s birthmother, that God wanted him to stay a Bjork. But Megan, Michael’s mother, had made her decision: she took him away and gave him to the other family. This time Caryn and Luke had spent two months with their second son.

 

My boss can do a lot. But he will never take away someone’s agency. Ever.

 

There is a happy ending, I promise. I feel obligated to tell you so that you see the original point of my story. I had helped the adoption process with Michael through subliminal persuasive methods, being an invisible force that gave feelings of hope or frustration. This time, in order to give Caryn and Luke a higher chance of success, I was asked to go Integral. Integral means that we assume a created identity and slip into the ward’s life. In this capacity I became the friend of a young girl named Dawn. Dawn got knocked up by her 22 year old boyfriend—she was 16. I both love and hate Integral assignments; I become so attached to my wards that I sometimes forget what I’m there to do. I thought I was supposed to help her make the decision to adopt out her baby, and then choose the Bjorks. My boss had done a lot to prepare this couple to receive and raise a son. And not just any son: Dawn’s son. But Dawn was already thinking about adoption by the time I brought it up. In fact, my real job ended up being there to support her while her family criticized her and told her to keep the baby. With me there to stick up for her, she fought every obstacle that came her way. It seemed like the powers of Hell were united against this adoption. In fact, looking back at Ryan’s life – Ryan is what the Bjork’s ended up naming him – the powers of Hell fought against him a lot. But he was victorious in the end. Or, well, he was when I last checked. Eventually the adoption was final, and Caryn got the son she had been longing for all her life. It wasn’t the 12 kids she’d always wished for. But Caryn got many opportunities to mother so many children. I can think of at least 20 who would call her a surrogate mother. She is such a force! And Ryan… well, he has great things ahead of him. And Hell can’t stop him. Not while I’m watching out for him.

 

 

 

Anyway, the point of that story was that I helped Caryn and Luke find the son who didn’t REPLACE Michael… but filled the hole he’d left.

 

If I thought about this assignment that way, then Benjamin’s request didn’t seem so foreign.

 

Yet…

 

I don’t know. Love is a hard thing for me to grasp. I have been in love many times, including my current amour. But the thought that you can replace one person with another… ick, that just makes my skin crawl. That’s not to say that I think all widows and divorcés should remain single the rest of their lives, not at all! I just think each person has a special role to play in our lives and a specific imprint to leave. You can’t replace people.

 

Filling the hole, Lina. Remember that you’re just filling the hole. You can’t give her Benjamin again… but you can give her another companion.

 

Filling the hole. What an interesting concept. There seemed to be holes in my heart and life that could never be filled, no matter how hard I tried. Rachelle kept telling me that it’s because the right person hasn’t found me yet. I tell her that I’ve been alive more than two hundred years; if I haven’t found him yet, who’s to say I ever will?

 

“That’s your first problem,” she replies. “HE has to find YOU.”

 

I hate when she says that. I feel like it instantly invalidates the men I’ve fallen for before they fell for me. Like my current love. Sometimes I voice that insecurity. She smiles and says, “Evelina. He has to find you. The real you. The true you. The one you hardly share with anyone. I don’t mean he has to find you physically. He just has to be the one that brings out the real you. Does he do that?”

 

I sigh. “I dunno. Maybe. I can’t tell.”

 

“Then he hasn’t found you yet. So stop stressing.”

 

Agh. Rachelle makes it sound so simple. So easy. It’s not easy. Not for me. Not when my heart gets broken. And I hate to say it, but every time that happens, I whisper in my heart, Guillaume. Will you ever let me replace you?

 

But no one can replace Guillaume.

 

Sometimes I hate him for it.

 

 

Last time I saw you We had just split in two. You were looking at me. I was looking at you.

You had a way so familiar,
But I could not recognize,
Cause you had blood on your face;
I had blood in my eyes.
But I could swear by your expression
That the pain down in your soul
Was the same as the one down in mine.


I love that song. It's not accurate in a lot of places, but this stanza just gets me every time. Especially that last line- "That the pain down in your soul was the same as the one down in mine." What an amazing idea!

Anyway. Lots of thoughts lately. Some interesting things happening. FIRST! I had two answers to prayers given. THe same day. Faith works guys :)

The other night, two nights ago in fact, I dreamt about an old friend. We never dated, but we both thought about it. We'd talked a bit here and there about maybe going forward. But I came to the sad realization that though he was wonderful, I was not the girl for him. Oh man, my heart is fluttering just remembering when it all took off. We'd met on my mission, serving together once, but seeing each other at nearly every zone conference after that. Anyway, I called him about something in my area (he was the only missionary still in the field that had served in my area), and he teased me about something. I don't remember what. It doesn't matter. So he teased me and I replied, "You're going home next week! Who's going to tease me when you're gone?"  a pause.  "Soeur Barros, you can't get rid of me that easily."  We wrote regularly for a transfer or two after he left. But I figured out that I wouldn't make him as happy as he deserved. It was sad. He was kind. Sweet. BEYOND thoughtful. One of the best mission friends I made. When I got home we talked about it. It just didn't work out. Dang it, he was GORGEOUS too. SOOOOOOOOO pretty in EVERY way. Sigh, my heart is fluttering again!

So I dreamt about him two nights ago. I dreamt that he was getting married in the next day, and I suddenly realized that I wanted to be with him. I intercepted him at a pre wedding activity and chatted with him about the upcoming nuptials. And then I did it. "I made a mistake." "You did?" "You're the one I'm supposed to be with. You're the one I love."  He just looked at me. I mean, how would you react? I started to cry and said, "I know i can't have you, and that I can't deserve you, but... you need to know how I feel." He took my hands from my face and held them in his own. "Kacey... what do you expect me to do?" I started crying even harder, then woke up.

That dream has been in my head for two days. Mostly because I was sooooo SKANKY to try and steal a fiance like that! But here's the crazy part... I just saw on facebook that he got married. Yesterday.

NO JOKE!!!

I dreamt abouts tealing this guy the day before his wedding on the DAY before his WEDDING!!!

Kindaaaaaa cool/ creepy... if he was a girl, I'd be like, "Let me tell you this crazy dream!" But since he's NOT a girl. And NOT single. I'll keep this one to myself and the blog readers.  Hmmm... maybe one of you will be able to figure out who it is.  Reread my blog posts from my mission. Especially when I first got to France. Then maybe you'll figure it out. :)

Bref. C'est fini. Je suis fatigue. A bien tot.