My Testimony

Today I realized that I have not shared my testimony with my friends enough.

It becomes easy, I think, when you live, work, and go to school among so many members of the church, you sometimes become a little less vocal about your beliefs.  In my case, I'm not so sure I was ever so vocal about them in the first place.  If I were to die tomorrow, what would my friends say about me?  That I loved photography?  That I was a writer?  That I was obsessed with Batman?  Flattering--but I hope not.

I hope that if my friends and family could remember one thing I've ever said, one thing that is completely important to me, that it would be this: I know, without any particle of doubt in my being, that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the true church of my Heavenly Father.  I know that Joseph Smith was a true prophet of God.  He translated the Book of Mormon--another testament of Jesus Christ--and every word of that book is true.  I know that because of my Savior's perfect life, and sacrifice, I can repent of my sins and one day live with my Heavenly Father, with all of my family.  My family is forever, and I shall never be separated from them, even in death.  I know that because of this church, I am happy.  I am so much happier than I could ever hope to be without it, because I know that my God loves me.  He knows me, knows my name, hears every prayer, sees every event.  He has a plan specifically for me, and He wants me to live with Him again.  I know that Thomas S. Monson is His true prophet on the earth today.  Revelation still comes to us through prophets, like it did in the times of Moses, Abraham, and Elijah.

I know that He loves me, even though I am not perfect.

"I know."  What wonderful words to be able to say in such a confusing world.  What a wonderful expression of certainty in my life!

I think that some people consider religion to be an anecdote to a person's life, unless they're the Pope.  For me, I hope it is front and center: I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  I have no doubt of its truth.  I have no doubt that I am on the right path.  I know these things as sure as I know that I love my family, and they love me.

I love this church and I love my Heavenly Father.  I love the prophet, Thomas S. Monson, and I love Joseph Smith.  I love that I have the scriptures available to me, and that they contain the true gospel.

"I knew it, and I knew that God knew it, and I could not deny it."


I want to leave these things with you in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

Alice in Wonderland

This book is absolutely, positively ridiculous.  And I love it.  Everyone needs to read this book.  It's completely magical!  Having finished it a couple of weeks ago, I don't actually remember much about it (see? memory like a freaking goldfish), but you should at least try to give this very short, whimsical book a try.

I never liked the old animated Disney movie of the same name.  It didn't have a direction, or motive for anything at all!  One might say the same for the book, but I disagree.  Everything is still pretty much pointless in the book (if you're not dissecting it and looking into the subtext that is really quite obscure), but makes a whole heck of a lot more sense than the movie.

My friend Megan made a point about reading the classics that I completely agree with, though I'm not as dutiful at reading them as she is.  However, I'm starting to get there. :)  I like to think that Alice is a step in the right direction.

Overall, I enjoyed it very much!  I give this one a 10/10... which is unheard of.  So go read it.

Matters of the Heart

How quickly a heart can decide on the right choice, but how slow it can be in gathering the courage to ignore the wrong one.

I love...

my family, my friends, Batman, Texas, writing, photography, reading, movies, Supernatural, Smallville, Vampire Diaries, Bones, House, Calvin & Hobbes, comic books, saddle bags, silver shoes, frozen yogurt, necklaces, purple, blue jeans, cowboy boots, country music, classical, piano, soundtracks, superheroes, day dreaming, blue, black, trying to throw a football, soccer, libraries, deserted places that are perfect for reading, Sherlock Holmes, long road trips, Indian ruins, pens, picture frames, antiques, sunsets, thunderstorms, rain, flowers, canopied roads, falling down houses and barns, watching horses run, seeing places I've never seen, seeing familiar places, humidity, boating, french fries, looking at people's eyes, realistic paintings,Book of Mormon artwork, Shel Silverstein, Nightwing, Zorro, fiction, character-driven tv shows, inside jokes, laughing, plaid, pearl snap shirts, country swing, talking, marching band, and quilts.

~Krista

P.S. I Love You

The first time I watched "P.S. I Love You," I hated it. It's a long story why, so just accept that I really didn't like it. Then, the other day, I decided that I should give it a second chance.

After watching it a second time, there are still parts of it that kind of bug me. But, I think, when it comes down to it, I actually do like it.

There's one quote in the movie that really hit me, and I fell in love with it. "I bet you've had a hard time walking into a room full of people on your own, right? Yeah. I know that. I know what it is not to feel like you're in the room until he looks at you or touches your hand or even makes a joke at your expense, just to let everyone know... you're with him. You're his."

I didn't cry, but I almost did. It seems like a lot of romantic movies make me cry these days. Is that pathetic? Yes, it is. But that's okay, because soon enough, he'll be here again.

And no, I'm not going to end this post with "P.S. I love You."

But I will end it with my favorite Gerard Butler quote of the movie: "I know what I want because I'm holding it in my hands. You."

A Tupperware of Cookies

For several days, I've been looking forward to today.  It's April Fool's Day!  :)  That, to me, is synonymous with "birthday," because I was born on April 1st... some years ago.  I've always loved my birthdays.  In fact, I can't ever remember not having a good one.


Last year, my sisters and my mom threw me a surprise bash (that I partly knew about).  I was still surprised, though, because one of my friends scared me half to death when he jumped out and screamed, "SURPRIIIIISE!"  There were also people there that my sisters and best friend had invited--people that I didn't think even cared that I existed, yet they came.  There was also the slightly awkward presence of all four boys that I'd ever kissed...  But the party was really amazing.  I'd always wanted a surprise party! :)


Looking back at it, I realize that the gifts I remember receiving were the ones that really meant something.  I vaguely recall a book, and a pen, and a picture frame, but only after thinking about it really hard for a few minutes did I even remember those.  One of my best friends gave me a HUGE bag full of Supernatural inside jokes!  I laughed and laughed and laughed, even though nobody else knew what the heck was going on.  There was even an apple pie!


Another best friend gave me the item currently hanging above my bed: a canvas of pictures of my trio of high school friends that she decorated herself.  She printed and cut out the pictures, made a collage, and added animals and flowers.  I was shocked, because nobody outside my family had ever spent that much time on something just for me.  She also gave me a Batman blanket, which I cherish greatly.

So, today, I cut open the package sent from my parents in Texas to my apartment in Utah.  Inside was a note from my mom, telling me that this was for my birthday, and that was for Easter, and not to open them until the appointed days.  She reminded me that "it's the thought that counts."  I interpreted that to mean that she was worried that whatever she sent wasn't going to be something I was very excited about.


Then, moving aside the colorful grass stuff that emerges in stores around the time of Easter, I saw the tupperware of cookies that she mentioned.  Earlier in the day, while talking to my seven-year-old niece, she'd said, "Did you get you package today and eat the cookies?"  I laughed and told her I hadn't.  "Oh... Well, surprise!" she said, completely undaunted.  So, I knew they were there, but what I saw wasn't what I'd been expecting.


My all-time favorite thing to eat in this world is a home-made-and-decorated sugar cookie.  I just love them.  I love making them.  I love making the frosting into different colors.  I love pouring copious amounts of sprinkles on them.  They're fun to make, and taste so, so good!  I think I like them so much because they're something that takes a little bit of effort, but not a whole lot of talent, so anybody can make them.  Little kids can make them.  They're the perfect food.


So, I have to say that my excitement about the cookies in this tupperware was absolutely paramount.  I opened the lid and took one out immediately, biting into it and relishing the sweetness and the melt-in-your-mouth frosting.  Upon examining them, I noticed the subtleties that proved my mom really had made them.  The way they were frosted--the way the frosting was spread evenly, in swirls, going right to the edges but leaving about a quarter of a centimeter between the edge of the frosting and the edge of the cookie--that was my mom.  The sparseness of the sprinkles--that was my mom.  The time and the love that she'd put into those cookies was completely obvious.  She knew I loved them, so she'd made them and sent them to me, just because it's my birthday.


As I sat down on the couch with a couple on a plate (I knew I was kidding myself, I was definitely going back for more), and a glass of milk, I had a really odd reaction to the simple tupperware full of home-made-and-decorated sugar cookies.  My eyes started to sting, and my vision blurred as tears threatened to fall down my face.  I know it was a very weird thing to do, crying over a tupperware of cookies...


It was a simple act--my mom making sugar cookies and sending me a package for my birthday.  But it really meant a lot to me.  They were my favorite, and she knew that.


Sometimes it still shocks me just how much my mother loves me. :)

You Don't Know Me

Exactly one year ago, I got my first speeding ticket.

After getting the speeding ticket, I was absolutely distraught.  I was convinced that meant my parents weren't going to let me take my car to college, and I'd never gotten one before (being scolded is a very shaming thing for me), and I didn't really know how to handle it.  I thought I was going to have to go to court, in front of a jury!  In my defense, on the paper, it had a "court date."

When we got back to my house, Jon and I ended up alone, sitting on my dad's tailgate.  He made me lean on him so he could put his arm around me and rub my back to soothe me.  He calmed me down, told me it wasn't that big of a deal, and that my parents were sure to understand.  He hugged me, and said a prayer with me.  When I stopped hyperventilating, he jumped off the end of the gate and held out a hand to me.  "Give me your keys," he said, with one of his I'm-doing-something-sly-and-sweet smiles that I eventually got to know very well.

"Why, what are you doing?" I asked, pulling them from my pocket and handing them over.

I acted like I was going to hop off too, but he put a finger up and said, "No, no!  You... stay there.  Yeah.  Stay there."  Then, he took my keys from me, unlocked my car, and put the key in so the CD player would play.  He switched the CD, then rolled my windows down.  "May I have this dance?" he said quietly, and held my hand as I slid off the tailgate.

I laughed, and let him pull me to the part of the driveway in-between my dad's truck, my car, and the garage.  It wasn't a huge space, but it was just big enough for slow dancing.  We danced awhile, and I looked up at him and blushed a lot.  I eventually laid my head on his chest, because I was exhausted from crying, and I was tired of blushing so much.  The song changed, and we both laughed.  The song "You Don't Know Me" by Michael Buble was next... the song we danced to together for the first time, in a parking lot, a few weeks previous.  He looked at me for a long time, and bit his bottom lip.

"So... you remember what we talked about?"

I smiled.  "Yes."  I remembered perfectly well the conversation we'd had a couple of weeks before that about kissing.  It had been a very awkward, but very amusing conversation at the same time.  How many couples actually talked about it before they did it?  It was something that turned out to be very characteristically "us"...  We talked about everything.  Even the awkward stuff.

"I'm... I think I'm gonna go for it.  Is that okay?" he said, blushing a little.

I laughed out loud.  "Yes.  Yes, that's definitely okay."

His nervousness was really flattering... and also unexpected.  I laughed again.  He was twenty, and I was seventeen...  Shouldn't I have been the nervous one?

Two weeks after that was General Conference.  We went together, where he--very hesitantly--put his arm around me for the first time.  Afterward, he told me just how incredibly nervous he had been.  We laughed together, and I told him I'd been just as nervous when I'd reached for his hand.  It was hilarious to us, that those things that are generally supposed to come before the first kiss, made us that jumpy, but it was also... right.  It felt right.

The weeks following were some of the hardest of my life.  I was so conflicted.  I wanted so badly to just be with him, and not worry what anyone else thought, but I had to be careful because of another's feelings.  I didn't want to hurt her.  But, if I'd been honest with myself, I was in love with him the moment I realized that I could completely be myself with him.  He was the first person in the world that I didn't feel like I had to act for, or put on a face, or hide things from.

After the storm blew over, I had the best months of my life.  It was the perfect summer: go to work, drive home to eat, then meet him at the institute, and hang out until my mom called me home.  We did a whole lot of nothing, but it was perfect.  We just talked, went for walks, and did a lot of stargazing.

That's why I'm waiting.

Happy one-year anniversary, Jon. :)

Te amo con todo mi corazon.