A New Name

Why "hello inspiration"? Firstly, the previous blog name had become irrelevante. Secondly, I have a history with these two words. I used to claim that I couldn't draw. "Not even stick figures", I would say. And then, in my twelfth grade drawing class, I surprised myself. But just because I discovered that I could draw, didn't mean I always knew what to draw. Often after an assignment was given, I would sit doodling, awaiting an idea for my next piece of artwork. So in my search for inspiration I began to write those two words over and over. Thinking to myself, that if I greeted inspiration, it would come. Hello inspiration.

Those words soon turned into a lovely micrography rhino eye.

And so, I think hello inspiration is a good title for my blog. As I record both the days I feel inspired, and the days I have lost sight of my inspiration.

I Pray

Before I started my summer job I was informed that the kids I would work with have difficult behaviors due to difficult pasts. I was told not to judge. And I was trained to over-praise when they showed good behavior and to avoid or ignore the bad behavior. 4:1. Four praises to every one criticism. This is completely backwards. In the real world, criticism is frequent while praise is few and far between.

If a kid doesn't like someone in the group, they make threats or throw fists and get to go individual with their own staff. Which is exactly what they want because individual is often more fun than group. This is completely backwards. In the real world, you often have to be more than civil to people you can't stand, whether they be classmates or coworkers.

These kids are handed from one staff, to the next. One foster home, to the next. Years and years of reinforcement have taught them that all one must do is act out to get what they want. There is no punishment, no discipline, and no consequences. It breaks my heart. I am only with them for a fourth of the day and am not allowed to correct. Only praise. Which has taught me to have great patience. Because even when I know that they know better than to break things, or cuss, or fight, or run away, or yell, or make threats, all I can do is find something they did right, thank them for it, and tell them things will be okay. Even though they don't deserve that.

I ask myself often how can I help the kids I work with find success? Then I become frustrated when I realize that ultimately the outcome of their lives are up to them and the choices they make. I can only hope to somehow be a positive influence. But there is one more thing I can do.

Elder Uchtdorf said, "Often, the answer to our prayer does not come while we’re on our knees but while we’re on our feet..." I firmly believe his words to be true. Except in this case. On my feet I do everything I can for the RISE kids, even when it doesn't seem to make a difference. But I know I can always pray for them. And I find great comfort in that.

root-beer-float

Who doesn't love a frosty mug of root-beer-float? This is a love I have adopted from my late Grandmother Phyllis. She used to make me one each time I came to visit. No fail. Not only do I love the treat, but how I think of her every time I indulge myself.

Today after helping to break up the worst fist fight I have yet seen at work, I motivated myself to make it through the rest of the day with the knowledge that there would be a root-beer-float awaiting me at home.

Later in the work day, when I should have been on my way home, I chased a fuming-run-away boy into the middle of a busy street where he promptly yelled at and hit me. It was then, as the two of us put traffic to a halt, that I promised myself a second root-beer-float.

And I always keep my promises. Those floats proved to be the ultimate comfort food.

Adieu

Today I sat in the Murray City Library, biding my time. Reading The Book of Mormon from my phone. It has been quite a while since I have read the smaller books that follow first and second Nephi. And as I finished the last verse in the Book of Jacob, I may or may not have gasped out loud. In the quiet library.

It reads : "I make an end of my writing upon these plates, which writing has been small; and to the reader I bid farewell, hoping that many of my brethren may read my words. Brethren, adieu."

Jacob said adieu! Adieu. Were my eyes playing tricks? It must be a mistake. For some reason I was shocked that he ended his chapter with a French goodbye. How did someone from between 544 and 421 B.C. even know French? Okay, so this may not be the most spiritually profound finding that has ever come from The Book of Mormon. But is sure made Jacob seem all the more real to me. And don't worry, this isn't the only thing I took from his book.

for no reason

was it something i said? oh wait. you didn't talk to me all night.

Mantra

"To laugh often and love much; to win the respect of intelligent persons and the affection of children; to earn the approbation of honest citizens and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to give of one’s self; to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to have played and laughed with enthusiasm and sung with exultation; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived—this is to have succeeded." --Ralph Waldo Emerson

On Feeling Alive

Life becomes habit. There are moments without purpose. Feelings without reason. Business. And stress. Sometimes I feel small.

And then I find a reminder in the form of another person. A person who helps me to feel that I am real by looking straight into my eyes, or sharing a genuine conversation, or tightly holding me in a hug. It is then that I am somehow reminded of my potential. And it is then that I feel alive. Time slowed long enough for me to catch my breath and appreciate.

These persons are whom I wish to be surrounded by. And the kind of person I wish to be myself.

One isn't always the loneliest number.

On occasion, the best thing for me to do is come home early on a Saturday night. Take off my outfit. Tie up the curls in my hair. Turn on The Head & The Heart Pandora. Open my window and listen to the fireworks outside. The very fireworks that I am not watching tonight.

What will I do?

For the most part, I look forward to moving away in the fall. But it has come to my attention that I will not know what to do without my sister living merely a bedroom away. (Half the time living in the same bedroom.)

In the hustle and bustle of the morning, it is surprisingly easy to leave the house with a lone sock. And then to not even realize this until it is too late. I sat there at work foolishly barefoot. Disgusted by the thought of a sockless foot in my shoe all day during one-hundred degree weather. Only a sister would have enough love to wake up before her alarm and rescue me. She brought me a sock, increasing the comfort and success of my entire day.

Later on in the same week.

I, already in the shower, neglected to notice an empty shampoo bottle before it was too late. Only a sister would interrupt her hair curling to rescue me. She brought me a replacement bottle, saving me an awkward, dripping trip down the stairs. Only sisters would have a conversation as follows:

"This shampoo smells like glory."
"Glory?"
"Yes. Glory. And wonder. And sweet, sweet victory."
Laughter.

Oh how I will miss her.