The Storm

     I was to be his third betrothal in less than a year. The official word was that each princess became ill, though everyone whispered. There were vile rumors cycling through the kingdoms. Yet no other King feared for his daughter more than his lust for power. Being betrothed to Prince Gabriel was an honor above all else, even one's life. High King Leon was the most powerful King in all the land, from sea to sea. He allowed lesser kings out of his lack of desire to personally rule every part of his vast kingdom. Giving crooks the powerful title of "king" kept them from banding together against him. High King most enjoyed a healthy village competition. He would offer gold and his most prized concubines; prized for their cleanliness, son bearing, and skills of a shameful matter. The competition was typically who could grow and gather the most crops in a season, or birth the most cattle.
    Cattle. I was being sold as cattle. According to my father, a woman is only good for gain. Whether fain by betrothal into power, or bearing children. I wasn't even of use to my mother. She resented me. After difficulty bearing children for a year, she finally began expecting. Unfortunately, her body didn't carry them long and they were all girls. I was the first to survive the early birth. My nursemaid said that's why my hazel eyes are so big, my early birth. My mother on more than one occasion informed me that because of me her blood would never hold power. The king only lays with his concubines now, hoping for a successor. That is until I was asked to marry the High Prince.
     I look in my wardrobe wondering if I should try to look beautiful, or if beauty is why the prince's former brides are now with God. My theory is the prince has a lust for ultimate power. The power of God to decide who lives, and who dies. I would rather die as royally as possible I decide. My finest silks are packed, and my favorite red dress is the one I shall meet him in. It's a two day carriage ride. My only companion is my dog. She's a lovely animal, and has protected me these past five years.
     See my father, the king of the plains, has a nasty temper. Many of his concubines have been beaten beyond recognition. For my twelfth birthday, I was permitted to go to the Grand Market and pick a few gifts. I considered meaningless puppets for entertainment, or a talented slave girl to braid my hair in exotic fashions or make me impressive with her sewing skills. I found however, as I looked into the eyes of the child I saw a reflection. I saw the same pained eyes that I saw in my mirror everyday. I knew I would never be free, and neither would she. It was then I heard an odd whimper. We had all manner of beasts in the kingdoms. We had dragons that stole sheep in the night, dogs to hunt with, birds that filled our cloudy day with color, but I had never seen such a curious animal.It was a hunting dog, but just a pup. He stood out from his energetic siblings, in fact my memory swears he rolled his eyes but I'll write that off as girlish fancy. He was quiet, calm and met my gaze with intensity. His eyes were a deep blue, and very noticeable compared to his black fluff. Funny how such an adorable creature could look so proud. I wanted him. The seller protested my want for the hunting beast. He threw around the words worthless and weak. He even kicked the creature to prove his words, claiming that the animal should whimper or recoil. Instead the knee high dog walked right back to his spot and sat, never losing my eyes. Instinctively, my face turned into an expression of disgust but I still expressed my desire for the dog. I only paid half out of pity from the seller claiming the dog will serve no one. The seller assumed my facial expression was that for a perceived faulty beast only good for his dazzling eyes, but I was revolted by the type of man who hurts those he deems below him.
     I named him Storm for his eyes reminded me of that eerie calm that descends before the storm. When father heard of my gift choice of a worthless hunting dog, he seemed indifferent, but his indifference can disguise his inner fury. I sat on my bed stroking the tangled fur on my Storm, whispering to my pet that I would see to it that no one ever kicked him again and live to see the light of day. Father came walking in to see my gift.
"Isn't it lovely, father?" I said in an attempt to invoke sympathy and amusement, seemingly asking his permission. He liked feeling above everyone, stroking his ego seemed to keep me from the more severe lashings.
"Yes, lovely." His eyes met mine and fear struck my core. His green eyes were betraying a different kind of evil, a hunger almost. He took slow advancing steps towards me.
"Is there anything I can do for you? A shirt that needs my mending, perhaps fresh bed linens?" I was stammering for something to distract him from the unnerving look in his eyes.
"Not tonight my dear. Tonight my needs are beyond simple mending or washing." He sat at the foot of my bed.
"You are a woman now my sweet, and as such you are now ready to help me with...adult matters."
    He inched closer within arms reach. My grip on Storm tightened as my entire body tensed. He put his hands on my shoulders and forced his lips onto mine. I bit down as hard as I could until I tasted his blood. He recoiled in pain. I decided right then that I would rather die than allow him to take me as a harlet would. He was stunned for a moment because I had never stood up to him before. His surprise didn't last very long, and he moved towards me again. As he reached this time Storm  jumped between us. Before I had time to blink, my father was cradling one of his hands as blood poured from the place where his left thumb should've been. He had a remarkable look of fear in his eyes as he made a hasty retreat. Storm was standing on my bed now, and despite his fluffy stuffed toy appearance, he was a frightful sight. After he seemed satisfied that my father wasn't coming back, he turned to me with a grin. Well, about as grin as a dog could get. He let his floppy ears lower and began to wiggle his nub of a tail left and right. He tackled me with a warm snuggle, and my heart melted. The joy I felt after that moment still remains unrivaled. I finally had love, a protector, and my father never bothered me beyond idle threats. He has since never left my side, still growling when my father is in the room.
     Storm's reactions base my opinions of everyone. If he growls upon a fellow nobel kissing my hand, or a guest entering the sitting room, I instantly don't trust them. I'm grateful to have him in my carriage now. His presence giving me comfort. His reaction to the Prince will guide my actions. I'm still concerned about who the prince may be, but nothing can weather my Storm.

-Heather

Let me know if you want me to continue the story, or if you like it just the way it is.
 

Life at it's finest!

     I shouldn't write so seldomly, but lately little miss hasn't been giving me very good naps. I have noticed if she doesn't give me at least two hours to mentally relax, and doodle on the computer, eat without hearing "Bite?", or stretch with a few yoga poses I'm kinda irritable. Then I realized the only thing I did differently these past few days is slept in with her instead of waking up early and doing most of these things. I'm so glad she isn't one of those five to six in the morning babies.

     I passed my practical boards! Yay! After failing the first time by three points for looking around nervously, or making eye contact with the proctors, I determined to test again as soon as we had the money to sign me up. I didn't do anything differently as far as the actual work. The only thing I did do differently was look at the floor after I finished things. It was no reflection of my skills whatsoever, but isn't that was government licensing is all about? I mean seriously, if a DMV worker drove around with me for a few days I might not have my license. Just kidding, I'm not a bad driver...I just notice that if there are people other than Bri, whom I can ignore for her own safety, distracting me with conversation or complaining of my music choices there are more close calls than I like. 

     Painting. Not in the sense that I'm making a mess, that would be cool. Just digital painting with my drawing pad, computer, and Manga Studio 5 (cheap drawing program). I started with some "commissions" which were free, to warm me up. It was great because some of them I was really inspired about, others I just did because I said I'd do them. Speaking of which, friends if you ever want a painting of sorts I would gladly oblige. Free if I really enjoy myself. Five bucks if you want to print it up at walgreens canvas style. Because that would involve a big picture with lots of detail so blowing it up wouldn't lose the beauty. You can see my work click here.

   While opening my mind to the creativity of drawing, I had a dream. It was a beautiful dream, full of feelings and intrigue. Naturally I woke up, wrote out an outline for the story, and began typing it up. I'm still in the process of, what would this character say or do or think. This might just end up like the story I wrote in high school. It was 14 notebook pages front and back. It was all consuming. I wrote in almost every class. Everyone who read it, liked it and wanted more. Unfortunately, I didn't hash out a general storyline with vague details. I had no idea where the story was going. No idea. I still have the majority of the idea in my mind, so maybe one day. If you are interested in reading the current story, I would be willing to email you what I have so far. I take critique well. It's just a fun side project mostly, but if all my friends loved it and I had a shot at getting it published....I'd gladly roll in that dough. If you like romance/weird scifi-esque stuff, you might like it. If not...probably not, but I wouldn't say it's that weird. 

   Last but not least, the topic I will cover briefly before the bub awakens is essential oils. Don't worry I'm not trying to sell you anything. However, I can't positively comment enough about them. Peppermint diffused and rubbed on the chest of the baby with the clogged nose so she'll stop screaming about how she can't breath through her nose. Clary Sage, lavender, and peppermint blend (equal parts) on my abdomen and lower back for my period. Yes ladies, you read that right. It was a literally painless period. No joke. No painful cramps. Drop of rosemary on the baby who was beginning to get a yeast infection from her antibiotics a few months ago when she had strep. The best story yet, Frankincense for Travis' birthmark. Travis has a huge mole looking birthmark on his knee. To remove it would involve surgery and not bending that leg for weeks. I wanted to see what would happen if I put oil on it. A few days later, he scratched it and half of it peeled off. Beneath where it peeled off is beautiful skin. Frankincense is my current favorite, but I don't diffuse it simply because I think it smells like a hippy in the woods. I'm sure that my in-laws would not enjoy that smell consuming their basement. I'm not really brand loyal. I am a doterra wholesale buyer/could sell person, but I'm just being introduced to oils. I'm not really willing to fork over money for a smell I have to convince myself to like. Some of them, like patchouli which smells like dirt, I would consider buying and not realize they stink. Tea tree smells, but I've forced myself to get used to it. It's helped with my dry itchy scalp. So far I really like Aura Cacia, but it's higher priced than the Now brand. I like Now, but not as much. Don't ask me why I don't like it as much because I don't know. I like the basic oils in Now like lavender, lemon, clove, and my oregano, but I'm not a big fan of the now peppermint. I gotta say oregano is hard to screw up, that mess is strong! I love the smell of Oregano oil but Travis hates it. 

That's all for now. Hopefully I'll be blogging a little more. In our next edition we will cover tantrums and how to ignore them successfully.

-Heather

To be a kid

I love my daughter. I love her so much, and I'm gonna be honest I envy her. I wish that I could be as happy and unaffected by negativity as she is. Why is it that children are so carefree and happy? She could have a huge bruise, and you know it hurts, but she's otherwise unaffected emotionally. So what it hurt, and SQUIRREL! Maybe it's the attention span, maybe it's something more (like I don't know fresh from Heaven?).

I'm trying to enjoy life the way she does. Not only does she love unconditionally, unless you have a big beard and long hair (sorry Denver). She also has many other admirable traits under her belt already. Enjoys spending time with family. Brings a smile to strangers(but won't run away with them). She doesn't focus on the negative. She's super smart, and very energetic. Driven to do what she wants (for example, climb on chairs and tables).

Today I realized I could use a lot more of these traits. I can be...cautious with my kindness. I can be retracting in how I treat people once they've burned me. And worst of all, out of the tons of compliments I get from many of the great people at school, one insignificant negative opinion of me from a person who matters little in my life can send me home in tears. It's rough feeling like you're in high school again. Actually, my High School was great! I had a whole pack of big, bad guy friends who would intimidate anyone who threatened me. I also got the benefit of the doubt.

Benefit of the doubt. Kids will always give you that.

Long story short, I'm really excited to graduate. Unfortunately for my friends, that means I'm done doing stuff on clients. Unless you're an easy haircut I do once a week...you know who you are.

Sincerely,
-Heather (wants to be a kid) Meredith

Stark Contrasts: Death in books, death in life

     I sat there staring at rows and rows of books, each spine no more promising than the last. I was at a loss, and I should not have gone alone. I have this issue at the library. I have to pick up a book, read the cover, start reading somewhere in the middle (and if I like that), I read the last page or two. I can't handle getting through a really great story and losing a major character, or a sad ending. I know it's kind of a spoiler to skip ahead, but I have a good excuse. Prime examples being, Dear John and Message In A Bottle. Both books by Nicholas Sparks, both romance novels, both with life altering loves, both with a not so happy ending. Dear John, I started crying thirty pages in, so I skipped to the end to realize he doesn't end up with her and put it back. Unfortunately, I began reading Message In a Bottle without skipping ahead at all or seeing the movie OR talking to anyone about it. It was late in my lamp lit room, when suddenly a book hit the wall and this woman began sobbing at such a terribly tragic novel. It was not a good idea. When I discussed it with Travis he said, isn't that a movie? I think I've seen it.

The POINT of that story. Yes, there is one.

       In a book when a character dies, you know there is no hope of that character ever coming to life again. Maybe if you're lucky, the character will appear in dreams later in the series (Amelia Peabody series), but majority of the time, that character in all their greatness and admirable traits is gone. The writer might make a prequel, but we can't be certain they'll ever come back in their fullness again. When a character I like in a book dies, my heart is broken, my soul is torn, the tears flow, and suddenly I'm crying in a public place and the makings of a sinus headache begin. [and despite all this reading, my thoughts flow like run on sentences that never seem to end. A bad habit, but I add commas so you get the feeling...I guess]

       In contrast to that, when a loved one dies I am more hopeful than heartbroken. I am not heartless folks I cry at such loss. Today I cried at the loss of a family member (in-law) that I've never met in person, but I cried because despite having never met me he was always kind to me. We talked on facebook, and he talked of how cute Bri was. No matter who you are, if you like my baby, odds are I'll like you too. But he was one of the many in my adopted family that welcomed me. I referred to him as my own Uncle when I talked to Travis about him. Yet, despite the great loss the family has taken, I feel hope. I get the feeling this isn't the last of him. I know that there is more to this life simply because of these "feelings". You can know something is a bad idea without doing it simply because it feels wrong. You can also know a good thing because it feels so right. Death doesn't hurt me in life as it does a book. While I cry now, I'll pray too. I'll pray that this brings all the family closer, and that in turn we all grow closer to God and find peace and joy in the Plan of Salvation. I'm eerily calm in the face of earthly death because it doesn't feel like the end. It feels like a bad day, in a great year. We can't see the year, but it's going to be good if we let it. I think death upsets the rest of the world because it's something fearful. It's the unknown, it's something we constantly fight, it happens to everyone. Whether we fear for ourselves, or our loved ones, it's perfectly natural to fear death. But fear isn't what comes to heart when I think of death. I imagine a beautiful door, and what's on the other side of that door? I don't know, but it is exciting to imagine opening it. The thrill of adventure, curiosity, or a really good feeling.

     My thought today is, try to imagine a world without end. Despite beginnings and endings being so ingrained into this life that imagining them is near impossible, give it a shot. The world is pretty great when you look on the bright side.

    Keep Travis' Uncle's family in your prayers. He was a wonderful loving husband, father, brother, and a great Uncle. Maybe one day the world will see actual death as exciting instead of scary.

Sincerely,

     That girl who narrates her life the minute she walks into a library.

              Heather Rand.

I should join a book club.

Remember the Good, and Focus

       About a week and a half ago I had an unpleasant experience with a client at school. It wasn't through any fault of my own, they were just an unpleasant person who decided to direct their anger at the world in my direction. It was small and insignificant, but not to me. For no legitimate reason I couldn't let the negative feeling from that experience go. It won't matter in five years. It definitely won't even matter in a few months. It might not even have mattered a few days after, but I let it. I let it rot. The feeling I got from that small exchange affected everything. Suddenly, I couldn't keep the apartment clean enough for Travis even if he said he didn't mind. Suddenly, I felt like people at school were all gossiping about me, and I didn't have a friend in the world. Suddenly, I felt like I didn't even know how to cut hair.

I know none of those things are true, but suddenly, they were to me.

       Tonight, I brought this up to Travis again. I reminded him of the experience, which he remembered because it made me cry, and I disclosed that I wanted to let it go. I told him that I prayed about it, I prayed for her, and I prayed for myself. It didn't seem to help because I felt like I was constantly being reminded in some small way of my insecurities. To my relief, he reminded me that even the days school isn't fun I am surrounded by friends. I'm surrounded by people who are willing to be there for me, and even a few of them drove all the way from wellington to my baby shower (not mentioning any names). I'm even really skilled at what I do, even the days I don't feel like trying very hard. He reminded me that it wasn't this one event that was the problem. I just needed to remember all the good and not focus on the bad. It was all these wonderful things he reminded me of that made the original issue seem as small as it really was.

       I should have remembered that above all else, I am a daughter of God. Therefore, I am loved when I need it most. Tonight that love was displayed from the man I get to spend eternity with, if I am willing to try.

       The moral of the story today folks, the good will always win. The good has already won, and we just have to endure until the end to see it. If you find yourself in a pit of despair, ask a few friends what they like most about you, write down things you're grateful for, and help yourself remember the good.

And for those of you starting Lent, good luck! I always thought it was a great tradition to see people of all faiths engage in. I hope it reminds you of the good in your life, and brings you peace.

Sincerely
   -Heather Rand.

From A Loving Heart; for your home

This past weekend as Bri was peacefully sleeping and Travis was watching the Olympics while I played around on the computer, my heart was shaken and my eyes wept. Not for myself, but for the family next door. I have met them many times and I know them, so far, to be loving parents, good people, and family oriented (must be since mom lives below me and they live across). I don't know what starts this, or where their frustration lies, but I hear far too often them yelling at each other and their children. In fact on this particular occasion it was her yelling at him to stop yelling at the child. The child, either the one year old or the I'd guess five year old continued to cry throughout this exchange. I don't judge you nor do I have any right to, if I could do anything it would be to offer help. I so dearly wish I could hug you all and remind you that whatever it is, it's not worth yelling about. I wish I could impress upon you the negative way this affects your child. It won't be a mystery when they decide that hanging out in a friend's home where yelling is rare is preferred to being with their own family. I had a few friends who wished they had been born of goodly parents like I was. Even now I know youth who have a parent or both that seek complete control and submission to all their demands. They protest by yelling and setting ridiculous rules such as you're grounded from church. That blows my mind. Even if my child decided to go to a non-denominational church or begin attending a baptist ministry, unless they suddenly become hateful towards family or become a negative influence on the whole, I can't imagine ever denying my child the right to grow closer to God or become a better person. Growing up my parents only told me no when they noticed my attitude grow negative around certain friends, or become rude and disobedient to routine chores and requests. They also denied me going to certain activities because the spirit told them no, or in not Mormon terms, intuition, gut feeling, hunch, overall something didn't feel right about whatever it is I wanted to do. They were acutely aware when I was up to no good, not that this prevented any wrong doing on my part, but they usually caught me before I did something really stupid or was even allowed to put myself in a situation where I could. They trusted me, but they didn't hand me a condom, leave alcohol easily accessible, leave me alone with my boyfriends for hours at a time, and then say we know you kids will stay out of trouble. Have fun and be good!

Back to the point. I know calling CPS won't help families such as this and many people would argue (lol) that yelling is normal, healthy, or nothing to be concerned about. But the problem with trying to tell me it's normal or healthy is I know it isn't either. I know that there are millions of families that function wonderfully without yelling. Mine is one of them. So what do I know about the feelings that resort to such outward displays of anger or frustration? What qualifies me in any way to worry that this is not an ideal environment for a family to function happily in? What can I say when I have a loving husband, a sweet one year old, and an overall agreeable disposition? Little. I have enough experience to know that things can escalate, things can feel overwhelming, you can feel like you're stuck, and trust can be diminished.

Thankfully, I've always known that there is always hope. Hope has always followed me no matter what life throws at me. And I'm certain that hope is due to my faith in Christ, and my faith that the Atonement can heal any hurt and forgive if you are willing to let it. If however, you don't have that foundation in Christ (which I would highly recommend for every family) you can simply begin with a counselor. Marriage counseling has a stigma behind it. Like something must be deeply wrong. He must have done something really stupid, or she must have slept around, or serious wrong doings on either side. But this is simply not true. I would encourage anyone to seek a counselor because it helps to have a mediator when you're trying to convey feelings in a misunderstanding and to become an overall more loving spouse. I know it helped me to understand that if I want my husband to give me his best, I have to give him my best first. It helped me to think logically before suddenly blaming him for a wrong he hasn't committed. It has helped me to communicate my concerns and get to the source feeling of any negativity he has.

If nothing else choose to love. Choose to be the person who never raises their voice. The person who chooses joy over sorrow, love over hate, compassion over anger, and support over jealousy. If you always choose love, joy will follow. 

And remember that your neighbors would rather giggle that they can hear your bed frame instead of cry that they can hear you yelling at the people you love most. I cry because I love you, even though I don't know you very well. I cry because I know you can have peace, and I'm here to help if you ever were to ask. I'm not just the neighbor that offers a cup of sugar or an egg and free sweets, I'm the neighbor you are welcome to vent to, hug, visit, get to know and one day I hope dear neighbor that you will know that.

-Heather Rand apt 4

A single brush stroke

         Life can be compared to a beautiful painting. Each stroke is but a moment. Many strokes of the brush are plain and simple, while many others display grand design and movement. If you were to focus on a single brush stroke, the painting may not seem wonderful or beautiful to you. Yet as you step back, your breath pauses for you begin to see the masterpiece before you.
        This metaphor can to my mind today as I took in the sparkling beauty of this sabbath day. As I knelt to let Bri touch the cold fluff, I realized you could see hundreds, maybe thousands, of snowflakes. Big, beautiful, unique snowflakes, each one a temporary masterpiece. There are many people content with the knowledge that a snowflake is simply the way a drop of water is frozen in a cloud. But I cannot be content simply knowing that. I an overjoyed knowing that every snowflake is neither random nor significant.
       Today my testimony is this; we are all cherished children of our Heavenly Father. He sees our lives as the beautiful paintings they can become. Even if we only see a brush stroke. I also know that this beautiful world was created to fulfill a part of the masterpiece that is The Plan of Salvation. I hope these thoughts can weigh on your heart that you may feel a fraction of the love God has for you. I leave these things with you in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

-Heather