Attempt.

Me in this computer lab… with the book I will soon write a paper on!

Hey.

Hey hey it’s Lyndsi Shae.

Remember how my voicemail used to say that?
Remember how I used to be Lyndsi Shae?

Who am I now?

I am a missionary returned. I am a student. I am a fiance. I am a friend. I am a procrastinator. I am not a good wedding planner. I am somehow back to degrading myself constantly. I am thinking that’s gotta stop.

You know what I thought on my walk to school today?

I thought, I’m getting married in a month. And it was exciting.
Instead of stressful.

I thought of me and Ken.
Instead of table cloths and deadlines and how to match suits.

I felt happy instead of inadequate. That was nice.

This mornin I woke up and our neighbors were having a yard sale. Like right there in our yard. I washed my face and put on a sweatshirt and went to pursue the plunder. I selected my loot with ease: a dusty old plastic drawer organizer– this should do til we get a dresser… some ceramic green bowls and plates… and another copy of The Secret Life of Bees. That’ll be $6.25. Score. I paid in cash cause I’m so rich.

I forgot how much I loved yard sales. My Mom went through a phase where she loved yard sales. Once she came home with a shirt for me. The whole thing was covered in clouds and a blue sky. And the front had a smiley face. It was 75 cents. I wore that thing to death. Best shirt of my life. I loved it.

What do I love now?

I love sittin with Ken on our porch.
I love avocados and tomatoes.
Especially right when you cut open their squishy colors.

I love my missionaries at the MTC and how they pray for me and their future people in St. Louis Missouri. I love when I can see their minds churnin for the answers and their hearts building faith that God will, in fact, communicate those answers to them. I love shouting and jumping and scribbling on the white board and just letting my soul loose in there. Because in there I am Sister Brown and Lyndsi Shae at the same time. And that feels like home.

Where is my home?

It’s wherever my Ken goes. I know he’ll take me with him. When I say that, my pride and self-congratulating strength says Don’t be so dependent. You don’t need anyone to take you with them.


But did you know that this is the best feeling of my life?

The feeling that I don’t have to rely just on myself, even if I am strong enough to do so. The feeling that we will always be together now. We will be in this house with a couch on the porch and the neighbors sellin their junk in the front yard. We will be asking if the other one is hungry yet. We will be studying and writing papers and working and growing and believing together. And I get to have that.
I just get to have it.

Can you believe that?

And when I don’t believe it, when my pride invades us, he will say something like I know you’re used to taking care of yourself, and I love that you are your own woman, and I want you to remember you don’t have to do that anymore. I hope you will let me help you. I hope you will trust me. And then I remember, oh yeah,  time to lay my old weapons down. I’m safe, remember? Oh yeah. This is my home.

Guess what I’m doing right now?

I am writing.

Word word word word word word word word.

Just the click of this keyboard is satisfying.

And I’m not real sure if I know how to say what I really want to say.Or how attached I am to the words coming out of me. But for now, the purpose is to just let them come out.

To hear them.
To free them.
To get to know them.

I am recommitting myself. To this.

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