Rewind...

Since I left you last.....

I finished my fun filled semester at BYU-Idaho...

And moved in with them....

And helped watch Peyton while Amy recovered from her ankle injury. That babycake is stinkin cute and it was so fun to be aunt Lizzie up close and personal... They were so sweet and let me eat their food and sleep in their house and bum around until I figured out where to live for my fall semester off from school. So I thought about it long and hard and decided

To move in with her...

My best friend Claire Beaumont. She is really something else. In the above photograph she is making a shake face. Normally she has a beautiful face, not so shaky. Being the best of friends that we are, we thought it would be a grand idea to move in together for a few months! A grand idea it was. We had so much fun. That will forever be one of the fondest memories living with my bestie Claire in our little home on Capitol Hill in Seattle....

Our little bedroom with twin beds side by side. Classic.

Charming little living room with green walls.... You can see our kitchen and sewing room from this shot and there was nothing more to that kitchen than this picture shows, it was about the size of your big toe. But boy did I make yummy things in that little kitchen, like this...

Chef's choice pizza inspired by my favorite pizza joint, Hot Mama's Pizza

But while I baked, claire did a lot of this...

Our make shift sewing room, what was once a closet is now a sewing room!

I loved that apartment, it is filled with oodles of memories with some of my closest friends. I got to spend the entire autumn with those tender and dear friends of mine....

Kristen, Maggie, and Claire. True Blue. Kristen likes to take pictures (www.kristenmarie.org). Maggie likes cats( favorite book: Millions of cats). Claire likes chocolate chip cookies (cookie monster).

Not only did I spend time with my golden oldies, I made new friends at Church in my amazing ward. I met girls that had masters degrees, were boeing engineers, were college professors, had served missions for the Lord, were happy, productive, lovely, young (all of those accomplishments before they were 30!) individuals who inspired me in ways they may never know. Through all of my experiences during those short few months living in Seattle, I came to see some things more clearly than ever before. One being...

I, Lizzie McCrery, am capable of doing whatever I put my mind to.

A simple enough idea that is drilled into our heads from an early age; an idea that I've taught lessons in Relief Society about. But somewhere along the way I forgot it or forgot how to actually BELIEVE it. I forgot my divine nature, the fact that I am literally a daughter of God. With knowledge of that truth, I can actually do BIG things! With the realization (or rather remembrance) of my ability to do marvelous things, new doors were opened in my mind as well as old ideas that had been put on a far back shelf of my mind marked "You can't actually do this, so move on". One of those miss-marked ideas from before was the possibility of serving a mission. With my gradual awakening to the divine potential within me I found that a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints was well within reach. Not only did I realize it was within my reach, but it would be crucial in helping me reach all of my BIG goals and become the person I want to be. I needed to forget myself, let go of fears and serve the Lord. So I decided to go on a mission. Plain and simple. So I started my papers, worked out details, drove all over the place to get medical and dental appointments got my wisdom teeth out...

Worth the embarrassing picture for the full effect of swelling. It was the worst. Note to self: If you have the option of being put under during major surgery, do it.

While I recovered I stayed with them...

Clinton and Elisabeth McCrery... They gave me jello, pudding, and percocet. They gave me love and took care of my sorry little self while I recovered from my traumatic experience.

Meanwhile back at the ranch my papers were finished with only one interview to go. I met with the Stake President and he decided that it would be a great idea for me to serve a mission! So my papers were submitted to the First Presidency of the Church within a month of my decision to serve.

I awaited the call of where I would be serving. Not knowing where I would serve for 18th months was only a tad bit stressful, the comfort I had came from knowing that the call was coming from God. I knew without a doubt my mission call would come through revelation given to those in charge of my assignment.

I waited for only a week and a half and received this.....

(insert a picture of my mission call)

But I didn't receive that until I moved to Utah to live with them...

Daphne and Wyatt McCrery. Baby sister, big brother. So adorable these two.

and these guys live here too...

Bil and Stepper (and Wyatt again). They are kind and generous enough to make space in the inn for a measly pre-missionary such as myself. They are helping me each and everyday to be a little better in all aspects of life.

-- So I arrived late at night to their home to say HELLO! I MISSED YOU! WHERE IS MY CALL!?!?!? With the camera rolling and Claire live on the phone I opened my letter from the First Presidency to read where I would be serving...

Which just so happens to be here....

PORTUGAL! Well, more specifically the Portugal Lisbon Mission. Portugal's capital city. Which looks a little something like this...

and this...

And my mission boundaries include islands that look like this...

But most importantly I get the bring the message of the Gospel to the people of Portugal in their native language and help them find the happiness and joy that the Gospel of Jesus Christ can bring to EVERYONE.

So now I'm looking a little more like this...

Excited to serve the Lord in the Portugal Lisbon mission for 18 months!

Seattle.

I love my city. Seattle must be the place.

Spock

New Star Trek. See it. Now. I have a new celebrity crush, move over Thom Yorke..... Hello young Spock...

You'll find me at the treehouse...

I live in a treehouse this semester. Not a real treehouse, so much as a treehouse in spirit. It is a quaint apartment that from the outside may look like a normal 3rd floor apartment in the complex it's located in. But once you open the door you enter a different world. Our treehouse is filled with love. Filled with friendship and the best of times, dance parties, good food, uncontrollable laughter, spiritual moments, dirty dishes, happy people, constant gatherings, unexpected visitors, regular visitors, girl talk, fashion photo shoots, movies nights and all around glorious times. The party never stops in our treehouse. When you climb the ladder to the top (the three flights of stairs), you will never want to climb back down.

We live together under one tree roof: Melissa, Christa, Emily, Kara, Me

Photo Shoot

Family portraits

Happy as a Clam.

...And I love him for that

This is a personal essay I wrote for my english class. It ended up being an incredible experience to relive this little incident by writing about it. It has special significance this week as I look back on my Dad's life. I decided to title the essay "...And I love him for that"

Hope you enjoy!

            As I drove home from my cousin's house, my passenger and I had an odd tension between us. Although you would think after 2 years of driving he would trust his daughter to keep him alive on the road. But his posture said it all. His eyes were glued to the road while his foot controlled an imaginary brake pedal. Driving at night brought him anxiety at his old age because his eyes failed him when the sun went down. He demanded that I switch to the right lane to avoid radical holiday drivers. I reluctantly slowed down and moved over.

             My dad didn't want go all the way to Puyallup for Christmas Eve dinner. He sat lethargically reclined in his ancient lazy boy, spending another weekend slothfully lounging around our house. The recliner was situated in the living room of our modest rambler in front of the TV that quietly whispered golf scores in a way that hypnotized my Dad in and out of an afternoon nap. I used this distraction to my advantage as I crept into his room and laid out his button up shirt and slacks saved only for rare occasions (it's not too often a mechanic gets dressed up). I wanted so badly for him to give up just one night of his relaxation to go do something that was important to me. I thought about the conversation that would take place between us. I knew he wouldn't want to go, but that wouldn't stop me. My brain churned with thousands of reasons why he should go, whether he liked it or not. He had no good reason to just lie around; he had been doing that for the past two days. He was being selfish.

"Come on, we only do this a couple times a year," I pleaded.

"I know, I just don't feel like it. It's getting dark and I'm tired, I don't want to be out on the road on a night like tonight." He responded with irritation in his voice.

            Deep crevices rested atop his worn cheekbones, the bags under his eyes told any on-looker of the many hours of overtime he put in that winter season.

"Dad, please I will drive and you won't have to do anything but come and enjoy everyone's company, and your birthday isn't till tomorrow so you can't use that excuse!" I exclaimed, ignoring the weathered wrinkles and swollen ankles. And with my assurance and offer to drive, he finally agreed to go.

            Our bellies were full and the evening was a success, we began our drive back to our house. The winding freeway was bustling with cars carrying people heading home for the silent night ahead. Cars weaved in and out of traffic to expedite the potentially dangerous drive so they could find themselves safely in front of the fireplace with hot cocoa, awaiting the arrival of Christmas the next morning.

             Rain spattered the glass with such force my windshield wipers were drowning in shallow waves of water. The crisp blades slid across the surface with hasty intent, but failed to execute the task. The gushing rainstorm was too much for even the newest wipers. I strained my eyes to see through the wall of water only to find my depth perception falling short. It seemed as though I was all too quickly approaching the car in front of me. I laid into the brake with uncertainty. My speedometer let out a sigh as our pace decreased, better safe than sorry I thought.

            As we rounded a bend in the road a vibrant orange warning was placed on the right shoulder containing one word. Bump. A simple word to help prepare a driver for what was to come.  Before I knew it, the cars in front were no longer letting up on the gas, but instead slamming on the brakes. With very low visibility I could only see the aforementioned "bump" once we were too close. I had no time to react to the gargantuan pothole that we would be flying over at 50 miles an hour. It was a deep yet rigid hole that could only be blamed on constant erosion by fast moving vehicles tearing at the edges.

            In a panic I followed suit with the drivers ahead and shoved my fancy pink shoe into the pedal. As we wailed into the pothole it sounded as though our entire front bumper had been smashed into the ground. I thought without a doubt our entire car fell off its hinges, the impact was so jolting.

            We careened forward and as I struggled to gain control again, my dad yelled at me to move to the shoulder. I parked and tried to gain composure. I turned my head in my dad's direction wondering what the repercussions would be, only to find that he too was at a loss for what just happened. I looked out my windshield and gathered that we were not the only ones with tragic fortune that night, amber lights flashed incessantly up and down the shoulder. There were at least 30 other cars ahead of us parked, recovering from the same unexpected obstacle.

            The rain continued strong as I turned the car off and prepared to assess the damage with my dad. We stepped out into the night, vulnerable to the frigid rain and rapidly passing cars. It was a dangerous scenario to be so close to the edge of the road with chaos around. Yet I was comforted as my dad popped the trunk and got to work finding our spare tire. All tension from before was released; he knew it was not my fault we hit the pothole. In fact he knew that we would not have been in that lane if it weren't for his advice.

            He grabbed the spare tire and the jack from the trunk and hobbled to the front right wheel. As I shakily held the flashlight, he worked on bended knee in the massive puddle to remove the destroyed tire. As his fancy slacks soaked up the water he worked as quickly as his aging hands would allow. There were complications with the installation of the spare that required him to lie on his side and reach to the underneath of the vehicle. His once shiny black shoes and nicely pressed shirt were becoming dingy and drenched and his slacks continued to drink up the rainwater. He didn't notice the moisture seeping into his clothes as he worked on our car. Nor did he worry about the rain flooding down his neck as he walked to the car parked ahead of us.

"Can I help you?" My Dad asked the woman behind the wheel of the sedan.

"We're waiting for triple A to come save us and fix our flat tire." Said the woman, shrinking back at the cold sensation of rain intruding through her rolled down window.

He gladly informed them there would be no need for that and got to work changing their tire for them.

            As I watched him work I felt a lump swelling in my throat. My heart felt heavy and tears filled my eyes to the brim, mixed with the rain and washed down my face. His selflessness manifested itself through his swift service that night. He should have been lying in his lazy chair but instead he was there with me, lying on the cold wet ground doing what he had been doing five days a week, day in and day out for 25 years, fixing things that needed fixing.

            We quickly walked back to our car to begin our trip home on our spare tire, only to find that the spare we had put on was of no use in its present condition. The car rolled unevenly on the apparently flat spare tire he had just attached. He pulled the car over and called a tow truck.

            When the truck arrived I climbed into the cab, it smelled of dirt and car oil. The distinct odor reminded me of my Dad's shop where he spent so many long hard hours repairing broken things to support his family. I scooted to the middle of the cab, uncomfortably close to the cigarette scented driver. My Dad followed close behind and worked his way onto the seat, settled his creaky body into the dusty cushion and closed the passenger door. I moved as close as I could to his cold damp body and rested my head comfortably on his shoulder. We rode in a mutual and peaceful silence. I looked up at him to find that his eyes were heavy, but he was awake and alert. My gaze did not catch his eye; he kept looking strait ahead to the road. I took a mental picture of his face that would stay with me for years to come. He was there beside me, happy to be inconvenienced if it meant I was content.

            As the clock struck midnight that Christmas Eve my Dad turned 60 in a tow truck, and I love him for that.

HAIR WE ARE!

Sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don't. Sometimes you have long hair, sometimes you don't. Today was the day to CHOP OFF MY HAIR... I'm totally diggin the weight lifted from my head! I finally found a hairstylist in Rexburg that I really like and I was ready for a new little do. So HAIR IT IS!
                                     My New Do.

Song of the Day: White Winter Hymnal- Fleet Foxes

Movie of the Day: Donnie Darko (edited)

Open Wide!

Agoraphobia- Fear of open spaces. Fear of leaving a safe place.

          Let me tell you right now, I'm not agoraphobic. I'll take open spaces by the bucket full! There is something about Rexburg that can really make you feel like you are stuck in very small safe place. I would love to just pick up and go travel around the country, but in order to do so that would require me dropping the only night class I have since I'm on my off-track at school, so I have quite the dilemma... Drop my one class so I can travel because I may never again have a chance to in my life, or keep my one class and deal with the commitment I have made although I feel it may not be worth the time spent wasting away in Rexburg.

         Yesterday I decided to try a quick fix by making a small expedition taking pictures of anything and everything that felt BIG AND OPEN AND FREE! Using my car as a tripod for my camera I posed for pictures in a variety of wide open spaces. I thought my trip would be about a 1 hour drive around the area and before I knew what happened I ended up in Wyoming, taking pictures all along the way. I may not be able to travel around the country but at least I got to see some beautiful wide open spaces that reminded me there is a big world outside of Rexburg and maybe someday soon I will make it even further than Wyoming...

Song of the Blog: Going up to the Country- Canned Heat

Movie of the Day: Into the Wild(edited)