Hallelujah

This is where I've been sitting.
In my doorway, where I can see, smell, hear, taste, and touch the rain. And yes, that is a pot of freshly made chocolate frosting with graham crackers next to it.
Why not indulge in some comfort food while feeling so comfortable?


This is the view of the sky from my doorway. And just below the sky is the view of my wet and pretty street. This pictures aren't exactly professional-photographer-worthy, right? They are for Travis who is at work and does not have a window.
But he does have a mac.
Travis and I learned how to spell hallelujah on Sunday.
We both tried several times before looking it up in the Bible Dictionary and then we both practiced writing it in speech bubbles over the cartoon people drawn on the back of our church program.


If any type of weather deserves a hallelujah (correctly spelled), it is this gorgeous rain.
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Praise ye the Lord!
Today is highly perfect.

edit: This blogpost now has a part two:
PART TWO:
My computer does amazingly well choosing rainy day music.
Yes, it even chose Hallelujah, which was in fact why I decided to title my post by that name.
Here is the mix that it created and which I am listening to currently:

7 Peaks!

AHHH! 7 Peaks is a water park, which is full of fat white people and tan little babies and a billion teenagers trying to seduce each other AAAAND
YES! Becky and Travis who now have SEASON PASSES!

We got them for super cheap, because it's late in the season, and 7 Peaks is like a mile from our house, and now we can stop trying to break into Centennial to use their pool, and not feel guilty if we only go for an hour one day, and in fact, we can go for an hour every day and be tan and be refreshed (it is so freaking hot this summer) without having to pay 22$ EACH a day.

But you will not get 7 Peaks pictures, because I am not bringing my camera to a water park.

But if you have not seen it, imagine in your mind a Suesical Factory, with many crazy colored, striped and bizarrely twisted pipes running every which way.
Those pipes are slides.
And they are filled with the people I described above.

We went there last night.
I think the plan is to go for an hour or two every night.

I woke up to loon calls.

"Impossible!" you say. "That cheery and eerie Minnesotan bird could never live in Utah's desert climate!"

Yeah, well I think one of our neighbors has a loon call.
I said to Travis "That's a loon! Someone must have a loon call!" and he looked skeptical.
"Have you ever heard a bird like that?" he shook his head no.

However, after a half hour of loon calls I became confused.

Maybe there is another bird around here that kind of sounds like a loon.

Or maybe they had a loon sound on their alarm clock or computer.

Last night we had a conversation that began with Travis filling out a form. It asked the question "If you could go anywhere in the world right now, where would you most want to go?"

He wrote Minnesota.

"Why?"

"I don't know. I just have been thinking about it so much lately."

"Because it's spring and Minnesota is beautiful in the spring?"

"No. I just have this longing. It's calling me back. The cool deep waters. That little neighborhood outside Minneapolis. The people. The people there are really nice."

And I thought, "Congratulations, Becky. Taking Travis there last summer was so wise because it's impossible for anyone to go to Minnesota, really go there, and not long for it later. Maybe someday we'll live there after all."

Because Minnesota is the best kept secret in the United States.

People think of Minnesota and they're like "Those backwards lumberjack hicks without electricity must have such crappy lives."

And we say YES.

Except for me, because I love it so much I can't keep it a secret.

Here's a secret: Whoever made up the rumor that California, especially SoCal (hehe) is awesome was LYING.

Apparently it's warm there, not HOT. The water is SUPER cold as well as being dirty and filled with a billion people. The cities are dirty and crowded and it's a dessert so... it automatically sucks for that reason.

Minnesota gets hot in the summer, and gets snow in the winter and is secret and pretty.

And filled with lakes.

Filled with Loons.

Filled with Loon calls.

Travis was reading over my shoulder as I wrote and said "Why did you write "hehe" after SoCal?"
I responded, "I thought the phrase SoCal was a joke."
He only laughed, so now I think, Is it NOT a joke? Do people call it SoCal for real?

How confusing.
And also stupid.

As soon as it stops raining

we head outside.

The afternoon is spent in the shallow, choppy water, pushing over exposed sandbars.
The evening is spent on the couch or in the kitchen.

The night?

I guess it's spent inside, because we were wandering around for two hours to no avail.
We found 1 music venue: the Jewish Mother.
The show was an afrobeat band, and it was an eighteen dollar cover charge.

That appears to be the only place in town (excepting bars) that is open past nine.
We considered just going into a bar, and not ordering anything, just lurking creepily, and doing something (anything) besides sitting inside.

But that would also be sitting inside. So we chickened out.

Now we're home again.
Skype me? rebeccah.louise

I can't IM anymore, because I don't know my sn or my password, and its no longer saved into my computer.
I am bored.
Contact me.

I'm remembering water

Virginia is wet, and I love it.

The air is thick and humid.
REALLY thick. REALLY humid.

Hits you in the face like mist when you're walking.

It rains here all the time.
It's sunny and hot and beautiful one minute, and there's a thunderstorm the next minute.

Today when we were watching tv it started to rain.
"What is that noise?" Lauren asked.
"That's rain," I said, muting the tv.
"Rain doesn't sound like that."

Have we really been in Utah so long that the sound of rain is foreign?
We opened the garage door and stood to watch the rain, and I heard words I haven't heard in ages: "tornado warning."
Huzzah! It's been too long. I've missed you, extreme weather.

Travis said, "How do you like the ocean?"
"I love the ocean," I said.
"Cultivate that love," said Travis, and then I mocked him. Cultivate that love. Really.
Everyone loves the ocean, and if they don't then they are crazy. The ocean is just like a big, salty lake, and we all know I'd rather be in a lake than on solid ground.
And most people should feel that way, if you're asking me.

All I'm saying is, I miss some of the people in Utah, but I don't know how I'll ever make it back there after I get to remember first-hand what it's like to NOT be in a desert.

I have sand in my ears, already.

Me: Hello, Beach. I am Becky.

Beach: Welcome!

Me: I am very excited to live here, right on your sandy shores.

Beach: I'm excited to have you. Because I am so excited, I have prepared the perfect day. It is in the 90s and the water is just a little chilly, but perfect if you've been lying out in the sun.

Me: I have been lying out in the sun!

Beach: Perfect! Come on in!

Me: Yay!

Beach: Yay!

"people don't choose to be sheltered."

I like to judge people who are super sheltered, because they don't understand so many things that I think are fundamental to both survival and happiness.
I was thinking of the little catchphrase mormons use: "Be in the world, but not of it."
but I think I have a different interpretation than most people.
I would say it's similar to saying: "Make the world, don't let it make you."

Here's what I thought about today:

I was sheltered. Yes, I knew a lot about sex, drugs, and rock and roll (I went to public school, after all, and had parents who were honest with me if I had questions about anything... not like I ever wanted to ask them.) Most of my friends were not mormon, and I when they said things or told dirty jokes I overheard them, (and went home to look things up online). But I didn't watch R-rated movies. I didn't swear . I understood the word of wisdom and law of chastity.
I had a pretty good balance, I'd say.

We live in the world. There is no getting around that. There's no reason that we should want to get around that, anyway. God made us a beautiful place to live, and filled it with beautiful people for us to live with.
We need to interact with and understand our societies, communities, culture, and politics, because even if we try not affect them, they will affect us. Schools teach our kids, communities keep them safe, politicians make decisions for them. We were never told to only love our neighbors if they love God, too. It is our responsibility to to be good citizens and neighbors, to be teachers, to do good, to spread the gospel. We can't do that if we are locked in our homes being "not of the world."

I am a product of what surrounds me. What I've read, where I've lived, who I've known, what I've listened to, seen, and said. I am a product of the world that surrounds me.
The big difference between the world that surrounds me, and the world that surrounds most people is that the gospel surrounds me, too.
Thus despite being "in the world," the world did not make me.

Did you see my lotus?
When we went to the Hare Krishna temple this summer, the tour guide told us of an important Hindu symbol. "It's like the mormon belief of being in the world, but not of it," he said.
The lotus flower lives in the water, yet it is not wet.
It cannot survive without the enviornment, and is an important part of the ecosystem.
Yet, it is not a part of the water. It is not surrounded, nor can it be consumed by the water.
The water and the lily are connected. The lily is on the water, the water flows through the lily.
But they are seperate.

I love this world. I love where I live, I love who I am, and what the world and the Lord have made me.
But I love that I can help to make the world, too.
The world wouldn't be the same without me, without any of us, and I'm going to try to make sure the difference I make will be a good one.