"It's a good day to be good"

 The door opened and I couldn't quite see what all the hubbub was about. The walls were brown, the amphitheater style seating was a bit steeper than I had anticipated. Gold pipes with shiny noses poking out above more brown, the framing of the organ, it seemed like a normal choir room. The students shuffling in, each with their different shape and size. I sat in the back with the rest of my class ready for this excursion to show its true colors. My high school self was sitting there trying to grasp the idea that this would be me one day soon. I had just got dumped 2 weeks prior and the wound was still fresh. I sat, quiet, in the back of that auditorium next to Alex, one of my closest friends. A boy sat on my other side. Alex introduced him to me. His mess of brown curls bounced as he sat down his deep dark freckles and a voice higher than any bass I had ever met. This was Garian. The three of us talked, laughed and caused entirely too much ruckus in the short 50 minutes we were there listening intently to the choir. At the end of what I’m sure was beautiful choir music walked out of that auditorium better friends than eer and I walked out that day having laughed harder than I had in weeks.

Big, green posters littering the walls of every portion of the school telling boys that they better ask to the dance, that “Homecoming is the Bee’s Knees” with a cute little picture of a bee in a suit and everyone was talking about whether or not they were going to go, or who had asked them. The gossip was spreading through the school like a bacteria, infecting each girl who hadn’t been asked yet as they watched their friends pick out their dress and answer in cute clever ways. I had resigned myself that I wasn’t going to go and so had my best friend Rylie but like any teenage girls the hope was still burning within us. We scoped out prospective dates sitting at our locker every day. Pointing and giggling as each cute guy passed by. Trying to brainwash them telepathically into asking us out. Little did we know we would both be asked that night in ridiculously clever ways. I had returned home that night to a giant poster plastered to my wall. It’s black lettering shouting out to be against its white backdrop. This message from a boy asking me to go with him. I bounced into school the next day excited to tell my story and plan what we would do in retaliation. I soon discovered Rylie had been asked that same night, and by a guy she barely knew. This was war. We spent every break between classes brainstorming and trying to plan the best possible response. We settled on one. That night we  gathered our supplies and shoved the massive amounts of rainbow balloons into the back of my friend’s car. We began driving around in search of the house. Finally after 20 minutes of wandering we found it. Knocking on the door we were greeted by the smile of his mother. She let us in and led us to his room. His brown walls were bare and the only furniture in the room was a bed and a blue drumset, set off in the corner. We dumped bag after bag of balloons on the floor, the colors of each bag illuminating the room a little more. We set the poster with a giant “Yes” on the windowsill and left the room, closing the door. Then we took rolls of toilet paper and covered his entire doorframe with a gauzy, white packaging. This is how we left that night, with no idea of his reaction.

Matthew is one of the best people I have ever met. We never really hung out until about halfway through our senior year when fate or circumstance brought us together for a date. Having promised Garian that I would be his first date. I recruited Matthew to help me out. We  had to plan a makeshift date in less than 12 hours in order for me to keep my promise. We sat at the granite countertop in his kitchen throwing ideas at the wall in hopes that one would stick. I was ignoring my stomach’s aching, not wanting to be rude and ask for something to eat. My ache in my stomach begin to claw its way to my vocal cords to voice its displeasure with my lack of nutrients. It was in this moment that I caved to what I thought was rude and simply asked if he had anything I could eat.

“Thank goodness” he said as he pulled out a toaster and some bread “I was afraid to eat anything in front of you”. He looked at me with a big bright grin like he had just told the funniest joke in the world. His teddy bear like cheeks showing his dimples and his whole body giggled as he started to laugh. His laugh was contagious and I couldn't

help the chuckle that escaped my lips as we proceeded to eat the entire loaf as toast. Delicious, delicious toast. Before we knew it the majority of his kitchen was covered in all kinds of breakfast food, from purple jams to orange juice his kitchen had never been so colorful. Between bites of toast and sips of orange juice we laughed and planned this makeshift date in record time, my stomach moaning from laughter and having been fed. From that moment on we were near inseparable.

It was always the four of us. Sitting in Matt’s basement. It’s white walls covered in pictures of temples and Christ, courtesy of Matt’s mother. Every night was a collection of faces. Each night different but almost always those 3, consistent smiles shining through the darkness of the basement brighter than the blue glow of the TV screen. As time passed more faces were added to that brightness. Each smile a reminder of the love around me. Mckay, Austin, Alex, Tiffany, Madelyn, Tyler. Brought together in that mansion of a house. Every day Matt’s car would be outside each of our houses. It’s low rumble a comfort in winter. It’s blasting music a party anthem in the heat. Celebrating the good. Coming together to fix the hardships. Sharing scriptures and testimonies. Crying together, laughing together. 

We were bandits, we were adventurers, we were missionaries and we were friends. It was one of those friendships that just happened and until you look back you had no idea it would change your life. We were slowly approaching the day Matt would go off to college and none of us knew what was going to happen. The night before he left we all sat in his basement. So many people were there but as the night progressed people kept leaving. The night dragged on and it was starting to get late. I looked around me and realized it was just the four of us now, Matt, Rylie, Garian and me, sitting in that basement just like we used to. We decided to go for a drive so we piled into Matt’s car and began to drive. The music was its classic party anthem, the gray leather seats of his van squeaking as each of made even the slightest move. We were laughing and smiling. We found ourselves at the Y parking lot. The music began to mellow down and conversation got deeper. Matt started to talk about how he was afraid to leave. And we all listened. Then one by one we each gave our best advice, sharing a story from the Book of Mormon or our own personal experiences in life. I can only remember one story that was told. Garian said “it was a good day to be good” a saying that quickly became our slogan. In the following months this slogan kept me going. I don’t remember what stories were told that night, but I do remember I have never been so grateful in my entire life. 

Emotion Is A Journey

The sun glistens past the window early that morning, I lie wide awake in my bed lost in as many thoughts as one can have. My mind dances through the multitude of experiences and memories. Memories and experiences that have shaped and molded and changed my life forever. I glance to the other side of the room to see my suitcases bulging at the zipper. Overflowing with everything that I currently hold to my name. 

As my body is in habit now, I roll out of bed to my knees. My roommate jumps in the shower. Rarely do I get time and space to myself, this is a chance to speak my mind and get off my chest bottled up emotions. The bottle burst as I began to offer one of my final prayers. Heavy drenched tears race down my face as a flash flood. My chest is compressed with pressure and anxiety. Different themed emotions scamper through my body. One instance is absolute gratitude and appreciation for my experiences and opportunities. Next I long to have more time, not much but just enough to make sure that I have done everything I possibly need to. Capped by the anxiety and fear of what awaits me on the other side. A life forsaken that is to patiently waited. 

Eight hours and 152 miles later we all sit in a circle. I can remember these same faces many of them from years earlier. As I think back to the first time in that circle in the same exact home the memory is immature. Faces that explained youth and inadequacy, uncertainty and ambition. Some suffocating a testimony and others turning up the pillows and cushions in hopes they could find one before the adventure really got serious. Tonight is different though.

As I scan the room on this night the faces are different, you might even say changed. Their countenances expresses joy and happiness, contemplation and reflection, peace and comfort. Those that suffocated the testimony gently hold it in their possession understanding the purity of it and that it won’t get away from them if the take care of it. For the few that were turning the house over to find it, well they have in a way grown the most. Their youthful face are now rich in maturity, as if the know better who they are and what their purpose in life is to be. 

After a long night of combat with my assigned spot on the floor I retreat the the lazy boy down stairs. Months and months just replaying back through my wrestles mind. Even on little sleep the past few nights I am running on the most natural high of anticipation and emotion as possible. 

Peace of them Temple should calms ones soul. Standing in the room again looking at the now mature faces that have given their all I am humbly rushed yet once more into feelings of true charity, gratitude and appreciation to God for the privilege to be counted among them. My joy that moment was comparable to that of Alma when he recognize his brethren still in the Lord and their strength in learning gospel and studying of Gods word through the scriptures.

Baggage is now checked and its approaching time. I have participated in this routine more that my fair share. It is a much different adrenaline rush when its for you. Nobody can concentrate on smiling nice for the picture. We all know that once we walk through that security gate its over. We will never be able to turn back to the life that have provided so much for us. 

I try to avoid the process as long as I possibly can. President has began giving his hugs as normal and Sister Ware hers. The emotions of the other morning are back and as vibrant as ever. I turn to Sister Ware to see her face mobbed with sadness and tears. I have waited one long year for this hug, however I would do anything to change the circumstances. She held me with the loving embrace that only a mother can. It was the comfort and confidence I needed to experience. President for the first time I have seen also sheds tears as everyday citizens wonder why a bunch of young men and women are so worked up over walking through airport security. They can’t know that blood sweat and tears of what we have just done. They can’t comprehend the daily battle in Gods war to be won. Only we our closely woven family have forged the bond. A bond that can only be forged through sacred  emotional experiences. 

The engine is roaring for take off, about 50 yards from the plane and the only thing getting me there is my bodies natural ability to put one foot in front of the other. The heat is scorching through my suit and I am taken back to the hill in the distance one of the countless places there the memories are rich. That hill reminds of my first christmas from home. I see peoples faces, smell the food, remember the tears. 

After a little more than an hour in the air, I see the rocky mountains that are familiar to me since childhood. Its a weird experience to be taken from one extreme way of life to another. In a matter of one hour everything will change. I walk of the plane to absolutely gigantic mountains that I haven’t seen in literally years. Just the feeling of my feet on Utah soil was ironically invigorating and motivating. 

The race is on now, as we try to look collected and calm through the airport. We know that in just a matter of minutes we will see the faces of our loved ones that have supported us through our ups and downs. Only having a chance to Skype twice a year and communicate weekly through email makes a 2 year reunion more special that people can understand. 

We have all stayed together through the end. Yet as we turn the corner to descend down the escalator we see at the bottom a multitude of people with banners and signs crying and cheering for us. Really it was for us, I am only able to put my arm around my best friend and cup my mouth as my emotions are a clear as ever. I spot my mom first and hug her with no intention of letting go.  There the emotional bond is made as we shed tears I only wish I could have bottled up. To serve as a memory that we had returned with honor.