happiness is:

staying up too late to read a book.

staying up too late to read a book while sitting next to your husband (who is watching a tv show). 

good books. 

really good books that make you cry. 

turning in a 20 page paper. (can you say accomplishment?)

getting a call from a professor about an open internship for next year. 

rocking the interview for said internship. 

getting hired for your first teaching job ever. 

as a real teacher.

not actually having to do student teaching. 

hugs from nieces and nephews. 

teaching sunday lessons that go well. 

finishing a final. 

birthday weeks.

eating ice cream from the container.

finishing a semester.

finding lists about your blessings you wrote when you were 13(ish).

best friends.

making birthday plans.

the prospect of summer bike rides and road trips.

things just working out and fitting nicely together.

that's the happiest of all.

dear wellies,

Seeing you around town on a rainy day is like seeing an old friend: always comforting and full of good memories. I must admit, I put you on every chance I get. Your hunter logo and cool gray color never disappoint. I think of that time you were with me as I climbed to the top of St. Paul's with some of my favorite people. There was also that time in the Lake District on that hike where we ate the famous gingerbread and hung out with Peter Rabbit. And yes, that was the time I fell in the river. I might have trusted you a little too much. But of course, it wasn't your fault. Remember Italy? Salzburg and Prague? In Germany you didn't keep me as warm as I might have liked, but still. You took me to the places of dreams and others things I can't quite describe.

So I suppose this is thank you. Times one million and three. These rainy days are filled with hundreds of only the loveliest of memories thanks to you.

With all sorts of love,

molly jane xo

PS wellies in action

what I'll tell my kids someday.

The story. The one you dream of telling your children and your children's children. The one I'm sure we'll tell over and over again, and be happy to do so. The one that overtime will be muddled and exaggerated, but always told with love.

Someday, I'll probably tell them things like this:

When it began it was slow and different and good.
He was patient and loving and kind.
I was confused and flattered and happy.

We began to date. And date. And date.
And when I say date...I mean we went on dates. Every weekend. He reserved me.

There are a couple parts that are hard to explain. Years of inexplicable time. Lots of comings and goings--mentally and physically. And that's just it. It had a lot to do with time. Timing. Not my timing, not his. But the Lord's timing. Which I can promise you, is real.

And here is where I can promise those kids of mine, that I'll be telling this story to, how individually and personally their Heavenly Father knows them. Truly, He does. And how do I know this? Because He shows me. He knew I needed the fight. I needed to know. I needed to be sure. I needed someone who wouldn't give up on me. Someone who would be patient with me.

This isn't to say he was perfect. Neither of us were. And just so they know, this fighting was never really with each other, only for. We wanted to be together, just didn't know how or when or why. But it was clear, no one was giving up.

And here is the part in the story where I plan on telling them about those moments. The overwhelming moments, the ones that feel like you're looking at the most beautiful scene in the entire world. The sun rising after climbing to the top of a mountain. Walking across the Millennium bridge staring at St. Paul's. Standing on a fortress in Salzburg, in the snow, watching the sun go down. All of those seem small compared to the moments I spent just quietly sitting next to him, feeling goodness. Quiet, loving, wonderful, goodness.

Then I'll reassure them over and over again that sometimes things hit you in the face. Hard. And sometimes they are little tiny whispers on an airplane like, "I can't imagine what a day would be like without some small trace of you."

I'll probably stress (deeply) how utterly important it is to really love the ones you love. Be sweet to them. Care for them. Don't ever let them wonder. Because without those people, the ones that you see everyday, or the ones you don't, your life wouldn't mean much. Without those big love feelings, the small, oreo-eating-sitting-on-the-couch-watching-tv-moments wouldn't mean as much either. And I like to think that those I-just-like-being-with-you-because-we-laugh-a-lot moments are expressions of the big love feelings, but hardly noticeable when you don't let them know. Or you don't recognize them as such moments.

I'll tell them how I fell in love with their daddy because he is smart and he thinks so differently than me. He is quirky and goofy. And I knew he'd make the best dad. He is good at everything I am not. He loves the gospel, he absolutely adores me, and I can't think of anything else you really need.

side note: I wrote this months ago but never posted it. I have found that everything in it still stands, even truer than it did before. I had some stuff to figure out. and I did. I figured it all out. I'm quite happy to say that I'm getting married!!! And I decided that nothing would make me happier when I realized I've always loved having Jeffrey in my life and I can't stand the idea of not being with him forever. 

summer goals:

Someone asked me the other day what my Summer goals were.
I didn't have a good answer.

and that made me sad.

I told him I just want to have fun. 

because girls just wanna have fun, right?

For some reason, Summer is my unluckiest of all the seasons. 

which is weird, because it's generally best for everyone else, right?

I have already sworn to myself that this one will be good though, great even. 

because

I'm reading and growing and figuring things out. 

I'm flying to New York City. (spontaneous purchase, thank you very much)

I'm going to ride my bike. 

I'm being optimistic.

I'm loving myself. 

I'm cloud gazing.

I'm being quiet. 

but also loud. 

And I'm taking every bit of sunshine I can get (whether it comes from the sun, or not). 

"...however late you think you are, however many chances you think you have missed, however many mistakes you feel you have made or talents you think you don’t have, or however far from home and family and God you feel you have traveled, I testify that you have not traveled beyond the reach of divine love. It is not possible for you to sink lower than the infinite light of Christ’s Atonement shines."

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland

I believe in:

 


simplicity.

laughing out loud.

kindness.

scars.

dancing in the kitchen.

eating cupcakes.

turning pages.

getting flowers.

bookshelves full of books.

singing in the car.

listening to one song a million times over.

writing.

loving my heavenly father.

sunday dinners.

prettiness.

being ladylike.

napping on the beach.

riding bikes.

prayers.

dreaming up vacations.

talking it out.

driving with the windows down.

bookstores.

and

stars.

always 

stars.

oh, love.

Read this love letter by Richard Feynman. It is the sweetest thing. I can barely stand it. 

[source]

In June of 1945, Arline Feynman — high-school sweetheart and wife of the hugely influential physicist, Richard Feynman — passed away after succumbing to tuberculosis. She was 25-years-old. 16 months later, in October of 1946, Richard wrote his late wife the following love letter and sealed it in an envelope. It remained unopened until after his death in 1988.

(Source: Genius: The Life and Science of Richard Feynman)

October 17, 1946

D’Arline,

I adore you, sweetheart.

I know how much you like to hear that — but I don't only write it because you like it — I write it because it makes me warm all over inside to write it to you.

It is such a terribly long time since I last wrote to you — almost two years but I know you'll excuse me because you understand how I am, stubborn and realistic; and I thought there was no sense to writing.

But now I know my darling wife that it is right to do what I have delayed in doing, and that I have done so much in the past. I want to tell you I love you. I want to love you. I always will love you.

I find it hard to understand in my mind what it means to love you after you are dead — but I still want to comfort and take care of you — and I want you to love me and care for me. I want to have problems to discuss with you — I want to do little projects with you. I never thought until just now that we can do that. What should we do. We started to learn to make clothes together — or learn Chinese — or getting a movie projector. Can't I do something now? No. I am alone without you and you were the "idea-woman" and general instigator of all our wild adventures.

When you were sick you worried because you could not give me something that you wanted to and thought I needed. You needn’t have worried. Just as I told you then there was no real need because I loved you in so many ways so much. And now it is clearly even more true — you can give me nothing now yet I love you so that you stand in my way of loving anyone else — but I want you to stand there. You, dead, are so much better than anyone else alive.

I know you will assure me that I am foolish and that you want me to have full happiness and don't want to be in my way. I'll bet you are surprised that I don't even have a girlfriend (except you, sweetheart) after two years. But you can't help it, darling, nor can I — I don't understand it, for I have met many girls and very nice ones and I don't want to remain alone — but in two or three meetings they all seem ashes. You only are left to me. You are real.

My darling wife, I do adore you.

I love my wife. My wife is dead.

Rich.

PS Please excuse my not mailing this — but I don't know your new address.

....

What did you think? Part of me wanted to cry.
What a man. What a love. What a letter.

a [public] love note for my valentine.

 

one.

The way you laugh. When you're really laughing.

two.

The way you hold my hand.

three.

The way you look at me like you couldn't adore anything more.

four.
The way you play with my nephews. (And how they love you).

five.

How much you love chocolate. LOVE it.

six.

How you sing when I least expect it. And when it's surprisingly applicable.

seven.

How you surprise me every day. In the best of ways.

eight.

How hard you work for things. 

nine.

That you're my little reminder. To be better (and not forget things).

ten.

That your mind is possibly the most analytical thing I've ever encountered.

eleven.

That you're always there for me. Even when I don't ask you to be.

twelve.

That you're probably the most patient guy I know :)

but...

Happy Valentine's Day, Jeffrey!

I kind of love you and stuff. 

what I love about full moons.

they are perfect for making you all sorts of
nervous.
confident.
scared.
intrigued.
wonderstruck.
hurt.

I guess that's just the way it is.

dear full moon,

please spotlight the grass, and let us hide under the trees.

most likely the sprinklers will come on and soak us.

but oh, won't it be fun?

a good story, if nothing else, to be sure.

sincerely,

me (a moon also)
PS. thanks for being beautiful.

I find happiness in:

grilled cheese sandwiches. craving.
chicken nuggets and mac and cheese. apparently my life revolves around unhealthy food. 
simplicity.
wearing hats.
things that smell good.
a really cute swimsuit.
my nephew calling me molly jane. or just jane. in his cute little two-year-old voice.
watching basketball with my brother.
the sound of rain on the roof.

a love letter.

Dear Mom,

There are too many reasons why I love you. And around 78394765 reasons why you are such an incredible mom. I feel like I really lucked out in life, because I have you. You're my best friend and most of the time, I'd rather hang out with you than anyone else.

I must admit I really do love it when you come to my bathroom door at the end of the night begging for details. And how you will drive me to McDonalds past midnight when my (dramatic) life calls for a coke and chicken nuggets.

Thanks for not always saying "I told you so" even though you really, always, were and are right.

I know I can count on you (without fail) to check for earrings, lipgloss, and to make sure I smell good. And I really, really like knowing that you care. Even about the small stuff.

You're wonderful, and I hope you know that.
Love always,

Molly Jane

PS Hurry and come to Texas, I need help with my laundry. (JOKE)

dear finals,

I love the idea that you are the end of my semester. And once you are over, I get to celebrate Christmas and do whatever I want until January. I hate that you won't end for another week (and I haven't studied hardly at all).

I'm happy to be done with this semester, but sad to leave some of my awesome classes.