Things Don't Happen For a Reason

I was going to title this post, "Things Don't Happen For a Reason, but Reason Can be Found in Things That Happen." but I figured that not only was that too long, but it was getting too philosophical with no explanation that it would just be a turn off to my two readers. And those two readers are vital to my success, so I don't dare say anything that might turn them off.

Yeah, I really don't believe that things happen for a reason. And I know this is totally controversial to all the people who believe that so many things happen for a reason, but it really just does not make sense to me. Do not get me wrong here. I am not saying that we should not try to make sense of our worlds. Rather, I am saying that so many things happen that are outside our control, and that so many things we choose could have turned out differently had we chosen the alternative, that it just doesn't make sense that things would happen for a reason, like it is our fate.

For example, there have been two times where I was leaving work and missed the bus and had to take the later bus. Both of those bus rides amounted to some of the most memorable bus rides. One, I basically helped a woman on drugs take care of her daughters, since she seemed to be completely confused on how to entertain them for a bus ride. The second time, I got talking with a Native American man who had been an alcoholic for 10 years and was soon homeless, wifeless and daughter-less. After being involved with Alcoholic Anonymous and changing a whole lot of things in his life, he is now currently working to save his second marriage.

Most likely neither of these experiences had a huge impact on any of the parties involved. But to me, I treasure them simply because they remind me of how lucky I have been and because they interrupted the mundane tasks of the day. Perhaps, these encounters did change the people involved. Maybe the mother felt motivated to get some help so she could be more involved in her daughter's life, or maybe the man, knowing of my impending marriage, felt even more motivated to take care of his wife. Either way, I don't believe it was destiny. I missed a bus because the cross walks from work to the bus stops were the orange hand, instead of the walking man. They did not all just realign for me because they knew I had to meet these people. But I am not cynical. I am grateful that I missed those buses because I will have the memories of those rides. I couldn't tell you what I missed back at home because of my half hour delay. But I could tell you that I had the chance to help someone, and learn and experience an interesting conversation from someone else.

Kindness

Lately I have been overwhelmed by how kind people have been to my husband and me. Honestly, in the last few weeks, I have realized how good of friends I have.

Two days prior to my getting married, my friends threw me a bridal shower. It was beautiful. They invited all of my friends, even ones they did not know or care for much, and put so much thought into everything. It was decorated beautifully with streamers and balloons, and there was so much food I thought I was going to explode. They bought prizes for winners of games and just made everyone, especially me, so comfortable. I was touched by not only the thought put into the party, but the thought and generosity put into the gifts from all of the guests. One of the hostesses actually just came by and gave me a beautiful cross stitching with the words, "Orr Family" on it and a beautiful picture of a flower.

At my shower, I was blessed to have my friends closest to me, and my friends not so close to me come. That later group touched me especially, as they were so much fun and I could just tell how happy they were for me. It was so special. I love it when I can feel closeness from people whom I usually don't feel it from. For example, one of the guests at our reception was my best friend from elementary school, and aside from an occasional hello on Facebook, we really haven't talked much in the last six years or so. But she and her mom came to my reception, stayed the whole time and just seemed genuinely happy for me. I absolutely loved that.

My mom made my wedding dress in less than two weeks and it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Two weeks before the wedding, I was going to buy my dress, but I changed my mind after a really cool experience. I love my mom; she is one of the kindest, good, and hard working people I have ever met. But she has never really been the emotional/passionate type like my dad and I are. But when she found out that I was going to buy the dress, it really hurt her. And it surprised me that it hurt her. And it surprised her that it hurt her. And I realized that there have been only a few times in my life where I can really emotionally connect with my mom, and sometimes I realize how much I want that. So I had her make my dress because it meant so much to me to have something mean so much to her. And it was gorgeous and I am so happy that she was willing to give me that gift.

While moving into our apartment, random strangers have just offered to carry stuff for us up our three-story apartment. When we first got home from our honeymoon, we were greeted with a cooler full of food: pizzas, milk, muffins, drinks, candy, sunflower seeds. Turns out my sister and her husband left it there for us. It was small, but we were stressed with trying to figure out some food at midnight in Provo. Just this evening, our friends in our apartment made us dinner just because they knew we were missing a bunch of stuff from our apartment.

I feel so blessed with friends, family and strangers who have helped Landon and me over the last few weeks. It has been so overwhelming and so great, that I have barely touched on the different acts of service. From throwing Landon a surprise birthday party, to hosting and planning two gorgeous receptions, to designing cakes and power points, to giving us very generous gifts, the people in our lives have been very kind.

Wedding Crasher

Weddings are beautiful. Weddings are romantic. Weddings are one of the most awkward social gatherings known to mankind. And what makes a typical wedding even more awkward? Being the uninvited guest that nobody knows and few care to get to know.

I spent the last weekend accompanying my sister, Brooke, in a trip to Idaho. One of her best friends was getting married and since I rarely get to spend time with her, we figured I should join her for the ride and catch up.

But from the time the wedding festivities started, and until the end, I just felt like a disfigured animorph sitting in a crowd of a Utopian society. Before dinner at the bride's parents' home was ready, I took a nap in the guest room. I did not sleep long because kids kept coming in thinking I was there mom (I wasn't. That would make me a momimorph. Small joke). Then at dinner all of these kids kept staring at me, and I kept staring at them because they were funny and entertaining and I could divert myself from forcing conversation with the adults. I wanted to tell them that I wasn't a creep, but that I work at a day care and that I find prepubescent culture fascinating. Somehow I knew that would make things worse, so I just sat there and tried not to stare.

Brooke introduced us to the wedding party and for the rest of the evening, she said things like "she is my sister" or "she loves frog eye salad." I swear, people thought "she" was a mute. A mute eating all of their food.

The next day I was babysitting two infants whom I can confidentally declare did not find me the least bit creepy. But in the same room were the eight kids from the day before. There was no way to avoid feeling like a creep. I obviously looked like an adult and should thus be at the wedding. Since I am not, I must be an an adult reject. Which kids know is the one thing worse than a child reject. But we were stuck in a room no bigger than the size of the average college student's kitchen, and I was just looking at babies. They are boring. So I watched the kids. And at one point I was trying to help an older sister keep her younger brother quiet, but she completely ignored me. Reject adult? You bet.

Finally the wedding festivities were coming to an end. I was eating at the luncheon when I felt a little tap on my shoulder so I looked back. I caught the eye of one of the little girls who immediately looked away and ran. I glanced over and a group of little kids were just staring atme. Something was going on. I stood up to leave and a few kids were walking back and forth behind me. I gave one of them a slightly annoyed "what are you doing" look. They giggled and walked away.

By now I am just frustrated. If there is one thing I hate more than secrets, it is little girls thinking they are hilarious for their secrets. I know it is pathetic, but I guess it just reminds me of my won catty elementary school days.

Brooke and I were about to leave and were packing food for the road. An elderly lady says to me, "I don't know if you know this, but there is a piece of tape on your back. Let me help you."

That was it. Some bad-a child dared another bad-a to put a piece of tape on my back. It was kinda funny. It kinda hurt. I mean, I didn't ask to me the creepy weirdo adult/child (childimorph?). But then again, I can not blame them. I probably would have done the same thing. Just more bad-a, like a 'kick me' sign.

In Sickness and In Health

Yesterday I saw something that I don't think I will ever forget. It happened in one of those moments where I realized how precious life is and the love that we find and give to other people.

I was walking out of Ikea, still laughing about my 6 inch hot dog, when I noticed a beautiful young couple and their two young children. The kids were running ahead toward the exit; the dad shouting for them to slow down, and the mother slowly moving behind. It looked like any other family except for one thing: the mother was in a wheel chair and could not move her body and did not have any legs.

But she was beautiful. Her long blonde hair had been neatly curled and pulled back in a styling flower-clip. Her face, despite being lopsided, glowed and was completely made up. I was instantly drawn to this family, as the father wanted to catch up to his running children, yet was loyal and walked near his wife. I thought about the fact that she did look so beautiful, yet her arms were stuck near her trunk and I would be very surprised that she had the ability to put on make-up. Her husband did it for her because he knew she wanted to feel beautiful.

I can't help but think about families like this. How did she get hurt? Where was he when he found out? What kind of experiences will those kids have as compared to their peers? What is their love life like? Did people try to talk him into leaving her? Will he one day? Does she feel like she could understand if he did?

But from what I could tell, none of those questions mattered. The family, despite its obvious trials, were enjoying a day of shopping just like any other family. It was obvious that the husband love his wife dearly and was determined to not let her feel any more pain than she already had. Perhaps those children will grow up better than kids who have active moms in their lives just because they had a real, true example of unconditional love.

When I see these heart-breaking, yet beautiful families, I realize how grateful I am for everything I have. I have a job. I have a new nephew. I have a fiancée who I know would always stay with me. I have parents and sisters and a brother-in-law who sacrifice for me. I have education. I have my religion. I have freedom. Shame on me for ever feeling sorry for myself. Shame on me for ever feeling scare of the future, when I have such an amazing life now and I don't want to waste a second of it.

I am sure that family doesn't want my pity. It doesn't want me to be comparing myself to it. I am sure that they feel grateful for their wife and mother to be alive and they are physically able to help her out. And that is what makes me feel grateful most of all.

Hot Dog, Hot Dog, Hot Diggity Dog

So it has been awhile and I have to say that I think I have just been lacking inspiration for a bit. But that is now over, as I have a wedding to plan, a new job, no car and time that wants to be filled. So lets get down to business.

Yesterday I was walking in the giant room in Ikea, you know the one that is factory sized where people can grab the bed that they had been trying out in other sections of the store. And as I was walking to the check-out area, I couldn't help but notice an advertisement in the store about the size of a billboard. On it was a giant hot dog, about 20 feet long. It was on sale for 50 cents. But beneath the hot dog was this interesting description: *not actual size.

Really? How did that description get there? Was there once an Ikea customer who asked for the 20 foot hot dog in the advertisement only to be disappointed and complain to corporate about false advertisements? I can just see it now...

Customer: Yes, I would like two hot dogs.

Server: Here you go sir. One dollar.

Customer: These are only like 6 inches long.

Server: Yeah, our dogs are about average for the market.

Customer: Well your sign sure makes them seem like they are going to be at least 15 feet long!

Server: Sir, its a hot dog...

After that, Ikea endures a long battle of trials and lawsuits only to find that they must now change all of their advertisements to warn customers that this lunch is in fact, the average size of a hot dog, and not the length of a limousine. I am sure that this desperate endeavor has saved many a customer from disappointment.

Its kinda like when you are a little kid and you think that maybe the pieces of cereal are going to be the size of the cereal on the box. But every time, there it is, written, "Enlarged to show texture." But I guess I can understand the dissapointment is bigger for dwarfed hot dog. I mean a 20 foot dog and a 6 inch dog is a 40:1 ratio. Enlarged fruit loops to actual fruit loops is about a 2:1 ration. I guess if you are the kind of person who gets upset by the deceiving breakfast cereal boxes, the Ikea hot dog would be a heartbreaking ordeal.

Women of New York, Bore Your Selves!

Okay so I am presently setting a number of goals for myself, which is why the title suggests that this is boring. I am not saying that striving to live by my goals will be boring, but more like reading about goals are boring. So if you would like to skip over this post, you could find more important things to do.

Today I learned that not only should I write down my goals, but I should also try to make them as detailed as possible and realize how important it is to have God incorporated in everything I strive to do.

1. Write in my blogs at least once a week

I will dedicate Sunday and Tuesday scripture study to making a missionary blog.

2. Go to the temple and volunteer somewhere once a week

I will attend the temple on Thursdays and I will volunteer to work with kids for at least an hour per week.

3. Do better with the media I consume

I want to stay away from things that bring my mentality down and things that are crude. I will do this by finding out about a movie or show before I watch it, and turn things off if they push away the Spirit.

4. Watch my thoughts, words and actions better

Oftentimes I regret the things that I say and do and I realize it is because I am in a habit of thinking a certain way. So when I find myself wanting to make a crude joke or if I find myself thinking badly about myself, I will substitute that thought with something better.

5. Try to figure out what I want to be doing with myself: ie mission? study abroad? field study?

I am researching all of my options. I will read what I can, talk to people, pray about things, figure out budgets.

6. Put school first

When I need to be studying, I will study

Familial Roles

I have got to start this blog by saying that I love my family. I love them a ton. I really do. I love them so much.
Ok, glad I got that off of my chest; this concept of my love needs to be remembered as I take on one dear topic that has been on my mind. But, in case you didnt infer it from before, here it is one more time: I love my family. But man, do they just rub me the wrong way sometimes!
Now before this becomes reminiscent of a prepubescent girl's tear-stained diary in which there is nothing but rants and bucket loads of generalizations (not to generalize those lovely, mosquito-bitten young ladies) I need to start over by just explaining my reputation. (If for some reason you have been too dense to know it, everyone in a family has a reputation. Guarantee you have one. Suck on that.)
They call me the joke. No, scratch that. They would never call me the joke, I am just known as one. It is implied and everybody knows it, even without talking about it. Not like they don't talk about it; they do. I bring you a situation that took place sometime in the last 48 hours:

(Robyn leaves something out and its now really bugging her family that she didn't put it away...or she spilled something...or she forgot to do something...or she did it but didn't do it as thorough as she should...something happened)
"Robyn, why did you leave that there? You know dad-," Holly stops abruptly. "Sorry, we are trying to not lecture you so much."
"Wait, its a family endeavor to not lecture me so much?" I asked in disgust.
She smiled and chuckled. "Don't take it personally. We are just trying."

Now I ask myself how it is that I missed the family addressing this important endeavor. Did they just wait around all day until I finally took a shower and then discussed how they can deal with "my problem." Did they wake up Christmas morning while I was asleep and previewed the presents while discussing how they can assist me in my times of trial (AKA the last 7,625 days- I just checked how many days I have lived. Try it out: http://www.beatcanvas.com/daysalive.asp)
Well I guess that's nice. On the one hand, its cool they like me. On the other hand it is frustrating to live by myself and take care of myself and deal with my struggles of unthoroughness ( I just made that up!!) and then come home and fall into those same situations where everything that can go wrong does go wrong. And the biggest problem of it all: I do it to myself.
I do not know why. But as soon as I come home, I become lazy around the house. I forget to feed myself. I am reminded of all the ways in which I didn't take care of my money. And perhaps I am like this when I am away at school. But because it is expected of me to make a mess of myself, it becomes very apparent that I do just make messes.