Those Thin Fashion Scarves and 4 Hours of Sleep

I think I've finally figure out what it means to be in the moment. No,I'm not talking about this ridiculous YOLO non-sense. That is a retarded person's way of justifying stupidity. I'm not talking about seizing the day either. No, this is a much more precious gift. There are moments in our life where the memory of one singular moment in time is so real and vibrant we remember it until the day we die with every vivid detail as though it were a still photograph we had studied for a life time. These moments can be either terrifying, or joyful. Either way we tend to be unable to recreate them on our own. Most of mine have been terrifying. Over the past 3 months I have had moments that have made me catch my breath, and generally made my heart beat almost through my chest. I have discovered the intimacy of simply holding hands. The magic in doing nothing more than touching your foreheads together and simply being that close to someone. Pressing your hand against someone else's as you smile uncontrollably. The way the breeze passes through your hair, and the flush feeling on your cheeks. Intimacy in all it's glory! I have always believed that BYU is a deal breaker. I wanted nothing to do with it. I applied to RICKs. My only college clothing from that particular round of college is a shirt that reads "Forever RICKS". I proudly own it. I am a Penn State fan regardless of the fact that Ricks became BYU-Idaho. I have bet against the Y, and I have cheered on Utah for years. I'm known for being able to play chess with humanity around me. I have successfully avoided having any direct contact with BYU people who weren't related to me by blood or marriage. I will go to Provo if that is where I am to be. I found a reason to forget the angst, and a person who was able to take the bad taste for BYU out of my mouth. Even better was that it was done in the most amazing, yet simple way. Based on the situation with the Major I have always had a skewed perspective of what beautiful is. I understood "beautiful" and "hot" to be the same. Thursday night I was taught that there is a difference. Beautiful is better than Hot. Beautiful is the thing that makes a woman great, and worth keeping. Hot is what turns you on, for lack of better vernacular. All this time I have tried to be what someone else wanted me to be. I've been a pin-up, I've been a beach bum, I've been a sophisticated woman, and a street racing shorty. I had a period where I figured out that I didn't want to be what the next duechebag wanted me to be, but I didn't know who I was. I figured out who I was and I've started living that. But I didn't feel beautiful. I felt "ok". Suddenly here I am looking into someone's eyes listening to Him tell me that I'm beautiful all the time. In my head I'm thinking " uhm, when I help out at football practice I'm sweaty, and gross, and usually not wearing make-up... not only that but you must clearly be forgetting that day you came over while I was sick and you made me dinner and I promptly threw it back up. there was NOTHING beautiful about that.". Looking closely, and trying to get every ounce of communication off the touch I'm getting to confirm it, I can see in His eye's and feel in His touch that He's serious. I've got to admit. I don't know what that means. What does it mean to be beautiful? How do you quantify that? Well, for the man who has been trying to teach me what that means I will move to Provo and bloom where I am planted. Looking in those eyes and watching the strength in the gentleness. . . I will forget the angst. Because You are the only exception.