After Rain

I like to look for rainbows

Whenever there is rain

And ponder on the rooftop

Of an earth made clean again

I like to walk through rainstorms

It wipes my years away

And reminds me who's there beside me

Each and every day

I like to drink in moonlight

It fills my lungs with light

And even in the darkest times

The surrounding space is bright

I knew when I was baptized

My sins were washed away

Now I can be forgiven

And improve myself each day

I know when I'm not righteous

In lose sight of who I am

And I feel alone and hopeless

That I can't when I know I can

I know when I remember

What I knew when I was small

I can be wiped clean again

If I only give my all

I want my life to be as clean

As earth right after rain

I want to be the best I can

To live with God again

Insomnia

I guess I don't blog how other people do. I don't post pictures of myself and update on how my life is going... I don't have an audience for that. Honestly, I write whatever comes to my mind because it gives the illusion that I'm telling people how I feel. I'm never good at that. I have so many opportunities, but its always the same thing that gets me. How much do they really want to know? When they ask if I am okay, do they want an answer, or is it because it's common courtesy.. I don't get myself, so how am I supposed to get other people? A teacher told me today, after assigning an essay, "It's easy, it's all about you!" ...... How little she knows that I can't write about me. When people say, "Tell me about yourself," the initial reaction I have is always the same. I say that I love writing and reading, and that I love kids and want to be an elementary school teacher. That's it. I'm done then. When I write, my thoughts are incomplete, and I don't write for any other reason than to satisfy all these raging thoughts that will not leave me alone. It's worse at night. Lying awake while the house is silent, all except for the air conditioning that makes a whistle and my ceiling fan on high that clicks because the high setting makes it shake. I count shadows that the trees cast through my window, but it can't push away the onslaught of emotions and wave of loneliness. I have tried many things: music, scriptures, novels, conference talks, silence, writing.. but nothing compares to the feeling I used to get when I would lay on my roof in Maryland and look up at the stars. I felt closer to Heaven somehow, and yet at that time in my life I knew I was very far from it. I'm not there and I won't ever be again, but the loneliness remains. Some people can make me laugh and smile no matter how horrible I feel. It's ironic that I feel alone when I have a best friend like Emma to cheer me every day, but I do. I'm glad I always have people around me during the day. There, I said it. I like people. But I hate them too. I like being alone, but during insomnia periods, awake voices are so very welcome. Sometimes I wish I could tell people things again, but my trust is gone. I cannot lean on others, no matter how alone and lost I feel.

On Change and Words

I am always amazed at the inconsistency of change. I have changed so much and so little. I want the same things, but I shoot for different goals.. It's too complex an idea to even comprehend. So when I turn back and read things I have written in the past, sometimes it is a bullet to my chest, because my fourteen year-old self knew something that I have all but forgotten at seventeen. How does that happen? for example, when I was about ten years old, I was in the climax of my journal writing career. I wrote every day all day, mostly about nothing. But on the back of my 5th journal (I am currently on number 16), it says "It's easy to ignore boys when you're happy." ....What on earth?? How did I know that then? And why couldn't I have known that as a miamaid? a laurel? ...where is the ten year-old inside of me now? I want her back, but all the same I would lose what I now have: knowledge, and more importantly: faith.
In light of all these storms, there is a poem I wrote when I was a miamaid about storms. It is called "The Voyage" and part of it reads (as I still remember)
Sometimes the lord sends a lifeline
sometimes the wind carries us home
but we have to build our own paddles
a boat we can't build alone
that's why God sent us shipmates
to help when the work gets hard
How was I that mature at fourteen, I hope I will know one day. I also wonder if words such as the ones above, escape my pen because of... something. What that something may be I don't know. People are telling me I'm a "wordsmith" but it's easy to bend words. They are there for the bending and utilizing. It's harder to bend actions, and actions speak louder than words. However, I only seem to be good at the word part.. When it comes to action, let's just say I have a special turtle shell to crawl into. I don't know what made me that way, but I have an idea.

I'm Following in His Ways

Seminary Graduation was tonight and I had the opportunity to speak to everyone in attendance. To be honest, this is the first talk I have ever written with my heart. Here it is:

          When I was a freshman going into seminary for the first time, I didn’t know quite what to expect. It was early, and I really didn’t know how to feel about going to church every single morning, but after the first lesson, I was hooked. My seminary teacher taught us a very important lesson about our time on earth, and how short it is compared to eternity. This small principle, though I’d heard it a dozen times, helped me understand how short our time is on earth and that’s exactly why it is so important we do all we can to make it back to our Father in Heaven.

            I have enjoyed studying the four different gospels each year: Beginning with the Book of Mormon my freshman year, and ending my senior year studying the New Testament. This year in Seminary, I made a personal goal to read the entire New Testament, master all 25 scriptures, and to be open and attentive during the lessons. With these goals in mind, I would like to share with you four things I have learned this year in seminary.

            First, I have learned that the early morning is the best time for personal revelation. It is amazing what you can learn and receive through the spirit when you are up early hours before the rest  the world. Reading the New Testament, at first, it was difficult to feel like I was learning anything new at all. Stories are told over and over again, but in different accounts. But in these accounts, I was able to better understand the harsh life that was put before out Savior: Beautiful miracles that he performed, inspiring words that he spoke, countless people whose hearts were changed. These things, I realized, would not be known unto us if the apostles Matthew, Mark, Luke and John had not written of the Savior. This realization greatly increased my testimony of journal writing. We never know how our writings will affect others in future generations, and so I made a personal goal to do much better in keeping record of my own life, in my journal.

            Second. I have increased my understanding of the scriptures by recognizing how interconnected the Book of Mormon is with the New Testament. Finishing up this year with the Book of Revelations, both in seminary and my personal reading, was not as difficult as I had imagined. Yes, much was confusing, but much more made sense. I have grown to understand that Nephi and the apostle John received the same visions, revelations, and commandments. Two different disciples of the Lord, in two very different time periods, to receive the same witness of Jesus Christ and His everlasting Gospel. This BLEW my mind. Never before had I thought that two men like John and Nephi could be so related, even though they lived hundreds of years apart. I had always believed, prior to studying the testaments, that the Book of Mormon was the essential book of scripture in the gospel, and though that much is true, I failed to understand a simple truth that we have been taught since we are little children: that the Bible is the word of God, and all that may be unclear within its pages are revealed and understood through the Joseph Smith translations, the Book of Mormon, and our latter-day leaders of the church. And if the Bible is the word of God, and the Book of Mormon I the word of god, how could they NOT be related, how could they not be the same book? I testify to you that they are indeed one scripture. 

            Third, I have a growing desire to live as the savior did. Reading of Him and His miracles have been astounding and beautiful, but they are nothing unless I take that into my own life. I know that I cannot have the power to do the things He did, but I can strive with everything within me to obtain His kindness, His mercy, His forgiveness, His understanding, His perfection. I have read and studied the suffering of our Savior in Gethsemane many times. But this year, I gained an understanding of just how much He suffered for us. To think that he suffered for my sins alone is both heartbreaking, and heartwarming. He suffered for us, so that we may have he opportunity to live with Him and His father, who is our Father. To do so, we must strive very day to be like Christ, and follow in His ways.

Lastly, I know I want to be able to recognize the Savior as if I’ve seen him every day of my life. I am moved by an account in the book of Luke that Elder Henry B. Eyring retold in this last general conference. Two of the disciples walked [one] afternoon from Jerusalem on the road to Emmaus. The resurrected Christ appeared on the road and walked with them. The Lord had come to them. “And it came to pass, that, while they communed together and reasoned, Jesus himself drew near, and went with them. But their eyes were holden that they should not know him. And he said unto them, ‘What manner of communications are these that ye have one to another, as ye walk, and are sad?’ And the one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answering said unto him, ‘Art thou only a stranger in Jerusalem, and hast not known the things which are come to pass there in these days?’ They told Him of their sadness that Jesus had died when they had trusted He would be of Israel. There must have been affection in the risen Lord’s voice as He spoke to these two sorrowful and mourning disciples: Then he said unto them, ‘O fools, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken: Ought not Christ to have suffered these things, and to enter into his glory?’ And beginning at and all the prophets, he expounded unto them in all the scriptures the things concerning himself.” And on another account, there is a parallel in C.S. Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia. In the final book, Aslan is standing behind a circle of dwarves. He calls to them, but they do not hear. He roars, but they think it is the wind. He leaves them in dissapointment, because they no longer recognize their creator. I know that I do not ever want to be the one who does not recognize my Savior when He walks beside me, when He stands behind me, and when He carries me through the trials. So, too, should you strive with all your heart to recognize the Savior, for I know that He is there every day for you, and how can we not recognize our creator, when we are here; we live, because He lives.

Elder Neil L. Anderson said, “You have come to this earth at a glorious time. The opportunities before you are nearly limitless.” But he also warned, “We have been placed on earth in troubled times.” 3 “It is a time of permissiveness, with society in general routinely disregarding and breaking the laws of God. The adversary is using every means possible to ensnare us in his web of deceit.” I would like to take this time to tell all those who will attend or are currently attending seminary: One of these opportunities, is seminary. It will allow you to escape the web of the adversary, and continue on towards eternal life.

           

            

Musings

I know its been awhile. but from the last tine i posted here to now, they might as well have been two different people. for much has changed. I'm feeling a little nostalgic this morning, but not for my old home. For my old self. I changed my profile picture, because it was really outdated and I was way chubbier in it.. But I almost want it back. I look into those eyes in that picture and I don't recognize that girl. She is too old to be me. Me: Julianna Marie Dover, seventeen years old.. but not for long, huh? Not for long. Soon I'm going to be in college, at least I hope so. Soon I am going to be on a mission, soon I will be an adult, not a child. (Not that I will ever be inclined to act like one when I am with the best of friends). There's another thing: friends. My friends, regardless of location change, have changed so much. My laurels have influenced me beyond reason and I am so grateful for their influence and love. I used to use this journal as a way to express myself darkly, to write out the pains of my heart in verse, in riddles. But it wasn't riddles. None of my poems really are, they're forward. They tell it how it is, because I write the truth, I write with my heart, not my hands. There. There it is, do you see? I have changed and I do not know how I am this old already. It seems only yesterday I was that little girl swimming in the neighborhood pool, hiding from crushes, fighting with siblings, making up games at night with my sister instead of sleeping, laughing so hard i couldn't breathe, over something silly like my older sister's hair in front of her face.. having us all in the same house. It won't ever happen again, and I don't really like it. All the same, reading about my leader's happiness, and seeing my parents and their siblings happy together with children and eternal families, I want that so bad. I want to grow up and fulfill my role as mother, teacher, wife.. but those words are too foreign to me now. I can't even look at myself in the mirror without feeling odd yet. How can I stand to grow up so much and watch others change, when changing myself is hard? Granted, I like change. I relish it, for if things always stayed the same, I'm pretty sure I would be a nutcase. I love moving around, I am so grateful for it. Otherwise, I would be stuck in the same ditch that I was before. You know, I know I had those experiences for a reason. I know that I fell and was cut down so that I could grow stronger. I know that I was given a gift of words because I could influence others.. maybe.. with them. Sometimes I feel down because I know others can write just as well, or even better, than I can. Take my Young Women's leader, for example. She always tells me that I have such a wonderful gift with my words, my poetry. This I know, but does <i>she </i>know that she posesses the same gift? I read her words, her blog. Several times (not that I'm a stalker, i mean, it's out in public so I could read it without even signing into blogger, I just loved it all so much). She is just as good with words, if not better, than I am. So why give me a gift others have? Is mine different? Do i have a different purpose? I do not know. There are many things I don't know. However, I relish not knowing because it's wonder that drives me on. It's love for the atonement and the gospel that gives me strength to move on and have courage and faith in my changing reflection. Nostalgia will go away soon, I know this, because, eventually, I'm going to have to accept that my childhood is over. The rest of my life may not be fairies and dragons, but then it never was, was it. I am different. to match a different world. But I am still me, still Julianna... Jules. I am still Jules. Just like the gospel is still the same, and will always be there for me when the world tries to change who I am again.