Something I Found

When the Troops Come Home

You know that song they play when the troops come home? When the trumpets ring out loud and proud. The piccolo pierces right through the air like the last battle’s final gunshot. The drums beat fast like the rookie soldier's fluttering heart. And the voices. The voices sing out liberated and victorious just like the crowd expects.

On the side of the street though, looking on, is a hobbled old man, and he knows. He listens, and he hears the sorrowful aftertone of the false voices. He looks, and he sees the ghosts of comrades lost on their smile-plastered faces. He feels and he weeps at the poor boys, torn from their childhood and robbed of their youth.

Everyone who went to Nom died. Even if their sorry lifeless bodies managed to trudge their way back to the states, they never really returned. There was no trace if those boys left. All that remained were people, possibly not even human, with memories to forget and nights to waste away in tortured consciousness.

Soldiers.

Later those soldiers shuffle into bars, pubs, and saloons. Not to talk, not to mingle, but to try to forget, and fail ever so bitterly at it too. In a circle, they all sit without speaking, silently dying away inside, until one stands and with eyes too sore to cry and a voice too lost to crack, he utters the words, “Hail,” and then louder, “Hail the victorious dead!” One by one they take up the cry like a old forgotten, but familiar song until every onlooker quiets in honorable reverence. Life starts to creep back into the voices of the hardened men as they begin to weep with shameless tears and hope begins to arise that just maybe, things will get better.

The cry dies though. Silence envelops them, and once again the world takes its strangling yet 

customary place upon their shoulders. That flicker of light behind their eyes dies, and the memories 

settle back in as the rejuvenating tears fade away, almost as if they had never emerged. The bodies sit. 

The misunderstanding clattering of voices resurface. The dead men remain silent. They stare. They drink. 

They remember. They regret. They grow old. They become hobbled. They stand on the the side of the 

street and with silent screams in their beings and the most sorrowful of tears in their hearts, they watch. 

They watch the next sons of America plaster smiles on their faces and march through the streets to that 

same old song. The song they play when they think the troops come home.

10. Conclusion

I started this blog as an assignment and because of that I was required to pick a theme for my blog when I began. However, as time went on I didn't exactly stay true to the theme I picked. I had intended to focus this blog on my family and how much they impact my life and after the first few posts, I kind of strayed from that. I think it is partly because this an assignment and I didn't have the complete freedom I would like to post about whatever I wanted, and partly because I do not have the opportunity to interact with my family as much as I used to, now that I am at college. I notice that I have posted a lot of quotes. I like them because they are inspiring and they uplift me. Thinking about it now I realize that I need those quotes in my life so much because now that I am on my own I don't have my family here to encourage me and now I must rely on the quotes. My family has not been replace; I still need them very much, but I am on the road to becoming self-reliant and that, I can see now, is a very good thing.

Words of Wisdom From the Wise #12

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not whither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

-J.R.R. Tolkien 

9. New Media

In our time, even if we don't want it to, media has become almost essential. It's everywhere, people are using it to run businesses, contact old friends, and learn things they never would have had the opportunity to learn before. Of course there are also bad things about media today, and we need to be extra cautious of those.

Elder David A. Bednar gave two separate talks that spoke about new Mmedia and while the are opposing, they are both equally important. His first talk, "Things as They Really Are," warned about the dangers of new media and pleaded with people to not get sucked in. There have been times when it has literally ruined lives. On the other hand, media has done great things as well! We can spread the gospel to even more places all over the world, individuals who don't take well to speaking to people in person about religion have the opportunity to learn about it online, and we have made great breakthroughs in knowledge, science and medicine as a result of the advances we've made.

Media is a tool and just like any tool, in the wrong hands it can do horrible things, but in the right hands it can work miracles. In trying to make the world a better place, we need to take this tool and use it for good purposes. Better lives and spread happiness. We must control this tool instead of letting it control us. Media today is a wonderful thing, and we need to treat it as such while at the same time using it with great care and caution.

8. General Conference

On April 4th and 5th of 2015 millions of members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, including myself, gathered to listen to the prophet and general authorities speak. I even had the wonderful opportunity to attend the Saturday afternoon session with my family. Sometimes, I have trouble keeping my eyes open when I listen to speakers in person, but that afternoon at 2:00PM I couldn't peel my eyes away from the speakers.

Probably one of my very favorite talks was given by Elder Wilford W. Andersen and it was called "The Music of the Gospel." Elder Andersen gave a very good talk in that he conveyed his message really well through imagery and metaphoric language.

He spoke about a tribal witchdoctor telling a medical doctor that he could teach him how to dance but he had to hear the music all on his own. Elder Andersen then went on to describe many scenes that we probably encounter in our day-to-day lives. Like seeing someone dancing in their car at a red light. He compared this to someone in the church going through the motions without ever feeling the powerfulness and truthfulness of the gospel in their hearts. Those who only see our actions and can't feel the feelings or "hear the music" will think we are strange, but after they do hear it, they will want to join in on the dance as well. Being a great lover of music, I really related to this talk. I enjoyed the comparisons and really appreciated the principle he was teaching with these metaphors. It has made me determined to listen carful for "the music" and try to get as many people as I can to hear it too.

Words of Wisdom From the Wise #11

"I know that God has a plan for me that usually is totally different than the plan that I have for myself. It's not always easier, but it's always better."

Words of Wisdom From the Wise #10

"The grass is not greener on the other side. The grass is greener where you water it." - Unkown

7. Reflecting on My Narrative

          Writing a paper on a story from my life is one of the most fun assignments I have ever had to do in my writing scholastic career. That is half because it is so easy to write about a story that I know better than anyone else, and half because I'm just the sort of person who likes to tell stories. I knew the basic format for writing a narrative because in the sixth grade I decided that if Stephanie Meyer could become a famous author, surely I could too. I researched all I could about how to write in this style and started my book which one got to about three short chapters. When I go back to read those chapters now I laugh at how good I thought it was at the time. So since the format wasn't a real stumbling block for me, I kind of just thought of a story that was important to me from my past and let my fingers write whatever they felt like. I really enjoy writing narratives in general. While I sometimes complain about writing papers for my classes, if they were all narratives I would gladly do every single one. The only thing I would change about the experience I had would be to pick a shorter story. I felt like mine went on for a while, but I also felt like I couldn't leave anything I had put in there out. All in all, I really liked writing this narrative essay.

6. Through the Eyes of a Little Girl

I sat on the cold steel bleacher bench next to my mommy and my little seven year-old body jumped up and down in anticipation. I just couldn’t hold still. It had to be only thirty degrees outside, but I couldn’t feel it; I was too excited. This was it. Jane, my hero, the big sister I had never had, was about to walk out on stage and she was going to wow the judges so much that they would give her the crown right on he spot. She had done awesome so far in the competition; there was no way she could not win!

My mommy smiled down at me, chuckling a little at my uncontrollable excitement. “Mommy, you think Jane’s going to win, right? She’s going to win for sure!” My comment only made her smile grow bigger.

“And now, contestant number six, Jane Smith!” I yelped and quickly turned my attention back to the stage. As I watched, Jane stepped out onto the stage with a slightly nervous smile that grew more confident and more gorgeous the longer she was on stage. But as her smile grew, mine slowly but surely slipped off my face, until no trace of it remained.

            With wide and confused eyes I turned to my mommy, “Mommy, why is she wearing that dress?” My mommy hesitated to turn to me, but when she did she had no answer for me. Jane looked absolutely beautiful, like I knew she would, but her lovely, midnight blue evening gown, that seemed to sparkle and fit her wonderfully, did not have sleeves. I was seven. I didn’t know much, but I knew that Jane was one of the Laurels who had come to my Primary class and told all of us all about the importance of modesty. I knew that I never seen her in anything immodest before, and I knew that until that moment I had always wanted to be just like her when I grew up.

The competition ended. Jane didn’t win. Mommy was going to take me up to congratulate her, but it was getting colder by the minute and I told her I wanted to go home.

The next day at church I saw her and she smiled and held out her arms for me to jump into, just like usual. I knew I should have beamed and run into her arms, but I just couldn’t. “Jane I saw you in the competition last night.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Oh! I didn’t know you came! Did you like it?”

I nodded, but then said, “Why did you wear that dress? It was immodest.”

She stood there for a few moments in alarm not knowing what to say. “Oh, uh, I guess, I didn’t know that you would be there. I didn’t know that anyone would care.”

She looked at me with a sort of hopeless expression.

Wham!

I’m knocked out of my memory and off of the chair I was sitting on by two adorable sets of little arms. “Ouff!”

            “Kira!!! Spin me! Spin me!”

            “No Kiwwaa! Spin me!!!”

I sit up, smiling despite the slight bump I have on my head now.  I never should have spun them the first time I came over here, but that first day I was so lost and overwhelmed I would have tried anything. Now that’s all they wanted me to do for the full three hours I spend with them every other week! “Okay fine, but only a few more times!”

            “Yay!” They both leap away to the more spacious living room with their arms in the air and huge smiles on their faces. I stay there sitting on the carpeted floor for just another few seconds dreading the state I know I’ll be in in about fifteen minutes, but I get up anyway knowing if I don’t get in there soon they’ll just come running back in to tackle me again.

            “I’m going first!” Katie says running up to me.

            “No Kaywwie you aaaalways go first!” Lena says with a pout on her face. I love that little girl but she is always such a drama queen.

            “Katie, how about we let Lena go first this time. Ok?” Knowing Katie to be the more diplomatic one since she is older by two years, I know she’ll have no problem with this.

            “Okay.” She backs up to sit on the couch and wait while Lena comes squealing towards me, practically jumping on me with happiness. I firmly grab her tiny little forearms slowly begin to turn in a circle. As I start to turn faster and faster Lena lets her little body hang limp so that the centripetal force pulls against her until she is pretty much parallel to the ground. Her little peals of laughter make me smile. I stop after a few moments even though it feels like forever. If I want to keep this up and not fall over puking from dizziness I am going to have to make each girl’s “turn” rather short.

            After three turns each I can barely see straight. I flop on the hard wooden floor with a groan, but the little angels will have none of that. “Kiwwa! Again! Again!” Lena yells as she jumps on me and I pretend her light body knocks the wind out of me. Katie soon joins her and I just lay there letting them “overpower” me.

I am saved by the sound of the garage door opening though. Their heads whip up and they run screaming towards the laundry room. I slowly get up and start to gather my things. I’m hopping on one foot trying to get my shoes one when Kim walks into the room, one girl clinging to each leg. “Hey! How’d it go?”

“It went great! They were perfect, like usual.”

“And Willy?”

“He’s asleep in his crib, surprisingly enough. How was the Ward Adult Date Night?”

She shakes her head a little and smiles even more. “Oh, you know. Those little old ladies are so cute.” I chuckle knowing exactly how cute the eccentric old ladies that go to my church are.

“Did you eat all of my food, Standring?” a deeper voice calls out.

I grin as Jared joins his wife in the hall. “Almost, but I left just a little bit, just for you.”

He grins as well and bumps my shoulder as he continues on to the kitchen. Kim just laughs.

“So, I’ll just get your money and let you drive home then! I know you probably have a ton of homework.”

            I laugh. “Yeah, well for once I’m not half as stressed about my calculus homework as I am about tomorrow.”

            She gasps. “Oh, that’s right! Your Junior Miss competition is tomorrow isn’t it?”

            I nod. For the past few months I, and a few of my other fellow high school juniors, had been practicing night and day for this big day. It was a scholarship competition where judges from out of the area were going to judge us on talent, fitness, intellect, self-expression, and an individual interview. Both the winner of every section and the girls who did best in all the areas combined would be awarded scholarship money for college. I entered the competition just for fun, but now that it was just tomorrow, I was freaking out!

            “Well then, you better get home! You’re going to have a long day!”

            “Yeah. We get picked up a 8:00 AM tomorrow and spend the whole day getting ready”

            Kim sighs and smiles like the adorable sweet lady she is. “Well, I know you’ll do great.”

            “Thanks. I hope so.”

******************************************************************************

            The next day passes in a blur and before I know it, it’s the last portion of the competition. So far, my freaking out has been totally justified. I accidentally ran off stage too early in the Fitness portion, my mic hadn’t worked properly for my talent, and while my interview hadn’t been a total disaster, my usual confidence when speaking to a large group had mysteriously disappeared. I take a deep breath and a moment to gather my senses before grabbing my floor length dress to change for the Self-Expression portion.

I really like my dress. It’s blue with a poufy ball gown type of skirt and it has silver sequins literally everywhere. It is a completely shoulderless dress, but it came with a simple matching little jacket that my mom spruced up with even more sequins. The first time I wore it all the girls said I looked like Cinderella. I had laughed at them, half because that was silly considering my very dark brown hair, and half because I had always wished I were a princess when I was little.

After running to the bathroom and throwing on the dress I realize I have left the jacket out in the gym we are using as “backstage.” I walk out and over to my table to search for it and just when I’ve found it I feel a cold hand on my shoulder.

“Wow! Kira you look beautiful!” I smile at Eve, a girl that is really hard to get along with, but I have always been nice to.

“Thanks.” I reply simply.

“No, but Kira really. You look so good with your dress just how it is right now. You should just not wear the jacket.” A few of the other girls around agree with her, telling me how beautiful I look and that the jacket just detracts from the dress.

I turn and look in the mirror. They are right. I have never really considered myself a pretty person, but seeing myself, right now in this beautiful sleeveless dress, I look stunning. I smile and am about to drop the jacket back on the table and agree with them, when my gaze travels from the bottom of my dress up, and settle on my eyes. Only a few milliseconds pass, but it feels like a million years as I stare at my reflection and her eyes challenge me saying, Really? My grip on my jacket tightens just as it is about to fall from my fingers.

“Thanks guys. But I’m still gonna wear it.”

They all grin as though they understand, when really they think I’m crazy and drift back over to their own tables. I take a deep breath and put on the jacket. When I turn around and look up I see my best friend Gabby looking at me. She smiles a real smile. She may not hold the same standards of modesty as I do, but she understands and supports me. We all line up and head out for the last portion of the competition.

I don’t win, although I do get Third Runner-up, which means I get $300, and Gabby gets First Runner-up. It doesn’t matter, the whole process has been so much fun. Everyone’s families are on the stage congratulating their daughters. I glance over my shoulder and see Eve sulking in the back. I know it’s horrible of me, but I smirk just a little. She was so certain she was going to win everything and was rather rude about broadcasting her opinion.

“Kiwwa!”

My head whips back around and I see Kim right there in front of me hold the hands of both of her little daughters. They break away from their mom and rush over to come hug me. I smile and hug them back.

“I didn’t know you guys were coming!”

Kim smiles back at me. “Well, the girls wanted to come see you. You did great by the way! And Kira,” she leans in closer and her voice lowers just a bit, “Thank you. Thank you so much, for being modest.” Both of our gazes glance over to a girl across the stage for a moment. She is also a member of our church, but her beautiful evening gown does not have any sleeves.

I look back down at the darling girls in front of me. I look at little six-year old Katie and for a second I see a little seven-year old girl with dark brown hair looking back at me instead. Instead of seeing a big smile and bright eyes, I see a confused expression and hurt eyes. I look back up as Kim hugs me and as I burrow my head into her shoulder, my eyes fill with grateful tears.

Words of Wisdom From the Wise #9

"Be who you are, and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind." - Bernard M. Baruch

Words of Wisdom From the Wise #8

"I wish every day could be Halloween. We could all wear masks all the time. Then we could walk around and get to know each other before we got to see what we looked like under the masks." - R.J. Palacio, Wonder 

Words of Wisdom From the Wise #7

"Just because one's personal problem is less traumatic than another’s doesn't mean they’re required to hurt less." - J.A. Redmerski

5. Look Sis. Steadman, No Hands!

I'll be honest, I don't really like writing long papers, but then again who does? So being told I'd have to write a 10 pages research paper in my Writing 150 class gave me absolutely no joy at all. Even worse, the prompt we were given seemed so ambiguous that I thought I would never be able to come up with a topic to write about. Our section is very Family History oriented and so we were told to pick a family story we liked and write about an issue that somehow connected to that story. So after much pondering and stress on my part I decided on a story......type thing. My Grandma is Mexican, yet she denies if every time I bring it up. I wanted to know why. But that wasn't really a good enough topic, SO NOW WHAT? Well, eventually I did some more research and found out about a few reasons someone in her position might not want to identify as Mexican. I still felt pretty hopeless about it all but I was moving forward. After much more toil and labor, I actually came to enjoy learning about all of this history. I guess all it takes is a little breeze and a running start to take off and fly.

If you read my paper. I know what you'd say.

"Kira, your paper is talking about how Family History can be bad? Do you really believe that?"

"No, actually I don't. I love Family History and I think everyone can benefit from knowing about their roots. But, as weird as it sounds, sometimes I write the best when I'm writing from the opposite side of an argument I would usually be on. When I'm writing about something I absolutely don't believe in, I don't know, it just works I guess?"

"Well, why does any of this even matter?"

"It seems like it may be a small thing, but in reality I think this is a bigger deal than anyone realizes. I'm not even going to go into the psychological aspect of it all, because I can't explain or understand it very well myself. For some people, who their ancestors are defines their entire being. If they try their absolute hardest to ignore where they come from, or if they try to make connections where they can, they life is essentially run by their past. and if we allow our past to control us like that, we really ought to know what it is."

"Well it seems to me that..."

Words of Wisdom From the Wise #6

(Because Dumbledore's the best!!!)

"Happiness can be found even in the darkest of places, if one only remembers to turn on the light." - Dumbledore

4. My Word Fetish

All through grade school I've had an on and off relationship with English. In elementary school we were besties, in middle school we were frenemies, and in high school we had a mutual respect for each other, but there has always been a special kind of dislike there. However, I did discover over the years that English was a subject I was rather good at it. Or at least at getting an A in the class. It wasn't exactly because I was born to write or because I knew how to shape words perfectly enough to make a grown man cry, it was more because I knew what people wanted to hear and how they wanted to hear it. When analyzing an epic poem in Mrs. Troyna's class I knew that she was more of a dramatic woman and would love to hear about how that random crow that was mentioned is a symbol of illness and death. In Mrs. Hartwick's class, she wanted to know about the curious questions that never get answered. I had realized that it really doesn't matter what 

So, in my efforts to delve deeper into the curiosities of the words I read and write about, things that I didn't see or feel but I knew people wanted to see and hear about, I developed a problem. I would come up with the perfect way to phrase things, but I just couldn't find the actual words for them. My best friend can attest to the agonizing struggle I would go through over days just so I could find the 
one word to perfect the one sentence in the one paragraph of my five page essay. I knew the word was there, I knew I knew it, and I knew I would remember it soon enough if I just thought about it hard enough and long enough. Usually, I would use a lesser word and turn in my paper with a "rubbed the wrong way" feeling. But, on rare and wondrous occasions,  I would remember the word and my creation would be perfect.This problem has followed me throughout my life now. I have not written an essay since middle school without a thesaurus handy. It's like I have this itch that I can't get ride of unless I find the exact word I am looking for. I also love finding out random words with the strangest but most beutiful definitions. I found out that the word "orenda" means a mystical force present in all people that empowers them to affect the world or to effect change in their own lives. I discovered the word "gezelling," which means connoting time spent with loved ones or togetherness after a long separation. Or, my personal favorite, "lethologica," the inability to recall a precise word for something. Am I making it worse by finding out about all these words that I will slightly remember in the future and feel the need to use in papers? Probably, but I love learning and this is one of the aspects of it I love the most.

Words of Wisdom From the Wise #5

"Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I’m not sure about the universe." - Albert Einstein

Words of Wisdom From the Wise #4

"Blessed are they who see beautiful things in humble places where other people see nothing." - Camille Pissarro

Words of Wisdom From the Wise #3

"There is no saint without a past, and no sinner without a future." - Augustine of Hippo

3. To Serve or Not to Serve

Growing up, half of me idolized my father and the other half feared him. In my mind, he was the one who knew everything and could accomplish anything. Whenever he gave me advice, I followed it to the T, and whenever he told me a certain way was the right way to do something, I adopted it as truth without question. Consequently, from a very early age my father had a whole plan for my entire life, and I compliantly accepted it. Sometimes when he told me of different paths we could take to give me the best future, it scared me. He would speak of me not going to normal high school, graduating early, going straight to a trade school, and having a steady well-paying job by the time I was nineteen. Even as I would sit there listening, terrified on the inside because I thought I would have to leave my friends and life behind, I would just think that if that was what my dad wanted, then I would do it because he knew best.

Luckily, that didn't happen. I had a very normal high school experience and I continued on to the college that I wanted to go to. But even though I took control of my own life, the plan I had for my future had some very similar aspects to the plan my father had laid out for me. Including the fact that the options after going to college were: try to get married as soon as possible, or go on a mission when you reached the right age and then come back and get married. So that was essentially my plan when I got to BYU. In all honesty, I never expected to serve a mission. I know it's wrong to think of it in this way, but going on a mission always had seemed like a consolation prize to me, that you only went if you failed to get married first. After spending time here though, I slowly began to see going on a mission in a new light. It seemed like everyone in my dorm was going to serve and they were all so excited about it. Seeing that the likelihood of me getting married before I turned nineteen was very slim, I decided I would serve too, but I wasn't sure it was because I wanted to go.

So there I was, having decided, but not completely sure how I felt about it, and I started making preparations and telling my friends. I opened my mission papers and the more I worked on them the more excited I got. The girls in my hall started getting their mission calls left and right. England - Mandarin speaking, Zambia - English speaking, Arizona - Spanish speaking, Ecuador, Austen Texas!!! It was all just so wonderful! I was feeling more and more confident about it until one day my best friend told me she didn't want me to go. It may sound horrible, but in that moment that she asked me to stay, I was absolutely sure I had to go. All of the sudden, the thought of not going made me so disappointed and sad. I felt like a small child sent to bed early without dessert. I didn't want to make her upset by leaving, but I just had the best feeling in the world when I thought of going. I knew how much I wanted and needed to go and it was my decision now, not my father's or anyone else's. Going on a mission was no longer a consolation prize to me, it was the grand prize, because I was going to get the opportunity to serve my Lord and preach His wonderful gospel.

I still can't submit my papers for a few more months, but I am counting down the days until then. Yeah, I guess it would have been nice to get married, but I know that serving this mission will make me a better person and an even better wife and mother some day in the future. Going on a mission may not be for everyone, but it certainly is for me.

Words of Wisdom From the Wise #2

"We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or we can rejoice because thorn bushes have roses." - Dieter F. Uchtdorf

Words of Wisdom From the Wise #1

"Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten." - Neil Gaiman

2. My Favorite Brother

You know how you're not supposed to have a favorite best friend? Or how teachers aren't supposed to have favorite students? Or how parents aren't supposed to have favorite children? But they all always do! Even if they won't admit it! Well apparently, it goes the same for favorite brother.

All growing up I always had a list in my mind of where all six of my brothers stacked up on the favorite scale. I never told them, but all my friends always knew. My brothers never knew, but every little thing they did either raised them up the list, if they did something to make me happy, or dropped them (usually like three places) on the list, if they did something that made me sad or worse, mad.

I was a tender four years old when I first developed my list. My oldest brother Jamie was in his senior year of high school and he was my hero. He always knew what to do, he always protected me, and I just always felt so safe with him. I remember the day he graduated I balled my eyes out because I knew what came after high school, college. And college meant Jamie was going to leave me and go some place far away. (At the time I didn't know how far away BYU was, but I knew I had to ride in our big passenger van ALL day long to get there when we went to Utah for Christmas.) I literally thought the moment after he graduated he would be off. I would not be consoled and I would not let go of Jamie. Then he picked me up and said, "You know Kira, I'm not leaving right now. I don't have to leave for a few months." I couldn't believe it! I still got to spend forever (at least that was what it seemed like to me) with my favorite brother! For some reason I can't quite remember what happened when he actually left for college. It must have been so devastating that I entirely blocked it out. For the longest time though, Jamie was just the best in my mind. I even waited four months after my eighth birthday to get baptized so he could do it after he got back from his church mission in Texas.

However, as the saying goes, "the higher you rise the further you have to fall" right? Well, let me tell you, Jamie fell. The family was having Family Home Evening one Monday night when Jamie was home from college and I sat right next to him, of course. He had this jar of mixed nuts on the other side of him and I reeeeeeally wanted them. Like any normal brother, he didn't let me have them. I tried reaching around him with my little eight year old arms, but astonishingly I couldn't reach them! I was quite put out! Well, that night Jamie had to lead the music so I had the PERFECT plan. When he stood up to conduct, I would lean over and snatch them away! I couldn't do it while I was singing the song though cause nobody wants to sings and eat at the same time right? So just as the song was ending I leaned over to get them and Jamie saw me getting at them AND SAT DOWN RIGHT ON MY HEAD!!! I was so appalled! At the time I was certain that I was going to suffocate and die! So when he finally got off me I sat up and all I could do was glare at him. He soooooooo wasn't my favorite brother anymore. And who better to replace him than my second to oldest brother, Jason.

Jason was the perfect child. He was the one all parents dream of raising and he was most definitely our parents' favorite. (You can try and deny it Mom and Dad, but we all know the truth!) He was pretty much the opposite of Jamie. He was kind, gentle, and would never sit on my head. When my dad left him in charge he could usually never get us to do anything because he would like never get mad. When all the other boys and me would be playing a video game and we'd use cheats he's just be like, "But you can't cheat! Cheating's wrong!" You get the picture? Perfect child. Golden boy. And my new favorite brother.

So he stayed my favorite brother for quite a long time. Even while he was on his church mission in Portugal for two years he was my favorite. BUT! Then he came home and got married. Not that this wasn't the most wonderful thing in the world, because it was. And not that I didn't like her, because I love her. But after he got married Jason just didn't really have time for me. (I found out in later years that all my sisters-in-law tend to get more attention than I do from their spouses.......which I know is how it's supposed to be, but it still stung a bit.) So since I wasn't the number one girl in his life anymore he dropped on the favoritism list as well. After Jason, my favorite brother award passed a few brothers and went to my brother Mark.

Mark is the brother directly above me in the sibling line-up and Mark, I would have to say, is the most loving and passionate, although admittedly crazy and sometimes very dumb, of all my brothers. My dad would always say, "Mark is the dumbest smart person I have ever met." Not that he tried to be dumb or that he wasn't genius, because he was. He just made the stupidest mistakes and decisions sometimes. But he was just so lovable while doing it. I've heard people refer to him as the cute little black lab, always smiling and always wagging his tail back and forth. Mark was the brother who always showed me the most affection and who always wanted my opinion, and I loved him so much for that. But then Mark went on his mission and I was left at home with only my little demon brother, Daniel.

Growing up, Daniel was the typical youngest child. He was spoiled, bratty, lazy, annoying, and he could get my mom to do anything he asked. In all honesty, I developed my list and kept it going just to hurt Daniel. Daniel was the only brother I ever told about my list but, ashamed as I am about it now, I only told him so he would know he was on the very bottom of that list every time. (But in all fairness he did tell me that his favorite sister was our dog, Nikita.)

So Daniel was just as annoying as he had ever been, until the day that Mark left home and it was just the two of us. I don't know what happened, I felt the same, but Daniel started acting like a normal brother. He wanted to hang out with me, he wanted me to hang out with him. He wanted my opinion, and my help with girls, math, and all kinds of other things. Knowing I should be a good sister, no matter what happened in the past, I would help him out, let him hang out me and and vice versa. Gradually, especially through our two shared years of high school, I came to not think of Daniel as my little brother that I couldn't stand, instead I began to really love and appreciate him.

I countlessly thought back on the words my dad had said to me about Daniel, "Because Daniel is the closest to you in age, you'll either become inseparably close, or you'll hate each other's guts." At the time he said that, I was sure it was the later. But in my senior year of high school I had a change of heart. Maybe I would become really close with Daniel. Maybe I already had. Mark was still on his mission though, so I couldn't be sure I actually liked Daniel better than him. In addition to that dilemma, after going to college I got to spend a lot of time with all my other brothers, especially the ones that I had always really liked but were never really my favorites before. Now I wasn't really sure if I actually had a favorite.

Well, Mark comes back from his mission in five weeks, I don't see Daniel too often because he's all the way back home while I'm in Utah, and I've been too busy recently to spend much time with my brothers here. So for now the jury's still out. I definitely love them all and I can't really tell who's in what position on my "favorite list." But I think I might just drop the list. Like I said, I started it to make one of my brothers feel bad and that was never a good reason, plus I love that little guy to bits now. But one thing this list did make me realize, is how important my brothers are to me, and I'm sure that will never change.

1. My Name Is Not Kristta

My name is not Kristta, and boys are a very important part of my life. Why? Well one, because I am a girl, and two, because I grew up in a house with not one, not two, not three, but seven guys! (If you include my father.) Being a Mormon family, many people were not surprised with the great number of children my parents had, but in reality, having seven kids was not my parents' original plan at all.

My dad didn't really have a preference with the gender or number of kids he had. (He has told me that even though he would have been terrified to have six girls instead of six boys, he knew that God would help him out if he really needed it.) My mother, though, was an entirely different story. She grew up with a sister that was only a year younger than her and they had so much fun that she knew she wanted that for the daughters she would undoubtably have.

So my parents started having kids and child after child after child all turned out to be boys. Although my mother loved each of her sons with her whole heart she couldn't help but wish for the little girls she so desperately wanted. She prayed and prayed and FINALLY... God answered her prayers. It was her sixth pregnancy and the doctors told my mom that there might be something wrongly with her pregnancy and that she would have to go take this test at a lab in a town three hours away to make sure everything was alright. It also just turned out that this test could very accurately determine the sex of your child. So she drove herself the three hours to the test and the three hours back. After a few weeks her doctor received her results from the lab and gave her a call. The first words he said were, "Are you sitting down?" She was so worried! Was there actually something wrong with her baby?! But no, the doctor just knew how excited she would be. "You're results are fine, but I just thought I'd tell you........ you're having a girl." My mother was overjoyed! She told me that she might actually have fallen if she hadn't been sitting down.

Just a few months later my mother gave birth to me. My parent's prayers had finally been answered. She, my father, and my brothers all decided to name me Kristta, but a few weeks after bringing me home, my mother just knew that the name didn't fit. Kristta was a beautiful name, but it just wasn't my name. So down on to the County Courthouse my parents went and they changed my name. So now my name is not Kristta, it is Kira. I used to hate the fact that my name is not Kristta. I used to get mad at my parents for changing it and I would demand that my friends call me Kristta instead of my legal name. Eventually I accepted it though, and I really don't mind any more. Now, I kind of like Kira.

However, after all this excitement, my mother still wanted that special relationship she had with her sister for me. So I did not remain the youngest child for long. Soon my mom was pregnant once more and once more, she was praying for a girl. (I often tease my little brother about this fact.) They soon found out that it would be a boy though, and they both knew their family was complete. They had seven beautiful children and even though she only had one daughter, my mother was absolutely in love with the family God had given her.