Two Years in the Blink of an Eye

Have you ever thought about how quickly time goes by?

My family and I are picking my older brother up from the airport in 12 days, and it feels like just yesterday that we were saying goodbye to him for two years. 

My husband and I have been married for almost four months, and I swear that he just asked me out on our first date.

My little brother is a junior in high school, and I can still remember holding him in my arms as a baby.

My baby brother no longer thinks girls have cooties. 

Where has the time gone?

Think back to where you were two years ago. 

How much has changed? 

How much hasn't?

Where was I two years ago? I was just beginning my senior year of high school. I was captain of the color guard, I played viola in the chamber orchestra, I was the laurel president in my young women's group, and I was getting ready to say the hardest goodbye I would ever have to say.

Two years ago, my older brother left on his mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, which he would serve faithfully in Tokyo Japan. Two years ago, I was trying to figure out how to breathe, after half of me left the country.

I am, again, trying to figure out how to breathe thinking of how to introduce him to my husband in 12 days, who he has never met.

In two years, I have graduated high school, been to college, gotten married, moved to Cedar City, and started a new job doing something I never thought I would be doing. (I'm a phlebotomist at a plasma donation center. Fun fact, when I was 8 and getting my shots for school, I had to have 3 nurses and my dad hold me down. Now I'm the one with the needle. Anyone else see the irony in this?)

A lot happens in two years. Zach is coming home to a completely different life. How is he going to handle it? How am I going to handle it? I guess we will find out. 

Some of my favorite life advice comes from Sister Hinckley. She says: "I don't want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails. I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp. I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbors children. I want to be there with a little bit of dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone's garden. I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder. I want the Lord to know that I was really here, and that I really lived."

As I am now realizing, time goes by so quickly. Live your life to the complete fullest.

"Sometimes in life we become so focused on the finish line that we fail to find joy in the journey." -President Uchtdorf

Enjoy today. Life is flying by. Don't blink, or you'll miss it.

My Choice to be a Mrs, and Not a Missionary.

Around this time every year, girls and boys of the LDS faith start receiving mission calls. I have a friend going to Russia. Another going to Virginia. My older brother is serving in Tokyo Japan. I always thought that I would be one of these people. I always thought that one day I would read the words, "Dear Sister Tolen, you are hereby called to serve as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints". Heck, I even practiced saying it in the mirror so that I wouldn't mess it up (don't hold that against me).
And then I met Landon.
Landon Ryan Porter is a 22 year old man who holds my heart.
His favorite color is Tiffany blue, his favorite animal is "probably a dolphin", he served his mission in Kiev Ukraine (Russian speaking (whoever said that french is the language of love obviously has never heard Landon speak Russian)), he is a HUGE ASU fan, he is quite allergic to cats, and he loves me more than I deserve.
We met on July 6th, 2015 and from that day on my life has never been the same. The second I saw him I knew that something about him was different. He somehow seemed... familiar to me. I decided at that point that I was going to get to know him whether he wanted to know me or not. So I took every chance I could to talk to him. To see him. To invite him to things. To spend time with me. None of my invitations worked, until one night I asked him to meet up with me at what is now our park (3 story park in highland). He beat me there and was waiting for me when I arrived. He had just gotten done playing soccer so he was wearing a snap back (a hat), basketball shorts, and a t-shirt. I didn't know someone could actually pull off that look until I saw him. We sat on the swings, played 20 questions and stargazed for several hours. I didn't want that night to end. Around 1 am he walked me back to my car and..... that's right.
He kissed me.
For the first time.
I was on cloud nine.
I couldn't wait until I saw him next.
At first I was a bit skeptical. I wasn't sure if he was the type to pursue a girl he had just kissed, or if this was just a chance for him to kiss someone before leaving for school. I mean, I hadn't even friended him on Facebook yet.
Luckily for me, he asked me on another date a few days later. We went up the mountain where he lives, where we hit glow in the dark golf balls off of that mountain. (Side story: On the way up to where we were doing this, he promised me that he actually lived up there, and he wasn't just taking me somewhere to brutally murder me.)
At this point it hit me. I was seriously falling for this boy.
About a week later he asked me to be his girlfriend. And I said no! I knew that he was moving to Cedar City, and I was moving to Rexburg, and long distance was not something I wanted at that time. So we continued going on dates, and hanging out until on July 29th he was a groomsman in one of his friends weddings, and I was his date. The entire time we had people asking who I was (including several of his ex's) and he had to tell that that I "was his... friend".
That night he was sick of me saying no, so finally he just said "I'm just going to call you my girlfriend."
And that was that.

I knew I loved Landon when one day I was looking at him and I knew that one lifetime with him wouldn't be enough.
On August 12th, less than a week before he moved away, We said the 3 words that leave you so vulnerable, and mean so much. "I love you". Those 3 words have kept us strong in times where it would be so easy to be weak.
He moved away to school, I moved to Idaho. We started long distance. We wrote letters, texted constantly, and had many skype dates. The things that long distance couples do. But none of this helped. I missed him more than I ever thought I could miss someone. I was in Rexburg, but my entire world was in Cedar City.

On October 5th, 2015 Landon and I made the decision to get married.
I was still planning on going on a mission, the only change in my plan at that point was that he was going to be by my side while I opened my call. We planned on this for over a month.
Until one day my desires changed.
I went to the temple, and I told God that I wanted to marry Landon, and that I was going to. I think He knew that He couldn't stop me, because I never had any opposition on that.
So on November 12th, 2015, I made the choice to be a mrs.
Not a missionary.

Actually, I didn't decide to be A mrs. I decided to be HIS mrs.
Landon makes my world brighter. He makes me laugh harder than anyone ever has. He knows how to comfort me when I am down. He knows when to listen. He knows when to just hold me. He knows... me. My talents, my quirks, my flaws, my insecurities, he knows them ALL. And he loves me anyways.
And I know him. I know his likes, dislikes, hopes, dreams, fears. And I love him all the more.

On March 11th, 2016, Landon took me to This Is The Place National Monument in Salt Lake City. He got down on one knee, pulled out a ring and said, "Izzy. I love you. Will you marry me?"
8 words changed my entire life.
8 words.

I stopped practicing reading my mission call, and instead I practice saying "yes".
Yes to an eternity with the man I love more than the air I breathe.
Yes to the good times and the bad.
Yes to being his wife
Yes to (eventually) starting a family with him.
Yes to being Mrs. Porter.

I feel that I am at a point in my life where I can no longer progress physically, emotionally or spiritually unless it is by his side.
I love Landon.
And I am more than excited to start our own little eternity together.
Of course I will still be a missionary. But I will be a missionary to those I encounter through my everyday life. I will be a missionary to my children. I will be a missionary to Landon when he needs me to be. I will live the gospel fully and completely. I will be a missionary just by walking the path that Christ would walk. But I will be a missionary with my husband by my side.

So as difficult as it was. I made the choice to be HIS mrs. and not a missionary.

Photographer: Karl Hugh

Grateful.

Grateful comes from the word grātus, which is Latin for "to welcome, greet, praise." We use the word 'grateful' when we are accounting for things that we are appreciative of. For example, I am grateful for my mom letting me use her rewards card at the gas station, even though I steal her 'free hot drink' reward whenever it comes up.
I am grateful for my younger brothers reminding me to be an example, and always letting me know that they love me.
I am grateful for my older brother, who is one of my best friends even when he is on the other side of the world (He is serving an LDS mission in Tokyo Japan currently, he has been gone for almost 17 months).
I am grateful for my Dad, for his example and for how hard he works.
I am grateful for my very loving boyfriend, who goes out of his way to bring light into my life every opportunity he can.
I am grateful for friends.
I am grateful for the gospel.
I am grateful for the mountains that I am surrounded by.
I am grateful.
I have had a very blessed life so far, and I don't want to take that for granted.

But like everyone else, through this life, I have had to walk through storms. I have had to stand in the dark, not sure where to run, and I have had to cling on to a hope that there will be better days.
One example of this, which I do tell a lot because it changed me in ways that I can't even explain, was the death of a dear friend when I was 15 years old.

We sat next to each other in our French 1 class, ate lunch together, hung out at parties, so on and so forth. Things that friends do.

One day I was sitting in French, waiting for him to sit down next to me so I could tell him... some little thing I can't remember anymore. The bell rang. He wasn't there. I thought he was sick, so I started writing a note to one of my other friends, when the teacher got up with a paper. There were tears in his eyes. I knew something was wrong. The words he said next I will never forget, because they shattered my happy little 15 year old universe.

"I am sorry to say that our dear friend _________ has passed away. If you need to talk to someone, you can go to the library now."

All eyes were on me.
I wasn't moving.
I wasn't breathing.
Tears were hitting my desk. But from where? Were they coming from me?

In that moment, I had forgotten how to function. When a different friend in the class got up, coaxed me out of my chair and into the hall, trying to get me to the library. I don't remember how I got from the upstairs classroom to the library down the stairs. I only remember collapsing against the lockers, while sobs rocked my entire body.

The rest of that day was a complete blur. I sat in the library with the people in my friend group, Zach (my older brother) came and held me for a good five minutes while I just cried, I went home, I didn't come out of my room. I didn't talk to anyone for a week. I didn't eat anything for a month. I just... shut down completely.

Until one day, it didn't hurt anymore. I was reading my scriptures, or a conference talk, and all of a sudden a weight was lifted off of my shoulders.

I am grateful.

I am grateful for my time that I got to spend with my dear friend.
I am grateful for the gospel and my family pulling me out of that hole.
I am grateful for that trial.

What?
I am grateful for something completely awful?
Am I Satan?
No. I am grateful for the things I learned out of that trial. I developed closer relationships to those friends that I went through that with. I developed a closer relationship to my older brother. I learned how to cope with things like depression, grief, anorexia, heartbreak. Things that 15 year olds shouldn't have to endure. But I will have those lessons with me for the rest of my life.

That isn't the only trial I have ever had to go through, but it is one of the big ones. All I am saying is that I am grateful for the storms that the Lord has helped me walk through, because I have grown as a person, as a sister, as a daughter, as a future wife and mother.


I have grown
So I am grateful.

The Pothole I Related to Life

I've got a lot of growing up to do.
Now you may read that sentence, and chuckle thinking, "heck yeah you do girl. You're like 12."
Believe me.
I know.

A couple of days ago I was driving to my parents house to grab a blouse that I had left there, and to maybe steal some food from their fridge when I hit a pothole. A nasty thing in the middle of the road. I assumed my car was fine, and kept on trucking (pun intended) until the top of the road, where upon trying to turn, I realized that my car was not going anywhere. I thought I popped a tire (which also would have been bad because I don't know how to change a tire, and I'm not sure my car even has a spare... Huh I should probably figure that out. Sorry. Tangent), so I flipped on my hazards, got out of my vehicle and discovered that my two front tires were facing opposite directions. "Well.. That's not good" I thought to myself (actually that's the 'G' rated version of what I thought to myself, but since many people will be reading this I will leave it at that.) I figured that I must have busted my axle or something car related like that.

Luckily, being the mature adult that I am, I knew what to do.

I called my Dad.
My dad answered, I explained the situation, and he very calmly told me to call my mother.
So, slightly fearful, I did.
She didn't answer.
I called again.
And like the first time, and the time after that and the time after that, she didn't answer.

The whole time this was happening, around seven people had stopped to ask me if I was okay, and if I needed help. I kindly told them no thank you, and they merrily went on their way, until three God sent men, quite possibly the three Nephites *mormon chuckle*, got out of their cars, and without even asking me, pushed my car to the side of the road. I expressed my gratitude and they vanished. Not really, they actually just drove away but same thing.

I then did the only other thing I knew how to do, and called my insurance company (yes I do know how to do adult things. Luckily I have a very old car, so I had done this before). I explained to them the situation, they called for a tow, and that was that.

I was not far from my parents house at this point, so I left my keys under the mat of my drivers seat for the tow truck, gathered whatever I needed from my car and started walking.

On my way there, my mom called.
I got yelled at.
I cried.
We moved on.
You see, this was not the first time that I have broken my car. There was an incident where I slid off of a cliff but that's a different story. I don't wanna talk about it.

Anyways.
My car had a broken tire rod. Midas replaced it, and I got it back the next day.

Right about now you may be wondering what the point of this story is.
I am too.
I guess it's really just to reassure myself that I can do adult things, like call for a tow truck to have my car fixed.
But maybe it's to reassure you.
Maybe you're at a point in your life where you just hit a pothole, and your car isn't moving. The situation looks bad. You did NOT need this thing added onto your worries. You don't want to accept someones help.
I want to tell you that I have been there. More times than I can count. I have hit that pothole. I have been down that long and twisty road.
I also want to tell you that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. And no, it's not the train.
There is an end to this trial, this worry, this stress.
There is hope.
There is love.
There is light.
There is Christ.

There is a tow truck on it's way to rescue you right at this very moment.
Have faith.
"Have courage, and be kind."

Maybe your broken axle will turn out to be just a broken tire rod.
Maybe your stresses will turn out to be just a lack of a good night's sleep.

What I know is that you will be stronger after this. After whatever you are going through, you will be infinitely stronger than you were going into it.

"Good timber does not grow with ease. The stronger the wind the stronger the trees." - President Monson

Don't give up.
"When you come to the end of your rope, tie a knot, and hold on."

Rescue will come.
Just hang on.
A pothole is simply that. A pothole.