Theodore Roosevelt Memorial Island

This last Saturday, I went on an adventure with Rachel and the Hounyo brothers.

We went to the Theodore Roosevelet Memorial Island for an outdoor excursion. We got off to a late start. Rachel had picked up the boys and was having trouble finding the entrance to the park. You can't get to the island by car; you have to park and then walk across a footbridge. I called Rachel to inform her that I was waiting at the bridge (in my mind, it was clear that it was the footbridge). When she was still unsure how to find the place, she decided to drop the boys off on Lynn Street, which gives access to the park if you're coming from the metro. She then went home and got her GPS to find a way to the parking lot.

When she dropped the boys off, she instructed them to walk down the KEY bridge and they would find me. I realized what had happend when I was walking toward Lynn Street where I thought I would run into them and ran into the KEY Bridge. Rachel arrived at the park, I arrived at Lynn Street. The boys were not with Rachel and the boys were not with me. So, we had lost the boys. I wasn't sure they were there, but there was a pretty good chance they had walked across the bridge to Georgetown. I started walking that way, and I started praying.

Of all places to get lost, there are worse places in Washington, DC, than Georgetown. I wasn't worried for their safety so much as their own emotions. They didn't know the area and aren't quite comfortable in an English-speaking setting. I got to the end of the bridge and couldn't see them at first. I quickly found them close to the Francis Scott Key Park. All was well. The boys were a little scared, but happy to be found.

We walked back across the bridge to get to the island. When we were on top of the bridge, I pointed out the island in the middle of the Potomac. I had just learned that the boys didn't really like snakes. They saw a small garden snake next to a flower bed and nearly jumped out of their shoes. When they saw the island they were immediately worried about the possibility of snakes. I assured them (without really knowing) that though there were probably snakes on the island, we probably wouldn't see them, because they don't like to hang out on the trails. I really had no idea, because I had never been to the island before and I don't know the snakes on the east coast.

We walked along the trail around the island--no snakes. We paused and took pictures:

David


David as Spiderman


David and Wilfried



And then, we went off the trail a bit. You guessed it: a snake. We climbed over some big rocks to find the trail again, and David's feet had barely hit the ground when he was jumping into the air trying to get away from the snake. Wilfried hadn't even seen it but was running for his life. In the picture you can only see the head and the tail of the snake just at the bottom of the vertical tree trunk. I held David's hand to guide him through the rest of the island while he walked with his eyes closed. He was afraid to see another snake and we weren't even allowed to say the word. So cute!



Eventually we found the memorial plaza and took more pictures.



From the left: David, Wilfried and Josiah

I'm pretty sure this one is my favorite.

You better believe they climbed up on that thing. Only took a minute to do it. They are good climbers.

The Stalinesque statue of Roosevelt.

Another great day and a great adventure. We're going to have to go back to the island to see the fountains at the plaza--they were not on that day. I think David is going to be brave about the snakes. I told him about how Batman (in Batman Begins) was afraid of bats, because of a traumatizing experience and he conquered his fear to become Batman. He made a weakness a strength. David liked that story. Maybe he'll be Snakeman. Hmmm...maybe not.

beck

You'll Never Walk Alone

Today I was reminded how blessed I am.

When people ask what I do, I'm so grateful to say that I have a job. And even more, it's a job that I enjoy. I have security and a plan for the future.

I am blessed to have a family that loves me. My parents are supportive of me in whatever I do. They have always given me freedom when I needed it and a backbone when I needed strength. My siblings give me a hard time for calling them all the time instead of having more of a social life, but they still hear me out when I need an ear. My aunts and uncles check on me to see how I'm doing and act as surrogate parents. Two of them even offered to drive my truck across the country. Who does that? And my Grannie thinks about me all the time. She can't write and she can't always talk on the phone, but she thinks about me.

I have been blessed with friends in my life who reach out to me at just the right moments. I know my Heavenly Father and my Lord, Jesus Christ know me and know what to give in my time of need.

I have been dealing with feelings of loneliness since I've come out to Washington, DC. I don't mind being alone, but I miss the daily connections with my family and with the friends I have made. I can't complain about my life's circumstances, because I have friends who are struggling through truly terrible conditions. It just makes me grateful for what I have. Sometimes I wish that I could trade circumstances with my friends to give them a break from their trials. But I know that is why we have a Savior and that is why He suffered for us. He can save us from our sorrow and grief--whatever the cause may be.

My friend Abraham and I are singing in Sacrament meeting in a couple of weeks. We're singing "You'll Never Walk Alone" from the musical Carousel. It couldn't come at a better time. Music is an instrument in my life.

beck

Easter Sunday

On Easter's Eve, I somehow convinced Dama and Greg to contribute to our egg-dying party. Dama got the eggs, Sara brought the egg-dying kit. We dyed them eggs full of color. Then on Easter Sunday, the boys helped to tear apart them eggs for eating. The following are photos from Easter Sunday.


Greg was hording the peanut butter M&Ms during the egg photo shoot.


I love candids. And I love Fred. :)

See? He's a horder.

I like this one because of the heart. It reminds me of love in springtime. Can you feel the love?

I'm pretty sure this one is my favorite. I love America!

This one was made especially for Dama.

The other side of the moon...or the egg.

Dama's Malian flag has the stripes.

Another egg of note in the photo is "The Gregulator."





We even made use of the dropped or broken eggs by blow drying the plastic sleeves around them. We don't waste.

On Easter Eve we practiced throwing jelly beans...and eggs...into each others' mouths. Sadly we did not document the egg-dying party with photos. This photo represents all the mayhem from the night before. tehehe

This picture makes my heart happy. What a lovely day!

beck

Rolling out the red carpet

beck

“A Man Saw a Ball of Gold”

by Stephen Crane

A man saw a ball of gold in the sky;
He climbed for it,
And eventually he achieved it --
It was clay.

Now this is the strange part:
When the man went to the earth
And looked again,
Lo, there was the ball of gold.
Now this is the strange part:
It was a ball of gold.

Aye, by the heavens, it was a ball of gold.

Stephen Crane is a writer and poet from the American Naturalist literary movement who lived from 1871 to 1900. I came across this text again as I was compiling a list of American poets and poems for a translation. I took the liberty of including this text to represent Crane in the poem collection as a tribute to one of my high school literature teachers, since it was one of her favorites. I'm including it in my blog because it's refreshing for a poem to finally come to mind rather than a song--though I suppose one could argue that music is a form of poetry. Anyway, the poem has come to mind as I've thought about my goals for the future.

From the earth, as a small human being in the wide and powerful universe, the man saw gold in the sky. When he reached the ball and was elevated from his lowly level on earth, his perception of the ball changed and he saw clay. Once he attained the unattainable, the ball was not as glorious, the reward was lackluster. Then when he was lowered again to the earthly level, "by the heavens, it was a ball of gold." In truth, by the heavens, it is recognized as a ball of gold. The man's perception changed the appearance of it. Our perception of reality is more powerful than reality itself. So then, what is real and how can we trust what we believe to be the truth? Well, to that question, I have a gospel answer: the gift of the Holy Ghost.

But I think what has really been eating at me is the ball of gold that I'm reaching for. I have three big goals for the near future: get married, get a master's degree and live abroad. The master's degree can coincide nicely with living abroad, but it gets a little tricky to combine that with getting married. I have felt that I wanted and needed to travel ever since I became interested in international affairs. Up until now I have felt strongly that my goals were good, but I'm seeing clashing now with the marriage stuff. My husband's career will be far more important to our family than my own. I thought I'd be prepared to make that sacrifice.

I'm only a few months into my new job and I feel a drive to excel and move forward in my career. I can't help but feel that my ball of gold is shifting from marriage and a family to my increasing desire to succeed in a career. If I could find a man who could put up with two years in Europe while I get a master's degree, then all could be well, I think. There is still doubt as to whether or not I should even get a master's degree especially if I were to spend the next twenty or thirty years raising children. I know that my marriage and my family will be so much more important to me. Why then, do I still put so much importance on my career goals? I think that would definitely result in a ball of clay, because my perception seems to be tainted.

In our ward's Sacrament meeting today, there was a speaker who talked about marriage. At one point he quoted one of the leaders in the Church making this statement in relation to marriage: "God doesn't care about your career." All in all, a career is not as important as a family--and I don't doubt that. So, through all this, I can only conclude that where I'm heading can be right. I suppose I'll continue dating and moving forward and then make the necessary sacrifices when the time is right. I also feel it necessary to decide now that while my career goals are good and can promote righteous principles of peace and understanding in the world, the family is ultimately the most important thing on earth and in heaven; I will choose my family over my career.

So...I guess I had a lot on my mind. This is just one slice of the cake. Still thinking about Emerson. I have no idea where that road will go. Of course he's the one who really brought these thoughts to the forefront of my mind.



beck

Friends again

I back dated this entry. I wasn't quite ready to update when it happened. On Sunday Emerson and I ended whatever romantic relationship we had. I'm actually relieved, because it was a heavy burden on my mind and my attitude over the last couple weeks.

Long distance relationships are tough. Thankfully, Emerson and I both realize that. Our relationship needed a compromise and neither one of use was willing to give what we needed to make it work.

So we're back to before or as best we can go back to before. We're friends and I hope we will be for a long time.

beck

Let's talk about feelings

Emerson and I are mutually interested--not dating, not in a boyfriend-girlfriend relationship. Let me explain. He says we can't call it dating since we are in two different states and therefore unable to date. We aren't boyfriend-girlfriend because I still want to be able to go out with other guys at this point. This has run me into a problem: he wants me to talk about my feelings about him and our relationship.

What is this? Since when are guys the ones who want to talk about feelings? Since when have they wanted to "define the relationship"? When I've tried to talk about my feelings with guys, it turns sour. But I suppose since mine and Em's so-called relationship began about two years ago, I can understand why he would be a little more interested in defining what it is that we are doing now. I just can't seem to describe what it is that I want out of the relationship.

I know of two Carlson family traits that are apparent in many of our family members. The first is our stubborness. The second is our inability to talk about how we feel (this might be a recessive gene). We suffer silently. We show very limited romantic affection. Love and affection is most often show through giving food.

So when Emerson wants me to vocalize my thoughts and feelings, I find myself at a loss. I don't know where to begin. I've tried to imagine movie lines or quotes, but those are impossible for me to duplicate because it makes it all seem even more cheesey and unrealistic. Expressing my feelings make me feel weak and vulnerable--which I'm sure is common for most people despite any family traits.

As I've sat in many awkward silences with Emerson over the past week, I've tried to conjure up any combination of words that can describe what I'm feeling. The closest I've come (and Em can attest to this) is when I described the situation--not my feelings.

I feel like things with Em feel nice and comfortable. He is a genuinely caring and considerate person. Sometimes I feel like things are too easy when we're together and then it's so easy to forget that when we're apart. When I talk to him, my mood immediately changes for the better. And we can talk easily about anything--except for my feelings, of course.

These are all things that were still true when we were just friends. Now that we're more than friends, I would expect a different sort of excitement about our relationship. It hasn't come. Perhaps I am too logical and since being together is near impossible at the moment, I can't be excited about our relationship. But I can't convince myself of that either. I want to like him in a way where I can't wait to see him again. I want to be excited when he calls or texts to tell me he's thinking about me. Why can't I reciprocate his feelings?!

I feel like the ball is in my court once again and I don't want to play. Shall I deflate the ball? Pass it on to someone else? Or pass it back to Em so we can see how far we can go? I don't want to waste his time or feelings on me if my feet will be dragging the whole time. Maybe I should decide to just be all in and really give it a try. It will take some bravery...and humility...and maybe a few more awkward silences as I try to describe my feelings to him. And this just makes for another adventure in my life. C'est la vie!


beck