Yesterday there were more adventures in cleaning out the barn. I stumbled across a time capsule that I made back in the day. Where were you on November 17, 1999? I was collecting personal keepsakes, and writing letters to my future spouse. If I remember correctly, at age 11, I figured I would be married by 2010, and so I said that I would open in the night before my wedding. Well- that didn't happen. But I opened it anyways.
To my amusement I found pictures of the 11-year-old Emmilie Buchanan along with her hand and foot prints. Also, a list of 11-year-old like. Her hobbies? Cooking, scrapbooking, writing. Stuff she likes to collect? Cow stuff and hotel soap. Her favorite color? Lime Green. Favorite clothes? Toe socks, jeans, blue collar shirts. Favorite book? Harry Potter. Favorite song? Reflections (from Mulan). I was a cool kid. Included in my time capsule was the script for the first play I ever did, some hotel soap from my fabulous collection, and some cow figurines. Also a beanie baby and some ticket stubs from school plays I was in.
My favorite part was the letter I wrote to myself. It was pretty funny. It talked about how I was getting married to the "dude of my dreams." I gave myself a few pointers about getting married.
1. Don't freak out.
2. "Have daddy give you a blessing."
3. Remember that "your dude will take care of you."
My 11-year-old self gave the getting married version of myself a little pep talk. "Now, you are probably going to have some pretty big butterflies, but talk to the Lord for help. Your dude will take care of you."
Thanks 11-year-old self. Now marriage will be a piece of cake. All that's left for me to do is find my dude. Thank you, and goodnight.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Montana Part 1
Never in my life have I loved a place more than I love Montana. I've forever left a part of my heart there among the rolling hills, the big sky, and the mountainous ranges. Yet among all of the physical beauty of Montana, I came to love a beauty far more powerful and lasting. It was the beauty of the goodness of the hearts of the people. I love them. They forever changed my life, and I will eternally praise my God that he sent me to labor among them.
MTC!!
Hiking the Rims in Billings, MT
Georgie Scheetz. She is special. We taught Georgie in my first area. Her love and testimony of the Restored Gospel of Jesus Christ strengthened mine, and taught me to love missionary work.
The Musselman Family. They are amazing! Heather and Craig and their sweet kids.
Glacier National Park. Hiking to Hidden Lake. Legit.
Elder Lanham, Sister Ivie, Sister Buchanan, Elder Colby, Elder Henriksen, Elder Buckman
Specialized Training in Missoula.
Elder Buckman and I being thugs at a bar in Eureka. Yes, a bar. Hooray for bowling on P-Day.
Jeremie Flanigan! Sister Ivie and I taught him in Kalispell. It was amazing to see the power of the Atonement change someones life so drastically. It's all real my friends.
Our sweet car share in Kalispell. Sister Ivie, Elder Lanham, Sister Buchanan, Elder Henriksen.
MTC!!
Hiking the Rims in Billings, MT
Georgie Scheetz. She is special. We taught Georgie in my first area. Her love and testimony of the Restored Gospel of Jesus Christ strengthened mine, and taught me to love missionary work.
Sister Smith, Sister Buchanan, Sister Engstrom.
Sister Stalions and I at Zone Conference in Miles City.
Sister Stalions and I at Zone Conference in Miles City.
The Musselman Family. They are amazing! Heather and Craig and their sweet kids.
Glacier National Park. Hiking to Hidden Lake. Legit.
Elder Lanham, Sister Ivie, Sister Buchanan, Elder Colby, Elder Henriksen, Elder Buckman
Specialized Training in Missoula.
Elder Buckman and I being thugs at a bar in Eureka. Yes, a bar. Hooray for bowling on P-Day.
Jeremie Flanigan! Sister Ivie and I taught him in Kalispell. It was amazing to see the power of the Atonement change someones life so drastically. It's all real my friends.
Our sweet car share in Kalispell. Sister Ivie, Elder Lanham, Sister Buchanan, Elder Henriksen.
Outdoor Zone Conference in Ronan.
I love Montana. Stay tuned for part 2. I'll tell you a secret- it's really good. Thank you, and goodnight.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Rat Babies
Alright boys and girls- I'm back. Stay tuned for some sweet stories about the mission, but for now listen to this tale of horror.
Serving a mission entitles you to a lot of things. You get to wear the black name tag. You are in a perma-state of sleep deprivation. You go through the emotional unrest of being released. Upon your arrival, you have the arduous task of going though all of your stuff that's been packed away in boxes for the past 18 months. Yesterday, the task of "thinning out" my stuff began.
Nate and I loaded up the back of the car with boxes from the barn and drove to the back of the house. Nate started a fire and started burning the garbage that we found. A lot of the boxes had been damaged, which resulted in a lot of my stuff being destroyed. Cool. The second box was not nearly as salvageable as the first. There was a lot of filth and mold... super awesome. Suddenly, I was moving things around and saw something that looked suspiciously like a nest resting by my red phone. Oh dang. I gingerly moved it thinking, "how in the world did this get here?" I started screaming bloody murder as 4 pink creatures fell out of the nest. RAT BABIES. Not like developed rats or anything- oh no. Fresh from a FETUS rat babies!! Worst moment of my life. Now for the record, I can handle a lot of things: spiders, flies, bees, any kind of bug really. Are we besties? No- but there is definitely a mutual understanding. Rats and mice on the other hand- no sir.
Upon hearing my blood curdling screams, my mom came running to the window. "What's the matter?" I explained the situation, my voice rising in hysteria. "Oh. Um... one second." She responds. Not two minutes later she walks out back carrying our 21-year-old cat. Great. "Is she going to eat them??" I asked, sounding appaled. My mom gave me a look as if to say, "Yes, moron." She placed the cat in the box, and I held my breath and turned away- I did not wish to partake of the carnage and MURDER. Luckily, neither did my ancient cat. She looked at the babies, took a sniff or two, and climbed out of the box, looking rather bored.
Meanwhile, I'm still freaking out. My Dad comes out and gets it done. He grabs the box, and throws it in the fire. Rat babies=dead. I felt awful!!! My little sister asked if they were sacrifices. Great. No, McKenzie. We don't belive in that. Good ole' Law of Moses was fulfilled. We are just horrible people.
I've had this burden of guilt on my chest for almost a day now. I had to get it off. Don't judge me. And don't ever store your stuff in the barn. Thank you, and goodnight.
Serving a mission entitles you to a lot of things. You get to wear the black name tag. You are in a perma-state of sleep deprivation. You go through the emotional unrest of being released. Upon your arrival, you have the arduous task of going though all of your stuff that's been packed away in boxes for the past 18 months. Yesterday, the task of "thinning out" my stuff began.
Nate and I loaded up the back of the car with boxes from the barn and drove to the back of the house. Nate started a fire and started burning the garbage that we found. A lot of the boxes had been damaged, which resulted in a lot of my stuff being destroyed. Cool. The second box was not nearly as salvageable as the first. There was a lot of filth and mold... super awesome. Suddenly, I was moving things around and saw something that looked suspiciously like a nest resting by my red phone. Oh dang. I gingerly moved it thinking, "how in the world did this get here?" I started screaming bloody murder as 4 pink creatures fell out of the nest. RAT BABIES. Not like developed rats or anything- oh no. Fresh from a FETUS rat babies!! Worst moment of my life. Now for the record, I can handle a lot of things: spiders, flies, bees, any kind of bug really. Are we besties? No- but there is definitely a mutual understanding. Rats and mice on the other hand- no sir.
Upon hearing my blood curdling screams, my mom came running to the window. "What's the matter?" I explained the situation, my voice rising in hysteria. "Oh. Um... one second." She responds. Not two minutes later she walks out back carrying our 21-year-old cat. Great. "Is she going to eat them??" I asked, sounding appaled. My mom gave me a look as if to say, "Yes, moron." She placed the cat in the box, and I held my breath and turned away- I did not wish to partake of the carnage and MURDER. Luckily, neither did my ancient cat. She looked at the babies, took a sniff or two, and climbed out of the box, looking rather bored.
Meanwhile, I'm still freaking out. My Dad comes out and gets it done. He grabs the box, and throws it in the fire. Rat babies=dead. I felt awful!!! My little sister asked if they were sacrifices. Great. No, McKenzie. We don't belive in that. Good ole' Law of Moses was fulfilled. We are just horrible people.
I've had this burden of guilt on my chest for almost a day now. I had to get it off. Don't judge me. And don't ever store your stuff in the barn. Thank you, and goodnight.
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