I moved!

No, we didn't move back to Idaho. No, we didn't move from our apartment into a house. But this little blog moved over to a new, fancy-schmancy website! Horray!

I'm working on getting all the RSS feeds moved over and everything. But if you don't want to wait around for Google or Bloglovin' to do their thing, you can just jump over to breannaolaveson.com and become a follower yourself. I have a BlogLovin' button all set up. That way you can make sure you don't miss anything (and catch up on the few posts I've put up over there since I moved)!

I've loved writing over here but it was time to make the move. The one hesitation I had was that I didn't want to lose any of you guys! I know the people who read this blog just read it because they like to—I don't do a lot of fancy giveaways or tutorials or anything. So you guys really are the best readers ever. So please join me over there!

Catch you on the other side!

Putting Down Roots

We planted a garden the other day.

Well, we planted a sort-of garden. It's a few pots out on our patio. But since a 20-square foot patio is more of a yard than we've ever had, I'm working with what we've got.

Lyla LOVED watching me plant and get my hands dirty. She played in the dirt too, which I thought was fun and cute. We're working in the yard together! She's learning patience and a good work ethic! I thought proudly. I took her picture. I told her that if we were patient and gave the plants plenty of water, we'd be eating strawberries and tomatoes and cucumbers in no time.

That was at about 2 p.m. At about 5:30, Lyla left the dinner table and disappeared.

We thought she was in her room but I couldn't find her there. I checked Nora's room, our room, the bathrooms ... nothing. At about the time I started to panic I found her on the deck, a fistful of dirt in one hand and a cucumber plant in the other. She looked proud, like Look, mom! I'm planting a garden like you!

I can just feel a parable coming on. Can't you?

In the days since the cucumbers met their fate, I've been trying (mostly unsuccessfully) to nurse them back to health. Because she pulled them up at the roots, it's been slow going.

She also nearly loved the tomato plant to death, though with less fervor. She left the plant itself alone, choosing instead to methodically remove every leaf and other sign of life. The roots remained intact.

I left the plants in the sun, watered them daily, loved them and kept the door to the patio locked. And wouldn't you know it? The tomato plant sprouted three new leaves yesterday.

I guess roots are more important than branches. Branches are persuadable. Roots control growth, gather food and water and give life the the plant. Roots replace damaged leaves.

Sometimes trying to teach these little girls how to have faith in Christ is like growing that tomato plant. It's hard to see results immediately, and I never know if what I'm doing is actually settling in.

But yesterday, when Lyla pointed to a painting in our house and said, "Jesus," then folded her arms reverently, I realized I might be getting through to her. A small sign of success, like those little leaves.

I know as she grows there will be hard times. The wind will blow and people will come along that will damage her branches and pull off her leaves. But for now, I'll keep putting down roots. That way, I hope, those leaves will always, always grow back.

Come Unto Christ

I had another post all written in my head. It was about finances and what I wish I'd known when we first got married. It was solid, I think, and it will probably still be written. Just not today.

There's something else on my mind today.

I hesitate to write anything at all about Ordain Women, because I kind of feel like it's getting too much attention in the press/blogosphere already and I'd rather focus on other things. Back when I wrote my piece on Wear Pants to Church Day, I remember feeling like I'd drained so much mental, emotional and spiritual energy thinking about it that I had hardly anything left to give. But maybe there's still more to say.

Yesterday the Church released a letter that a spokeswoman wrote to the group asking them to reconsider their protest. I read the letter and found it articulate, loving, inclusive and sincere. What she wrote rang true to me and I appreciated the fact that the Church was taking the group and their concerns seriously. That felt loving to me. It seemed Christ-like.

What really bothered me, though, wasn't the news articles about the letter. It was the comments I read after them. Some comments were loving and articulate. Some were not. Some were probably hurtful. Particularly this: "If you don't like the way the Church runs, you can leave."

I'm not a member of Ordain Women and never will be. But consider this my plea: Please never ever ever invite someone to leave the Church, whether their doubts have to do with the priesthood or Church history or the Word of Wisdom or whatever.

When I read that comment, I think, "No, don't! Don't leave! Please stay. We need you. We need your family. We need your understanding and your testimony and your faith, no matter what your doubts are. I hope you reconcile your feelings and decide you want to stay with us."

The purpose of a missionary is to "invite others to come unto Christ." Let's not do the opposite.

There's more I could say, but I hear a sweet 2-year-old playing in her room and we both need breakfast. So I'll end with this: Can't we all just be nice?

Things I Shouldn't Think

I shouldn't think those look so good.

I recently read "Is Everyone Hanging Out With Out Me? (And Other Concerns)" by Mindy Kaling. Apparently it's been out since 2011 so I don't know what took me so long.*

There's a part where she says she keeps lists of her favorite things on hand so that when someone asks her something like "What's your favorite food?" she can just pull out her list and tell them exactly what her favorite food is. No hemming and hawing; no wondering, What IS my favorite food?

She says she hopes this will make her seem "self-actualized," and I like that concept. I think the phrase technically means to realize your full potential, but I like the way she used it to mean "fully knowing yourself." It made me think, "Do I even know what my favorite food is?"

So I started thinking along those lines to try to get to know myself. And after a while I realized I have a phrase that I use in my mind a lot, and it prevents me from really knowing (or maybe being?) myself: "I should."

I use it when I feel like I'm expected to think or act or be a certain way when I'm really not inclined to do so. As I've tried stopping those thoughts, I'm happier. I'm more true to myself. And I'm still a good person.

Here are some "I should"s that I've been working to eliminate:

I should stop eating so much. I think I say this one because I eat pasta, peanut butter, donuts, muffins, Kraft Macaroni and Cheese and other things that everyone knows are bad. I take in a lot of calories. But why shouldn't I, exactly? 1. Because I don't need the calories? I do. I'm nursing and sometimes struggle to make enough food for Nora. 2. Because I'll get fat? I exercise fairly regularly and use most of the calories I take in. And what's so bad about being fat, anyway? 3. Because those calories are taking the place of other, more important calories? We eat a fair amount of vegetables and fruits and fish and are basically addicted to green smoothies. I think I'm good.

I should stop working so much. I spend a good chunk of every day writing and I tell myself I shouldn't. I haven't even taken a shower yet today, so I feel like I shouldn't be blogging. But why? I enjoy it. I do it when my girls are taken care of. I have other good reasons for working. I think maybe it's because people in the Church aren't usually super excited about moms working, but I know Ryan likes that I work and I don't think my girls mind me feeling more fulfilled, happy and productive, which writing makes me feel. Why would I tell myself to cut back on that?

I should get up earlier. This is a big one. I've been fighting this one for YEARS. I'm not naturally a morning person. Sometimes I get up pretty early, to get to the gym and everything, but I have a hard time getting out of bed and always hit snooze a few times. That makes me feel like I'm lazy, but it shouldn't. There's no rule that says you have to be up by a certain time to be a good, productive person. Just the one I made up in my head.

I shouldn't be enjoying this show. I usually think this when I'm watching The Bachelor. I hesitate to even admit I watch it. But I like it! I think it's hilarious! It's not real, people! They just want to be famous! And they're so FUNNY! I like it! I do! And that's OK!

What "I should"s do you tell yourself? Or is it just me?

*(Disclaimer: She kind of has a mouth on her. A hilarious mouth, but a mouth.)

Our Story, Part 7: That's What He Said

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

I realized today that this is the last weekend in February, which is when Ryan and I became officially engaged. So I thought it only fitting that I welcome Ryan as this blog's second-ever guest blogger. (Have you read the first one? You should.)

Before there was a Breanna Olaveson, there was a Breanna Bennett. And when that was my name I had another blog cheekily titled "That's What Bre Said" (I was really into The Office at the time). Ryan wrote this post, sweetly titled "That's What He Said," on that blog a couple weeks after he proposed. I didn't think y'all would mind the repost. (Whoa. I just said y'all. Looks like Texas is rubbing off on me.)

Consider this part six of our story. We're almost finished! 

---------------

Engagement pic by Camille Roskelley

Hey everyone, it's Ryan.

I think it's about time I share the story of how I became the luckiest guy around. Bre doesn't know I'm writing this, by the way. She's in NYC. I miss that girl.

So, the engagement ring came into my possession (from a jeweler in Utah) on Thursday, February 26th. I knew it would burn a hole in my pocket, so I made plans to give it to Bre pronto. I wanted it to be a surprise, so I did all the things that would make our Friday night date seem like just any other Friday night; I bought her flowers, wore the shirt she likes me in best (it's brown), just happen to have made a CD of all our favorite songs and took her to Bajio, her favorite place to eat in Rexburg. No, nothing special. Nothing at all. I think she caught on pretty quick. That, and I'm sure she could tell that I was more nervous than I was on our first date.

For example, enjoy a couple of classic "Ryan Moments": Mishap # 1. I usually go to the ATM before a date, just in case my card doesn't work for some odd reason. I forgotten to go today. But I'll be ok, right? When I tried to pay, I was denied. I later found out that apparently, when you get a new card in the mail you have to call the bank and have them validate it... I'd somehow missed that little tidbit. So, I scraped every penny out of my wallet and still came up a dollar short. I had to ask Bre to ask her friends mom, who just happened at Bajio, if I could borrow a dollar. Mishap # 2. Bajio recently changed from using the tin pie pans to using actual plates. On our way out of the restaurant, that fact somehow slipped my mind and I threw the dishes in the garbage; the fun part was digging through to get them out. I was on a roll.

So, dinner is over. The exciting time has come. I'd hoped to go to for a walk in the hollow (a place where we would walk sometimes and it was just us), but it was covered in snow. So, I decided on a different special spot. We took a drive through the dry farms, like we often do. I had it all planned out. There was a spot up there where Bre and I had gone a couple of times during the summer - a little patch of grass with a swing set, where we could sit and talk and overlook Rexburg. It'd be the perfect place to pop the question. It, too, also buried in snow. So, casually, I flipped a u-turn and headed back into town... Bre was on to me by then.

A few minutes later, we pulled into the Rexburg Temple parking lot. We talked for a minute while looking up at the lights. I asked Bre if we could go for a walk around it. We walked and talked, and when the time felt right, I slipped the box into Bre's hand. Her eyes got big. I dropped to one knee, told her how much I loved her, and asked her to be mine.

The rest is history.

----------------------

Since February is over, I'll take a break from our love story. There's really only one part left—our wedding day—which seems like it should be published on our anniversary, right? So I'll be returning to my regularly scheduled programming this month. Hint: I'm hugely inspired by Mindy Kaling's book right now. Are you excited?

Our Story, Part 6: Rings True

Part 1 here. Part 2 here. Part 3 here. Part 4 here. Part 5 here.

It's Valentine's Day! It's been five years exactly since we picked out my engagement ring. I have to tell you about it.

I returned to Utah after Thanksgiving Break knowing things had changed between Ryan and me. I had a month until my internship was complete, and then I'd be back in Idaho. Ryan and I would live in the same state for the first time since we met. The same city, even. And go to the same school.

I called Ryan one day in December when I was on my way to an interview. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm ready. I want to date you, and just you, when I get back. I want to do this," I told him. I felt all swoony about it.

"Great!" Ryan said. And that was that.

A few minutes later Ryan called me back. "Hello?"

"Hey, Bre," he said. "So, I looked at housing for next semester. I figured we could get engaged soon, then both live with our parents until February or so, and then get married and move in somewhere mid-semester when it's cheaper."

I smiled as I tried to bite back laughter. "Ryan, we're not engaged. I just want to date you and just you. Let's just take this a step at a time."

"Oh. Okay," he said.

----------------------

I picked out my engagement ring five years ago today, on Feb. 14, 2009. It was love at first sight.

I remember I tried it on just before Ryan went to the bathroom. I rested my hand on my leg while I waited for him to come back and when I glanced down at it, I knew this ring was the one. It looked so natural there, not too gaudy but just a little sparklier than was absolutely necessary. Perfect.

We went to half a dozen more stores and tried on a handful of other rings, but they were all just variations of the one I fell in love with initially. By the end of our weekend in Utah, we'd sealed the deal on a ring.

This was starting to get real.

(Happy Valentine's Day!)

Our Story, Part 5: When We Almost Lost It

Part 1 here. Part 2 here. Part 3 here. Part 4 here.

Every love story has the part where you're sure it's all over--when you can't see how things can possibly work out. It's the "you don't know what they have until it's gone" part. A low point.

This is our low point.

----------------------

I didn't make the drive from Utah to Idaho for Ryan's birthday. I don't know why. But I spent his birthday alone in the Provo Temple, so I guess that tells you something about my state of mind.

Thinking about Ryan made me feel a lot of uncomfortable things, so I tried not to think about him too much. I knew I was falling in love with him, but it was complicated. I felt excited to get to know him. Anxious about making a wrong decision. Afraid of getting married to young. Guilty for not letting myself fall for him the way he was falling for me. Basically, I didn't quite feel ready to get married. (As if anyone ever does.)

But Ryan hung in there, never overly emotional, always even-keel. When I went home to Idaho for Thanksgiving, Ryan and I spent parts of the holiday with each other's families. It was natural and easy. We went on a date to see Jon Schmidt at the Rexburg Tabernacle, and on the drive home, we started to have The Talk again.

The Talk was the same every time. Ryan would ask if I'd given things any more thought, and I'd wring my hands and say, "I really, really like you, Ryan. I want to see where this can go. But I'm just not sure. I just don't know the way you do."

Then he'd nod in understanding, squeeze my hand and say goodnight. He would give me all the time I needed, he said. And I was taking my sweet time.

But tonight, the conversation was different. He looked agitated. And when I got to the part where I just didn't know, he sighed and threw his hands in the air a little. "Well Bre, I don't know if I do know anymore. This is has been going on for too long. If you're not sure about this, maybe I'm not either."

And on that terrible note, he took me home.

----------------------

For some reason I was sleeping in the guest room at my parents' house that night. I stared at the ceiling until late. I couldn't sleep.

I tried to look into my future, which seemed as uncertain to me then as it ever had. I imagined marrying Ryan and having a family together. I remember thinking about the children we would have together, or the life I would have with someone else if things ended with Ryan. I understood, vaguely, the importance of this night. I felt sick with the pressure to make the right choice.

I don't remember who called whom, but I remember talking to Ryan at about 1 a.m. I don't remember now exactly what we said, but I remember realizing that if I didn't do something drastic right then, I was going to lose Ryan Olaveson for good.

And with that thought, everything was suddenly clear. I didn't want to live without him. And if that was true, none of my other questions or fears or doubts mattered.

Ryan was the best person I'd ever met. He'd watched me get my wiggles out while he waited, devotedly and kindly. He always told me he was dating other people, but I knew that wasn't true. And I knew I loved him.

How could I even think of letting him go?

----------------------

In the movies, this is the airport scene. The please don't board that plane scene. The pick me, choose me, love me part. I'll just warn you right now, if you don't like cheesy things, stop reading right now.

I jumped in my Volkswagen Beetle and took off down the icy, snow-covered hill that was my parents' neighborhood and drove through the abandoned streets of Rexburg until I saw Ryan standing on the curb outside his apartment.

I don't remember what we said but I remember there was a lot of crying. We both could have decided to end it that night. But instead, we both went out in the cold looking for each other. And that kind of said it all.

----------------------

I woke up the next morning far too early. Ryan arrived at my house for church a few hours later looking as exhausted as I felt.

When I opened the door, he stepped in the house and hugged me tighter than he'd ever hugged me before. And for the first time since we met, I hugged him back just as hard.

I'm in this, I thought. I'm so in this.