SEVEN.

Dear 208 visitors since November 24th,
I still don't know who you are, but I have so much to say.
I know... shockerrrr.

These days my words aren't comin out very well, but I won't suppress them. Here comes the flow.

1. I was drivin home from my nanny-job in Alpine last Tuesday, and decided it was time. Time to pray in the car. My Mamaw does this, and that woman is wise. The open road really pulls my words out of me.
This thing I've been dealin with lately-- I am confused about it. Sometimes I feel God say "You can do this. This is right."
And then sometimes, he seems to advocate a step backward, like I should re-evaluate the way I'm trying to conquer this.
So, we talked about my decision. Mostly I just talked and talked... and he listened. When I got quiet, he helped me know what to say next-- kinda like guiding me towards discovering my own answer.
This was healing for me.

2. Once upon a time, here in the conexsh, our heater broke. The boys from Corner Pocket donated blankets and large-man-clothes for us to sleep in. So, needless to say, over the past two weeks I have become very attatched to a certain pair of man-pants. Today, I found out they were Jordan's. I also found out that he said we can keep them... meaning I, Lyndsi Shae Brown, am goin to hog them.

3. Last night I felt failed by all the men on this earth. Okay, exaggeration, but really...It is time to raise up and say that-- dating is hard. It is not always like the stars of 1980s LDS pamphlets portray, in their soild t-shirts and blue jeans. Riding bikes and holding hands and just marriaging ALL over the place. The good news is, the mass frustration was all-talked-out in the fort afterwards. And by fort, I mean the sweet fortress in the bomb shelter of course. I've been avoiding it. But last night I faced up, went in, and told him everything.
Soon, I will tear down the fort. We'll need more room for FHE down there. But still, it will be another ending.

4. I am thankful for my roommates here at the Conexsh. With these women, I never feel out of place. We pray together, pig out together, cry our faces off and laugh till we pee our pants. Lately, I've had a feeling about our new roommate Steph. I've felt like her family is a ton like mine. So last night, I told her. Turns out: it's true. Relief.

5. Sometimes I go back to DT, it’s a big field now. I go to feel all that has passed through me since I came here. I feel my independence. My back-then questions. I feel my road and all of the changes. Last time I was there, I saw a sign as I drove away.
“I’M TRYING HARD TO GROW, SO PLEASE DON’T WALK ON ME.”
Love, BYU grass.
“I feel the same way,” I thought. So I busted a U-turn. I left my car parked and running in the middle of the street while I walked to the edge of the grass. And then, I straight-up stole that sign. Right there in my pajamas and slippers, emotionally nuts, I took it out of the ground and put it in my backseat.

6. So I don't know what's up with this wintery mess I see everywhere. It's pretty, but the cold is trapping me. Where is the grass? I can't flop-down anywhere without riskin my dang life. How am I supposed to play outside? Harder question: How am I supposed to stay inside? I'm goin nuts. If there are walls around me, they best be containing a swimmin pool. Tonight, I wanted to jump into some water SO bad. Me and Brooklyn we're runnin around outside. Three in the mornin. My pants started fallin off, story of my life. So... I just let them. I ran around with my pants at my ankles and I was free. TAKE THAT snow. I'll half-skinny dip right here on the sidewalk.

7. I keep changin. All the time I am changin. But there is one battle that remains—always, I am fighting for my youth. Back home, I felt like my youth was dying before its time. I worked to preserve the child in me. I think that is why I still need to play in the rain and sing loud and fingerpaint. I need to know that I am not hardened. I pay my rent and write my papers. I go grocery shopping and apply for scholarships. I help my friends tie-up their wedding dresses.
I. am. growing. up. Part of this is beautiful to me. But still, I ache with the change. As God stretches me into who he wants me to be—there is pain in the growth. I grieve for what I have lost. But I feel him here with me. I am grateful for the braid of past, present, and future. Sometimes, he reminds me, that he won’t make me grow up any more than is necessary. Being a woman doesn’t mean I lose my warmth. He will never rob me of my youthful spirit.