Open Letter

To you who are "mine"-

It is no surprise that during the holiday season my thoughts would turn to the many blessings and countless gifts we have received throughout the year. It seems I've been in a constant state of reflection for the last several weeks. I look around at the beautiful life that, for some reason, my Heavenly Father deemed me worthy to be part of, and I can scarcely catch my breath.

I am blessed.

As I sat in a testimony meeting today, listening to the sentiments of those brave enough to face the stares of an entire congregation, I couldn't help but envy their public declarations of gratitude. Hand me a script or any opportunity to perform a self-deprecating joke and the spotlight doesn't seem so scary.

But crack open my heart, revealing a mushy, vulnerable center of simmering emotions and I shut down like an airport during a snow storm (If airports could sob uncontrollably and cause mascara to run down the tarmac.)

I wish I was better at seizing the fleeting opportunities to express the love I feel for the family and friends that have taken hold of my hand, tenderly guarded my heart, and lovingly scolded me when forgetting to believe in myself.

The lessons I've learned from you could fill a library of textbooks.

You've taught me to be strong in the face of adversity.

You've taught me that laughter (paired with cake) really is the best medicine.

You've taught me about sacrifice and service.

You've taught me that friends can be sisters and sisters can be best friends.

You've taught me the beauty of mercy, compassion and forgiveness.

You've taught me, and sheltered me, and pushed me, and cried with me, and carried me.

I wish you could see the the magnificent view from where I stand everyday. The exquisite sea of faces who've gathered around me. The kindly souls who've taken on the sometimes difficult, very often boring and nearly always, poorly paid job of being "my family".

You're so lovely from here.

And here is where I sit tonight.

My swollen eyes overflowing with gratitude. My mushy heart, open and exposed. My fingers hesitantly typing each vulnerable phrase.

I love you.

Thank you for loving me.