The Provo Tabernacle

I drove past the Provo Tabernacle the other day - it's on its way to becoming the Provo Temple - but it actually looks horrible... just a dark empty shell on a vacant lot surrounded by construction.

It gave me hope... because I know what the plan is, I know what it's going to be. Sometimes, when I look at myself, I see the same thing - a Bonnie under construction - one that's not looking so great at the moment.  But the truth is, there's a plan for me too.  I am also in the process of becoming something.

The fire was a tragedy - a beautiful building gone.  

But no - it's going to be restored!  And even better, it's going to become a beautiful Temple.

I'm thankful for the ways that Heavenly Father chooses to teach us about the atonement.

Long, long ago in a far away land...

My Family owned this estate in Shropshire England.  

A Tragedy

On the first day of Kindergarten, a piece of paper was placed in front of me, and I was asked to draw a picture of myself. 

"Sure thing," I thought.  I took my pencil and proceeded to draw a large head with two eyes, a nose, a mouth, and long hair.

Done.  Me.

My teacher came along and wrapped her arm around the back of my chair, "Don't you want to add some color like the other kids."

I think I was expecting her to complement my drawing, because I remember feeling a little crestfallen. I liked my drawing the way it was, but I didn't want to disappoint my new teacher so I reached for a red crayon and quickly made some adjustments.

This was the end result:

Through out the school year I learned that I had blonde hair, blue, eyes, that I was a girl, and that I probably liked pink.  At the end of the year we were given the exact same piece of paper and asked, again, to draw a picture of ourselves.  

This time I came up with the following:

I guess you could argue that I had become a better artist, or that I had become more self aware, but I think that what we are actually seeing is the result of a bizarre societal pressure to focus on what I looked like more than who I was. And it leaves me feeling slightly disappointed.  It makes me miss the girl who first entered that classroom, unaware of eye or hair color, confident, content to do her own thing, happy with who she was inside, and unaware of the things she wasn't or the way that other's perceived her.  I wish I'd stayed that girl. 

Many, many moons ago, I was idly browsing through a bookstore, when I came across this book.

Another time, in the same bookstore, I received a phone call. 

I was sitting next to Kate, we were across the table from Laura and Nick, and we were all browsing through wedding magazines looking for ideas for Kate's upcoming wedding, when my phone rang.  I dug into my bag, saw the number, and froze.  

My heart was beating fast - too fast, my palms were sweaty,

I was light-headed, 

I was giddy,  

I was unsure if I should answer.

But I did.

And the sound of his voice made my little heart do flips inside my chest.
I wandered aimlessly through the books, ridiculously happy, flirtatiously chatting.
He was calling to ask me out,
on a date,
to go hiking.
I was elated.

He was handsome, funny, charming, ridiculously intelligent, and he would soon be my boyfriend.

Okay, now, back to the giraffe book.

At the back of the book there was a stencil.  It looked a little like this:

And on it were the following directions: 

"First, cut along the dotted lines until the entire shape is visible. Then, hold the card up to any animal. If the animal fits inside the cut-out space, then yes, you're looking at a giraffe."

Random, I know.

But it made me realize I had a similar stencil in my head that I would hold up to men, and if they didn't fit inside, then that would be that.

I didn't know it, but the guy on the phone would end up breaking my heart.
He would also end up becoming my stencil.  

A stencil that is still in the works. Changing shape as I learn a little more about myself, and a little more about the person I'm looking for.