A bit unusual.

A tree made out of stuffed animals. 

Sounds crazy, right? Probably.

But I couldn't imagine Christmas without it. 

It's another tradition my Grandma started, but this one began before I was even born. 

It started on an old ladder with stuffed animals bound and tied to the frame, and became a pyramid frame with hooks when my Grandpa realized the tradition wasn't going anywhere. 

When my mom and her siblings all had homes and families of their own, the frame was adapted to a shower rod and peg boards in graduating sizes to make the tree shape you see now. 

Not only is this tradition unique to the Bell's, but each tree is different from house to house--except for one thing:

My Grandma loved the idea of the lamb and the lion, and each family has their own lamb and lion to place somewhere on the tree. 

The fact that it reminds me so much of my grandma is reason enough for me to love it--and look forward to "The Animal Tree" and it's decorating each year. 

It's different, but it's beautiful. 

What are some Christmas traditions that are unique to you and your family? 

Once each year.

Sometimes, just when you don't think you can handle one more emotion being thrown in your face, life hits you like a figurative brick wall. 

I thought I finally had everything under control after moving all week, working all weekend, and finishing finals; but I hadn't really had time to process what month it was. I've never been a fan of May, it's windy, it's AP week (or finals, now), and the anticipation for summer is getting the best of everyone. 

So when I got a letter from my best friend on Friday that said, "I know your least favorite day of the year is coming up. And I want you to know that I'm thinking about you, that the Plan of Salvation is real, and families ARE forever." I was caught a little off guard. 

Then I realized what he meant. It's been three years since my Grandma passed away; three years since the hardest day of my life. 

Even though I miss her so much it hurts to breathe somedays, I've learned so much over the last three years; things I wouldn't have learned otherwise. 

The night she passed away, after I'd told my friends good night, turned off my cell phone, and my family had gone to bed, I turned to my scriptures, desperate for some kind of comfort. 

Opening to a handout in the New Testament, I turned the page to 2nd Corinthians 4:17, which reads: 

"For our light affliction  which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. " 

Even though I wouldn't want to go through any of that again, I know that I wouldn't be the same person without that trial. I've learned how to rely on my Heavenly Father for comfort, and how to apply the Atonement to my life. I learned how incredible my family truly is, and I think the sealing power we find in the temples is even more amazing now. I know how much it hurt to lose my grandma, and at the time, that seemed like the worst thing in the world to me--and it might have been. But I do know that that trial will be worth it in the end, when I get to see her again in the spirit world and be with her for eternity. The pain of that loss is nothing compared to the glory we'll experience after. 

In the meantime though, I'll do my best to follow her example. To love without hesitation, and serve without a second thought. To focus on others more than I focus on myself, and set goals that will help me in a celestial sense. I want to be the kind of mother she was, and the kind of relationship that she and my grandpa have. During her fight with cancer, she adopted a motto of sorts, the phrase "You can do hard things" and I'd be lying if I said I hadn't applied that in my own life. I can do hard things, and I will keep doing hard things--because I had a nearly perfect example of endurance to follow. 

I love you, Grandma. 

I know it's you.

Dear Anonymous,
You say I've only heard half the story and I don't know what really happened. To say that, while commenting as an anonymous author says that you are not proud of the way the situation was handled and can't own up to your own actions. If I really didn't know the whole story, you'd say it in person, or at least under your own name. The fact that you can't do that speaks volumes.
According to you, I'm clueless and should just forgive and forget. You are wrong. I know everything. I've read the letters and emails. I've heard both sides of the story from those outside people who got involved. And I've lived it. 
In the nine years this has been going on, you've missed exactly half of my life.
I've graduated Primary, received my Young Womanhood Recognition award, moved from YW to Relief Society, been co-president of a Seminary council, and spoke at Seminary graduation. I graduated from not only elementary school and Jr. High, but High school as well; with no acknowledgment from you. You never saw pictures of me at the Sterling Scholar awards or my high school dance groups. You didn't watch me play lacrosse, or see me cross the finish line for any of my three Ragnar relays. You don't know that I helped design an entire line of prom dresses, am majoring in English, and haven't seen my awards for newspaper design. You weren't there when I went on my first date and you won't be at my wedding.
I may not have participated in the events that led to where we are now, but I have lived the effects for the last decade. I'm not living at home anymore, but being on my own hasn't made the hurt go away. I have my own life, and I'm fending for myself. But I'm still part of my family, and we come as a group. Unless an effort is made for all eight of us, I want nothing to do with a relationship.

It all comes down to the fact that actions speak louder than words.

You can tell me you love me [you always have, always will, never stopped], but I don't believe it.

If you love someone, you go out of your way to make them happy. You don't request that they don't send birthday cards, Christmas letters, or graduation announcements anymore.
If you love someone, you want to spend time with them. You don't intentionally avoid and refuse any contact or meeting.
If you love someone, you speak highly and kindly of them. You don't make false accusations and damage reputations.
Love takes work, and you have to show it in the way you live. It's not a word that can be thrown around to try and prove a point, but rather something that you have to prove by the things you do.
Love is the way my parents check in on me and the way my sisters FaceTime me before bed. Love is the way my best friend makes me laugh even through a letter when I haven't seen him in months and the way my roommates wait up for me to get off work. Love is the way my grandpa never misses a chance to let me know how proud he is of me and the way my home teachers give us blessings before finals week.
Love is more than a bag of cookies and a doily, or a forced conversation and a sealed envelope.

You say you love me and my family, but you don't show it.
I'm sorry I'm not trying to fix this, but I have too many other relationships with people who do love me to focus on, and not a second to spare for those who don't.

A touchy subject.

[DISCLAIMER: This post may be slightly pointless and not really help anybody out there--not that any of mine do, really--but I needed to talk, and that's what this blog is for. Read at your own risk, I guess?]

From the time we're little, we're taught to put ourselves in a good environment, with people that uplift and support us, and make us better people. I have been very very blessed in this respect, and I am very aware of how lucky I am. 

I have parents that support me in everything I do, whether it's another crazy hair-dye job, a confusing class schedule, or a spur of the moment trip home just to grab a snowboard. They never question me, and always make sure I'm aware that I can make decisions by myself and that they'll support me in everything I do. 

I have five younger siblings who look up to me, and make me a better person everyday. Brittany pushes me to do my best, Ryan looks to me for music suggestions, Emily asks for book recommendations, and Aubrey and Mary would follow me anywhere I ask them to go (as long as they got  Zupa's or Dum-Dums out of the deal.) 

My five roommates listen to every complaint I have about anything, and always have advice for me. They wait up for me from work, even on my crazy weekend shifts, and never fail to make me smile on a hard day. 

I have the three best boy-friends a girl could ever ask for. They change my tires, buy me ice cream, and stop by for random visits to make sure I'm doing okay. 

Add these to the many, many, many other people in my life that keep me sane, make me smile, and never cease to make me try harder, and you can guarantee that I'm a very lucky girl. 

That said, I have also been....blessed...with some people in my life that serve mainly as trials. Long story short, it's been nearly ten years since I had any kind of face-to-face communication with one set of my grandparents, and the aunts, uncles, and cousins involved on that side. Other than random, completely coincidental (or accidental, you could say) interactions, there has been nothing. Zero. Zilch. Nada. 

It's not fun to grow up without grandparents. [Don't get me wrong, my other grandparents are angels. Literally, the best people alive.] Picture this: you're nine years old, and suddenly, there's no contact with one set of grandparents. Then, you're fifteen, and you're grandma passes away. It physically hurt every day to know that I didn't have a full set of grandparents out there, and that the one grandma you did have left was gone. Then, try explaining that to a three-year-old and a five-year-old. It doesn't work. 

Thankfully, my grandpa found Jo, and the position of grandma has been filled--and I can't express how grateful I am for that. 

But, it still hurts. To know that less than five miles away from my apartment, I have a set of grandparents that haven't had contact with my family in almost a decade. This year, they will have missed more birthday's than they've made. They missed my first date, my first dance, and my first day of high school. They missed me crossing the finish line for my third Ragnar, walking across the stage for my high school graduation, and didn't hear me speak at Seminary graduation. They'll miss my wedding. My kids. And so many other milestones that I can't even begin to count. 

For a long time, I was really bitter about the situation, to the point that I was angry and mad at them for everything they missed. But now, through lots of talking it out, and tons of time spent on my knees asking for any way to be even mildly OK with the situation, I've come to terms with it. It still hurts, but I've moved on. 

So imagine my surprise today, when taking a table's order, I look up and see my aunt. The one whom I haven't spoken to since I was ten years old. After informing my manager that I needed to call my parents, PRONTO, I took their advice and said hello. 

"I don't know if you recognize me..."
"I do. You're Ashley." 

"Well, uhhh, it's been a long time. It's nice to see you!" 

"Yeah, good to see you." 

And that was that. Even as I walked away, I knew that nothing was going to change because I'd said hello. But for the first time in years, I was content that I'd done what I needed to, and there was nothing else I could have done. Because family isn't just the people who you share a gene pool with, or the people who have the same blood as you do. 

They're the people you call at 3 a.m. because you can't sleep. The ones that know you well enough to know you're not OK even though you say you are. The ones that cook your favorite meals when you come home, or have a carton of orange juice for you to take back up to school with you. The ones who spend hours fixing your car...and aren't too mad when it still doesn't work. The ones who can make you laugh when you don't even want to smile. The ones who would do anything for you, and you'd do exactly the same. 

And in those terms? My family is huge. And I'm so lucky. 

A tad forgetful.

So. I missed a week. And I don't have time to catch up on everything. Just know that I am so grateful for my life in general. I have the world's most amazing family [who sends me cookies as a surprise with the rest of the stuff I forgot.] the best roommates [who are my best friends.] the greatest friends [who put up with everything I do.] a fun job [that makes me far less stressed about life.] and some of the sweetest boys in the world [who fix my tires, explode watermelons, and go grocery shopping with me.] and I couldn't be happier with where I am.
However, I am going to do a delayed post for the 18th. The 18th would have been my Grandma's 60th birthday. Even though she passed away two and a half years ago, I'm thankful for her and her example every day.

She was the best example of selfless service I've ever seen, and true Christ-like love. She put everyone else before her, and loved like no one I've ever known. And I'm grateful for that example everyday of my life. I miss her every single day, and even more so during the holidays, but I'm also grateful for the sure knowledge I have that I will see her again. And I can't wait for that day. 

Now, to today's post. 

November 20th: Today I'm grateful for a whole lot of little things that make every day easier. I'm grateful for a warm apartment, and hot water. I'm grateful for electricity, and a warm bed [that I really never want to leave] I'm grateful for cars, and for my iPod. I'm grateful for my computer, and the stereo in our apartment that will let us listen to Christmas music full blast come Friday. I'm grateful for 24-hour drive-thru's when we're too wide awake to sleep and need some ice cream. These, and a million other little things, make my life so much easier and so much more fun. And I'm grateful for that. 

Coming full circle.

Other than the fact that I'm so dead tired from last week that I can't even see straight, life is absolutely wonderful. I got to watch Kelsey and Dallin feed each other treats while the rest of my roommates were on an adventure (I'm telling you people, that right there is love. It was like a wedding reception cake eating fest on steroids. Because it was in 102. Surrounded by Halloween lights. And a homemade banana bar instead of wedding cake. They're a match made at USU.)

Saturday night was the [in]famous Howl up here, and these kiddos went all out. There's Emi the Flapper, Kyle Mafia Man, Kelsey's a 50's chick, and Taylor....he's the Sexy Saxophone man. Wearing MY leather jacket and MY leather boots. It's fine. Lauren's friends came up too, and Laur, Marley, Mckenzie, Adrienne, Lauren, Brock, Kyler and Hunter went to a corn maze while Hailee and I stayed back at the apartment and played with cats. [No folks, I'm not kidding.]

Hailee and I also had to run a couple errands for my great grandma and grandpa. My great grandpa Dave has been in the hospital for a couple weeks with multiple blood clots, and my great grandma has refused to leave him. So while they've been at the University Hospital in Salt Lake, their house has been untouched for a little while. I went to pick up their mail, check the house, and all that stuff for my aunts so that my grandma could rest a little easier, and dropped it all off at the hospital Sunday morning. Now, you have to understand how much I hate hospitals. They've always made me feel kind of anxious, and I've just never been a fan. I was a little stressed about making it to the hospital by myself, since I don't drive in Salt Lake like ever, and I'm slightly directionally challenged. But. I made it. 

I parked, grabbed the stuff, and made it all the way to the front desk without freaking out. But as I got up to the elevators, I had the strangest flashback of the last time I was at a hospital. It was the week before my grandma passed away, and we went knowing that this was the last time we'd get to see her. Getting into the elevator on Sunday, I couldn't get that out of my head. By the time I got to the 6th floor, dropped the stuff off, and was headed back down, I was in tears and shaking so bad I couldn't push the buttons for the parking elevator. I got back to my car and just cried for a minute--because I was scared. Because I miss my grandma so much it physically hurts sometimes. And I cried because I was so glad I wasn't one of the people who had lost someone and had no knowledge of what comes after this life. As I was sitting in my car, I got this message from my uncle Kip. [I hope he's okay that I screenshot-ed this, but I needed to save it.] Sometimes, its the little reminders in life that remind us that people everywhere care about us, and that our Heavenly Father is always looking out for us and knows every part of our hearts.

I'm sure Kip and Ginny don't realize how much I needed this simple reminder right at that very second--or as my grandma would call it, that tender mercy. I'm so grateful for my eternal family, for the fact that they are spiritually in-tune enough that they can help without realizing it, and for the knowledge I have that I will be able to be with them forever. Because that's the best kind of family, the forever and ever kind. 

After a busy weekend, full of parties, farewells, errands, and all sorts of stuff. It's all we can do to stay awake through the most pointless class offered at USU. Props to Jon for capturing Paige and Brianna out cold to prove to the world that David Wall can quite literally bore us all to death. Happy Monday, kids. :) 

I'm well aware.

There are a few things in life that I am truly passionate about. My family, the church, lacrosse, and cancer awareness. It just so happens that October is Breast Cancer Awareness month, and seeing as this is the kind of cancer that has had the most--if not only--direct impact on my life. So it's time for a little story. 

I remember going to my grandparents house one Sunday when I was in 8th grade, and having my grandparents sit us all down to "talk." I'm the oldest, and I was 13, so there was a mass of small children running around. My grandpa told us that my grandma had been diagnosed with breast cancer, and I remember my parents and aunts and uncles all crying. I didn't really know what that meant, but I knew that cancer was a bad thing. I guess then it didn't really process how dangerous and terrifying the situation was. 

That year, my grandparents, my aunt Maddy, and my little sister Brittany and I registered for the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure. Coincidentally, that day marked exactly 15 days after my grandma's first chemotherapy treatment. As I found out, 14 days after the first treatment is when the effects really start to be visible, and sure enough, as we were getting our posters and outfits ready for the walk, her hair started to come out. We tried to make light of the situation by making posters with lines such as: "The Tortoise with No Hair." "No More Bad Hair Days"  and even went as far as to make a heart with the hair and a message about how much we loved our grandma. As much fun as the walk was, I don't think I'll ever get the image out of my head of my grandpa shaving the last patches of hair off while we all watched on the back porch.

Watching the effects of chemotherapy and radiation take it's toll on my grandma was the second hardest thing I've ever done. (We'll get to the worst later.) But there has not been a better example of perseverance, courage, and endurance in the history of the world. Not once did she complain, or even stop doing what she'd always done. 

Cancer has put a huge "black mark" of sorts on the last five years of my life. And I know that I'm not the only one affected by it. So many people are diagnosed daily with so many different kinds of cancer

If we're speaking technically, my grandma passed away because of a brain tumor. But ultimately, breast cancer is the cause. Breast cancer is the reason I hate October, and can barely make it through May. Breast cancer is the reason I am an avid supporter of the Huntsman Cancer Institute and while I offer to volunteer for the LLS Light the Night. Breast cancer is the reason I'm not a huge fan of the color pink. And breast cancer is the reason I don't have my biggest hero here with me today. 

When it comes to Breast Cancer Awareness month, I can honestly say that I'm well aware. And a silly blog post won't help find a cure, but it does show the world that I'm aware. 

I'm aware of the effects cancer can have on a family. I'm aware of the mass of people that are required to help a single person through treatment. I'm aware of the funds needed for a cure, and I'm aware that in some cases, there is no cure. I'm aware of the grief that comes when cancer wins, and I'm aware that for the rest of my life, cancer will be a possibility. But I'm also aware of the millions of people out there fighting, and even more people who are helping them, as doctors, therapists, surgeons--you name it. The moral of the story? Cancer sucks. And I'll never get over it. 

We do what we can.

For some reason, Wednesdays are always the longest day of the week. Emi, Lauren and I have class together at 9:30, but we still have a hard time getting out of bed and motivating ourselves enough to get ready for a 50 minute lecture about creative ahhhhts. [Our professor is incredibly British. Ask Emi how she feels about the way he says "matter."] Anyway, we have unofficially declared Wednesdays "What The Heck Wednesday" or "Top-Knot Wednesdays" because of our inability to look socially acceptable that day. We forgot to take pictures of us all together, but the legging and hoodies and shorts look, all paired with a giant baseball of a top-knot does wonders for our social lives, as displayed in the following picture. [Just kidding. Emi was just using the most prime position for creeping while our door was wide open. Yay. :)]

The ASUSU had a barbecue at First Dam last night [if I hear one more "dam" joke, I will lose my mind.] And of course, we had to document it. Luke, some kid I don't know, Chris, Lauren, Emi, me and Dallin--prior to Luke and Dallin and I going on a canoe adventure. Someone took this picture in the middle of us laughing at Kelsey's attempt to photobomb....but the next one is alright. 

See, we can clean ourselves up from our WTHeck Wednesday and look socially acceptable, even if being social is a drag sometimes. 

One more thing. I have some fabulous roommates. Yesterday, they had the misfortune of being dragged in on a somewhat...awkward situation involving my grandparents, and they stuck it out right along with me. Edited a thank you letter, and helped me find some random house in the middle of Providence to drop it off. So thanks girls (and Luke and Dallin) for helping me out. That's all, really. :)