"It's going to be okay."

"It's going to be okay." 

I know that. 
I know that tomorrow the sun will rise and I will wake up and I will go to work and I will feel things both good and bad in the moments before I sleep again and then it will repeat.
There will be hard days and there will be good days. There will be boys who make me cry myself to sleep and there will be boys who make me want to stay up all night talking. There will be moments of completely desperation and hopeful moments. Moments where my Savior makes his presence know. And moments when He will pull back a bit and let me feel it instead. 
And sometimes I cannot tell which moments are the more important ones to me. 
The moments when things feel perfect or the moments when I ache all over?
The moments when my Savior holds me or the moments when He asks me to just try to remember what that feels like instead? 

I know these moments are fleeting. 
Oh how I have been taught this year how fleeting every moment actually is. 
One day you are 15 and scared to kiss someone.
One day you are 21 and scared to look to see if there's a second little pink line. 
One day you are awake and alive and laughing. 
One day you are gone and you've left people in a pile of destruction behind. 
One day you are kissing while the sun does down behind you.
One day you are alone in your bedroom with the lights out, crying. 

And just like the other days, one day this will be gone. A memory. Maybe not even a significant enough moment to make the category of a memory. So much of your life will go un-noted. This feeling. This moment. This situation. This day. This might not even make the cut. One day, this may be gone. A feeling your mind won't cling to anymore. More important things will come up, take it's place. More important things will attach themselves to your soul and you will no longer have time to waste thinking about how you felt that one night when you could hardly breathe. 

And it will be okay. 
It's always going to be okay. 
Okay isn't some distant thing, far off in the horizon. 
Okay is found multiple times, in many different places. 
In the midst of the hardest day of your life, there will be tender mercies. 
There will be people who will bake you food so that you don't have to. There will be friends who buy you 30 pounds of chocolate that you don't need. There will be notes left on windshields as encouragement. There will be people who will call you beautiful. There will be life around you. There will be flowers blooming in weird places and clouds shaped like horses. There will be classes that get cancelled. There will be movement, and progress. 
Okay is found in those things. 
It will be okay. 
And it will be okay tomorrow. It will be okay tomorrow maybe 4 or 5 times. And then the next day maybe 3 times. And then the next day 8 times. 
It will be okay so many times one day that it might finally outweigh the not-okay again someday. 

An echo from another time, another place.

Sometimes (all the time) I think about what I will forget. 

I'm really bothered by the idea that I go throughout full days, living my life, and then weeks from now or maybe even just days, I won't remember 90% of what I did today. 
This action. Right here. My fingers on these keys and the way head itches and the way I'm looking at the room trying to think of what to type... I won't remember it. 
And I think about this all the time. 
I'm obsessed with what I will forget. 
I know on Tuesday I woke up, took a caffeine pill, went to spinning, came home, showered, and made a smoothie. But I don't remember if waking up was hard that day or what we did in spinning or what exactly was in that smoothie. I don't remember what it tasted like or if my muscles relaxed instantly in the shower or if I was relieved to be able to lay down finally after class. 
I remember my life in snap shots, as I think most of us do. And it bothers me. 

But then there are weeks like this last one. 
And days like today. 
Where I realize that it's sometimes better to not remember every detail. 

I hope that on my death bed I won't be bothered by the fact that I don't remember what I did on the 11th of May when I was 14, though that bothers me slightly now. 
But instead I hope I'll remember the important parts. 
I hope I will remember watching a close friend marry the love of her life
I hope I remember the first time I read Harry Potter and how much it made me want to write. 
And then the movie premiers I went to with my friends. 
The nights spent with a best friend in the Fred Myers parking lot. 
Winco runs at 3 in the morning. 
Singing (and sometimes talking to friends instead) in a choir. 
The time a friend brought me mini Saltines and general conference talks because my heart hurt.

I hope I remember that one time I bought 30 pounds of chocolate and watched Boy Meets World for 4 hours instead of doing homework so that a friend wouldn't be alone. 

I hope I remember that my 90% of my life was forgotten in a haze of the mundane. And I hope I finally come to terms with that and realize that it's okay.
I hope I accept that forgotten 90% as just a bunch of stepping stones to the next big memory. Things that don't actually matter all that much leading to the things I'll never be able to forget.

And I hope I remember that my life was beautiful. 
Because it is.