|Bovine and Beautiful. Nah, just kidding, that's not its title. The Yellow Cow, by Franz Marc. 1911.|
I have been making a conscious effort to thank Heavenly Father repeatedly throughout the day(s) for all the wonderful little things he has been sending my way. Strong legs that run far, hugs from handsome men, crisp but not cold breezes, parties with multitudes of friends, acrobats on F Street, incredible talks about the temple and covenants, Laney and her gross stories that made me and Mer laugh harder than we have in months, etc. I told Heavenly Father that I know these good times won't last forever; I remember only too well what it feels like to hit the proverbial wall and get frustrated and feel like no one's listening or no one cares. Those days are part of life. But it's weeks like this week that I take to heart and store for the poo days. Weeks like this week when I remember the Savior and I live without fear. And I have joy!
In the words of that immortal being Taylor Swift, today was a fairytale.