I have a front porch full of my pre-marriage life, and since I got married at 30, that's a lot of crap. My mom was finally sick of housing all the old yearbooks, fabric scraps, elementary school projects and awards, programs from EVERY performance I've ever been in (including sacrament meetings), poems and pictures from old boyfriends, and the list goes on. I must have a dozen clippings of my hair at various ages, so whenever I die, Ted will still have something to run his fingers through.
It's been an ordeal to go through it all for two reasons: 1) I keep looking at everything with exclamations of either "I remember writing/making/drawing this!!" or "Why would Mom SAVE this??" and 2) There is a LOT of crap. I thought I would share a particularly choice piece of writing I came across.
You know those little talks you have to give in Primary? I recited one to my mom and she typed it on a 3x5 index card. The date on it says I was days away from turning 12, so it must have been my last hurrah before moving on up into Young Women. I want to quote it verbatim below. Current commentary is in brackets.
"Everyone lives in heaven at least once in their lifetime [apparently I was well-versed in the doctrine surrounding the first and second estates even at this tender age. What can I say?]. This time was in the pre-earth existence of life. In other words, before we were born. And everyone will live a life of freedom and happiness [hey, I was an optimist]. It seems a short time that you live here on earth. When you die, your physical body stays buried in this earth, but your spiritual body slowly rises out of your physical body and travels to heaven to live with Heavenly Father again. Heaven is the most perfect place to live. It's even better than living in See's candy shops. And I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen."
Hard to believe that I once thought that. What could be better than living in a SEE'S CANDY SHOP??? A lifetime of blueberry truffles, rum nougats, and butterscotch squares?? Sign me up. Clouds and harps be damned.