I am my ward’s big sister.

I don’t say this with the least bit of sarcasm or cynicism. It struck me as a fact whose impact compares to when you realize that adding two things to two other things totals four things; the effect goes beyond memory or recitation or just written in chalk on a board or in graphite on white paper. It is a fact that stands independent of bias or sympathy or suffering, but relies on understanding of natural and physical laws.

I am my ward’s big sister.

My brain, my heart, my soul have hung in the gallows these past five weeks – exposed, on display. My reasons for being here go further than finishing school. The interactions I have experienced so far point to, brush off, help polish my abilities as a friend, even a counselor. Fact: my ward is living a part of life I’ve already gone through. Fact: my ward seeks to improve on individual and differing levels. My desire to improve, right now, depends on the needs of my ward. Fact: I can be there for them.

Now, I don’t need to be everybody’s best friend. Often that is a very different role than a big sister. But this really helps meet my need to belong, to be useful. This is a good start.

***

I have been thinking a lot about personal testimony, and how my neglecting to develop it lately has resulted in why I’ve felt so severely lacking. I reached a breaking point last Sunday, and I’ve been thinking about it all week. The steps in figuring this out are helpful and very worthwhile. Our testimonies are supposed to be a living and growing part of ourselves; mine has been parched and brittle for way too long.

***

Sometimes I wish I could be more than just a big sister to my guy friends. Maybe someday I will be.

***

I got to bed close to 5:00 this morning, and I woke up at 9AM. I feel pretty good.

Happy February 14, dear friends.