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*****Warning: this is the most vulnerable blog post I have ever written. I’m running on the assumption that my following has significantly dwindled, because I’m getting HARDCORE REAL today.******

I am completely and totally, head-over-heels in love with my husband. I love him with all my heart, which is why I agreed to marry him. Incidentally that’s also why I agreed to be his girlfriend. In fact that’s why I said yes to a second date.

Yeah, I’ve been crazy about Spencer ever since I met him.

I also had this dating policy where I’d only go on second dates with boys I really really liked. i.e. If I couldn’t see myself marrying a boy, there wouldn’t be a second date.

As you can imagine, I went on very few second dates. (Enough to count on one hand.)

So I meet Spencer, he has all of my “necessary qualities” (speaks Spanish, loves the Lord, worthy priesthood holder, ambitious, this is too embarrassing to continue writing) so I say yes to a first date. The first date goes really well, he continues to be everything I expect in my man, so I agree to a second date. In fact I’m so bold as to tell him at the end of our fist date that I had a really great time and I’d love to go out again. (Granted, he said it first. But I would’ve said it if he hadn’t!)

Second date goes really really well, and I decide that he’s the man of my dreams and I’ll agree to marry him if he asks me. So of course I agree to a third date. Everything continues like a fairy tale, and before you can say “basic Provo girl” we’re engaged. [In all fairness, I’m 26. That’s not basic.]

Believe you me– never in a million years would I ever have imagined I’d be one of those girls that got engaged fast. I always said I’d never even have a conversation about marriage until I’d been in a solid relationship for at least 6 months. And I also always planned on having a long engagement. (tbh I have no idea what the long engagement logic was haha.) Turns out all my judginess of fast engagements came back to bite me. When you know, you know. You know?

So I’m in love with Spencer, I know he’s the one, and I feel absolutely confident this is the right thing to do. However, along with my confidence, there’s this deep and abiding fear that Spencer would just wake up one day and realize that he wasn’t feeling it anymore, or I wasn’t who he thought I was, or he just couldn’t handle me anymore. And that would be that.

Story time: I did let down my [super duper] high walls once before, a few months previous to meeting Spencer. For literally the first time in my life, I allowed myself to be vulnerable and I opened myself up to another person. I got into like a real relationship, the kind where I let him hold my hand and kiss me and introduce me to his family as his girlfriend. It was one of the most courageous, scary things I’d ever done. And then it ended very abruptly, very quickly, with no warning at all. He just drove to my house and told me he’d received revelation there was someone better for me, and we had to cut it off immediately. (Important interjection: I am eternally grateful this happened. Spencer is my soulmate, the only one for me, and I am so thankful this other boy had the courage to act on the prompting he received. I’m just sharing this to give context to my hardcore trust issues.)

So yeah. Daily, constant, deep fear that Spencer would break up with me with no warning at all. But he didn’t.

We got married, and he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love him so much it hurts.

And that’s sort of my whole purpose here– love hurts. Sometimes it hurts like hell. When you love someone with your whole heart, you run the risk of having your whole heart shattered. It is SO SCARY to give yourself completely to someone else, always running the risk that that other person could at any point just decide to leave. There are very few guarantees in life, and another person’s continued happiness and loyalty are not one of them. I have no control over how Spencer feels, and that sometimes terrifies me.

Even though we tied the knot (and in our case were sealed for eternity, including real covenants with each other and God) I still can’t help from worrying that one day he’ll realize I’m not as good as he thinks I am, or I’m not the same as the woman he fell in love with, or he can’t deal with how much I cry (which is regularly, even though I’m happier than I’ve ever been #gofigure), or he meets someone that’s better than me.

I know I just have to trust him, and every time he does something to deepen my trust, like still loving me when I got food poisoning on our honeymoon, or showing me that I’m the most important person in his life by saying no to other people so he can spend time with me, it gets a little easier. It also helps that he’s NEVER done anything to break my trust. Sometimes when he tells me he loves me (which is often) I say, “I believe you.” That used to take a lot of work to say. Now it doesn’t. It’s still a little bit scary sometimes, but it’s getting less scary.

Love is scary, especially when you have 26 years of practice not allowing that kind of love. Protecting myself all those years kept me safe, but it also kept me from feeling.

I choose to trust that the high risk yields high returns. It already has. I never thought being married to the love of my life would require so much bravery, but it takes real courage to choose to trust Spencer every day. The good news is I’m a brave girl. I’ve been brave my whole life, and now I’m married to the most patient and supportive man I could imagine, and the terror of love is beautiful.

I didn’t check my school email over Christmas break, so I missed the funeral.

We weren’t even particularly close. But we had one memorable interaction about a month ago that made me pay close attention to him whenever he was in my room.
*he’s goofing off in class, and I pull him aside*
Me: Hey ____! This is so unlike you! What’s going on?
Him: My dad got really mad at me this morning because he said I didn’t do the laundry and dishes like I was supposed to.
Me: Oh, I can see how that would throw you off. Did you do the laundry and dishes?
Him: Yeah! I always do! And he never notices!
Me: Oh man. That must be hard. Does your mom ever stick up for you?
Him: She’s dead.
Me: …… *Internally screaming AMBER BLAIR, YOU ARE THE MOST INSENSITIVE SOUL ON THIS PLANET!*

So I knew like a tiny bit about his life. (AKA I knew that home life kind of sucked.) I think I tried to be extra aware of him and praise him a lot. Maybe.

The email said he was on life support due to a gunshot wound. The next email said he didn’t make it.

One time I passed him in the hall. I was on my way to pick up a class and idk what he was doing by himself. I should’ve stopped to talk to him. I think I said hi. Maybe I called him by name. I’m bad with names. Maybe I called him the wrong name. I could’ve invited him to walk with me. Maybe he’d just been bullied at recess. I should’ve asked him how his day was going.

I hate guns. [Lengthy paragraph about my political views that I just deleted. #prolife #protectthechildrenthatarealreadyonthisearth]

I get his class on Thursday. I’m not really good at knowing the right thing to say to grieving people. I feel like I always say the wrong thing. But when those kiddos come in on Thursday, I might not say anything. I think we’ll just listen to calming music and play the piano.

When I switched from 6th grade to Music, I did it because I wanted to help these “at-risk” (I hate that term) kids deal with life. Giving kids the tools to get jobs is absolutely noble and necessary and good. Yes. All the power in the world to general classroom teachers. But I care more about giving kids the tools to cope when something goes down like a fellow classmate unexpectedly dying. Or your parents getting divorced. Or not getting into the university you applied for. Or a psychopath getting elected to lead our nation. Life is freaking hard, and tbh knowing how to divide fractions isn’t going to get you through it.

But in my experience, music can. My first year of teaching was pretty much Hell, but I listened to “It’s Gonna Be Okay” by The Piano Guys on repeat, and it gave me hope and peace and strength. Coming home from the mission was hard, because I’d spent 21 years preparing for it, and I hadn’t really prepared for coming home. But listening to music I’d loved as a missionary helped me feel like my life wasn’t completely worthless without the nametag.

Finding out an innocent child died on Christmas was shocking. But sitting at my piano and playing a Beethoven Sonata I studied in college brought me the peace I needed. It didn’t necessarily take away the pain. I had to go to work the next day. But it calmed me down and reminded me that Someone bigger and smarter and better is in charge, and He’s got a plan. I want kids to be able to have that coping mechanism, for when words fail and all we can do is sit and cry and listen. That’s why I’m a music teacher.

I’m on an Anne kick RN, because I recently watched the new Netflix series “Anne with an E” and was so overcome with love for Green Gables and Anne and Matthew and Marilla and Gilbert that I just had to watch the beloved BBC films as well.

I’m in love.

In love with Avonlea. And Anne and Gilbert’s relationship. And the whole small-town, book-loving, creative, passionate orphan girl turned successful author. And the idea of a perfect young man being in love with me since the moment he saw me, and never giving up on me, even after multiple rejections.

Okay, so maybe it’s not terribly realistic… But I yearn for a man like Gil. Someone who’s head-over-heels in love with me, but still respects me and wants my success and happiness, and continues with life even after temporary rejection, but remains loyal.

Here are a few reasons Gilbert Blythe is the ideal man:

1. He’s ambitious.
Off to med school while the rest of his classmates stick around to be farmers.

2. He’s studious.
He and Anne were the top of their class, and both worked hard and got great scholarships.

3. He’s kind.
He was always offering to help Anne. Even after she cracked her slate over his head.

4. He’s honest.
Ohhhhh if all men were like Gilbert. He’s straight up with Anne and tells her exactly how he feels. So much of the horridness of dating would be avoided if everyone was up front and open.

5. He’s loyal.
Even after being rejected by Anne, he STILL waits. He even calls off his engagement because “it wouldn’t be fair to Christine.” (This is totally different from Snape, because Anne wasn’t married. Lily was married. Snape was lustful and creepy; Gil was loyal and determined.)

6. He’s handsome.
I mean, this doesn’t really need an explanation.

7. He’s supportive.
He goes to Anne’s performance where she recites “The Highway Man” and GIVES HER AN ENCORE.

8. He’s useful.
Okay, this one takes some explaining. He actually helps Anne progress. Like, he gives constructive feedback on her book in a tough love sort of way, which she totally hates at first. But it ends up saving her writing career. He’s not afraid to be honest.

9. He’s forgiving.
Back to the broken slate. This boy is a saint.

So I’m not settling until I meet the living equivalent of Gilbert.

These shoes were my wings
Beach, Hollywood, Rock Canyon
Thousands of miles. Thanks.

How to survive until Spring:

It feels like just yesterday that I was watching “Frozen” for the first time, long after everyone else was over it. I had just returned from my mission, and I had to be obsessed with “Frozen” all by myself. I wrote a post about Gospel parallels in “Frozen” to process all my feelings.

Today I’d like to do the same thing with “Moana”. Although I’m not longer recently returned from my mission, I still love nothing more than a good Gospel analogy. And this time it’s not months after the fact.

The Gospel parallel I want to discuss is Moana discovering who she is. There’s a time when Moana is all by herself on the ocean, and she comes to the realization that she is a chief’s daughter, and a descendent of sea voyagers. With this new understanding, she is given the strength to steer herself through the storm.

The first thing missionaries teach is that God is our loving Heavenly Father, and we are His children. I grew up singing “I Am a Child of God” from like the day I was born, and reciting “We are daughters of our Heavenly Father who loves us, and we love Him” every week from age 12-18. What a gift.

As I watched Moana realize who she is, I was reminded of the Truth I’ve known all my life about who I am– a daughter of God. The tears flew freely as I thought, “I am Amber Blair. I am a daughter of my Heavenly Father who loves me, and I love Him.” He created me to succeed, and He gave me special gifts and unique talents to help me.

Understanding who we are is a superpower I think can really be channelled to help us be successful. What immense confidence can come from focusing completely on Father’s opinion of us and His great love.

2016 happened. It was the literal worst. Here’s a trailer for the film of it.

Oh hey. If you’re curious, these are some of my New Year’s resolutions:

Exercise 20 minutes/ day
Daily and weekly planning
Go to a therapist
Record good things I do every day
Accept criticism, but don’t take it personally
Focus on the things I want to grow
Go to Europe
Read one book/ month
Attitude of gratitude
Become a music teacher
Listen to one conference talk/ day
Run a marathon
Positive self-talk

2017 will be my best year so far. Cheers!

Hi friends. Today’s post is going to be slightly different from my norm. I’ve been thinking a lot about perfection, and I wanted to take this time to share my thoughts. I’d really love to hear what you think.

So I have this kind of weird trait that I love to set goals. For example, the other day I announced that I set a goal to watch every classic Disney in Spanish. Why didn’t I just express my desire to do that? I don’t know. I’ve had a weird thing with goals since my mission. #chapter8

Anyway, I’ve been super goal-oriented ever since the mission, and one of my goals was to go to the temple every week. I did that every single week without fail… until two weeks ago when the Provo temple was closed and I had Girls Camp. I didn’t make it to the temple, and I felt awful! I considered my worthiness to take the sacrament, and I just felt like a terrible person.

And then I realized that weekly temple attendance isn’t actually a commandment.

My primary class has a goal to read the Book of Mormon every day, and they’re doing awesome. But one boy has missed just a few times, and it really stresses him out. Today I shared my story of missing a week of the temple, and then I shared this scripture that has recently brought me a lot of comfort:

But now I tell it unto you, and ye are blessed, not because of your iniquity, neither your hearts of unbelief; for verily some of you are guilty before me, but I will be merciful unto your weakness. Therefore, be ye strong from henceforth; fear not, for the kingdom is yours. (D&C 38:14-15)

To me, those verses are saying I know you’ve made mistakes, but don’t be afraid. Just keep doing your best.

I talked to my class about how messing up doesn’t make Heavenly Father mad. The only thing that makes Him mad is when we’re ungrateful. He expects us to mess up, and that’s why He gave us His son Jesus Christ. Like we learned in last Conference, in the Gospel, we get credit for trying!

What a relief, right? I sure do mess up every day. Sometimes I get really overwhelmed with all my weaknesses, like being bossy or competitive or overly goal-oriented. But as long as we’re trying our best, we’re on track. I know the Lord has our backs. That’s what the Atonement is for!