teleported

I sincerely hope that you have enjoyed your teleportation experience. I thought that, if, in fact, you have, you might enjoy also hearing the story behind this wonderful machine that Amy and I are building.

As I noted, there are still a few bugs here and there.

For example, well, we hope to someday be able to teleport Amy from Oregon to visit me in Utah, but for now, the machine is only able to bring her as far as my port (i.e. Writing.Com portfolio). Oh well. She's just thrilled that it is working as well as it is. I believe that "awesome" is the word she used to describe this port-teleportation business.

We're not sure where the teleportation stations on either side of this thing will be, either. Especially on Amy's side. We were thinking of having her teleport to the empty second closet in my bedroom (it used to be my roommate's, before she deserted me for Alaska),... but I'm now moving to another apartment (with a roommate), so scratch that.

Besides, my friend David is next in line, after we get that machine to work for Amy. (He owes me a hug. Or two. Or ten. Or a hundred.) And it wouldn't do to have him teleported into my bedroom! That's against the Honor Code (for BYU), to say the least! So I guess that I really have to come up with another idea, don't I?

Another mystery is why the machine makes a sound like Kasploomf! I don't even know what that means! And I'm the co-creator of the thing!

Well, just the same, keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times, until it reaches a complete stop, and enjoy the ride!

-Mariah :)



More glimpses into Mariah's life:

In loving memory of Jordan, my big brother. (2009)
Angel Brother

Amy and I sat on either side of Jordan's bed, rubbing his chilly feet and marveling at the heat we felt when we touched my brother's legs, half a foot above his swollen feet.

Jordan was dying.

It was Saturday, October 10, 2009, and my cousin Amy and I had flown to see my big brother before the end came. Amy had recently become engaged, so we had hoped to see each other in more favorable circumstances, but Jordan's cancer had rapidly and unexpectedly spread too far. As it turned out, neither of us would have passed up that short weekend with Jordan for anything.

As we talked quietly by the side of the hospital bed in the front room, trying to hide our tears so that Jordan would not feel worse about leaving us, we watched Jordan drift softly in and out of sleep. The peace on my angel of a brother's face was astonishing, like he was once again the little boy two years older than me, rather than a twenty-two-year-old man with a mustache. He smiled in his sleep.

Those of us who were gathered around Jordan--my parents, my two sisters and my other two brothers, my dad's parents, Amy, two of Jordan's college friends, and I--found that it was hard to be anywhere but at home. True, it was hard to see Jordan hurting and not be able to sooth his pain, but the peace that overflowed in our home could not be found anywhere else. There were a lot of tears, but so much more laughter.

As Jordan would reach up to Dad with his thin arms, wrap his arms around Dad's neck, and let himself be slowly drawn to his feet, just to sit in a wheelchair and be with the rest of us, I could not help but think of a little one, just as helpless as Jordan, holding up his arms to be held and loved.

By the time Amy and I had to leave on Monday morning, Jordan wasn't able to get up as often, and it was much harder for him to move. Amy and I helped Jordan get untangled from his clothes and covers, and then we could do nothing more than to just say our good-byes and remember the pure life he had led.

Wednesday morning, the 14th, Jordan passed away, on our brother Nathaniel's sixteenth birthday. I watched him sleep, the sleep of death, with a look of immense peace on his angelic face, before we buried him.

Yet, I did not lose my brother. He is with me still; I feel him there, by my side, every hour of every day, and he is happy now, no longer trapped by his weak body. God is so good.

Call me not Naomi, call me Mara: for the Almighty hath dealt very bitterly with me. Ruth 1:20 (2009)
Mara--Bitter

Growing up, I always loved the name Mary. Whenever we played house, I was Mary. When we played with dolls, I was Mary. When we played with cars, I was Mary.

Then I learned that my own name, Mariah, is, in fact, the English form of Mary. And that Mary and my own name mean “bitter.”

For a long time, I hated that! Why couldn’t my name mean something nice? My sister Katrina’s name meant “Pure”, and my brother Nathaniel’s meant “Gift of God.” My other siblings’ names also had what I felt were nice meanings. But mine--“bitter.” Even having such a name seemed bitter to me.

Years later, I finally realized what a special name I had and how my name so strongly symbolizes my own life.

Think of the bitterness of Naomi’s life--she lost her husband, lost her sons, lost her entire life that she had built up, and kept only a daughter-in-law. She said, “Call me not Naomi, call me Mara: for the Almighty hath dealt very bitterly with me” (Ruth 1:20, KJV). Mara. Meaning “bitter.” A big change from “Naomi,” which means “pleasant.”

Think of the bitterness of the life of Mary, the mother of Jesus. Pregnant with only a betrothed husband. Believed by all those around her to have been untrue. Facing the strict laws of the Jews concerning out-of-wedlock births. And that’s only the beginning of it. Having a Son who was hated by many. Being a lonely widow when she watched them crucify Him. Always staying true to her Son, her Savior, despite all persecutions. And so much more. Surely hers was a bitter life.

Yet, for both of these women, and even for me, it was only through such bitterness that their lives were sweet. Naomi’s daughter-in-law, Ruth, was married by a very kind and considerate man, Boaz, who took care of Naomi for the rest of her life. It was through Ruth’s own descendants that Christ would be born.

As for Mary--what could be sweeter than to be the mother of the Son of God? What could be dearer than knowing of His love, than knowing, even nurturing and teaching the Savior of the world? Truly, hers was a life of the utmost sweetness!

My life has not been as dramatic as these two women found life to be--Mary and Naomi, who renamed herself Mara. Yet I, Mariah, can testify that my own struggles, the bitterness of my life--so much of it brought on in my innocence, at times even coming because of my obedience to God--it has been because of, and through, the bitterness of my life that it is so very, very sweet. I thank God, in His mercy and love, for that.

Mary, Mara, and Mariah. Bitterness turned sweet.