if a rainbow cried

DAY ELEVEN

July 5th

I was up till four in the morning, blogging. Around 6am I felt a touch and my name, “Chelsea…Chelsea!” It was Drew, not my dad, this time, “Look at the sunrise, it’s beautiful. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to take a picture or not.” I did my best to rouse myself from the sleep that weighed my eye lids down. I tried to prop myself up. Sure enough, pink literally FILLED the sky over the Niagara Falls. I contemplated taking a picture, but I wasn’t sure where my charger was and I used the excuse that I wanted to conserve the battery use for the rest of the day, then thanked Drew and collapsed in bed. When I woke up later I cursed my laziness and judgment that had definitely been twisted under the sleepy clouds that hovered in my mind. I put the pieces together, like from a dream almost: Drew had been sleeping by the window overlooking the Niagra Falls and when the sun started to rise, so did Drew as it warmed his face. If only I had been functioning on more than two hours of sleep…

Before we left I went around the hotel room and admired its grandeur. We all lingered by the window before we left. Still, it wasn’t enough, no matter how long we stood there and watched the falls, our eyes begged for more. Now, looking back on it- and it’s been a while, there’s one thing I really remember about this day. This blog entry is where I start to decide if it’s better to reveal how while the family unit was made to be perfect- but people are not perfect, OR to make it sound like our trip was ‘Disneyland picture-perfect’.

Thinking about it, personally, there’s only one part of this memory that I want to keep and I’ll let you read. It started with contention and misunderstandings and bratty children (all of us, I’m including myself). This is not a particularly important part that I want to remember… And one of my younger siblings ended up in the bathroom crying. He’s at that age, middle school age, that everyone cringes to think about. I was trying really hard to make peace, but you can’t make people be peaceful, when to use forceful tactics… would be very…unpeaceful. Anyways, I remember listening and hearing him cry and my thoughts went back to memories in middle school when I’d come home crying to my mother. It didn’t matter why I was crying; I had my mother to hold me and comfort me and whisper softly that everything was going to be okay. From bullies to consequences from procrastination- it was unconditional love.

I battled within myself and made a decision, not really sure what I was doing. At first after the volcano’s eruption, there was an awkward silence with the rest of us, both parents absent. Now at the sound of my brother I moved from the bed to the bathroom, opened the door and closed it behind me, despite my brother’s refusal of me. I leaned against the door so he couldn’t escape. As quickly, he went to a corner near the shower and didn’t look at me. So badly I wanted to reach out, but since I knew I probably seemed like an enemy at the moment, I started to talk instead. I don’t remember what all I said, but I tried to show him that I knew what he was going through, and that it was hard for us to remember what it was like to be 15. Everything else is a blur, I almost wish I remember what I said. From our back and forth bantering came understanding, and through sniffles he approached me, thanked me, and hugged me. I pulled him in, crying with him. This tender moment, this is what I wanted to remember. It reminded me of something safe tucked in the middle of a wild storm, and in that moment we both felt safe.

Leaving Canada was sad for me, I wasn’t all that excited to set up the rest of our pathetic rental trailer, or even the idea of having to make new friends for the next two weeks. That horizon was old and it was as scary as it was the first time I approached it. When we got back to Zion’s Camp at the Hill Cumorah the family settled in. We finished unpacking and then packing our things into the petite sad looking trailer (I could name many descriptions, but it would be enough… at least it had air conditioning.) We had some free time, and I don’t recall much of what happened in the day- except for feeling a tad jealous that Spencer, Kenzie, and Drew were off making friends so quickly. I admired them greatly for it as well. For in the end as darkness came, Drew brought the Roberts over- this is when we met Bethany (Kenzie’s pageant twin) and Micah and Sister and Brother Roberts, and the Wright family as well. I wonder what I would have done or said differently if I’d known that that night was only the beginning.

DAY TWELVE 

JULY 6th

First day of Pageant!

Rocking his arms and fists like he was running in place, I got the gentle wake up from my father to go running. It had been my idea to go running, but the night before…but something about an upset stomach after eating and running or something, discouraged my father to do it at night. I tried not to feel sad about getting up early, or at least, earlier than I needed to wake up. It wasn’t that late in the day, but already the heat clung to us like a gum on the bottom of a shoe.

“Look at all the trees, Joseph Smith’s family had to clear trees out like this for their farm.” I looked over at the condensed forestry that hugged the edge of the road. Indeed, with the size of the farms that also crowded the roadside, I couldn’t imagine clearing trees with so little technology that they had back then. To think that so much history walked the lands of Palmyra and the surrounding land. Don’t forget to breathe, but the rest of running came very naturally to me, besides the urge to choke on the humidity. Don’t forget to breathe. It wasn’t a thought that repeated in my mind, but a command that spoke to my lungs as my eyes were distracted gathering in the rolling hills. Yes, maybe they were not as dramatically curvy as in parts of Missouri, but in Palmyra the land swoops and climbs and plateaus, and so father and I chugged up and down and through the land on the side of the road.

I felt like the historical land appeared marred and disfigured with the modern pavement and cars vrooming through it. Have you ever driven next to a semi-truck? They’re even scarier when you’re not in a car; the only nice thing is the after-breeze; unnatural and exhilarating. As unnatural as it was, it felt good- because, boy, it was hot! And I don’t usually ‘drip’ after running, but after that run both father and I were soaked was sticky sweat and I, at least, dripped buckets I’m pretty sure. Yuck.

Friends make the world go round. The kids in the Zion’s campground are here in abundance! Plenty to go around, but I don’t think they’re selling. Every time I turned around my youngest brother Spencer (12yrs) was gone, but I never wondered where he was, because I could hear children laughing, screaming, and running- and I knew he was out there with them as he later told me playing “four square and roller skates…” The rest of us came and went, Kenzie had found a home at the Done’s picnic table, sitting and talking with the daughters who were to be married soon and whoever else wandered over to their table. Josh did a sort of balance between reading a book and wandering around to different groups of friends. Drew was often off flirting with girls. Micah and I started to wander around together, having met the night before, and followed the younger teens around until we settled at the Cook’s picnic table, where then we met the second friend in Zion’s camp: Michael! We played Phase 10 and I think I was getting creamed, only because I was all antsy and excited- Drew’s mission papers were to come in soon! I remember when Drew got the text from my dad as we sat around the table and how quickly Drew shot off to retrieve them, then came back and gathered everyone that we’d been hanging out with to come with us. It was a really cool thing for our family to climb up to the cumorah monument with a group of kids that we hardly knew, but they shared in our excitement. I don’t think anyone’s excitement could match Drew’s though, and I thought it fitting that Drew had his own voice in this blog.

Mission Call – Drew Speaking:

It’s strange how quickly you can become friends with the people that are supposed to be in your life. This Hill Cumorah Pageant has been the best experience of my life. My very best friends were here. And I do mean my very best friends. This first day was the day my mission call was scheduled to come in. I was simply ecstatic and I could not stop talking about it. I became quick friends with some of the kids there and I felt like I should invite them up to the top of the Hill when I opened my call. When the call came, we walked to the top of the Hill. That walk… oh my goodness. Soooo many thoughts went through my head: “Drew… it’s finally happening. This is the biggest moment of your life” “I wonder where I’m going” and then the common “AHHHHHHHHH!” Dominated my mind. We got to the top and before I opened it I just quickly bore my testimony. I tried my best to pour my heart into my words. I could not hold back my tears. I knew that no matter where I was sent, it was God who sent me. And I would answer the call.

I opened the call and started to read aloud. “Dear Elder Duncan…” until it came to the area in which I would serve. I was dumbfounded, speechless, and full of tears. I could not say it aloud. After many coaxing from my dearest family and friends, I read aloud, “… the Russia, Moscow mission” there were woops and hollers. I cannot explain the closeness I felt to my family and the friends that were with me that day. It still boggles my mind that I became so close with those people.

For example, the Cook family. They truly are my adopted family: Michael, Cathy, Steven, Laura, Nathan, Sarah and of course Brother and Sister Cook. I cannot imagine Pageant being the same without them. The jokes, the laughter, the serious times, the not-so-serious times, the spiritual times, and the crying times. I love them so much. I simply love them so much.

Steven and I were instant friends. I remember when we got cast. I was a frontline Nephite battleman, and he was a frontline Lamanite battleman. When we were lined up to be assigned battle partners, Steven and I walked next to each other and said pointing to each other: “ We are perfect partners, no?” The battle instructor laughed and said “you sure are! Perfect height ratio and everything!”  I was glad to be partnered with the guy.

 Our practices are probably one of the most memorable parts. Just how easily we worked together with our ninja rolls and sword chops. Saying a “HIYA!!!!!!!” every four seconds and in the end we just laughed forever at how funny we probably looked and sounded. But in the end I gotta say, we pulled through and if I do say so myself, we had the best choreography of all time! Our instant connection grew to a lasting friendship. One that I won’t easily forget!

-          Drew James Duncan

It was a good start of the day. I wish I’d kept that spirit with me with the rest of the day, because I admit that if you’d asked me at the night of this first day- I would have lied, “Yeah, sure, it was an okay day.” When in reality I was miserable.

Everyone socialized normally, but I felt like everyone’s eyes gleaned with anticipation of what they would be cast for. Conversations circled around what they would be trying out for and later conversations would be what they actually got. Dance, dance, dance, my mind repeated in a longing rhythm. I could see it behind my sister’s smile; she was thinking the same thing. I had heard about the dancing parts and fighting parts last night. Alas, girls were not allowed to be in fighting scenes. However, I decided (before knowing what they did and finding out it was for the elitists) that I wanted very badly to be a Lamanite dancer! It sounded evil and exciting, because then of course I would lose, being the bad guy…. And losing sounded fun? Sometimes acting the bad guy when playing make-believe is fun; I mean who hasn’t wanted to play Captain Hook with the evil pirate accent or Jafar with the lamp?!

We ran out onto the field, dancing barefoot on the right part of the field. The person teaching us to dance had started lining us up when my mother came running in. With bright cheery eyes and an excited (almost hyper) smile, my mother said something about it being silly, but that she felt the prompting to just try and have fun. Deep down she wanted it. I wanted it. Kenzie wanted it. Every one of those girls was trying to learn the steps as quickly as they were being taught. Which was fast, I was lost most of the time, but Kenzie caught on, practicing the few steps on her own a couple times like a pro, somehow remembering it all. I watched her with admiration and even jealousy. It’s hard to watch a younger sibling walk in your footsteps that you cannot return to. The dance team, for example, I miss it. The way Kenzie’s arms reached and body twisted – all so effortlessly, I remember when I was on the dance team and could move so easily. There was a pair of eyes I had not thought of, ones that probably longed more than mine were. When we were going over a jumping part of the dance she decided not to stress her ankles. My mother can still move and swerve and roll her body in a way that professes my mother’s ability to dance when she was younger. Yet her ankle held her back, but to be with us for that moment, I imagine she felt good to be included.

Later my mother would describe the picking process a lot like dodgeball. Everyone else getting picked around you until you’re one of the only ones left. And later she found peace, much like I did. Truth is, I felt disappointment. There I was on the grassy dance floor dancing my heart out, crying out mentally for them to see and choose me… One by twos they got picked around me, my sister got picked before me. She got to be a ceremonial dancer and a new world woman.

So yes, I admit my silent disappointment. And no matter what people said, “oh, a harvest dancer? That’s an awesome part!”- I felt a sadness, even had a little pity party. Maybe I cried, but even louder I cried inside my heart to the Lord, help me be happy, help me choose to be happy. Now I look back and though it may be silly- it was still painful. At this part of the pageant I didn’t have a lot looking up for me, not in my narrow view. Back in Oregon my friends were having fun and making memories without me, my best friend was leaving on a mission soon, and in Rexburg I had a friend I was getting more and more distant with- and the lack of internet wasn’t helping…so with all this loss, I felt entitled for a little favor from God, a “better” dancing part in the pageant that I thought I needed in order to make me happy. Now, I’m only writing about day eleven, but I don’t want to leave on a sad note. So you guys get a small insight on my future that I wish I’d had that night. And that is this: that there is a happy ‘ending’. In my eyes I could only see I falling sun on the horizon, but in reality the sun was rising, and whether it was rising or falling- there was still light and color there to be embraced.

In reality, where the sun sets in our perception, it’s always raising somewhere. “Don’t merely get by because you have to- live, because you can.” As my well-missed and loved friend Risa Whitaker would say. You’d think I would have had that lesson down by now. Apparently it takes some pounding into this heart of mine before it takes a sturdy shape.