Letter to Me: Happy New Year

Dear Me (and the rest of the world),

       Here comes the New Year. You’ll write resolutions with every good intention, and probably forget them a month later. How could I say something like that, you might ask? I hate to break it to you, dear, but that’s what has happened every year to this point.

       But it’s not going to happen this year, right? Of course right. We are laying down the law. You want to change, and it’s about time it happened.

       That’s not enough, though. It isn’t enough to say you’ll change, to write down those resolutions and tell everyone you’re committed to keeping them. You need to know how you will change, and most importantly you need to know why – why you should change, and why you can.

       See, that’s the important thing to know, the thing I want you to choose to believe. You can. You can do anything; the possibilities are completely limitless. You have let fears or insecurities get in the way before, and I’m here to tell you that’s over. I don’t care how likely it may seem that you can’t, or how many people say you can’t, YOU CAN - no matter what. From now on, the very moment you feel fears or insecurities or excuses rising up, I want you to squash them with those two words: I CAN. I promise you that will always be true, and you had better never forget it. That’s the first thing you need to know if you’re really going to change this New Year’s.

       The second thing you need to keep in mind is what you want most. There are always going to be a lot of things you want, and if you ever want to get anywhere you need to prioritize those wants. Do you want to be comfortable in your body, or do you want to eat two more donuts? Do you want to spend an hour on Pinterest, or spend an hour coming closer to your dreams? Do you want to have a relaxing, carefree night or do you want to finish your homework and get good grades? Maybe there isn’t always a right choice or a wrong choice, but there is almost always a better choice and a worse choice. Dedicate this year to choosing the better. Sometimes it’s hard to give up what you want now, but it’s worth it for what you want most. Remember, “Never give up what you want most for what you want today.” Remember, “What will it do for me? What will it do to me? What will I think of myself after?” When the going gets rough, remember why you keep going. Make the decision right now to always chase what you want most.

      Piggybacking on that thought, make time for what (and who) you love (thank you Becky!). There’s no reason to spend your life any other way.  Your goals for this new year should reflect only what you want most and what you love most. My brother (who has always been an extremely influential person in my life) once told me that to him, the word “want” means you are willing to do anything to get it. I don’t know if I believe that, but I do believe that when you love something or someone, you esteem it over everything else. Because of that, it should be a priority in your life. Drop everything else; if you are doing something that you don’t love and that isn’t bringing you closer to what you want most, you’re doing the wrong thing. Stop it. I think back to the stereotypical Romantic musician. They were usually associated with bad hygiene, a messy house, almost always a horrible hair-do. Why? Their music was most important to them – it was what they loved and what they wanted, and they let everything else fall away. And that’s why you know their names today. That doesn't mean you should stop showering in order to chase your passions, but it does mean you have a choice to make, and it should always be the one that gives you more time doing what you love.

       I’ve given you all of this information, helped you decide to believe all of these things, and now here’s the punch line: it’s your choice. It’s completely up to you how this new year turns out. If you want something from your life, take it. I dare you to. I dare you to make this year wild and bright and full of passion. I dare you to see the fireworks everywhere you go, spitting and crackling and waiting to soar. I dare you to set them free. I dare you to start going and never look back.

       Love, 

          Mikela

       My challenge to the rest of you is to write your own letter. Before the New Year hits, decide not what you’re going to change but how you’re going to change it and why, and be sure to let yourself know what you decide. It’s good to hear yourself say it.

Little Lovelies

     It's a soft and quiet sunrise made just for your eyes. It's the taste of cocoa and the smell of old books and a cozy overcast sky. It's a peaceful evening on the lake or a bird in its first flight. It's smaller than beauty and softer than life and just enough to make you smile. It's a word all it's own, and one that the world is slowly allowing to die. But this word - "lovely" - is dear to my heart and I, for one, will keep it alive.

     There is something about lovely things that enchants me. The word describes something that quietly and unassumingly warms the human heart. Not as garish and vain as beauty, though beauty is just as good, but the little tiny wonders that reminds us that life is good. I think these things deserve to be recorded and shared because there is something magical about them. But more often they are the things that go unnoticed.

     So I am starting a new movement - and feel free to join me - that I'd like to call Project Lovely. Never again do I want to let a lovely thing pass me by without noting it in some way - most likely here, in my blog. Because it is the little lovelies of life that allow us to believe in life's goodness.

     And there is something else wonderful about the word lovely - it means something different for each person. Because "lovely" describes what is soft sunshine to your soul, and every soul is different. So please, share your little lovelies.

     So for my first little lovely, I'll tell you a story - it's a true one, I promise you that. I was driving down a small, little road, in the small little state of PA, passing rows of small, little houses covered in the colors of May. And no one else noticed and no one else cared but myself on that small, little day, to look to the side and see someone trying and succeeding in brightening our world. Just one of these many small houses I saw stuck out in a quiet, simple way. The front was covered in a blue, glass mosaic and depicted the world "Welcome" in a way that reminded me of a first-grader's letter to his mother - simple and sweet. And the pathway was lined with sunflowers high enough to touch my chin, and all of it was enough to make me believe I would find a true angel within. It wasn't quite pretty, but it was bright and it was kind, and it filled up my heart to the brim. And I thought that telling you might make you glad for the lovely little world we live in.

"Us"

     It's impossible to say who might read this. Architects, engineers, doctors, mothers, artists - who knows? My words will be the same no matter who reads them, but they will be understood differently or perhaps not understood at all, depending on whose eyes and hearts they touch. It is because we are different.

     That phrase seems to contradict itself; it seems the words "we" and "different" should not go together. But they do, because despite the fact that no one person is quite like another, we all have one thing in common, one thing that allows each individual "I" to fit into a universal "us." We are all human.

     I know, it's a real shocker, huh? Everyone who will ever read my words is human.

     I can imagine the great firsts who were tasked with naming the universe. Assigning a name means defining, capturing, shaping. After many years of slaving away at the art, I can imagine them finally leaning back in satisfaction and then realizing they were not quite done.

     "What about us?" And that mus have been the greatest task of all, to harness their own essence with a single word. They looked to define their essence to find the word; I look to define the word to find our essence.

     Human: it means a million things. It means crying on the hard days and laughing on the good ones and knowing the difference between the two. It means wishing on long-dead stars for people who won't live a tenth as long as they did. It means burning the toast and smelling the roses and having a heart.

     "Human" might mean imperfect and vulnerable. "I am only human." It might mean having compassion and charity, as in the words "humanitarian" or "humane". At any rate, it means our core is the same. You and I and everyone in the entire world can be encompassed into an "us". So hang on to your human, even if you don't always like it. Sometimes it's the only thing holding us together.

     I'm not really making sense, am I? That's part of being human, too; not always making sense. So because I am not just a "me" but also part of a "we", I expect you to understand me, or at least feel the truth of my words somewhere deep inside. Because my nonsense is scattered bits of my soul, and our souls are made of the same stuff. Human stuff.

Book Review #1: A Tale of Two Cities

     Hey everyone! So, I aspire to be a writer (do you like the slant rhyme? :)), and writing is already one of my hobbies. Specifically, I want to write novels. Probably because I love to read novels. I am addicted to stories. People say they don't have time to read; I make time to read. In a bad way, like "Let's just drop everything and read! It'll be great!" And it is, until I go to school the next day without any homework done. Oops. Reading is what I do when I'm in the mood to indulge, feel, relax. Writing is what I do when I'm in the mood to create, be poetic, put beauty into words.
     Anyway, I read a lot, and I try to read like a writer - read to find ways to improve my writing. In other words, I can be very critical. I'm not afraid to say I don't like a book, and I'm not afraid to say I'm in love with it. Because I read so much, I thought maybe I should just comment on the books I read - how I felt, what I liked, what I disliked, etc. Isn't that what blogs are for? Plus, I'm not very good at analyzing reading, so...you know... practice makes perfect and stuff. And then when my wonderful aunt (thank you Becky!) suggested I do book reviews, I decided to do it.
     I recently finished A Tale of Two Cities, which is probably one of my new favorites. Yeah, definitely. Written by Charles Dickens in 1859, it is undoubtedly an unforgettable, timeless classic. Perfect for my first book review :). I give it a PG.
     I read A Tale of Two Cities for my Honors English class - we could choose any classic to read for our last outside reading novel. Don't ask me why I chose it; it was probably divine inspiration. Because this book moved me. It begins with one of the most famous literary quotes of all time - "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times" - and concludes with another - "It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest I go to than I have ever known." Isn't that powerful? I loved the ending. Which is saying something, because I am very picky about my endings. The ending wraps up the book, ties everything together, resolves everything. It is the sigh of relief or wonder or awe that every gasp, held breath, laugh, sob, and whisper throughout the book leads up to. Endings are important.
     The end of A Tale of Two Cities (and don't judge me for starting at the end; I'm just eccentric) was a true conclusion. And a terribly good one. Throughout the book there are so many characters and subplots and stories, and in the last couple chapters you realize that they are all connected and they all lead to one final ending. The connections are beautifully revealed through conversations, letters, etc. - the characters reveal them. I think using characters literally to tell the story is a sign of great writing.
     The very end of the book - the tying up of loose ends, the final conclusion, the finishing touch - is depicted by the words the dying character might have said if he could see the future. And that glimpse of the future is a glimpse of hope, a light at the end of the tunnel, because when the book ends, we are still stuck in the dreadful, sick, horrifying French Revolution where it seems there is no light at all. But the one man who is our hope, because he is selfless love and bravery and goodness midst a swirling, treacherous sea of evil and hatred and fear and revenge, gives us hope of a beautiful ocean soon to come before he is swept under the waves.
     A Tale of Two Cities is a story of fear, a story of anger, a story of pushing a person, or a whole people, to the breaking point until they are hardly even people in their thirst for revenge. But it begins and ends with the idea that love redeems. Even in the darkest of times, even in the most hopeless cases, even after the most scarring trials, love redeems.
    In short, A Tale of Two Cities is a story of the French Revolution. A time when a people starving for food and starving for freedom began to thirst for blood, a thirst that wasn't quenched until it had swallowed the very people that had began it. Dickens boldly captures the horror of the French Revolution and even emphasizes it by making it the center of the story. He leads up to it with beautifully sinister foreshadowing, he depicts it with sickening imagery and metaphor, he allows it to destroy everything innocent and good. Almost. Because then love steps in.
    I like the reality of the book. There are monsters out there. There is evil, there is horror, but above it all and redeeming it all is love. Love gave courage, love gave hope, love gave healing. I think that is the theme - love overcomes even the darkest of nights, saves even the most condemned of souls, redeems the most lost people. Love overcomes.
    I will admit, it was wordy. Dickens was paid by the word; we have to accept that it is going to be wordy. And at some points it was long and drawn out, but there weren't wasted words. A Tale of Two Cities is completely void of fluff. Every word and moment and action contributes to the plot and is necessary to the book.
     A strength of the book was characterization - there were so many characters, but every one of them was vividly depicted and unforgettable. Jerry, the Resurrection man with unconquerable, spiky hair; Charles, with his confidence and goodness and manners; Sydney, with his reckless manner and ruffled, careless appearance; Lucie, with her lovely personality and endearing expression on her forehead that appeared whenever she was confused or curious or really anything at all; Mr. Lorry, with his little brown wig; Mr. Stryver, with his shouldering in and out and of everything; Miss Pross, with her wild red hair; so many more. I'm telling you, every character was important at one point or another, and there were so many.
     Okay, now I'm just rambling. *Sigh*. This post had basically no structure and probably didn't make any sense, either. I'm much better at ranting about books I don't like. But I liked this book. In fact, I loved this book. I loved the fear in the imagery of foreshadowing, I loved the vibrant, lovable characters - and the vibrance of the evil, hated ones - I loved the weaving of so many characters into one huge plot, I loved the idea of love emerging and overcoming in the end. I don't care if it's wordy, I don't care if it's long, I don't care if it's hard - I'm sick of "hard" - you need to read this book. Because it will change your outlook on life and on love, and it will move your heart, and it will provoke your mind, and it will shake your soul.
          -Mikela

Letter to the World #3 - On Discouragement

Dear World,

It's been a while, hasn't it? Life gets busy this time of year, and I run out of time for everything else. But I have been inspired, so I want to tell you about it.

You know those times when it seems like the universe is trying to tell you a message? When the same couple of words keeps popping up in your head, in songs and speeches you hear, in conversations with other people. Well, lately I think the universe has been censuring me on my attitude. To be honest, I think God is the one censuring me, but for all of you atheists out there, we'll call it the universe.

It started at the beginning of this month, during General Conference. General Conference is a thing my church does twice a year in which the leaders of the church give talks on all sorts of spiritual topics. It ends up being about ten hours all together, and it's something I look forward to every April and October. The talks are always completely incredible and moving, but this time I heard the best talk on gratitude that I have ever heard in my life. It's called "Grateful in Any Circumstances" by Dieter F. Uchtdorf. You can check it out in the link, but I'll sum it up for you. It talked about literally having an attitude of gratitude - not just being grateful for things, but being grateful in all circumstances. That concept was a little hard for me to wrap my head around, but once I finally did, it changed my life. It means being happy no matter what, constantly looking to God - or the universe, if that's what you like - in gratitude, joy, and humility. It means never, ever being discouraged.

The theme of never being discouraged continued popping up throughout my month. Just a few days ago, I was talking to a couple of friends, one of which has had what seems to me as an incredibly difficult year. Through everything, I have been impressed and moved by how he never complains and always has a positive attitude. The epitome of this occurred in our conversation in which he was encouraging another friend of mine who was feeling down, but couldn't tell us quite why. He was simply discouraged.

The first friend told the second that when he is feeling discouraged, he makes himself feel bad about it. "Who am I to be discouraged, when I have so much?" he asks himself.

In my mind, if anyone has the right to be discouraged, it's him. But I'm not sure anyone has the right. I'm rather convinced, in fact, that being discouraged is not a right at all. It is not a pleasure, a reward, something deserved because of trying circumstances. If anything it is a disguised punishment we willingly give ourselves when we are already at our weakest. And it is also a choice.
The climax of these occurrences of the message of never being discouraged in my life happened this morning during church. One of the speakers gave an entire talk on not becoming discouraged. He said the germ of discouragement is in us, not our circumstances. "The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves." Our stars being our situations, fates, destinies, circumstances, trials. They are not what discourages us. We discourage ourselves by making the choice to allow it all to get to us, to focus on the negative, to see the half glass empty. The fault is in the one thing we can completely, absolutely control.

The climax of these occurrences of the message of never being discouraged in my life happened this morning during church. One of the speakers gave an entire talk on not becoming discouraged. He said the germ of discouragement is in us, not our circumstances. "The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves." Our stars being our situations, fates, destinies, circumstances, trials. They are not what discourages us. We discourage ourselves by making the choice to allow it all to get to us, to focus on the negative, to see the half glass empty. The fault is in the one thing we can completely, absolutely control.

Isn't that relieving - isn't that encouraging? Discouragement is conquerable! It is not attached to misfortunes, it is not a side effect of being alive! It is within us, and it doesn't have to be! So there you go, world. You can be happy - and not just because I give you permission. Because that is your right, and it is something your are in full and complete power to give yourself, no matter your circumstances.
Sincerely,

Mikela

x

Oops...

I didn't introduce myself. Sorry. My name is Mikela Marie. I love music - I play piano and harp, and I sing. My favorite song is "Drops of Jupiter" by Train, but my favorite artist is Coldplay. My favorite subject... that's a toss up between English and Science. Life sciences especially - not physical science. Please no. My favorite book? That's pretty much impossible. There are so many! I love The Scarlet Pimpernel, I love To Kill A Mockingbird, I love Jane Eyre, I love Edenbrooke, I love the Harry Potter series. Yes, I am a Harry Potter nerd. I guess I would have to go with that for my favorite book - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. But it is very, very close. My favorite color is a soft, minty blue. And we aren't talking about my favorite movie, because that's taking it too far. If I could go anywhere in the world, I would go to Italy. Venice, then Rome, then the rest of Europe - the Alps of Switzerland, Paris and the Eiffel Tower, the entirety of England, the red rock cliffs of Ireland, the castles of Germany and Romania. But what does all of that tell you about me? Not enough.

I was named Mikela after my father, Michael, who goes by Mike. Everyone says I have his eyes. My dad is one of my biggest heroes. I love the way he selflessly serves and loves, constantly giving his all to God and those around him. His faith and courage inspire me, and his outstanding character and integrity motivate me to be better. I love how he values hard work and how he knows how to let go of even good things for things that are better. When he married my mom twenty years ago, he promised he would never raise his voice to her. He has kept that promise. I love how he loves my mother.

After I was born, my parents realized that if you change the "l" in my name to a "c," my first and middle names together would become "Mike CaMarie." My mom, CaMarie, is my role model. She is the very essence of lovely. She serves endlessly and is always thoughtful and considerate, often doing something unexpectedly kind or going the extra mile. She believes in her own and everyone else's capacity to do great things, and she has an incredible ability to help others believe in it, too. My mom is also very goal driven, and she truly believes that anything is possible. From being the oldest daughter in a busy home to being the mother of ten children, she has retained a spirit of peace and love. I have been told that my laugh sounds just like hers.

Before they realized the fun twist to my name, my parents had given me my middle name after my great grandmother, Jenny Marie, who only ever went by Marie. I didn't know her as well as I would have liked, but I know she devotedly loved my great grandpa, and showed that same devotion to God. She, too, had a beautiful spirit of peace and love that followed her wherever she went. When I knew her, she was small and frail, humped over with soft pink sweater and a crown of silver hair. I remember getting a birthday card from her every year, even after she had a stroke and her handwriting went shaky. The envelope always read "Miss Mikela Marie Hoffman" in her beautiful cursive. She never missed the date, even though she had nearly one hundred great grandchildren and nine great great grandchildren before she died. She was my mom's favorite person, and my mom says that I look just like her when I smile.


These people are my role models, my heroes, my inspiration; they are a part of who I am and who I want to become. I am my father's daughter, I am my mother's daughter, I am my great grandmother's legacy. But most of all, I am me. I am someone who will stand in the rain and sometimes even dance, and someone who loves breakfast at midnight, because I am spontaneous and a bit of a romantic. I am someone who writes songs that don't make sense, and who strives to reach her full potential as a daughter of God. I am someone who will stand outside and stare up at the stars forever, even when it's cold. I am naïve and gullible, confident and happy. I laugh too loud and I speak too quietly and I sing in public, maybe too often. I am a night owl who loves mornings, a musician, a writer, a Christian, a sister. I am red on white. On odd days I dream of being accepted to Juilliard, performing on Broadway, changing the world, and on even days I dream of living in a cottage in the country, teaching harp lessons, writing novels, and being a stay-at-home mom. I could go on talking about my quirks and qualities forever, because there are so very many. But I think I would be better defined by what I believe.


So what do I believe? I believe in God, and I believe in miracles. I believe in life after death and life before birth, and all of the life in between. I believe in second chances, and true love, and forgiveness. I am someone who cannot be offended or insulted, because I believe myself to be good. I believe that everything and everyone can return to virtue, no matter how lost and wasted they may seem, or how lost and forgotten that word is today. I believe in magic, the sort we see at Christmas and in a first kiss, in new snowflakes and new life. I am gullible because I believe that I can trust others, and I believe in the extraordinary. And very most of all, I believe the world to be a beautiful place.


Fifty years after I am gone, I doubt anyone will remember me. But if I am remembered at all, if I have made any sort of imprint on this world, I hope I am remembered as the girl who believed.

x

Letter to the World #2

Dear World,
     I am terribly sorry, but I'm going to have to be brief. I'm running short on time, just like you. But I wanted to write to you today anyway, because what I have to say is important. Although, it isn't exactly what I have to say, but what Reggie Dabbs had to say this morning. Reggie Dabbs is a motivational speaker and soprano saxophone player. He does a lot of work at schools and with football and other sports teams, and I have no doubt that he has saved lives. He came from a troubled childhood; he was given away by his mother because she slept with a man for twenty dollars to feed her other two children, and he was the result. Needless to say, he has overcome.
     He talked to my school this morning about bullying. I was horrified at what he had to say, but also motivated - I suppose I should have been, seeing as he was a motivational speaker. He told the story of three girls who had decided that they would bully whoever got out of the next car until he or she left school. The victim left a voice message on her mom's phone later that day crying, saying "Mom, they won't stop, they won't stop. I love you, Mom, I love you."
     After she hung up, she gave up the gift of life.
     One of the girls felt horrible about everything that had happened, and she got a year in juvy. The other two challenged the law, saying the law had no hold on them.
     They are serving twenty years in prison.
     Reggie told us that if words can inspire and help and lift, words can kill.
     He told us how he was bullied in his younger years, and how he stopped an act of bullying. He told us the heartbreaking story of three second graders; two boys who told a girl that she was the ugliest girl they had ever seen. They told her to please get off the bus and walk in front of a car to end their misery.
     She did.
     There are so many lessons I took from that assembly. I left the auditorium with new eyes, eyes that saw that there are things that I cannot see that are happening every day, every moment, terrible things that no one should ever have to go through. Reggie told us about football teams he had talked to who weren't succeeding on the field because they were constantly up against each other, tearing each other down. There are enough hard things that people have to go through without their peers making it harder. We already have to deal with the tackles and fumbles and missed touchdowns; we shouldn't have to endure jibes and jeers from our own team.
     Reggie told us that we should love people just because they are breathing, just because they are human. I believe that to my very core. Everyone is worth being loved, and everyone has gone through so much more than we can ever imagine. Reggie asked if we are part of the problem or the solution. Throughout my life, through literature or media or the voices of those around me, I have been told that there are two types of people, the wolves and the sheep. Or whichever analogy you want to use. I disagree with the wolf and sheep philosophy. I like how Scout from To Kill a Mockingbird put it: "I think there's just one kind of folks. Folks." But I do think that there are people in different types of situations. There are people who are in a situation in which they can help others, and in which they do help others. There are people who are in a situation in which they can hurt, and where they do hurt. These two types of situations, or lifestyles, more like, are active. You must decide one way or the other, and that's all that matters. Your choice, just like Reggie said, whether you will be the problem or the solution. I'll tell you a secret: We can all be whichever one we like. Whether it's by simply smiling, being a role model, and responding with kindness, or by saying a cruel word, being a negative influence, or doing nothing when the storm hits, and you can stop it. These tiny decisions we make throughout our daily lives determine things that are so much larger; the difference between life and death, the strength of a character, the potential of an individual. It is like turning a plane too far to the left by a single degree, and ending up in the wrong place by thousands of miles.
     There is a third situation, I think. There is a situation where people need help and are being harmed. This is a passive situation; it is not your fault if you are a victim. At one point, everyone is in this situation, and the way we react can determine which of the above to situations we end up in once we surface. But through this low, you have to remember that there is hope, and you will overcome. There is always a light at the end of the tunnel, always a calm after a storm. And most of all, look for the people who are helping, because they are the hope. Did you hear that, helpers? You are the hope! And hope is one of the most powerful things in the world, one of the few things that are stronger than fear. Hope, and faith, and love.
     So I think I could revise the wolf and sheep philosophy to add a shepherd. There are sheep, there are wolves, and there are shepherds. It's inevitable that we will all, at one point or other, be a sheep, whether we are victim to the wolves or just the rocky terrain. And remember, too, that not only you, but everyone else, has once been a sheep; even the wolves. In fact, some of them are still only sheep in wolves' clothing. But once we recover, we decide whether we will be a shepherd or a wolf. I, for one, will be a shepherd.
     Keep on keeping on,
          Mikela

P. S. So much for brief :)

Roses and Pearls

   Have you ever been in a poetic mood? Like if someone could peer into your mind, they would find something remarkable, and beautiful, and profound. The saddest part is when you cannot express it all, and the world is left in the dark.
   It's truly unfortunate, how often I feel this way.

Letter to the World #1

Dear World,
   I understand you're having a few problems. Maybe that's an understatement.
   But don't worry, I think I can help. I'm sure you don't believe me, and I don't blame you either. After all, I'm not very significant, and I'm just a kid! But I believe me. Because I am a part of you, even if I am a very small part. And I believe every part can make a difference.
   So with this beginning of letters to you, I first want to let you know that there is hope, because I am not the only one. I am not the only one who believes in you and cares for you enough to try to save you. And even if a day comes that I am the only one, I will still be there; this I can promise. I will always be one. And as long as there is at least one, there is hope, because there are many cases in which one seems to be much, much more than only one.
   I would also like you to forgive me for times when I don't make any sense at all. It makes sense in my head.
   Thirdly, I want to let you know that I might not have the answers. I probably don't have any of them, but that is the beauty of it all. We are left to live in wonder. I can say, though, that I will try my best to stumble with you through this wild mystery and perhaps I can help you stay on your feet. At any rate, I hope I can bandage your scraped knees after you get back up again.
   Most importantly, I hope you will bear with me, because I'm sure many of these letters will be selfish. Much of the reason for me writing to you is because I believe, strongly. In God, in love, in life, in the worth of a soul, in the power of an individual, in the beauty of family, and in many, many more things. I write to tell you what I believe and perhaps convince you of it, and to make sure that the things I believe in don't disappear. Which might be selfish in a way. But I also desperately hope that it can change both you and me for the better.
   Much love,
      Mikela