Baked Potatoes

This may be hard to believe, but there was once a time when I hated baked potatoes. How could I claim to be a true Idahoan and a hater of baked potatoes in the same breath? How did I live with myself?
 
I remember there being a period of my life when I couldn't decide if I even liked potatoes at all. My family would normally have potatoes with our Sunday dinners--boiled, mashed, stuck in stew (and baked)--and I couldn't decide how I felt about them. One week I'd eat a mound of mashed potatoes with a river of gravy, and the next I'd sit with my arms crossed in front of my plate, nose upturned. 
 
"Jillian, why aren't you eating your potatoes?" 
"I don't like potatoes!" 
"But...didn't you just eat them last week?" 
"I don't like them anymore." 
 
The next Sunday I'd be back to eating potatoes.
 
This happened multiple times. Do I know why it happened? No. Do I like analyzing weird things about myself, like why my tastes would change so rapidly from week to week, and then try to turn them into a metaphor of my life to explain my other weird tendencies? No. But some people like to do that. So you can if you want to.
 
I love potatoes now. I'm a potato girl. A true Idahoan. Boiled, mashed, baked, French fried, tater totted, scalloped, cheesy oven-baked, hash browned, stewed...even in the form of potato rolls and potato clocks! (Although I don't eat the clocks.) I love potatoes of all colors and forms. Except sweet potatoes, but those aren't really even potatoes. They're just gross.

Lucky, Blessed, Etc.

"O how great the holiness of our God! For he knoweth all things, and there is not anything save he knows it.
"And he cometh into the world that he may save all men if they will hearken unto his voice; for behold, he suffereth the pains of all men, yea, the pains of every living creature, both men, women, and children, who belong to the family of Adam."
2 Nephi 9:20-21

I really think I am the luckiest girl in the whole wide world. Which means God must be a perfect God and a perfect Father. One of my favorite things about my own parents is that they make me feel like I'm their favorite daughter. Their other three daughters are also their favorite daughters and they have five favorite sons. God is like that, times a million. He has such a special interest in each of our lives and knows each of us so well. Life can get hard and downright rotten, but the outpouring of God's love just seems to get greater and greater! God is forgiving. He has the power to heal. Each of His children is His favorite. 


I have been blessed with a lot. I have talents that are perfect for me. I have the best family in the universe. Fer reals. I'm getting an excellent education and am in the best major on all of BYU campus. I have good friends and people who show trust in me, even when I myself know how weak I am. But even in my weakness I am strong! Because every so often I get a glimpse of where I'm going, of who I will be, and it's a beautiful picture. Jesus Christ suffered for me, and I feel to exclaim as Nephi's brother Jacob, did: "O the wisdom of God, his mercy and grace!" "Oh how great the goodness of our God!" "O how great the plan of our God!" "O how great the holiness of our God!" 


I am the favorite. 

     I'm the luckiest person I know. 

I am blessed.