America's Next Top Model?

It has been a tough year.

The later part of 2009 into all of 2010 brought with it many gifts wrapped in colorful boxes and presented to Matt and me during our first year of marriage.  We opened wedding gifts and had a wonderful time decorating our first place together.  We celebrated our Birthdays for the first time together after years of spending our relationship apart and only wishing each other a happy birthday over the phone. We enjoyed our first wedding anniversary and opened gifts given to us by our neighbors, new friends we made over the year, and boxes that family had sent with love from a distance.

Then, there were those gifts that we were given  that we wished to not open.  Please understand that I am only able to call them gifts now after many extremely low points and feeling like my head was under water.  We were given the gift of my health turning for the worst and Matt having to care for me like I was a child.  Honestly, many days I did act like a child because I was scared and unaware of what was going on with my body.  Matt would have to help me in and out of the shower and often cook for the two of us because I physically could not.  It does seem a bit dramatic, but what I share with you is true.  I found myself more weak, tired, and hopeless than I have ever been before.  On several occasions, Matt would have to come home early from work to take me to the doctor or find a friend to watch me during the day.

I struggled the most when I had to quit the job I loved to stay home and focus on getting well. I felt like I was disappointing Matt by not working and that I was the reason we were barely getting by financially.  I felt like I disappointed him each time he would plan great surprises for me and I would struggle to enjoy them because I felt so weak and tired.  Matt had planned a surprise trip to New York City for us and my disappointment of not being able to fully enjoy the trip weighed me down even further.  He took us to Lake Sunapee for dinner one night as a surprise (the photo posted was taken that night). I did my best to have a great time and to smile and laugh through how I really felt. I smiled for photos and cried on the inside. I noticed something in that moment.  I noticed then and have had to remind myself again and again that my illness has been a blessing for Matt and me. I noticed that me wanting to enjoy the trips wasn't for my sake, it was for his. I saw the effort he made and I wanted to appreciate all he had done. Somewhere along the way, my life had become more about him and less focused on myself.

I have been at my lowest of lows with him and he has stood by my side and at times had to pick me up in his arms and carry me.  He has seen how I cannot be and defiantly am not perfect.  I have seen the sacrifices that Matt has made and the joy that he has brought to me through the smallest of things. He has held me when I've been so angry with my illness that I just want to push everyone away.  Matt has assured me that my illness has not defined me, that we are all people set aside from what happens to us. Our circumstances don't define us.  Our communication has become stronger than I thought possible for a couple that has only been married for one year.  We love each other deeply and it's not because of met expectations. It's because of the willingness to deal with the circumstances that life has dealt us.

God has shown me through the hardship that it's OK to doubt God.  It's OK to tell God that I don't understand him, like him, or even love him at times. I know this because it has been in those moments of honesty with God that he goes the extra mile to prove that he does love me even when I don't love him.

As I write this, I have had several weeks of good health and am only looking up from here on.  Although, this gift wasn't expected and often felt more like a curse, I wouldn't take it back. Some of life's best gifts don't come in a box. I hope that this will encourage someone out there that is or has been dealing with a chronic or undiagnosed illness. 

I'm content to model hope instead of clothes on the runway.

An invitation to be accepted

Dear Nikki,

                Hey, what's wrong?  I've noticed you haven't been yourself lately.  I haven't heard from you in forever and I worry that we aren't as close as we used to be.  I miss hearing from you every day.  There is definitely a wedge between us and I'm just writing to see what it is I have done to make you so distant. 

                I have just a few suggestions that may help you to be who you used to be. Everyone loves that girl! I think that maybe you need to change your opinion on some things so that you're not standing out in the crowd so much. You should start working hard again at listening to every one's problems and tell people what they want to hear. 

               Always smile and never cry in front of people. Crying makes you appear like you are weak.  The anxiety you had before wasn't really all that bad, it pushed you to be a better person, so you should probably let things get to you a little more often.  What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?  While you're at it, you really need to work on having goals that line up with those around you. It makes for a great conversation piece if you're in on what everyone is talking about.  Also, you should sleep less and get more done.  I know you're apartment stays clean and all, but there's always room for improvement.

             Now, I get to the really important issues.  Your religion.  I know that you hate that word because you call it a "relationship".  However, "religion" or "relationship", you need to tone it down some.  It is the elephant in the room that nobody wants to talk about.  You should probably love people less than what you do because it makes you appear naive.  Also, wear those brown boots less often, that woman at the grocery store looked at you like you were way behind and not even close to Vogue. As a matter of fact, throw those things away! I know they are comfortable and keep you warm, but give those boots the boot!

            Ok, now, your sense of humor is not as funny as you think it is.  You should probably keep from telling jokes.  Especially refrain when you are in a large group! You embarrassed yourself last time, remember?  Your hair needs some updating.  Your sandy brown hair needs more color and volume.  Matt.  Now, he is another area we need to cover right now.  He probably thinks you're too clingy so you should be more self sufficient and give him more space than he probably even needs.  You should act tough with him at times and be less vulnerable, it makes you look week and needy. 

          I have more to cover with you, but cannot fit it into the time that I have right now.  We need to discuss this before New Year's Day! The new year is all about new resolutions and I'm going to make sure that 2011 is the perfect year for you!

Every one's Cherished Friend,

Acceptance





Dear Acceptance,

                        I'll do just fine in 2011 without you.  I'm ok with being me. As far as all of the advice you mentioned in your letter to me - no thanks! Right now, I'm wearing my brown boots, loving my relationship with God, my hair is staying as is, and when Matt gets home I'm going to love him vulnerably no strings of "needed acceptance" attached!

Nikki




             

Bare

She's bare.  Her body is covered with very small pieces of red cloth.  It looks like a makeshift skirt and tube top.  Her hair hangs heavily in her face, hiding her left eye.  I stand far off watching her and wondering what the night before had been like for her.  It was only late afternoon as my friend and I stood in the train station.  She seems so empty, so lost.  She leaves wet and muddy footprints on the train station floor as she makes her way to sit against the wall.  A guy holds her by the waist as they sit down, but in so many ways she is alone.

She looks so young- fifteen or sixteen at the most. He pulls her close to him to keep her warm.  Her nearly bare body shivers from the cold as she looks up at him.  Although I'm not close enough to see, I'm sure that her eyes show an emptiness.  "She's bare.", I keep thinking to myself.  Will she be held by a different guy tomorrow?  Whose arms will she trust?  Whose lips will she kiss as his words satisfy her longing for that moment?  Did her parents miss her not being home the night before? 

I stand there holding my friend's coffee and my heart cries for her.  I don't know her, but I want to.  She is a mystery to me.  She leans her head over onto the guy's shoulder and I wonder how much he cares about her.  He looks down at her and rolls his eyes and lets out a long sigh. His frustration is obvious.  Does he know her favorite color?  Does he know her biggest dreams and what she wants in life?  Does he know her favorite food and that she prefers daises over roses any day of the week?  Is her small bare body all that he sees? 

My friend and I slowly walk toward the platform as our train approaches.  As we do, I look at her more closely this time.  "She is bare. It's not fair, it never seems to be." I look through the window of the train as we take our seats and see her for the last time.  "She is bare.  One day, I hope she is clothed in true genuine love and acceptance."

Sisterhood

There is something special about the Christmas season. It's a season full of laughter, family traditions, and the perfect time to walk down memory lane. It is a season of thankfulness.  There are people that come into your life and leave their unique and individual fingerprints. You cannot experience life without remembering the impact they have made on you. Someone that has left a beautiful and priceless impact on my life is my best friend Nikki.  I often call her "My Nikki", "Sis", or "The Other Nikki". 

With our recent visit to see family in Tennessee, my husband and I were able to spend time with Nikki and her fiance' Jason. The time we shared with them was priceless! I look at the hard trials Nikki has had to endure in life and I look at who she has become despite those hardships and I smile.  I smile because she is a person to admire.  My love goes out to her because of the many sleepovers we had growing up, the many dozens of chocolate chip cookies we have shared, and the hardships we have gone through together.  My love reaches beyond that, though, because I see the example that Nikki has set in my life.  She has gone without a lot and lost even more, but she remains positive.  Nikki is always willing to make anyone laugh and she lights up a room with her amazing personality. She is lovely inside and out.  I have watched my sister become such a beautiful woman.  I am happy to know her. 

This Christmas season, I choose to focus on the amazing people that God has put into my life.  My family has grown as I have taken on a new family since getting married.  I am thankful for my family (both old and new!) and friends in my life. 

My Nikki, I am thankful for the friends that ARE family.

Taylor

She sat coloring a picture of a frog.  Her concentration couldn't be interrupted.  The Intensive Care Unit waiting area offered her a distraction from the harsh reality of her mom lying in a hospital bed just a short walk away.  Her hand remained steady as she colored the frog a blue color.  She looked up ever so often to look at her dad and laugh at how her art piece was taking form, or color, rather.  Her dad forced a grin onto his face, which seemed to take the entire reserve of energy he had somehow held onto.  His eyes looked so tired, and so empty. 

Taylor soon finished coloring her picture and skipped over to me and didn't seem to notice I was busy. "Miss Kristina! Look! It's for you!".  I allowed a break in my work and turned around quickly. I smiled and took the picture of the frog into my hands. "Taylor! It's beautiful!"  Over the past few weeks, this little girl had become the reason that I looked forward to coming to work.  "Where should I hang it?", I asked her.  Taylor's face seemed to light up as soon as I asked this. "Oh! Oh! Well, let me see.", she said as scanned my work area. "You should hang it up right there!" She took a small piece of tape from my tape dispenser and quickly taped the blue colored frog to his new home- her miniature art gallery.  Taylor colored for the other two women that I worked with, too.  The frog now was hanging between a mermaid with wavy red hair and a purple butterfly. 

Taylor must wish she were a butterfly.  Then, she could escape this place and possibly take her mom with her. If she were a butterfly, she wouldn't have this burden weighing her down.

Taylor ran over and got her jacket and joined me again. She sat in the office chair next to me.  I didn't care if I got in trouble with my boss for letter Taylor sit next to me.  This had been her home away from home every day when she got out of school.  Taylor reached in her jacket pocket and pulled out something, but kept her hand shut tightly around it.  "Close your eyes, Kristina. I have a surprise for you!", she said excited, like she couldn't wait for me to join in on her game.  I closed my eyes tightly and held out my hand.  I felt a light piece of paper be placed in my hand.  "Ok, Kristina! Open your eyes!"  I opened my eyes to see a school picture of Taylor. On the back, she had written 'Taylor- 8 years old'.  I smiled and tucked the picture into my wallet. Once I had hugged Taylor and thanked her for the picture she left to go to dinner with her dad. 

A week later, Taylor's mom was moved to a regular floor in the hospital since she had made progress in her health.  Taylor and her dad came back and thanked me for my hospitality toward them and their family during their visits to ICU.  I couldn't have imagined treating such loving and genuine people any other way.

A few days later, I found out that Taylor's mother had passed away.  She was in her mid twenties.  I was devastated, especially since she had seemed to make such great progress.

Tonight, I was transferring my things to another purse and I ran across an old wallet and decided to trade wallets as well. In the old wallet that I haven't used in so long, I ran across the picture of little Taylor.  I instantly wondered how she is doing now.  I imagined what her life may be like now. I realized in finding that picture, that God places others in our lives for a reason.  It may be for a short time, a season, or a lifetime, but it is always for an eternal purpose. 

I pray that Taylor realizes, if not now, then later in life, that her mother is in many ways like that butterfly that Taylor colored. She is beautiful, free from burdens, and reflecting the love that Taylor gave to her during her life here.

Beauty in a Princess Dress

It was the most beautiful dress that Kaitlyn had ever seen before.  She looked down at her feet as she twirled around on the sand and watched her dress flow out and then back in with each twirl she made.  The dress was the softest pink color that it almost looked white. The lower part of the dress was made of layers and layers of netting that had sparkly beads sewn into it randomly, but each bead was perfectly placed and they sparkled like diamonds beneath the sunlight.  Kaitlyn pretended that the beads were actually diamonds, and imagining that made Kaitlyn feel even more beautiful.  The dress reminded her of a play costume she got to wear in a school play when she was in kindergarten.  She played the part of the princess and had worn a blue dress that in a lot of ways was like the pink one she was wearing now.  Kaitlyn had twirled around in front of her mom and said, “Mommy, look at my princess dress! I have a real princess dress!”  Kaitlyn’s mom had laughed and told Kaitlyn that yes she was a princess, the prettiest princess she had ever seen. 

Now, years later, Kaitlyn was sixteen and life was a lot different.  She didn’t always feel like a princess- that was for sure.  Kaitlyn continued on her way down the beach and let her mind wander as she walked.  It had been a tough year for her.  Kaitlyn’s parents had decided to move their family from Texas to California when Kaitlyn’s dad was offered a new job.  Kaitlyn and her older sister Amanda did not want to move, but the family meetings always ended with their parents saying,

“We are moving. You will like it once we get there, we promise.”

  Now, they had been living in California for almost ten months and Kaitlyn still didn’t like it here.  The move had created a barrier between Kaitlyn and her dad, especially once Amanda moved out to start college.  It was his fault they had moved in the first place.  She was just so angry at him.  Kaitlyn continued walking down the beach as the waves crashed swiftly onto the shore and then the water slowly moved out across the sand over Kaitlyn’s bare toes.  The water was warm, but Kaitlyn felt cold and empty on the inside as she thought more on what the past year had brought. 

Aaron.  He was the first friend that Kaitlyn had made at school.  He went to the same church that Kaitlyn’s family started attending shortly after they moved to California.  He was her older sister Amanda’s age.  Kaitlyn looked up to him and thought he was unlike any guy she had ever met.  He really seemed to love God and he didn’t worry about fitting in like most of the guys she knew. They spent a lot of time together and they became the best of friends.  Aaron always teased her for the time she tried doing her own highlights in her hair and they came out orange.  That had happened when Kaitlyn first met Aaron, and from the first time he teased her they both knew they would be close.  It was the beginning of what she thought would be a great friendship.  Then, there was that hot summer night when it all fell apart.  It was the night that Kaitlyn lost her only friend. 

Kaitlyn tried not to think on that memory now as she walked along the beach.  It hurt too much to even think about.  The memory forced itself in though, and Kaitlyn began to cry.  The sky began to darken like a gray blanket was being pulled over the blue.  Kaitlyn, against her will, remembered everything that had happened that hot summer night.

 Aaron had come over to her house to watch a movie like they did most Saturday evenings.  Kaitlyn’s parents had taken the two hour drive to visit Amanda at college.  They had called and said they were running late and asked Kaitlyn to put the lasagna in the oven and start dinner.  As Kaitlyn and Aaron were sitting on opposite ends of the couch, it was Aaron’s turn to pick the movie this time.  As he got up to put the DVD in, Aaron suddenly moved close to Kaitlyn as she reclined on the couch and started to kiss her.  Kaitlyn didn’t know how to react.  She told him to stop, but he didn’t. Aaron was stronger than Kaitlyn though and he did things she begged him not to. She said no, but he didn’t listen.  Kaitlyn screamed for him to leave her alone.  She was helpless.  Aaron left in a hurry when he thought he heard Kaitlyn’s parents pull into the driveway, but it was only the next door neighbor.  Kaitlyn ran up to her bedroom and locked her door.  She sat in the corner of her bathroom and hugged her knees to her chest as she sobbed.  She felt so dirty.  Kaitlyn tuned on the shower as hot as she could stand for the water to be and she stood there for what felt like forever.  Maybe the water would clean her from the inside out.  Maybe it would wash away what had just happened.  Kaitlyn told her parents nothing, only that she was sorry that the lasagna had burnt and that Aaron hadn’t been able to come over for movie night.

 The rain started to pour onto Kaitlyn hard now and she slipped and fell on to the sand crying.  She sat there for a moment and let the tears fall.  She cried over missing her friends and family back in Texas.  She cried over her sister Amanda living so far away now.  She cried over what Aaron had done to her.  She cried over the dirtiness and the ugliness that she felt on the inside and on the outside.  She cried because not even a stupid pink dress could make her feel pretty.  She cried even harder because she realized that the dress was ruined now, just like her. Kaitlyn’s tears were falling as hard and as fast as the rain was into the ocean.  Just then, Kaitlyn looked up and thought she saw a ledge of rock to find shelter under just ahead. Kaitlyn stood and ran as fast as she could through the rain.  Maybe if she ran hard and fast enough she could forget everything that had happened.  Maybe she could really run from her problems.  When she got to the rock ledge, she realized that there was a cave with a light shining on the inside.  She panicked and turned away to run back down the beach.

“Wait!” a voice said. 

She turned around and there was a man holding a lantern.

  “The storm is going to get worse.  You should come in and dry off before you get sick.” 

The man stood there and although she didn’t know him, Kaitlyn felt safe with him.  There was something about his eyes.  Kaitlyn walked just inside the cave where she could still see the storm as it passed over. 

“Thanks.” Kaitlyn said as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

            She looked down and noticed that all of the beadwork on her dress was gone.  The beads had fallen off and the dress was no longer a lovely soft pink color, but was now gray and black from the damage of the dirt and sand.  The bottom of the dress was no longer full, but was torn in places and Kaitlyn was sure it wouldn’t twirl like a “princess dress” if she tried.  Kaitlyn cried harder and gave no thought to the man that was standing next to her. She didn’t care who she cried in front of.

 “Kaitlyn, it’s going to be ok.”, the man said. 

Kaitlyn panicked. “How do you know my name?” she said as she looked at the man. 

When she looked at the man, she noticed that in his hands he was holding the beads and the torn parts of her dress. 

“Where did you get those?” Kaitlyn asked. 

She wanted to run out of the cave, but for some reason she didn’t. 

“I hold your brokenness.” the man said.  “I was there when everything happened.”

Kaitlyn knew who he was in that moment.

“So, you just allowed all that to happen? You didn’t do anything to help me!” 

Kaitlyn screamed a cry that came from the most painful place in her.

            “You didn’t do anything to help me!”

Jesus stood there and looked at her in a way she hadn’t seen anyone look at her before.  It was so…caring.  She noticed that in his caring eyes, he had tears just like she did.

 “Kaitlyn, I hold your brokenness. I hurt when you hurt.”

  Kaitlyn noticed the scars on his hands and feet and realized he knew about pain in every way. 

“Where were you? When everything happened, where were you?” Kaitlyn asked; her voice was hoarse. 

Jesus answered her, “I was in the tears falling from your eyes.  I was as close to you as the water that fell on you in the shower. I was in your broken heart.”

 Kaitlyn had never thought of that before.  She had been convinced that Jesus himself had left her to suffer and to work through it all by herself.

 “I’m so dirty.  I am so ugly.  He took from me something that I didn’t want him to have.”

Jesus’ tears fell down his cheek, leaving a clean streak through the dirt on his face. 

            “Kaitlyn, you are pure.  You are beautiful.  You are not defined by what happened to you.”

 Kaitlyn cried and looked again at the beads and torn pieces of fabric that Jesus held in his hands.

 “I want to heal you.” Jesus whispered. 

At that moment, Kaitlyn recognized something in her heart that she hadn’t experienced in a long time, happiness. She looked down and no longer saw a torn and tattered dress. The dress wasn’t the original soft pink that it had been on the beach. No, this dress was even more beautiful! The beadwork was immaculate and the dress was a design unlike any she had ever seen before.

Kaitlyn closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them again she was in a dark room. She moved onto her side and saw her alarm clock numbers blinking bright and red. It had been a dream.  As Kaitlyn rubbed her eyes and tried to focus again on the blinking numbers of the alarm clock, the beach, and her dream slowly faded away and as her room gradually became reality again.  But Kaitlyn felt something from the dream that didn’t fade away.  She felt…happiness.

 True beauty.  Purity.  Joy.  

The happiness was deep in her heart.  The beauty and the purity she felt were from the inside out.  This joy, she was sure, had the most beautiful beadwork and would flow so beautifully when she twirled around.  Just like a princess dress.

Different Angles

There are questions that we are all afraid to ask. 

Since being ill, I have had plenty of time to think. There have been many hours and days that I have spent at home alone in bed or on the couch.  I have watched more chick flicks than I thought was possible, taken enough naps to make up for any one's lack of sleep, and paid Verizon a few hefty payments from talking on the phone just to have company.  Now that I am finally coming out on the other end of the illness and there are promising treatments for me, I realize that the most precious moments I have had in being ill (even if that sounds crazy) have been the moments that I have had time to think. In those moments of thoughtfulness, I have discovered a lot about myself. There have been moments that I have really had to ask myself a lot of hard questions and have had to choose my personal answer to those questions.  Some of those questions, I feel I share with all of humanity.

Am I OK with pursuing my dreams with absolutely everything in me, even at the risk of total failure?

Who or what do I hold most dearly in my life? Am I content with my answer?

Do I show those I love that they are loved by me unconditionally?  How far does unconditional love extend?

What am I doing to make a difference? At the end of the day, have I lived for me or sacrificially helped someone else?

Do I honestly realize how short life is? If I did, wouldn't I be living my life differently?

Do I love others with a pure motive or do I "love" with a selfish motive?

Am I blind concerning the things going on in the community, state, country, and world around me?

Do I live in past pain and regrets or do I choose to move forward and turn a new page?


Asking myself these questions does not make me a better person.  In fact, if I ask these questions of myself and do not do anything to change the areas in which I am lacking then it puts me two steps behind. 

I have experienced a lot of frustration in being ill. It has been difficult and it wasn't what Matt or I had in mind for our first year of marriage, but it has been a blessing in disguise.  Being sick has brought Matt and I closer together and strengthened our communication and love for one another. It has caused me to question a lot of areas in my life, many of them I am still answering. I began to write again.  Writing is my passion and even though I am not currently working on the next New York Times Best-Seller, I am loving putting pen to paper once again.

These past three years of not being well haven't been the best experience of my life. I haven't been eating bonbons on the couch (although, after recently talking with a friend I have realized that I have NEVER had a bonbon before!). It's time for trying new things! Bon, in French actually means "good", so I say, "Pass the box of bonbons!"

I am learning to see life from different angles. I'm finding comfort in being challenged.

Love Against the Tide

A world of colors, yet, some remain blind

To the sea of hate that washes up on land

The waves crash against the rocks- echoing

Poverty

Disease

Starvation

All are in need, but most are ignored

If their skin glistens a different color

If their language cannot be understood

If they are without and smell of the streets

They are pushed aside

Choose to swim against the tide

Against racism

Her skin

His language 

Her country

His religion

Do not define them

They stand, like you

Needing love

Lessons in Goodbye

Almost a year ago, I said goodbye to a friend.

 I last spoke with him on the phone about the smallest and silliest things.  If I had known it was the last time I would talk to him, I can't think of anything better we could have talked about.  Our conversation was perfect because it took a long time for us to get to the point where we were able to have any conversation at all. The friend I refer to was my father.  We didn't have the typical father-daughter relationship.  He left when I was a little girl and it wasn't until I was 15 years old that restoration was brought to our relationship and we began to talk again. Even after that, it was hard for me to let those walls that had been there for so long fall down. After just a few years of getting to know each other, my father left again, but this time he went to Heaven.  The most difficult thing for me in losing him has been the fact that I simply just wanted more time.  I wanted more time to get to know him better.  I wanted more time to laugh until we both were crying.  I wanted more time for him to know me better.

Over the past year since my father passed away, I have taken each day as it has come.  Some days I have been open to think of him and accept the pain of him not being here anymore.  Most days, though, I have found more comfort in pushing my pain aside and not dwelling on him being gone.  I have found that God works in our hearts whether we are or are not open to the healing love he has to offer.  I have learned lessons in saying goodbye and God has strengthened my heart in the midst of it. 

I have learned that time is precious.  Time, in any dose, whether it be days, weeks, months, years are precious.  I am thankful for the time I did have with my father.  I am glad that I could call him my friend by the time his life came to an end.

I have learned that love is limitless.  Love doesn't always look the way that we want it to. Sometimes, it is a lot harder than we expected.  My father loved me.  I loved him.  We did not have a relationship that most little girls dream of.  We did not share most Birthdays.  We did not share most Christmases.  We did not share bedtime stories or secrets.  We did share love, though.  At times our conversations were still awkward and our hugs weren't always comfortable, but love was at the center of it all. Without God's love, I would not have worked through my bitterness and discovered what love truly is. Sometimes love is something that isn't understood or even comfortable.  Sometimes love is just that- love.

I have learned that regret is only a haunting echo that has no place in healing.  I have had my share of regret.  Wishing I would have talked to my father more often on the phone, hugged him tighter, told him I loved him more sincerely.  The truth is, though, that I did what I knew how.  He did what he knew best.  Me holding regret in my heart only keeps me from appreciating the gift of lovely time we were given.

I have learned the importance of 'good' in 'goodbye'.  My father left when I was a little girl.  The first goodbye didn't affect me until I was old enough to understand that I didn't have a father like most of my classmates did. Although my father left for his own reasons and I suffered from it, I see in hindsight that although his leaving was not good, good came from it.  My mom remarried a man years later that I instantly loved and began to call "dad".  He picked up the broken pieces and formed a strong family from what had been torn apart.  I grew to understand what restoration is all about.  Had my father stayed in my life, I would not be where I am today.  I also would not have come to understand what forgiveness truly looks like. Although, I often wonder what life had been like had he stayed in my life growing up, I realize that the only direction to move now is forward. 

The second goodbye offered my father no more pain and suffering in his body. His body had grown so weak from being ill.  It offered him peace of mind. 

I have learned the importance of sharing the stories behind our scars. Our stories are meant to be shared. We will come to chapters of our lives where our story will carry someone else into a new chapter in their life.  If me writing this brings any comfort to someone that has gone through a similar situation, then it was well worth my being vulnerable.

It hurts to say goodbye.  It always will.  Searching for the lessons in goodbye, well, it is worth it.

True Beauty

Eyes that have seen the storms of life
Wipe away the tears, and keep moving
Faces that have been scarred and burnt
And mask a genuine smile
Shoulders that have carried heavy burdens
And remain a resting place
Hands that have been robbed
And continue to give

Our Book

I wrote to you in a small red journal

Its pages bound in leather and written upon with my ramblings

The occasional sentence was scribbled through because I did not know how to express-

myself or what we share in words

The journal made its way to you

Across an ocean

a time zone

a chapter of "us"  had been written-handed to you and then back to me

And the tears dried onto the lines, smearing the blue into the black ink

Now we share an apartment and a life

We share the ups and downs of this world we live in and the small one we have created

Daily we choose to learn more of the friends around us

Their names: Sacrifice, Respect, and Love

We have found that these three friends of ours are inseparable

One never leaves the other

All three must remain-as if stuck together like glue

As I have fallen lately

Become bruised and tired

You have picked me up and carried me

For every page written so far, this chapter has defined the beauty of true love

It has been through the downs that I have realized the blessing-

of you- of us-of the author of our story



"Every Little Bit Helps"

His face wasn't one that I would have noticed in a crowd, nor was it one that I would have felt the comfort to approach and strike up a conversation. His face matched his shirt in that they both were covered in dirt and grease. As I sat and stared at the man holding his makeshift sign made of cardboard, a black marker and string I found myself overwhelmed with questions. His sign simply read 'Every Little Bit Helps'. Those questions, as they fell into my mind as quickly as the rain was falling outside, moved me to tears.  "Who is this man?" "Why is he standing on the street?" "What does he need?" The question that seemed to whisper to me all on its own was, "What little bit am I doing to help?" I realized that this question not only applied to this homeless man, but it applied to everyone in need around me. Some needs aren't as obvious as the homeless man holding his sign on the corner in the pouring rain. No, but I suppose all of us have carried a sign at some point in our lives.  It may not have been made of cardboard or string, but it was there. We were waiting for someone to notice. A single mother - 'Every little bit helps.' The family in your neighborhood with five mouths to feed, but one small income- 'Every little bit helps.' The man known for "having it all together", but depressed beyond repair beneath the surface- 'Every little bit helps'. As I stared at the man's sign through my tears, I quickly found that the light had turned green and that my husband and I were driving away to our home.  Just like that, we had moved on and the man remained standing where he had been.  I would love to say that we turned around and gave the man a ride to a nearby restaurant and fed him and bought him clothes. We didn't. I vowed to not forget that man, though, and he is the reason that I am writing a blog that may be read by none, few, or hundreds.  I hope that by using the art of writing, that I may hold myself accountable to take notice of the signs around me. I want my tears to move me to action.  I want what I see in front of me to not disappear in my rearview mirror. Here is to opportunities that are to be taken and not passed up. Every little bit of love, compassion, sacrifice, grace, and giving what you can helps.'Every little bit helps'.