Vacation Highlights

Dad and I on the jetski. This was before the infamous oyster shell incident.

This is what happens when you don't wear shoes while on a jetski, tip said jetski because it's low tide, run into a bed of oysters, and don't listen to your dad when he tells you to pull your feet up and float. :)

Me and my Sarah

My Great Uncle Tom, my Grandma, and my Great Uncle John

My mom and our friend Eileen. I didn't get a picture of Mike and the amazing ribs he made for us. Yum.

Sarah, me, and Rachel at Planet Hollywood in Myrtle Beach

Long story- I was being anti-puzzle. This is a re-enactment of the moment I "caved".

My two favorite funny girls

Rachel and Sarah

Aunt Pat, Uncle Mike, and my parents at the winery.

Me and Sarah

Can't go to the beach without taking a pretty sky picture

Double Rainbow!




Uncle Mike and Sarah. The wind was blowing the sand across the beach. It was so very cool.

Sarah. Not that I'm biased, but doesn't she have the most beautiful smile?

'nuf said

What a Sky ~ Wordless Wednesday

As Diana so eloquently calls it.... Emotional Vomit.

I have been home alone for approximately 4 days, 15 hours, 6 minutes, and 20 odd seconds.

And I've been lonely for approximately 4 days, 15 hours, and 6 minutes.

The 20 odd seconds was long enough to discover that suddenly.... I do not like being alone.

Which is a new emotion for me.

Perhaps it's the lack of full time employment that makes the days seem so much longer. Perhaps it's the feeling of being "in limbo" and not really doing anything productive. I leave for Poland in three weeks and one day- and I must confess I'm not in a huge hurry to be job hunting, at least until I get back. Maybe by then I'll have figured out what I want to do next.

So maybe it's the endless days stretching ahead that's got me down in the dumps. Maybe it's the constant re-hashing of what I should have done differently at work. Perhaps if I'd tried harder to not let my boss get to me, I wouldn't have been the one to get laid off. Maybe it's the missing my friends at work. Maybe it's the constant dwelling on "what on earth do I want to be when I grow up" that's getting to me. The quieter it is, the more I hear myself, and frankly I'm tired of my own company.

But what's got me laid low tonight is missing my Emily. I haven't really enjoyed being alone since she died. But the few times I have been alone, I had something to distract me. Like work. Now all I seem to have is time, and time makes me think, and when I think, I think about Emily.

Used to be when my parents were going away somewhere, I'd be counting down the days. Not because I was glad for them to be gone... but simply because I just enjoyed being alone. It made me feel like a real "grown-up". I could go where I want and not have to worry about calling. I could cook to my heart's content and make as many messes as I wanted without driving my poor mother batty. I could watch endless episodes of M*A*S*H and stay up until the wee hours of the morning without disturbing anyone. Until Emily came home. Then suddenly my peace and quiet turned into a whirling tornado of hysterics, dramatics, antics, and any other "ics" you can think of. And Emily always believed that she was rescuing me from boredom by showing up. After all, of the two of us.... I definitely was the boring one. If we were flavors of ice cream, Em was the Ben and Jerry's flavor "Everything But the Kitchen Sink". I'm plain vanilla.
I used to plead with mom and dad not to tell her they were going away. But somehow she always found out. She had some sort of radar or something. "Dorky sister, sitting at home. Must help".

I'm all alone. And I'm waiting for her to come bounding through the door, armed with doritios and soda, endless episodes of Friends DVD's, and whatever her latest "ic" of the week happened to be.

And every second that passes that the door stays closed, my heart breaks just a little more.

They weren't kidding when they say "alone" isn't all it's cracked up to be.

Oh how I miss her! Just when I think I'm starting to feel better, just when I think I really might have found the answer to "how high is up?" something comes along and sends me crashing right back to where I started! It's not FAIR!!! NOT FAIR NOT FAIR NOT FAIR!! I want to scream and cry and kick my heels against the ground and smash something into a million pieces. I want to shake my fist at God and tell Him just how royally ticked off I am! I want Emily back, I want to be employed, I don't want to be alone, and I want things to be back to the way they were. And I don't want to feel this alone anymore.

It sort of worries me that I no longer like being alone. I'll never be able to live by myself. I'll be the crazy woman with 50 cats or something. With lace doilies on the armchairs, knitting strewn everywhere and a house that smells like peppermint. You know, to cover up the cat box smell.
(And right now my parents are praying that this peppermint smelling house of cats is far, far, away. Can't blame them. Who wants to be known as the parents of the town's Crazy Cat Woman?)

Am I ranting? Why yes, I do believe I am. Better than exploding I suppose.

I guess the silver lining in this whole being laid off thing is that now that I have time in abundance, I'll soon be on my way to join the rest of my family at the beach. The best antidote for driving yourself crazy is to instead be driven crazy by your wonderfully insane family. And I say that in the most loving of ways. :)

Because seriously, another week of this alone crap would send me to the looney bin. After re-reading some of this, I think I may be halfway there.

But I do feel better after "throwing up" a little on here.

Now I'm just debating about whether to publish this, or keep it hidden in the drafts folder.

hmm....

Oh what the heck. Everyone knows I'm nuts anyway. Why hide it? ;)

Scaredy cat, scaredy cat, Melissa is a scaredy cat

I'm not going. To Poland. I'm not getting on that plane.

Nope.

I've decided.

Not gonna.

idontwanna.

No way.

no how.

nuh-uh.

nope.

no.

well... maybe I'll still go.

think I can take a boat instead?

I'm slightly pathetic.....

And the dawn breaks...

Today the sun's back out- bright and beautiful as I knew it would be. The blahs of last night are still lingering just a bit, but my outlook is much better.

I finally got the paperwork from the unemployment people. I've poured over it and gave my calculator quite the workout... and if I'm understanding it right, I really think I'm gonna be okay. I guess I know that, but I just need that constant reassurance. It makes me very nervous not to have a job. Well, a full-time job, I should say. I think I've got it figured out how many hours I can work part time and still draw partial unemployment. And with the severance pay I received.... I really think I'll be alright. I'm trying to consider this a blessing. One thing I've been complaining about for the last few months is not having any time to do anything. Now time is the one thing I have an abundance of.

In fact- I think I am going to head down to the beach with my family next week. They left yesterday and are on their way down as I type this. This'll be the first time they've gone to the beach and I haven't gone. This morning it hit me that I do not want to sit here festering alone for two weeks. And it's stupid to do so, when I probably won't have this chance again. So I threw myself on the mercy of Beth at Food Lion and put in a request for some time off for the following week. I won't know until Tuesday if I'll be able to go. I really, really hope so. I feel kind of foolish asking for time off since only last week I was begging for hours.... but I think she'll understand. *prays fervently*
So if I can go, that means I just have this week to get through. I've got enough stuff to do around here that the time should pass fairly quickly.

And then two weeks from then, I'll be on my way to Poland. I can't believe it's approaching so quickly. I'm still terrified about getting on that plane. I've been majorly freaking out for the last week. And it doesn't help that lately the news seems to be full of stories of plane crashes. In a very real way.... I do not want to go. I'm looking forward to the trip itself, but that nagging fear about the plane simply won't go away. I don't want to! Which is being stupid, I know. I keep reminding myself that I freaked out last year too, and I was fine.

Fine.

Everything is going to be fine.

Fine.



Do I sound convincing yet?

Twilight

Twilight.

It's my favorite time of day.

The sky is slowly fading into darkness... the fireflies are breaking up the blackness with their soft glow... and tonight I can hear the echo of the music from the Greencastle Carnival. The deck still smells of fresh wood, and the only thing that drove me inside was the rain that started again.

I love this time of day. It's comforting somehow- like the world is getting ready to go to sleep.

But even twilight's comforts aren't helping me much tonight. Tonight, I am depressed. It took almost a week, but the "downs" finally caught up to me. I don't miss my job, I honestly don't. To be perfectly honest, I really haven't given it a second thought since I walked out that door for the last time on Monday. 5 years of my life and still the dominant emotion is an overwhelming sense of relief to be out of there.

No, it's not the loss of my job. It's the loss of relationships. It's missing the meaningless everyday conversations that have been a part of my daily life for the last 5 years. I know that there are people that I won't lose touch with. But I'm also not naive enough to think that soon I'll be forgotten. The old "out of sight, out of mind" thing.

And tonight as the day winds down, I find myself just worrying about what comes next. What do I want to do? Where do I want to go? Who on earth am I anyway? Usually when I get in moods like this, I can push those thoughts away. "I'll deal with them another day".

Well 'another day' is fast apporaching and it's not quite as easy to push those nagging questions away.

And on top of it all, I miss Emily. I miss her most this time of day. And tonight, I wish she was here to make me feel better. To say something completely inappropriate and insensitive. To make me laugh in spite of myself, and remind me that it'll work out. I stare out into the lawn and watch the twinkling lights and try to find the words to talk to her. But they won't come tonight for some reason. But that's okay too- tonight the soft lights of the fireflies say enough.

Sometimes I wish I could be one of those fireflies. Just to come out as the world's getting dark and lend a little bit of light. No worries about money... no worries about jobs... about relationships.... just worrying about the possible kid who wants to stick you in a jar.

I guess I shouldn't berate myself for being a little depressed. I suppose I'd be in denial if I tried to say I wasn't. I know that there's a reason for this. I know that there's something else better on the way. And when I'm done feeling sorry for myself, I'll remember that I do have alot of options- and that in fact this has opened up an opportunity for change- to do something that I've been wanting to do for years.

Tomorrow I'll remember that. But tonight, oh tonight I'm slowly fading with the twilight into the dark, just waiting for the dawn to come again.

As it always does.

Welcome to unemployment

It's been three days and I'm still trying to get used to the idea that I am.....

unemployed.

Well, not completely unemployed. I still have my part time job at Food Lion, but on Monday I was laid off from Frick. Happy 1st Day Back from Vacation to me! I was in the office for about an hour and a half and then I got the phone call.

I'm still waiting to be upset. I'm not thrilled that I lost my job, but yet there's a huge part of me that feels an overwhelming sense of...

Relief. It's over.

I've been quite unhappy for a long time. Stressed out and frustrated and miserable to be perfectly honest. I've known for a long time that it was time to move on. I kept waiting for the "right time" to go, and kept finding reasons to put it off.
So the "right time" found me instead.

God's timing never ceases to amaze me. I'd been struggling all week last week with what I wanted to do, and where I wanted to go. Last Friday I found myself in the middle of Lauren's living room on my knees with my face buried in her couch, just praying that God would show me what to do.

I sure wasn't expecting an answer this quickly.

I've had three days to try and adjust to the idea, and I'm still feeling mostly relief, and a whole lot of peace.

I still have my job at Food Lion. I applied for unemployment yesterday. I did get a severance package that will sustain me for a little while. My biggest worry was that I leave for Poland in less than a month. But the trip is already paid for, the tickets are already purchased, and I can't back out now. So I'm still going.

It's like a month long vacation. And I have that long to figure out what I'm going to do next once I get back from my trip.

I'm really at peace about being laid off. But what really is bothering me is the people that I won't be seeing. I made so, so many close friends. I miss them already. I realized the other night that I wouldn't be able to go to my work Bible Study group on Wednesdays anymore. That's when I started crying.

But unbeknownst to me, the girls had something up their sleeves. Debbie called me yesterday morning and told me to meet them at Roxanne's house at lunch. They moved off site today so I could go. And those wonderful girls came bearing food, flowers, presents.... and alot of love.

When you start to feel like your world is crumbling apart, sometimes all it takes is to spend time with your girlfriends to remind you how strong the foundation you're standing on really is.

I guess a good way to look at it is that I have a month to really pray about what I want to do next, and where I want to go. Suddenly I find myself with quite a few options. I'm just waiting for the Boss to point me in the right direction...

Whirling thoughts and remembering

I could really use one of those Penseive things right about now. The last few days have been a complete whirlwind.

First things first... Emily. I woke up Sunday morning just in the absolute depths of despair. Laurie woke me up for church and I wanted to bury my face back in the pillow and pretend it wasn't already time to go. I missed Emily so much, and then on top of that I was already missing Laurie and Rachel.

I hate leaving- I really do. And ever since Emily died, I hate saying goodbye even more. I'm still really struggling with the whole "getting too close to people because I'm afraid I couldn't survive losing someone else that I love" thing.

I was really dreading the drive back. But this time it actually passed quickly. I turned up the music on my iPod, and just let the memories flow through. It was actually a peaceful way to spend the day. I didn't have to try and force a smile if I didn't feel like it, and I cried a little when I needed to.

Somehow her birthday didn't hit me as hard as the 1st of April did. Maybe it had to do with being alone. Maybe it was because I'd been so busy during the week I wasn't constantly dwelling on it. Maybe it really is part of that healing process everyone keeps yacking about. I'm not sure.

Part of me wonders if it's because I just can't let myself think "it's her 22nd birthday" because I know that she'll never be 22. She's forever frozen in my mind at 20.

I feel a little disjointed and that I'm rambling all over the place, but it's hard to sort all these thoughts out.

I sponsored the altar flowers at church on Sunday in memory of Emily. Daisies, of course. I wasn't there to see them, but I had my mother bring them home. I've got one bunch here. The other one I took up to the tree her sorority sisters planted for her in Shippensburg. I think she'd have liked them. That's the first time I've been to the tree since it was planted. It looks really nice. I can't wait for it to bloom.





Happy Birthday Emily.

I'll save yesterday's saga for another post. Somehow it seems a little less important since I started writing this.

Birthdays and bickering, loss and gain

It's hard to believe that a week has already flown by. This time a week ago I was chomping at the bit to get out of the office and on the road down here to Columbia. Now I'm sitting in the quiet of Laurie's living room lamenting that I'll have to leave in just three more days and wondering how on earth time goes so quickly.

Emily's been on my mind alot this week. Not that she isn't always, but especially so this week. My cousin Rachel reminds me of her in alot of ways. This visit even more so. Rach turned 14 yesterday. She's alot like Emily when it comes to her birthday. She's been counting down the days on facebook and telling everyone her birthday was this week, and bugging me relentlessly about what her mother bought her for her birthday. Since Laurie doesn't have any vacation time, Rachel and I got to spend her day together. We didn't really do much- we made a coffee cake yesterday morning, then we hit Starbucks and the mall. We were at Old Navy and Rachel talked me into buying a scarf. I'm not really a scarf person, but she convinced me that I didn't look like a complete fool. So I bought it. Still not 100% sure about the looking like a fool thing, but...

Spending the week with Rachel reminds me of having a little sister. Not that I'm looking for a surrogate by any means. No one can ever replace Emily. There is no one in this world like her. But maybe there's a part of my heart that can shift over a little bit. This week we've been bantering and teasingly bickering back and forth. I've missed it. I've missed that subtle art of being able to tease someone without crossing the line, because you know you can get away with it, because you're family and you know they're still going to love you.

I got a little teary-eyed yesterday too. I've got the phrase "Love Never Dies" on the background of my phone. Rachel showed me that she'd put the same thing on her phone.

I've missed having someone think I was cool enough to be copied.

Someone once told me that when God takes something away, He always gives you something else. Nothing can ever replace Emily. No one can ever fill that spot in my heart. But those little moments help soothe the rough edges around the hole. And it's not just with Rachel- when I'm with my cousin Sarah I often get the same feeling. Those girls remind me of what I've lost- but yet they also reminds me of what I still have.

Emily's birthday is this Sunday. I bought her a birthday card, but still don't know what to write in it. And I'll be spending the day in the car, driving back from South Carolina. In a way, I think that'll be a good way to spend the day. Thinking about her, missing her, and just.... remembering, I guess.

I'm really wishing I could capture time and hold it still for awhile.

Lights, music, and a few tears

I am having the best time this week. It's Monday and I've got the whole week still ahead of me. I've only been here since Thursday and it already feels like I've been here forever. Coming to Laurie's always feels like I've come home.

This weekend was a blast. We drove out to Dreher Island State Park to watch the fireworks. It was a great view- right above the lake. The "live band" we thought we would be hearing ended up being less than wonderful. As Lauren called it... it was an "oompah band". Next year we've decided that between the two of us we could suck up to, and flirt enough with, someone with a boat.

I hadn't really been thinking about Emily alot- until the fireworks started. All of a sudden I got choked up and the tears were streaming from my eyes. I missed her so much at that moment. I was looking up, and wondering if it was possible for her to be looking down at the same time. Remember that song from An American Tale, "Somewhere out there"? That's what it made me think of.

Laurie was holding my hand, tears were streaming, firworks were booming, the song was playing through my head, and I missed Emily so much it hurt to breathe.

Happy 4th Em. I miss you.

Got a case of the moldy blues...

I know that this probably doesn't rank up there with major catastrophe's, or can hardly even be considered a big deal...... but it's devastating nonetheless.

My favorite coaster seems to have contracted a case of mold.







Why is this my favorite coaster?

Well for starters, because of what it says. I love Google. I love self-depreciating humor. And I love the color red. Three of my favorite things all in one.

Oh yeah, and the biggest reason? Emily "gave" it to me. Loosely translated, she stole it from the Outback one night when we went to dinner. Although I'm not sure if it counts as stealing, as I think they expect people to take them.

It's strange how certain things are harder than others. Mom has trouble with Fudruckers. Dad has trouble at the Giant where Emily worked. I don't like the Outback anymore. Too many memories tied to it, I suppose. But I still love my Outback coaster.

I didn't think about how much my water cup "sweats" during the day, and now I've let it get moldy. I noticed it today, and as I held it in my hand... the reasonable part of my brain is saying "throw it away, it's icky". But as my hand hovers over the trash can, the unreasonable part of me that's tied to my heart is warring with the ick factor and won't let me let go. Somehow it feels like throwing away part of Emily's memory. As I'm re-reading my words, even I can see how unreasonable that sounds. But I still can't bring myself to do it.

Sigh

Anyone know a remedy for getting mold out of a cheap, yet priceless, cardboard coaster?

Haunting Memories- Wordless Wednesday

I've watched a few movies about the Holocaust over the last couple weeks. With the trip back to Poland coming up soon.... it's been on my mind alot. These were taken last year at the visit to Auschwitz.

I. miss. Emily.

Writing Contest!!

I came across a contest the other day. A writing contest. One of the blogs I've started reading (Pensieve) had posted a link to a blog called The Novel Doctor. Stephen's an editor, and he came up with a writing contest: Write a 200 word scene, somehow incorporating a wristwatch into the story. The winner is going be announced tomorrow. (The prize is a Starbucks or Amazon gift card. Sweet!) I decided to write something- just for grins and giggles.

Yesterday he posted 5 of his top ten choices. Mine wasn't there, but I really wasn't expecting it to be. Today he posted the remaining 5 of his top ten. I scanned the page and then let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding in a shocked "Whoooosh!". Mine's on there! I made the top ten! Out of 35 entries, mine is there! I hold no illusions about winning. Reading through some of the other entries, I can list a few that are better than mine. Doesn't matter though- I made the top ten!

You can read the first 5 entries here, and then the other 5 entries here, if you'd like. I'm also posting it below.
(Now I do want to throw a disclaimer out there- as you'll see, the scene involves a father/daughter. And it has absolutely nothing to do with my dad. It was just a little snippet of a story that popped into my head. So Dad, when you read this..... just know that I'm so lucky to have been the girl whose dad never grumbled about taking her to school when she missed the bus, and was never too busy to listen. K?)

“LAURA!”

Aggravated, he sighed. Today of all days she chose to miss the bus.

He shifted from one foot to the other, checking his watch.

She appeared in the kitchen, raising her eyes briefly. If he hadn’t chosen that moment to check his watch again, he might’ve seen the haunted expression on her face, the dark shadows under her eyes.

“I don’t have all day, let’s GO.”

Muttering to himself, he headed towards the car. She slid in the passenger seat wordlessly, fidgeting with her book bag. He didn’t notice it had been emptied of all her books.

They drove in silence. Arriving at the school’s entrance, he waited for her to get out, fingers drumming on the steering wheel.

She hesitantly whispered,

“Dad?”

He sighed, glancing at his watch. “You’ve made me late enough.”

Her shoulders slumped as she got out. Pulling away, he glanced in his rearview mirror. She was standing where he’d left her, watching him drive away.

Finally seeing her expression, a warning signal sounded deep in his heart. Something wasn’t right.

But glancing at his watch, he continued to speed away.

Moving Memories

Our next door neighbors are selling their house. When my mother and I got home the other night, we saw the realtor was there with a family looking at the house. Later on that evening, I stuck my head out the back door, and they saw that they had left and Judy was outside with the kids. I walked over and told her I had been tempted to introduce myself as the crazy neighbor. Or tell them that the house was haunted so they wouldn't buy it. :)

We chatted for awhile, and in the course of the conversation about house showings, open houses, and having to leave everytime the realtor called... it reminded me of when we put our house up for sale back in Alabama. Oh man, was I ever angry. I harbored a deep seated fury at the realtor. I refused to call her by name. I think I just referred to her as HER. I was rude and insolent. But I was angry, and she was my target. I was ticked when she would call and we'd have to leave so someone could walk through our house. I was mad that I got yelled at every time I left something laying around. I did not like the thought of people in my room. One day before a showing, I decided to make some "welcome" signs. Chalk it up to being 14 and immature, I suppose. I hung them everywhere. Things like, "this house is built on an Indian burial ground". "This house is haunted". "Ghosts live in the attic" "Stay out of my room. If you want to know what it looks like, look at my sister's. It's exactly the same". "Bloody Mary lives in my mirror" (If you've ever heard that ghost story, the college where the legend originates is very close to where we lived.) My personal favorite- "There are rabid, flying raccoons living in my attic".
Of course, my mother saw them and took them all down. I don't think my intention was really for the people to see them. I think I just wanted my parents to know how mad I was. You know...in case they hadn't interpreted the sullen teenager vibes correctly.

Emily did her share too, just not as blatantly. She and her friend April would take all of the flyers out of the information box in the front yard and throw them away. Soon after they were replaced, within days they were gone. I don't know how long it took for HER to realize that the flyers were disappearing at a rate faster than normal. And they could never prove who did it... but someone drew a mustache and beard on a bunch of HER posters. And no, it wasn't me. Believe me, I'd claim it now. :) I did see Emily and April with suspiciously dirty fingers one day. Looked almost like permanent black marker....

We both went around the neighborhood one day and kicked down all the for sale signs. And we'd sit on the curb and glower and glare cars that passed by. And the brave souls that stopped to get a flyer (if there were any there) must have had to briefly wonder if they were going to be attacked by the two sullen kids on the curb. Although I think we thought we were more intimidating than we really were.

My mother still claims that I failed 9th grade geometry on purpose. How that logic makes sense, I still don't understand. But she's convinced that some part of my warped mind thought if I failed geometry, I'd have to stay there. Even I wasn't that dumb to believe that would work. I failed geometry because it is an awful, evil thing that someone came up with specifically to make people's lives miserable. Not to mention that my teacher was truly a horrible man. Who hated kids. Especially girls. And who made no effort to disguise his disgust for people who didn't get geometry. 3 strikes for me. My father forced me to ask him for tutoring. He laughed at me and told me he wasn't interested in wasting time on a hopeless cause. Geometry was the bane of my existence. He used to make me stand at the chalkboard and solve a problem in front of the class. Knowing full well I had no clue. Then when I finally cried, he would call on different students to "walk me through" it. It got to the point where I almost wished we would move, just so I could get away from him.
I'll admit to the creative posters.. and knocking things down.. and I'll even admit to hanging up on HER when she called and I happened to answer the phone. (I did that alot.) But failing on purpose to stay there was defnitely not part of my scheming.

But I did outdo myself on one occasion. I wish I could say it was Emily's fault too... but she was just a bystander. This was my boneheaded mistake. Purely by accident... though I don't think my parents are still convinced about this one either. My best friend Teresa had shown me how to make these awesome candle holders. What's involved?
One empty glass bottle.
Multi-colored wax candles.
One book of matches.
One paper bag to prevent a mess. (See, I was thinking ahead)
The only thing missing.... bucket of water in case of emergency.

See where this is going?

I decided to do this little craft project after school before mom got home. The general gist is to hold a lighted candle over the bottle and let the wax drip all over it. It makes a really cool design and pattern all over the bottle. I'd tried to do this in my room and closed the door to keep Emily out, but... she drove me nuts until I let her in. After making her double pinkie swear to keep her mouth shut, I said she could watch. (A double pinkie swear is like THE ultimate- you never, ever, never break a double pinkie swear.) Things were going okay.... until I dropped the candle. Before I could process what had happened... suddenly my carpet is on fire. Emily and I sat frozen, eyes wide, and horrified. It's amazing how you don't think clearly in a crisis. The fire was between me and the door, and while it was not too big to jump around... my brain froze and I stayed put. Emily was sitting closest to the door, so I shrieked for her to get some water. Let me describe the layout of our house, in order to get the full effect of what happened next.
You had the kitchen/dining room that led into the living room. Then there was a hallway that led from the living room. My bedroom was the first room, then there was a bathroom right next to me, then Emily's room.

I waited for what seemed like an eternity and Emily didn't come back. (Again... the bathroom was right next door.)
All of a sudden Emily came tearing back, wringing her hands and crying.
"I can't find a glass! They're all in the dishwasher!"

"YOU WENT TO THE KITCHEN?! THE BATHROOM IS RIGHT NEXT DOOR!" I roared at her.

She stared at me with her mouth open for a second and scurried off to the bathroom. At that moment I was thankful for the bath toys that she still played with, even though I teased her mercilessly about how at 10 years old she was too old for buckets in the tub.

We dumped them over the spot and surveyed the damage. I had done it this time. Right in the center of the room. There was no way of hiding this one. Did I mention that this happened right after we'd put the house on the market? Like, the day after?

Emily looked at me, suddenly even more horrified.

"Mom is going to kill you."

I gulped. "I know"

"I mean, she's going to like, REALLY kill you."

"I KNOW. Quit saying that."

I was trying to think of my best tactic. Call mom on her cell phone or wait until she got home? If I called her, and she was driving I ran the risk of her getting so mad she'd get in an accident. But if I waited until she got home, then I'd have the full brunt of her undiluted wrath. If I gave her fair warning, she'd have time to process it before she got home to wring my neck. And stewing about my impending doom was unbearable. I called her. I braced myself for the yelling. But it didn't come. All in all, she was rather quiet. Which is never really a good sign.

I cried. She listened. Then said, "I'll be home in 20 minutes". Then she hung up.

"What did she say?" Emily asked.

"Nothing"

She didn't say a word- just hugged me. I tried not to think that she was giving me a farewell hug, but that was a distinct possibility.

My mother didn't yell like I expected. Don't get me wrong, I was in big time trouble. But when I told her about Emily running to the kitchen, and not being able to find a glass... I think she found it funny . I think that cut some of the anger. That little stinker had the biggest knack for getting out of trouble- usually it irritated the snot out of me. This time I was just thankful it was enough to take the edge off of the trouble I was in.

They ended up having someone cut a piece of carpet out of one of the closets to replace the hole in the middle of my floor. The carpet they put in the closet was a completely different colored square. Everytime I opened the door and saw it, I felt a twinge of guilt. I often wish I'd written the story down and left an explanation for the people who moved in. I wonder if they ever wondered what the story is behind the different colored square.

Needless to say... I was not allowed to have candles for a very, very long time.

I think about how devastated and angry I was all those years ago. I thought my life as I knew it was over. I was furious that everything was changing. I'd made up my mind that I was going to hate wherever it was that we moved to.

But a strange thing happened after we moved... I moved on. Life moved on. And looking back, I see that there was a reason for me to have ended up here. I've had some pretty amazing experiences the last 10 years, that I otherwise wouldn't have had if I hadn't gone through all the "miserable" in order to get here.
And dare I say it? Change isn't necessarily all bad. Sometimes I think we need to be uprooted and planted somewhere else, and it's the somewhere else that allows us to really blossom.

I still can't reconcile the change that Emily's death brought into our lives. Up until this past year, I thought moving was the biggest traumatic experience of my life. That pales in comparison now. But somewhere, a little voice is buried deep in a heart that's desperately pretending to still be deaf, and it's softly saying that life isn't over. And that although it's not something I'll ever "move on" from or "get over"- it is something that I will live through.

And that's my hope that I cling to.

In some ways, that carpet is a little like my heart. A piece of that carpet was damaged beyond repair. And the piece that fixed it couldn't replace what was lost. It will always look different. But it was enough to cover the hole.

It was enough to cover the hole.

Connectedness

May I just take a moment to say that I love the internet. LOVE IT.
I think I'm going through my teenage-hooked-on-the-computer phase about 10 years behind the curve. I'm on the computer all the time. I *almost* thought about getting an iPhone so I could really be connected everywhere. But I hate AT&T, so I resisted. And there is something to be said for being too connected.

What I love most about the internet is the way that it connects people. These days I think everyone has a blog. In some ways it's a little sad that we rely on a website to keep us up to date with friends and family. But yet, I think we share a little more of our hearts through words than speaking face to face. Kinda cool. And, putting life down in words captures so many of those little moments and memories and sayings forever that might otherwise be forgotten. I wish that blogs had been around when Em and I were growing up. So many of the stories and memories and details are fading too quickly.
I already know that if I ever have kids they will be the most photographed children ever. And now with my advent into the land of blogging, I'm afraid I might end of being one of those obnoxious parents that documents every time their kid burps. But I am making an oath to myself that I will never devote my status on facebook to documenting what is in my child's diaper. Yes, I have a friend who does that. Ew. There's something to be said for maintaining some sense of self.

But back to my train of thought.

What is also cool about the blog network is the extensions that come about from them. I stumbled across the coolest website the other week. One of the blogs I frequent is Beth Moore's. I love her books and her Bible Studies. Two months ago, her daughter went to India with Compassion International and was blogging about her experience. Through her website, I started reading one of her teammates blogs. And then through HER website, I found a link to this one.
Laura Salas's 15 Words or Less Poetic Challenge.

Poetry in Pictures! Two of my very favorite things in one. The general gist is to come up with a poem inspired by the photo, using 15 words or less.. It doesn't have to be about the picture- just something that the picture reminds you of. And it doesn't have to rhyme. Fun, fun, fun. If you want to give it a go, click on the button below for a link to this week's post. She usually posts a new one on Thursdays.



This is this week's photo. I thought of Emily. You would think by now I would have ceased being surprised by the fact that everything reminds me of her. Everything.

*sigh*



This is what I came up with first:

Emily

forever gone
life abruptly derailed
like a runaway train
leaving my heart
buried
in wreckage


And actually... I thought of two. But no one else seems to ever post more than one, so I cheated and posted the second one under my middle name. :)

Struggle

Hopes and dreams
hanging from a ledge
emptiness
struggling to find courage
to step back

(Note added 6-13-09... apparantely I frighted my poor mother. Just as a reassurance... I have no intention, desire, or thoughts whatsoever of jumping off a ledge. That's just what the picture made me think of. Not me :)

Milestones

5 years.

It hardly seems possible that I've been working here for 5 years. It barely seems possible that I've been out of high school for five years, yet I'm actually only two years away from my 10 year class reunion.

Oy.

It's funny how I landed here- After I freaked out the summer after I graduated high school and refused to go to college, I ended up working as a receptionist at a local temp agency. I was there for about 6 months when I got laid off. Three days after I got laid off from there, I was offered a temp to hire job here at Frick. I went in for an interview on a Wednesday morning. Two hours, three interviews, and one drug test later I was hired. I started working that same afternoon. Three months later I was hired as a permanent employee. Six months after that I was promoted from Engineering clerical assistant to Administrative Assistant in the Contract Administration department. And that's where I've been ever since.

Sometimes I wonder what my life would look like if I'd gone to school. I most definitely would not have ended up here. I wouldn't have met Debbie, and she has been one of the biggest influences in my life. And I definitely wouldn't have learned the lessons that I've learned over the last 5 years. My boss has alot to do with that, though not necessarily in the most positive of ways. My relationship with my boss has been... difficult... over the last few years. But this past year it's gone steadily downhill. After Emily died, I stopped caring. I couldn't get upset about anything. This job definitely is not my "passion", definitely is not what I want to be doing with my life. And while I did my best to do a good job, my heart was never fully in it. And after Emily died, there wasn't enough left of my heart to care. Perhaps if my boss was a more understanding person, the situation wouldn't have deteriorated this badly. But the combination of everything has created the perfect storm and I'm at my wits end. But this year has also brought things into sharper focus in some ways. I'm learning the balance between standing up for myself and recognizing when I'm wrong. And I'm definitely a long way from the doormat I used to be. And I've definitely had a lesson in dealing with difficult people.

My goal for the last six months has been to make it to 5 years. Partly because that means I'm vested and I'll be able to keep my employer contributions to my 401k. Not that there's much of anything in there... but every little bit helps. And part of that goal has just been to prove to myself that I can make it. After high school, all my "milestones" seem to be slipping farther and farther away.
In a very strange way, I'm proud I stuck with it this long and made it.
I even received a little gift from the company- which was completely unexpected.

Now it's time to move on. When I get back from Poland, I'm going to start looking in earnest for something else.

But for today, I'm looking back at the good moments of the last 5 years. Even though the situation with my boss casts a black shadow over most of my days, and it's sometimes hard to see the good moments - there have been so many of them. I've made friendships that will last for a lifetime. And those people are worth every snotty comment, every snide remark, every cutting e-mail my boss has thrown at me. Debbie.... Ginger... Denise...Sandy...Heather...the girls in my Bible Study group...Dave and Sue... every one of them has left a mark on my life, and I know I wouldn't be who I am without them.

I've thought that when I move on from here someday, that I'd just like to forget everything about this place. I even childishly planned to have a burn-the-business-card party on my last day. But I can't forget the changes I went through while I was here, and because I was here.
The good things are what I want to think of when I look at this little frame.

So I'm going to choose to celebrate today- celebrate 5 years worth of good, and pushing that black shadow away for today.

One of THOSE days....

Have you ever had one of those days where as soon as your feet hit the floor, you KNOW you should just turn around and go back to bed?

I started off my morning with an empty shampoo bottle. I couldn't find my favorite pair of earrings. The milk is past it's expiration date so I didn't have breakfast before I left for work. My cat is sick with another kidney infection and threw up again this morning. My only pair of clean blue socks has a hole in the toe. It's raining. My socks get soaked when I wear my favorite shoes in the rain, so I had to wear sneakers. Which completely don't match. My umbrella has a small leak. I knocked my orange juice over on my desk and it spilled all over my mousepad. I jammed my finger. My boss yelled at me. My iPod battery is almost dead and I forgot the charger.
And it's only 7:30

But you know what the kicker is? The thing that tipped this day from "bad" to "truly awful?"

Someone stole my salt shaker.

That was the final straw. It's enough to make anyone cry. Even me.

I realize that it's not really the salt shaker that I cried over. It's a combination of a week's worth of pent-up frustration, the fact that I'm so sleepy I can barely keep my eyes open, the generally miserable atmosphere in this horrible office, Heather not getting the best news from the oncologist, not having anything to wear anymore because none of my clothes fit, working two jobs and still never having money, AND on top of it all- I just plain out and out miss Emily.

Wow, my life is rough isn't it? Can I BE more whiney?

I'm teetering on the edge of an all-out pity party. When your days start out bad, I wonder if it's really because it's destined to be bad, or if it's because our attitude gets out of whack and from that moment on we anticipate that everything else is going to go wrong. Kind of a self-fulfilling prophecy.
I suppose if I really, really tried hard.... I could think of a good moment.

(silence)

Ok, so maybe I haven't had a good moment just quite yet. But I've still got the rest of the day.

But I'm really ticked about my missing salt shaker.

I mean, seriously, who steals someone's salt?

Thanks, but I think I'll take the stairs

"Melissa! I heard you're going back to Poland this summer. When do you leave?"

"August 13. I'm really excited."

"I'm happy for you. By the way, did you hear about that French plane that disappeared over the Atlantic last week?"

Gulp. Seriously. Why do people say things like that?!?

There are two things that terrify me. Elevators and flying.

I hate elevators. I avoid them at all costs. A few years back I went with a friend to a conference in DC. Our hotel room was on the 10th floor. She thought I was insane, but I took the stairs. "Lis, that's nuts. It'll take you twice as long to walk those stairs than if you just got in the elevator."
Yes, I realize this. But somethings are just not worth the fear. When I have to get in an elevator, it is all I can do to keep from breaking into a panic attack. My throat closes, my heart races, and my eyesight starts to blur around the edges. It's all I can do to remind myself to breathe. A friend had suggested that I should see someone about "getting over my irrational fear". Do you know what that entails?? They make you GET IN an elevator! And leave you there! And make it shake and do all kinds of horrid things.
God gave me two perfectly good legs. I'm perfectly content with my very rational fear. So thanks but no thanks, I'll take the stairs.

Flying isn't quite as bad, but it's close. I'm okay once I'm actually in the air. But it's the days and weeks and even months leading up to it that are insufferable. I get so anxious that I simply have to force myself not to think about it. But the thought springs up out of the blue and leaves my hands clammy and my pulse racing.

"what if, what if, what if..."

Now I KNOW the statistics. You're more likely to be in a car accident than in a plane accident. Yada, yada, yada. I bet the people on that French air plane told themselves the same thing.

"what if, what if, what if...."

Thoughts of Emily worry me constantly. What if something bad happens to me too? (knock on wood). In light of Emily's death, is it selfish to knowingly put yourself in the situation where something bad could happen? (double knock on wood).

If Emily were here, she would tell me to get over myself. And then she'd tell me that if I didn't go, I couldn't bring her back a present.

So I drive myself to distraction worrying about this for months. And as the plane is taking off, I'm making the sign of the cross and holding onto my cross necklace. (Is Catholicism genetic? The only time I do that is flying. I think that's the Irish in me coming out.) But once we're up--- I start to breathe again. I suppose I figure by then it's too late to do anything about it. Totally beyond my control. I still get nervous when I feel the plane move, but it's not a paralyzing fear that I get in the months leading up to the flight.

I'm hoping it'll be easier this year. Last year I got stuck by myself on the opposite side of the plane from our team members. With a seatmate who didn't speak English, and who took great advantage of Polish Airlines never ending supply of free Vodka. Seriously? Open bar on an airplane? Does that make ANY sense? Oy. There is nothing more unsettling than waking up to find a strange man's hand on your knee. And I discovered that there are some things that cross a language barrier with lightning speed. One of those things is a slap.
This year I made sure to get a seat with the rest of the team. So once I get to Chicago and meet up with everyone hopefully it will be easier since I'll be able to wile away the hours talking instead of fending myself off from drunk seatmates and watching American cartoons in Polish... (by the way, did you know that Donald Duck sounds exactly the same in Polish as he does in American?! )

A friend told me laughingly that it's too bad my alternative to flying isn't quite as easy as my alternative to elevators. A boat to Poland would take much, much longer. And these days the ocean seems to be infested with pirates. If I had to choose between the "what-if's" in my head and a band of pirates... I think I'll take the plane.

This same friend also found it amusing that I stress more before the flight than when I'm on it. "Lis, that's a little backwards isn't it? Most people are afraid during the flight."

Yes well.... that's me. I'm a walking abnormality.

Given the choice, I think I'd rather be a wreck for an eight hour flight than for the 8 months leading up to it. Actually, if I've got the power to choose... I'd rather not be afraid at all.

But what makes something worth the fear? I get almost as nervous about flying as I do about getting in an elevator. Now, if someone I loved was in trouble and was on the 10th floor of a building, and I was the only person who could help them..... you bet your you-know-what I'd be on that elevator quicker than you could say boo.

So something beyond yourself is kind of worth the fear.

I suppose that's what keeps me going when I start thinking about Poland. The thought that for whatever reason, this is where I feel called to go. This isn't a vacation trip for me, or a sightseeing tour. I really feel a tug on my heart when I think of those families who have been waiting so long for a house. And that makes my fears a little easier to deal with.

A little.

I don't want to become a slave to my fears. I don't want my fears to keep me from living. There are still so many places I want to see - most which require flying. And next year I'm hoping to go somewhere different with Habitat. Which also will require flying. So I'll get on my plane.

But the elevator is a different story. There are some fears that don't need to be conquered. When it comes to that.... thanks, but I'll keep taking my stairs.

What's so wonderful about me anyway?

On the same day I got the news about Heather, I was informed that I had been chosen as a "Wonderful Person and Artist of the Month".

I was completely taken by surprise, humbled, and honored.

Me? Wonderful? Whaaaat?

Terri, my artist friend, features a wonderful person and a wonderful artist of the month on her website. This month she combined them into one category, and then chose two people.

Wonderful person? Artist? Seriously? What is so wonderful about me?

That's a rhetorical question- I'm not fishing for compliments, or hoping for a bunch of responses from people saying "yes, 'Lis you are wonderful!"

That's not my point at all....

because I think self-doubt and lack of self-worth is something that is in all of us. I have a terrible time accepting compliments. I am notorious for saying something sarcastic or self- deprecating. Because deep down.. I know there's nothing really that great about me.

And this makes me laugh.

Because if someone I love was writing these very same words... I'd be coming up with a whole list of why I think they are in fact wonderful.
I can close my eyes and picture the face of someone I love. And I could write a whole blog about why I think they are wonderful.

Now Terri--- she definitely is someone wonderful. Her art... the words she writes... her blogs... they all give us a glimpse of a truly beautiful heart. It's amazing the connections you can feel, even if it's over e-mail. The words she's written to me, I carry around in my heart. I'm not sure if I completely believe them all quite yet... but I'm getting there.

We see it in others. We celebrate it in others.... but we don't want to see it in ourselves.

Even in writing about Emily... There's alot of things about her that were (are?) wonderful. Amazingly wonderful qualities that made her who she was. And yet... there were alot of things about her that just out and out made me want to wring her neck, and made me angry, and things I wished she could change.
But all in all, she was (is) wonderful because all of that is what made her who she was.

No one likes perfect people. It's incredibly hard to be "real" around someone who seemingly has it all together. It's hard to relate to someone who doesn't seem to struggle with life.

I still don't think that there is anything spectacularly wonderful about me. I know myself too well- and I know the dark and the ugly that I keep inside. I hide behind a mask I try to project to people, and all the while knowing that I really can't measure up. So wonderful, I am not.

But it makes my heart overflow to know that there are people who think I am.

And I'm thinking that right there may be the very point of it all.

(Here's a link to Terri's website.)

Childish actions, grown up regrets

For a long time I had my phone set so that when Emily called me, the ringtone that played was the Wicked Witch's theme song from the Wizard of Oz. It was childish and dumb, I know... and she of course never knew what it was... and it made me feel better. At that time anyway. It was one way of thumbing my nose at her without really hurting her feelings.
I eventually grew up and changed it to something else.

But it haunts me now. I wish I had tried harder.

Choosing the right perspective

I sat across from my friend at lunch today.

It's been ages since we had lunch together. I could tell she really wasn't all that hungry, but at least she ate.

And as I looked across at her, I was having trouble comprehending just how sick she is.

CANCER

And to look at her, you'd never even know it. Unless you looked closer and saw the slight shadows under her eyes, and noticed that the color of her skin wasn't really tan, as it appears at first glance, but actually is tinged with yellow--- a subtle sign of the hideous disease that's invaded her liver.

She has the most amazing attitude of anyone I've ever met. She's taken everything in stride, and looks at the whole situation like, "well, there's nothing I can do to change it, so I might as well go through it."

I, however, would not be nearly as strong. It took me three tries to get over to her office the other day to talk to her. Every time I stood up, I started crying. I can't even fathom the thoughts that must be playing through her mind. I know the thoughts that are running through mine, and it's not even happening to me.

And as I sat across from her, I couldn't help but feel very frightened for her. And frightened that I might lose her. That this time in a year she may not be here. Frightened for what she's going to be going through the next few months. Chemo, radiation, surgery... and then isn't it strange how the most insignificant things strike you in the midst of the most significant trials? Heather has beautiful, long, dark hair. I wondered if she'd lose it, and it made my eyes almost tear up. Last thing to be worrying about, eh?

I don't believe in the power of positive thinking- what's going to happen will happen, and no amount of happy thoughts is going to change that one little bit. Either she'll make it or she won't. Period.

So where does the whole faith thing come into play?

Big time struggle at the moment.

In my heart, I know the whole faith "thing" is what carries you through the trial. It's an inner reaction to outer circumstances beyond your control. Regardless of the outcome, I know faith is what holds you together, holds your family and friends together, it's what your entire life is based on. I know that's where her inner strength is coming from. Regardless of whether she is healed or not, I know her faith won't be shaken.
And I also know that faith only in the good times is not true faith. "Good times only" faith is standing in front of the entrance to a tunnel, and having a giant hissy fit, refusing to go in unless you can see the light at the end. Real faith is stepping forward into the dark and knowing the light is there without being able to see it.
But I guess the kicker is that life doesn't give you an option. You HAVE to go through the tunnel regardless of whether you can or can't see the light.

I know this, and I believe this. But my there are too many thoughts running through my head, and I'm having trouble hearing my heart.

My head is screaming that it's not fair, that someone should do something, that Heather should be more worried, more upset, and not so calm and serene because it's CANCER for goodness sake and it's BAD. I don't want her to be sick, I don't want her to die, I don't want... don't want... don't want.......

But once the voice in my head gets hoarse from all the yelling.... I can hear that still small voice again. Not the voice of positive thinking, but the voice of faith. There is a chance that she'll be okay. And there's a good chance that she won't. And no, my thinking isn't going to influence the outcome one way or another. Kind of like that tunnel. She's got to go through it- either fearful and frightened because she can't see the light at the end, or at peace because she knows it really is there. It's the perspective that changes the journey.

I need to hang onto that. 'Cause I, and everyone else who loves her, is heading though that tunnel with her. Might as well choose the right perspective.

Damn cancer.

Unspoken shadow

Cancer.

It's amazing the myriad of emotions one little word creates. Fear. Anguish. Horror. Sorrow. Devastation. Anger.

It even sounds ugly.

I think everyone has been touched by cancer, in some way. Family, friends, co-workers, themselves.

One of my good friends found at last week that she had a softball-sized mass on her liver. Cancer whispered in the background as she was telling me.

But you don't speak it. Not yet.

They found the mass on Thursday. By Friday morning, she had a biopsy scheduled.

When doctors hurry, you know it's not good. Cancer hovers like a shadow.

But you still don't speak it.

Blood work and biopsies and waiting.

Upbeat telephone conversation on Saturday. You focus on the positive, you talk about your faith, you try to look on the bright side. Meanwhile, cancer is laughing in the background.

But you can't say it. Saying the word makes it true.

Waiting. No news on Monday. Maybe it's not that bad. Maybe we dodged a bullet. Maybe it's just a mass. Maybe cancer lost this one.

Tuesday... still waiting. Preliminary blood work came back that the pancreas and kidneys are clear. No biopsy results, but maybe it's a good sign. No news is good news, right?

Wednesday morning. Suddenly the word is spoken. And cancer becomes a horrifying reality.

I'm reeling, to say the least. My friend is only in her early 40's. This can't be real. And if I'm reeling, I can't imagine what she's going through. Cancer has been the unspoken word haunting me since she told me about the tumor.... but I'm just the friend. I'm not the one who's got it raging through her insides. A Malignant tumor that's on her liver and spread to her gallbladder.

I didn't know what else to do, so I went to Google. I don't know alot about liver cancer, but I figured I'd better look into the worst case scenario. I'm the type of person that wants to know the worst. I can handle pretty much anything, as long as I know what to expect. Hence the disaster that my life and sanity has been this past year with Emily. Grief is anything but predictable. I turned to Google, hoping to find a measure of hope. Hoping that it's one of those types that is easily curable.

I wish I hadn't. I wish I didn't know.

Liver cancer is fast-growing, and often not detected because it's relatively symptom-less. Until the tumor gets so large that it begins to cause gastrological discomfort. And by then... well let's just say that the prognosis isn't good.

I sat staring at my computer screen trying to process the words I was seeing.

life expectancy often less than a year after diagnosis.

I couldn't put that sentence and my friend's face together. I just can't.

We talked on Saturday. My friend is one of those people that is always upbeat. She's the perfect Pollyanna. Truthfully, sometimes so much that a little of her goes a long way. But she has a heart of gold, and she put up with alot of my crap over the last year. And even though she can sometimes be... a little much at times... she's one of the truest friends I have. So all through the conversation, I'm trying not to let the worry creep into my voice, and she's the same laughing, carefree.. well, Pollyanna... that she always is. I told her that we didn't have a thing to worry about. I'd already had a loooong conversation with God that I had a whole list of people He couldn't do anything to for the next 10 years, because I simply couldn't deal with it. I laughingly told her that it was in fact all about me, and that she was going to be fine... that she had to be because I simply couldn't handle it.

We both laughed.... even though cancer hung in the air, unspoken, between us.

She'd be the first person to tell me that Google was the last place I should be turning to for a measure of hope. I know where my hope lies, and I know Who it lies with. And unfortunately, He doesn't always give the answers so that I can hear them. My knees hit the floor Thursday and I haven't gotten up yet. But it doesn't always end the way we want it to. The Relay for Life over this past weekend is evidence enough of that.

cancer

It. Is. Not. Fair.

Relay for Life

I miss you Mom-Mom. I always set out a luminaria for you at the Relay for Life. This year it hurt to circle "in memory of" instead of "in honor of" on the form.




What Cancer Cannot Do

Cancer is so limited...

It cannot cripple love
It cannot shatter hope
It cannot corrode faith
It cannot destroy peace
It cannot kill friendship
It cannot suppress memories
It cannot silence courage
It cannot invade the soul
It cannot steal eternal life
It cannot conquer the spirit.
~Author Unknown

Not quite Africa.....

I'm going back to Poland again in August. I had pretty much decided before my plane even left Krakow last year that I was going back. When Terri e-mailed me a couple weeks later asking me if I wanted to join them again, I didn't hesitate before responding with a YES.
I think it's hard to put into words what happens to you on a mission trip. It takes your pre-conceived notions and turns them upside down for one thing. When I told people I was going to Poland to help with Habitat for Humanity, I did get a few strange looks. Kind of like, if you're going on a mission trip, why Poland? It's just not quite Africa. When you hear mission, you think third world. I did the same thing. But third world kind of scares me. (Lord, if you are listening.... I don't want to go to Africa!). I like my creature comforts, and malaria and bugs and dirty water is a little more than I can deal with at the moment. And I felt kind of guilty for feeling that way, and I definitely didn't like to use the word mission in conjunction with my trip. I wasn't going to help people in extreme poverty... I wasn't going to preach the Word to people who'd never heard it.... I wasn't helping orphans... or feeding starving children. I was "just" going to Poland.

Well let me tell you about the people I met. We had a chance to spend an afternoon with one of the families that will be living in Building 8. A family of 4- Alexandra, Stanislaw, and their 2 children- Nicoleta who is 12, and Andrew, who is 2. Nicola is the sweetest little girl. Her English definitely put my Polish to shame. They took us to their flat- a one bedroom apartment. The kids slept in the bedroom, and their parents slept on a pull-out sofa in the living room/dining room. Their entire apartment could have fit into my downstairs living room. But oh, how happy they were! Their apartment was filled with books and games. No computer, no video games... none of the stuff that we tend to plug into. Nicola spoke the most English, but Alexandra knew quite a bit as well. Between Nicola, and a dictionary, we managed to laugh our way through the afternoon. Several times Alexandra would be trying to find the English word for something. She'd get flustered and start flipping through her dictionary. She'd try and describe it, and I'd suggest a word and it was the one she was searching for. Her face would light up and she'd beam at me and say "yes, yes, you understand me!" It was so precious. At one point Alexandra was trying to thank us for coming and building a house for them. She got so choked up that I don't think she could have even said anything in Polish. She held out her hands to the three of us, then folded her arms across her heart. I cried. In that moment the barriers between a spoiled American and a "poor" Polish woman fell down. Love is a language that is universal, and needs no words. She was thanking us, but I should have been thanking her. A need is a need, and what this family needed was a house. No, this wasn't a family living in poverty in Africa.

But not everyone can go to Africa. My pride was taken down a few pegs that afternoon. I was thinking that because I wasn't "sacrificing" by going to someplace like Africa, then it wasn't really worthy to be considered a mission trip. Well I learned that day that I wasn't "just" in Poland. It changed my outlook on the week ahead, and what we were there to do. And in the days that followed in the midst of some frustrating moments, I would remember Alexandra's happy, tear filled eyes, and suddenly the situation didn't seem so frustrating.

August can't get here quick enough. And just a little plug- if you'd like to consider donating to my trip--- it sure would be appreciated. Alexandra and their family's story is just one of many. This housing complex we are building is changing the lives of so many families that just need a little help.
I have a special website set up that you can donate to online, (check it out here!)and it gives a little more information about the trip, what your donation will be going to, and some information about Thrivent Builds/Habitat for Humanity. Also, if you missed it and would like to catch up through last year's blog, here is a link to that too. (Which was written in part by yours truly!) Since I was the "official" blog writer on the trip last year, I really didn't get to write alot about the week from my perspective. I don't really do well writing from a third person point of view. I'm definitely a details, feelings, me-oriented, type of writer. This year is someone else's turn to write the team blog, so I'll have time to write whatever I want on mine. Stay tuned! :)

Poland 2008, unfinished draft

(rescued from the "drafts" folder)

One thing that I don't think I really got to share was how Emily ended up being a part of my trip after all. She was so excited for me that I was going, and had all these great ideas how she was going to help me raise the money to go. Emily was not the kind of girl that liked to work hard or get dirty... but she was the girl who would give her all to help you do it. After she died, raising the $1,500.00 to go was the absolute last thing on my mind. In fact, I'd come to the conclusion that I wasn't going to go at all. I couldn't afford it, I didn't have the heart to do it. I had intended to e-mail Terri and tell her I was canceling, but I got busy at work and never got around to it. That same night, my parents sat me down and told me that they wanted to give me part of the money from Emily's life insurance to pay for the trip. Talk about not knowing what to say. And it struck me that in my haste to give up so quickly, I never even once talked that decision over with God. Never thought to leave it in His hands. Nope, I just decided on my own that I wasn't going. I'm very quick to give up when things start to look difficult. He obviously had different intentions. It amazes me how He answers prayers, even the ones we didn't know we asked.
So I never sent the e-mail to Terri, never told her that I almost cancelled on her.

Towards the end of the work week, our Habitat host Adam seemed really preoccupied and worried. There are many teams of volunteers throughout the year that work with HFH in Gliwice, but in addition to the volunteers, they also have paid Polish workers. Adam had said they weren't sure they would have enough money to pay the men the next day. Later on, a beaming Terri told me she had a special surprise for Adam. A Thrivent team typically consists of a minimum of 10 people. Part of the money we have to raise is a donation to the local Habitat affiliate. $10,000 per team. Our team was 20 people, so Thrivent decided to up the donation to $20,000. Terri had just received the offical okay to let Adam know. That extra $10,000 insured they would be able to pay the workers on time. Then came the kicker-- Terri told me that if even one person had cancelled, Thrivent wouldn't have been able to give the extra money.
Whoa.
Again, I cried. Then I told Terri how close I came to not coming, and then she cried. God managed to work through a mess inspite of myself.
I hate the phrase "everything happens for a reason". I do not believe for a moment that Emily died for a "specific reason" or a "purpose". But I do believe that He works through the most awful of circumstances. While it certainly doesn't justify or make her death any easier, it does serve as a reminder that He can bring something beautiful from a whole lot of ugly.

We painted a square on the side of our trailer and we all signed our names. Terri added one more "Anoit Emily" (Angel in Polish). It certainly was not the way we had planned, but she helped me get there after all.

Beneath the Surface....

Netflix- seriously, is the coolest thing ever. For some reason, this town cannot support a video store. In the 11 years I have lived here, there have been at least 3 different video stores that have come and gone. Blockbuster is too far to be convenient, and too expensive. We recently discovered Netflix. Unlimited movies! They send it to you, you watch it, send it back, and then... another one right away. It's seriously awesome.

Anyway, my mother and I watched the best movie last night- "The Secret Life of Bees". I read the book years ago and loved it.
It's set in South Carolina in 1964. It's so hard to wrap my mind around racism. I realize it's still an issue- but when I watch movies like this one, where there was a separate door for "colored" people... it just breaks my heart that people are so cruel. I don't understand where that mentality comes from- how you can assume an entire race of people is of a lesser worth than you because they are different. I had the same struggle as I walked through the Auschwitz concentration camp last year. I just don't understand. And I don't just mean the color of someone's skin- we do it for all kinds of things- race, nationality, gender, sexual orientation, religion, handicaps....

Moving here was a huge adjustment after 10 years in Alabama. And two years in Turkey before that. As much as I hated moving as a child, one thing I am deeply thankful for is that I think being exposed to people who were "different" gave me a deeper sense of valuing a person underneath their skin.
I have a picture that was taken at my Great Grandmother's 80th birthday party. They had hired a photographer for the day, and he brought his daughter who was about my age. I've long forgotten her name, but we really hit it off and had a blast. I was looking through our mess of old photos trying to find the pictures from that party. I found a picture that was taken of the two of us, mugging for the camera and holding balloons. I had to look twice at the photo. I didn't remember that she was black. All I had remembered was that she was so much fun to play with. I never even noticed the color of her skin.

One of my best friends when we were in Alabama always had the coolest hair. Her mom braided it into all these intricate braids and then fastened the ends with those little plastic animal barrettes. (Anyone remember those?!) Her head was a sea of braids and bright colors. I wanted my hair done like hers, and I had a fit when my mother tried to explain that my hair was different, and that it just wouldn't work. Telling me that something can't be done is just about as effective as waving a red flag in front of a bull. So I sequestered myself in the bathroom with my armory of plastic animal barrettes and proceeded to put them all over my head.
I looked absolutely ridiculous. But I refused to see the differences, that "black" hair is different from "white" hair. I looked ridiculous, yes. But maybe what we need is to be a little more ridiculous.

What happens to us as we grow up? I don't believe that we are born prejudiced.... I don't believe that it's an inborn trait to look down on someone because their skin is a different color. Or because of a certain country they came from. Or because they can't help who they fall in love with. Or because of a religion that they follow. It has to come from somewhere.... but where?

Catching up

I haven’t been keeping up with this blog as much as I would have liked to. Let me re-phrase that… I haven’t been posting entries on here as much as I would have liked to. I’ve actually been writing like crazy- and then not posting them. Partly because I’ve taken to writing on paper rather than typing on the computer. I cleaned out my purse the other day and found wads of notebook paper full of my messy scribbles. No wonder my purse was so heavy. It seems that the writing bug always strikes me at work- which is not exactly the best time to be spending time on the internet. So I jot it down quickly on paper, (all the while pretending to be working, haha) with the intention of posting it online later. But as a true procrastinator, later never seemed to come, and my purse just kept getting heavier.
I’m tired of lugging all that weight around (boy is that a metaphor!!) so I’ve tried to sort through them and make some sort of order out of a huge mess.

But the main reason I haven’t posted was because I just wasn’t sure what to say anymore. I got caught up in trying to write for “someone”, and I really wasn’t writing for me. I was writing what I thought I should be feeling, and editing out the stuff that was too heavy. I was afraid I’d written too much, that pouring out my pain and “ick” was too depressing. Narcissistic, yes? I’ve got all kinds of half-finished blog entries I never posted because I couldn’t find a positive note to end on.

I realized though that this is a journey. And those words that I wrote were a part of me at that time- sometimes not eloquent, sometimes disjointed, but always me. And re-reading some of those pain-filled entries has made me see where I was, but also how far I’ve come.

So I’ve decided to go back and post them anyway. Most of them—there are some that I just can’t quite share yet. Maybe someday, but not just yet.
I’ve posted them on the dates that I typed and saved them, just because I want to keep them in order. If you want to go back and read them… here’s the links. There’s quite a few…

Joy in the Midst of Sorrow 4-12-08
Rollercoaster 5-08-08
Time 5-12-08
Calendar Verse 5-14-08
Don’t Cry 6-4-08
Nervous breakdown 6-9-08
Penguins 6-12-08
Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day 6-13-08
Lonely 6-14-08
Pretending 6-16-08
Birthday cards and root canals 7-7-08
Too soon 7-9-08
Pieces 7-13-08
The ghost at the altar 8-4-08
Angels 9-14-08
Falling Apart 11-5-08
Missing her 1-4-09
Walls, walls, walls 1-15-09
They say 2-3-09
A quote that actually means something… 2-7-09
Picture 2-7-09
Valentine’s Day 2-13-09
The beauty of children..... 2-24-09
Hesitating and hurting. 3-1-09
Thoughts 3-3-09
Birthdays 3-2-09
11 Months 3-3-09
Stay away, it hurts too much 3-6-09
Voices, questions, struggles… 3-13-09
Choosing to remember 3-25-09
So now what do I do? 3-27-09
April 1st 4-1-09
A sand dollar and a sign 4-11-09
Celebrate 4-15-09
Emily’s Tree 4-18-09