A thing you can't learn in school

To begin with, I'm a terribly inconsistent blogger. One of the items on my currently non-existent bucket list is to blog more often, but I'm scared no one's reading it. Sometimes the fear of saying something and no one caring is scarier than not saying it at all.

Anyway...if you're out there and listening, I have something important to say tonight, or at least, it's important to me.

My 23rd birthday is looming in the not-so-distant-distance. I can't believe that in less than two weeks, I'll be closer to a quarter-century old than a fifth-century. It seems a little unreal that while so much has happened in these first 23 years, I still feel like the best is yet to come. Here's hoping...

We often say that much of what you need to know in life, you learn in kindergarten. To an extent, that's definitely true. You learn to share. You learn to play well with others even if you don't necessarily like them a whole lot. You learn that certain lunch meats are better than others. You learn to raise your hand. You learn that naps are a valuable part of life and shouldn't be left out of a daily routine. You learn that with crayons and a piece of paper, nothing is unimaginable.

All of those things are important. They teach you some of life's greatest lessons.

But there are other important things that kindergarten can't prepare you for. There are some things that it takes living 23 years to figure out. Those things aren't as easy as sharing or coloring or taking naps.

One of the things kindergarten doesn't prepare you for is how to constructively handle the not-so-fun parts of life. I'm still trying to figure that out, myself. In recent weeks, I've begun discovering exactly how important it is to surround yourself with people who make you better and people who don't just claim to have your back, but people who care about seeing you become the best person you're capable of being.

For some reason, we have a tendency to allow people to come into our lives who don't have our well-being in mind. We let them control aspects of who we are, how we act, what we say and how we feel. We allow them to be the driving force. We care more about what they think than what is right.

I'm glad to finally recognize that there are too many of those people in my life. Not that everyone in my life is that way, but even if you only have one or two or three or six of those people in your life, that is one or two or three or six too many.

Fortunately, I've been able to look at these situations with a glass-half-full approach. Ultimately, none of these people will prevent me from being who I want to be. They will become insignificant. I will be capable of overcoming challenges they present, and I will become better for it.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not ignorant. I would be lying if I said it was easy to sit back and let it all happen, but at this point, I'm assessing situations for what they are. I can't control these people, what they will say, or what they will do. What I can control is how I react to it.

I would also like to offer a message to everyone in how we treat one another. It sounds terrible cliche to use the Golden Rule, but there is truly no other single greatest rule as we coexist in this world together.

Treat others the way you would want to be treated.

It sounds so simple, but I believe it's the one thing we struggle with as a human race the most. I have certainly been guilty of not treating others the way I would like to be treated. When I think of certain things I've said or done, I know how it feels to have it done to me, and I can say with certainty, it's not good.

My current biggest objectives in my daily life are to remember that phrase and to truly treat others the way I would want to be treated. I want to be cognizant of the things I say. I want to think before I speak. I want to remember how it feels to be betrayed by a friend and in turn be a better friend to others. I want to understand the implications my actions have before deciding how to act.

I know I will never be perfect at any of these things, but I can only hope and pray that I can and will do better. I want to be the kind of friend that I want to have. I want to see the best parts of myself reflected in others, and I want to see the best parts of my true friends reflected in me.

It's a trying time at almost-23. There are days I wish I was napping and coloring again. But for each of those days, I know I will become stronger for having had them.

They don't teach you that in kindergarten. But maybe some of life's greatest lessons are reserved for 23-year-olds instead.

The purist kind of love

This post is dedicated to my sweet Amanda and her beautiful heart...and to Andra, for making me think about what the world needs now...

This is one of those stories I never want to forget. It was told to me by my mom almost a year ago, and I am so thankful she was there to witness this...

About a year ago, we had a celebration at my church for my youth minister and her family as they were preparing to join a new church where she would be taking a new position.

The celebration was a huge success. Dinner was great and the show that followed had all of us doubled over in laughter and wiping countless tears from our eyes. The skits that we did were hilarious and the video that was done as a tribute to the Thomason family left not a dry eye in the building. As my friends and I walked down the aisle of the sanctuary singing "Goodnight Sweetheart," we were all crying and hugging each other. It was one of the most emotional times of the evening. A few minutes before, our committee presented gifts to each member of the family to commemorate their time with us. Beth and Tim have two daughters, Celia (18) and Sami (10). Sami received her gift first and had everyone crying from the start.

Larry, our committee chair, has been a father-figure in Sami's life since she was born. After presenting her with her special gift, he told her how special she was to all of us and gave her hug. And when he did, the little 9-year-old bundle of energy started to cry.

Now to interject, our Music Minister, Kristi Hill, and the rest of the Hill family are extremely close with the Thomason family. The Hills have three boys, Taylor, Parker and Noah. Noah is about 7 months older than Sami.

This is the part that my mom related to me. I was standing in a circle of friends and we were all doing enough crying for everyone, so I was a bit distracted...

After the celebration had ended, we were all gathered in the Narthex. As the Thomasons gathered to greet everyone, Sami was still crying. I'm not sure what Sami was feeling at the time. There's always the psychological debate about whether little kids cry because they're actually upset and feeling those emotions, or if they cry because the environment that they're in calls for it. Either way, Sami was emotional.

Mom said that she looked over and saw Sami standing there and and then she saw Noah (who is a good bit taller than Sami). Noah went over and put his arms around Sami and completely enveloped her in a hug. Mom said he just held her for a minute and Sami hugged him back. Just thinking about it brings tears to my eyes.

As we get older, we all deal with our emotions in different ways. When girls get upset, boys usually don't know how to react. Girls and boys deal with emotions differently, so we often feel helpless when someone of the opposite sex that we care about is hurting. We feel awkward or maybe even uncomfortable reaching out to them because what if we do or say the wrong thing? But then I think about that exchange between Noah and Sami. Noah didn't think about it. He didn't hesitate. He didn't wonder if it would be weird or awkward. He did the one thing that he knew he could do. He just hugged her.

I'm writing this with the title "the purist kind of love." Wasn't that it?

Love is a word that is both over-used and completely misunderstood. But in it's purist form, love is the one thing emotion that every single human being needs. We all just need to be loved. 1 Corinthians 13 tells us that...

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails."

Sometimes I feel like that's one of the cliche Bible verses that everyone uses left and right. But other times, I feel like this is one of the passages that deserves to be heard over and over again. It perfectly explains what love really is about. Not just romantic love, but any kind of love.

The bond that those two children have is one that they don't fully understand, but the love that they have for each other was perfectly expressed in that one comforting exchange. There will probably come a day in the somewhat near future when Noah might wonder if it's ok to keep hugging his friend. They won't be kids anymore. There will be "feelings" involved and people wondering if it means something more than a friendship.

But tonight, I sit here as a college student who often wishes for no more than a simple hug from some of my friends when life gets tough....when your family is faced with new chapters in life, when family members grow old and face the challenges that come along with it, when you're faced with news from a doctor that makes you a little uncomfortable, when the stress of school and work and trying to still have a life becomes too much...and I pray that those children's hugs won't stop. That they will grow up and realize that often times, you say so much without saying anything at all. That sometimes love - the purist kind of love - really is all you need.

Have you ever seen the rain?

I wanna know...

In light of having done a class project last year on how natural disaster relief and social networking are growing more and more entertwined, I've decided to do an investigative effort of my own.

Japan has been hit by yet another quake - this time a massive aftershock from what occurred earlier this month. I simply cannot phathom what it would be like to live through the sheer terror of not knowing when disaster might strike again.

I don't have the resources or capability right now to go directly to Japan to help out, but I also know that I can't sit back and watch as these people struggle helplessly through surviving these difficult times. So what I do have is a little money. I don't have the ability to send thousands of dollars, but I do have a job that provides me with enough that I can give back.

So here's what I'm going to do. I'm posting this blog to Facebook and Twitter. For each person that comments on it, "likes" it, retweets it, etc. from now until Easter, I'm going to donate $1 to the Red Cross for relief efforts in Japan. You can comment, "like," retweet as many times as you want until then, and I'll post it once every morning at 10 a.m. CT. I'll keep up with how much money I've raised and post that daily, as well. I may not be able to give the grand total right away, but I'll donate a little at a time until I've covered it.

Social networking is an incredible thing, and I hope this will make use of it in the best way I know how.

If anyone is interested in contributing, let me know.

Keep Japan and its people in your thoughts in prayers...they've seen the rain, and the storms still aren't through...

"When it's over, so they say, it'll rain a sunny day...I know...Shining down like water..."

Changing Channels

For as many lighthearted, carefree and fun songs as Jimmy Buffett has written, there are a handful that stick out for their incredible poignancy. Changing Channels is one of those songs.

Jimmy always catches me at the seemingly wrong time...

I should be studying for a huge test on grammar, punctuation and word usage, so I figured if I wrote this blog I could attempt to self-edit, and that would be good enough. As a matter of fact, I just correctly hyphenated "self-edit." Moving on.

Speaking of moving on, I've been puzzled lately as to exactly how one goes about moving on...from anything. I'm quickly discovering that I'm at a time in my life where things are changing as rapidly as they first occur. I'm not the most adapt when it comes to change. It doesn't terrify me, but I don't always welcome it with open arms either.

A few minutes ago, I sat down to check for an e-mail and opened iTunes. Changing Channels came on...

"There's an island in the ocean / where the people stay in motion / somewhere on the old Gulf Stream / do they live or did I dream
They were changing channels / waiting for their sails to fill / they'll be changing channels / always will."

I don't know exactly what Jimmy meant when he wrote that, but I've created my own idea about it that suits me well. No matter the exact meaning, I'd like to think the people he's referring to are good at adapting to change. I think of them as calm sailors behind the helm. I don't think they care whether they are in control. They aren't worried about the winds shifting. They have no particular destination. They are content to "change channels" and see where they end up.

If only I could be more like those people...whoever they are...

I can only pick three?

Today in my Persuasive Discourse class, our first assignment was to write down three things that we felt strongly about and who or what influenced our feelings about the them.

For anyone that knows me well, you know that this is a very difficult task. My mind started to get ahead of me as I tried to think of the three biggest things that I felt strongly about. But is biggest the best word? Maybe most important things? I couldn't decide.

Our teacher urged us to finish up so we could get started, so I quickly jotted down three things that I felt like were a good representation of the types of things I feel strongly about. I decided on Auburn, global aid/relief, and following your goals/dreams. They ranged from the practical, everyday things that I actually encounter regularly, to things that were of a much larger scope and more on the civil rights end of the spectrum, to things that are better described as ideas, concepts or intangibles.

As our teacher asked for volunteers to share their three things, I listened to some of the lists that the other students were giving. Some of the things were somewhat predictable like gay rights, abortion, drinking, etc. Others were original and lighthearted like cooking and reading, but yet the reasons behind them gave them real purpose and meaning. Still others were personal and deep like their religious beliefs, personal faith journeys and relationships with family and friends.

When I shared mine, I wondered if anyone in the room had struggled to make their list like I did. It wasn't going to be taken for a grade or anything of the sort, but I knew that my list was a representation of myself and the things I valued most. I questioned if someone might judge me for not saying, "My relationship with Christ," or think I was too naive and had my head in the clouds for saying that I was fed up with complacency and wanted people to follow their dreams.

At the end of the exercise, I finally figured out that it didn't matter. To be honest, I don't remember the point of the assignment as it related to the class, but the lesson I took away was probably more important anyway.

I don't think it matters what were on the lists. No matter how much or little importance any of us might have given to any various item, it only matters that the item mattered to that one person. Everything needs someone to care about it. How boring would the world be if we all only cared about the same three things? It's because we all have different passions and points of interest that the world is filled with amazing people trying to do amazing things.

I'm pretty sure almost everyone knows the story of the boy on the beach and the starfish. The boy was walking along the shoreline and came across hundreds of starfish that had washed up on the shore and were dying. One by one, he began to carefully pick them up and throw them back into the water. A man noticed what the boy was doing, and he turned to the boy and said, "What are you doing? There is no way you'll be able to save all those starfish. Just leave it alone. It doesn't matter." But as the boy picked up another starfish and tossed it back into the waves, he replied, "It matters to that one."

That story has taught me a lot about always supporting the things you believe in, regardless of whether other people think it matters. Who knows? I might even put "starfish" at no. 4 on my list...

A sixty dollar promise

I realize it's been a while since I've written anything. I could come up with some excuse about how busy I've been, which definitely wouldn't be a lie, but that's not to say I haven't had time to write. I just haven't wanted to. I've had something on my mind for a while now, but every time I sat down to write, it didn't feel right. But something about tonight gave me inspiration and I'm ready.

I'm sitting here in my cozy little room listening to the rain hit the rocks outside my bedroom window. Alison Krauss' smooth and mellow voice is coming through the speakers, and I'm content. I like that word, "content." It doesn't force you to be happy, it just asks that you not be anxious, upset, etc. At this very moment, I'm content.

This past month taught me a lot about myself in a lot of different ways. I was very happy to wave goodbye to 2010. It had its bright moments, but all-in-all, it wasn't so much my year. I embraced the start of 2011 and was determined to make it a better year. Nine days in, I embarked on a trip that would leave an incredible mark on my life for multiple reasons.

I'm not going to do a full recap of how amazing the trip was. Words truly cannot describe it. Let's just say that every time I go to work and walk past the Rane Room, I get chills when I see that crystal trophy sparkling in its case.

That being said, I'll set the stage a little bit to get to where this story really needs to go...

After the game, as the clean-up crews took over (those people SO don't make enough money), I still didn't want to leave. I walked down to the railing by the field and was lucky enough to see a friend who grabbed a handful of confetti and threw it into my bag (Thanks Bo!). My roommate and I left the stadium and wandered aimlessly in a state something between "Oh-my-gosh-it-is-SO-COLD" and "Did-we-really-just-win-that-game?" We called our amazing cab driver, Jay (more on him in a little bit), who said he'd come get us, and finally made it back to the hotel hours after the game had ended. Too exhausted to even think about going out, we passed out almost immediately.

We had already made plans with Jay for him to take us to the airport the next morning. It was going to be a little more expensive than we would have liked, but he was reliable and we knew it was the safest option to make our flights on time.

When we woke up Tuesday morning, it was another gorgeous Arizona day. Jay was right on time (20 minutes early, in fact), and there was a huge part of me that wanted so badly to stay in that beautiful place. With a flight to catch, we showered and packed and headed downstairs to meet Jay.

This is a good opportunity to tell you a little bit about Jay. Jay is a talker. More so than me (no sarcastic comments please), I'm not even kidding. He took us to and from the game Monday and talked the ENTIRE way there and back. He told us a lot about his life, jobs he'd had, his family...anything and everything. We listened politely and nodded and said "Uh huh" at the appropriate times, but let him do most of the talking. Jay also sounded as though he had been smoking a pack a day since he was old enough to hold a cigarette. He was a little rough around the edges. He was a big man, tall, broad-shouldered, a little scruffy on the face. He had a head full of dark brown hair, and weathered tan skin. Nothing unapproachable, but not the most clean-cut either.

One of the things I had picked up on throughout Jay's stories was that he had spent a good portion of time mentoring juveniles that had been placed in detention centers or who had been in trouble with drugs, alcohol, crime, etc. I had an immense amount of respect for him and his ability to help kids with those kinds of problems. Until Tuesday morning, I didn't think much of it other than that.

The ride to the airport that morning was pretty uneventful. Jay talked some more, we listened, and watched the beautiful Arizona mountains out our windows for the last time. We were getting closer to the terminal, and Jay was remarking on how much less crowded it was than it had been earlier in the morning. I drew my attention back to him as he pulled up to the curb. He parked the car and before we could reach for the door handles, he looked into the rear view mirror and spoke to us one last time.

Jay's message was pretty simple. He issued us a challenge. He told us that he wanted us to take some time once a week, a few times a month, just however often we could to do something to change the life of young people in our community. His words warmed my heart and brought a smile to my face. But Jay wasn't done.

"Here's what I'm going to do," he said, so matter-of-factly I thought it might be a joke. "If you can promise me that you're going to do that," he said, "that you're going to take some time to help these kids, then your cab ride is free. You don't owe me a thing. But if you don't do it, then we may not see each other again, but if you don't do it, you're going to know that you have a debt to me until the day you die."

I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to think. The man had just forfeited $60 on nothing more than a promise to do something good for someone else. I'm pretty sure I stood there with my mouth hanging open for a good 10 seconds before I could come up with a reply. Meanwhile, Jay just got out of the car, lifted our bags from the trunk, and placed them on the sidewalk. I thanked him profusely and we promised him we would honor his request. He smiled, told us to have a safe trip home, and drove away.

As I headed inside, a lump rose in my throat and I choked back tears at the kindness and true goodness I had just experienced. It was more than just not having to pay for a cab ride. I began to realize that that was one of times that I knew a person had been put into my life for a reason.

I've thought about Jay several times since then and I often wonder if he wonders if we're going to honor his promise. I hope someday I'll be able to find Jay and tell him that I've been able to. I don't have anything concrete in place yet, but I've started putting together some ideas for things I could do to fulfill my promise and repay my debt.

I made another promise of my own, and one that Jay doesn't know anything about. I promised to no one in particular that I would never let Jay's story die. It's a simple "pay it forward" concept, but one that we don't get to witness often enough.

If you have ideas of your own on ways to "repay the debt" or want to be a part of fulfilling Jay's promise, let me know. In the coming months, I'm going to have something in the works, and something that I hope is as meaningful to someone else's life as Jay was to mine.

Oh yeah...Jay said he was pulling for Auburn too...go figure...

Fifteen really is the big one

I don't know what it is, but lately my rear-view mirror has been providing a lot of insight.

I was driving home this afternoon and stopped at a red light. I fidgeted with my iPod for a second or two to change the song, and then went back to watching cars pass by around me while I waited for the light to change. A car pulled up behind me, so I glanced into the rear-view mirror to check out who was behind me. I don't really know why I do that, I guess just out of curiosity to see who's traveling the same path. It just so happened to be a mom and her daughter - mom in the passenger seat, and daughter behind the wheel. The daughter looked to be about 15, and the look on her mom's face confirmed it. I looked at the car and noticed it was a Honda minivan. I immediately smiled to myself.

Coming up on my 21st birthday, I thought back to this time six short years ago. I was so excited to turn 15. I could FINALLY drive a car. Granted, I couldn't drive by myself, but it was my first oh-so-miniscule glimpse of freedom, and I couldn't wait. I remember going to get my permit, waiting forever in line, and finally stepping up to fill out all of the information and get my little slip of paper that said "YES! YOU CAN DRIVE!" At least, it might as well have said that.

That first year was rocky at times. I thought I knew everything and couldn't stand it when Mom or Dad tried to correct me. I learned how to drive the minivan - the Honda minivan - and though awkward at times, I became pretty good at maneuvering a bus up and down Memorial Parkway. Then came the BIG birthday, or so I thought. I turned 16 and convinced my parents to let me skip school that morning to go get my license. I grinned as the lady behind the desk looked at my date of birth and smiled and said, "Well happy birthday, young lady."

I went to dinner that night with my parents and my sister. Mom, Annie and I came from the house to meet my dad at the restaurant after he got off of work. When we were finished, I nervously asked if I could drive one of the cars home. Reluctantly, knowing they didn't have a good reason to say no, Mom and Dad said yes and I took that big ol' minivan to the house. But here's the funny part. I was terrified. For as long as I'd spent complaining about having my parents in the car correcting my every move, something about having them there felt safer. It was as if I knew that if something bad happened, they could just jump behind the wheel, fix it, and everything would be OK. Sitting in the driver's seat alone and about to leave the restaurant, it suddenly became glaringly obvious to me that this was it; if something bad happened, it was me and the minivan to fend for ourselves. Of course, I made it home just fine and saw the look of relief on my mom's face as I pulled into the driveway.

As I looked behind me today and saw that girl and her mom, I couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking. As the light turned green and I started to pull away, I offered up a wish for that girl. I wished that she would cherish these days with her mom in the car. I wished that she would never have to go through the awful experience of a wreck. I wished that she wouldn't speed and face the embarrassment of telling her parents about her first ticket. And I wished that when her 16th birthday rolls around and she can't wait to be on her own, that she would appreciate the safety and comfort offered from her mom's presence today.

Fifteen really is the big birthday. It's the last year we truly have safety and comfort. We all grow up. We have to be big kids. We move out and have to learn how to do things all on our own. And I, for one, have never been more thankful for that safety and comfort that annoyed me so much for so long.

a perspective on perspective

We're often told that we shouldn't look back. We're supposed to live for the moment. Look toward the future. Forget about the past. It's dead and gone and there isn't anything you can do about what's already done. I suppose all of that is true enough. However, I was reminded today that there is something to be said for looking over your shoulder; for looking backward; for looking behind you to see what you might have missed the first time.

This afternoon was pretty normal. I went to work, went to class, and came home. I had decided that I was going to try to be productive today instead of sitting on my oh-so-uncomfortable couch and watching 8 hours of TV that would serve no purpose than to ultimately make me a little fatter and lazier. Having made up my mind, I wrote a pretty lengthy to-do list and began diligently trying to check off the said items. Around 5:00 I decided to go out and run a few errands. I went to Tiger Town and then ran by the pharmacy, but by the time my prescription was ready, I got back into my car and realized that it had gotten a little later than I thought. I had to be back at work by the time football practice was over to make sure I caught a couple of the guys on the way out (who I ended up missing, by the way, but that's entirely beside the point). SO. I immediately entered into what I like to call "Mae Margaret Time Stress." This basically means that I start obsessing over everything I have to get done in an extremely short period of time. I pulled out of the parking space, quickly analyzed the fastest way to get home from the pharmacy (for those of you non-Auburn folks, there are a million ways to get from one place to another in Auburn, and sometimes choosing the quickest route proves harder than you'd think), and sped off down the road. My mind was swarming with thoughts of exactly what to do when I got home. It went something like "take the bags inside, no wait, they could stay. Well why wait? You have time. No, maybe leave them and just run in and grab some food really quick, you might be at practice awhile. Well, I could take them inside and then drive thru somewhere and get food and take it with me. Or I guess I could eat later. I'm going to get really hungry though if this takes longer than I'm thinking." You get the idea.

Before I knew it, I was at my apartment wondering if I ran any stop signs or red lights on my way home, as I didn't really remember anything about the trip except for the argument with myself. I jumped out, having decided on taking everything inside, and hastily made my way in the house to throw everything down and dash back out the door again. I headed for Zaxby's, figuring a salad would be quick, easy, semi-healthy, and cheap. I pulled in line at the drive-thru, ordered, paid, grabbed my food and continued on toward the Complex. As I was about to turn onto Donahue from College, I glanced in my rear-view mirror and what I saw made me do a double-take. I glanced back, wondering if a light had just caught my eye in a weird way. Nope. I was right the first time.

The sky behind me looked like a watercolor painting. It was pink and orange and yellow, mixed with a little blue and it looked like someone had taken a big bucket and splashed color on the sky. I looked back in front of me, but all I saw then was black. I turned my attention back to the "painting" and couldn't believe the same night sky could look so different in two places at once. And the "painting" was behind me, out of my direct line of sight, and about to disappear for good. Yet, something in it caught my attention.

As the sun went all the way down on the Plains and the Fall air became a little cooler, I started to wonder if looking behind me was really all that bad. Maybe there's something to be said for appreciating the past and what it will offer for the future. After all, I'd venture to guess that tomorrow's sunrise might look just as wonderful.

I think Tom Petty got it right

There's a pretty famous quote from Tom Petty that says:

"You have four years to be irresponsible here. Relax. Work is for people with jobs. You'll never remember class time, but you'll remember time you wasted hanging out with your friends. So, stay out late. Go out on a Tuesday with your friends when you have a paper due Wednesday. Spend money you don't have. Drink 'til sunrise. The work never ends, but college does."

Tonight, I took his advice.

I'm a notorious procrastinator when it comes to schoolwork. I wait to do everything until the last possible second, and every time I say to myself "If I would just start on this earlier, I'd be better off." You'd think I would've learned by now, but you'd be wrong.

The paper due for my World Lit II class in less than 13 hours has been no different. I've known about the paper since the beginning of the semester and the topics have been posted for about 2-3 weeks now. Naturally, I waited until this past week to even look at the topics, then bs'd my way through the mandatory student-professor conference to discuss my paper, and now I'm sitting here writing this blog at 1 a.m. instead of writing the paper. So what's the point?

Well I spent most of the day today at work. Most of the time my priorities are really messed up and I feel like my job (which I absolutely love) is my number one responsibility when I know that I really should focus on school first. That said, I worked a volleyball match today at 1 and then left and went straight to soccer where I stood for a good 2 hours in the rain and watched as our team desperately fought to find a way to win and then sadly lost in the final minutes. I returned home soaking wet, really cold, and not at all ready to write a paper. After placing an order with Pizza Hut, I stood in a steaming hot shower for about 15 minutes and slowly climbed out to towel off and face, what I thought at the time was, the inevitable. Alas, it was not so. I went in the living room to find that a Law & Order: SVU marathon was on. I knew this meant trouble. It was approximately 7:00. Next thing I knew, it was 10:00 and I'd been watching Elliot and Olivia catch the bad guys for a little over three hours. My roommates both had tests to study for as well, and were equally convinced that as soon as the marathon was over we were all going to go about our business and get our acts together and study. As "Executive Producer: Dick Wolf" scrolled across the screen to the sounds of the closing "Duh duh duh duh dummmmm..." no one moved. We all looked at each other as if to say "Do we have to?" the way a five-year-old does when his mom tells him it's time for bed. Laura finally broke the silence and seemingly-jokingly asked "So what's on next?" We laughed, but I had happened to see that The Bourne Ultimatum was about to start so I piped up. Laura's next words were "So who wants to watch this and then pull an all-nighter?"

Three hands went up in the air, popcorn was made, and we retired back to our most-uncomfortable couch for another few hours of laziness.

Now, I realize this all seems pretty innocent. It isn't scandalous or thrilling, and nothing about it is original or revolutionary. But then I think back to Tom Petty's quote.

I just spent about six hours with two of my best friends. We laughed at each other's corny jokes, we talked about how hot Matt Damon was, about the weather this week, about how much we didn't want to study. It was relaxing, it was fun, and it was care-free. And for every minute that I spend worrying about school or work or how I'm going to balance the two, I need at least five minutes of fun, relaxing, and care-free time to remind me that there are more important things in life.

So yes, I'm going to be up pretty late tonight. And no, this probably won't be the best paper I've ever written. But as cheesy as it might be, five years from now I won't be able to tell you what this paper was about, but I'll damn sure be able to tell you about how much fun I had with my best friends watching TV and laughing and enjoying each other's company. And at the end of the day, isn't that what we really want to remember anyway?

Time for a change...

All of us face changes in our lives all the time. Some changes are big. Some are small. Some seem insignificant. Some turn our worlds upside down. Some are for the better. Some aren't.

So what do we do? How do we deal with change? How do we face things that aren't nice and pretty and neatly tied up in packages? How do we make ourselves believe in the good when it seems like we're surrounded by bad? Anyone...?

I don't think any of us really have the answer. I could go the cliche route and say "Oh I just pray about it," which is fine. Don't get me wrong, I believe in the power of prayer. But I also believe that I am not a patient person. I don't always feel like praying. Sometimes I feel like screaming and crying and throwing things.

In the past several months, I've had a few very personal experiences with change. None of them have been seemingly positive. All of them have made me scream and cry (I can't remember throwing anything...I think). And I still haven't figured out how to deal with them.

This weekend, another change is coming in my life. It's both good and bad. My amazing youth minister, Beth Thomason, will spend her last Sunday at First Christian, Huntsville, before taking on a new role as the senior minister at Madison Christian in Madison. For the past two months or so, I've been serving on the going-away committee, planning an event for this weekend to help celebrate her ministry over the past 11 years. It has been an incredible bittersweet experience. "How lucky I am to have known someone who was so hard to say goodbye to." It's a quote that has never seemed more true.

Beth and her family aren't actually moving and I'm thankful that God has called her to serve in a place where she will still be close to home, but it can't entirely ease the pain. It's a change that hurts, and this weekend will not be easy.

I've had a similar experience having to say goodbye to another person who I cared for greatly. Without going into too much detail, let it suffice to say that it is a hurt unlike any other. It's a hurt that shows no signs of going away. And it's a hurt that sticks in your throat when you so much as think about them.

So how do I deal with all this change? I honestly don't know. I wake up every morning and put one foot in front of the other. As for Beth, my comfort lies in knowing that she is going to be happy in her new position and that this will be another step in her journey of faith, and hopefully one that will nurture her as much as she has nurtured me. As for the other situation, I can't say.

But at the end of the day, I try to think of that quote. I try to remind myself that I am so fortunate that I've had people in my life who have meant so much to me that it would hurt this much to say goodbye. For Beth, it's not goodbye. It's just "See you in Madison." For the other person, again I can't say. I hope it's not goodbye. I hope that there's something left to be said. And if not, I simply hope that one day it won't hurt so much. And one day, that won't be the first and last thing on my mind as I wake up and go to bed every night.

Ultimately, I'm discovering that change can be the realest (is that a word?) form of hurt, and they don't make bandaids big enough to heal it.

If it makes you happy...

...it can't be that bad. If it makes you happy, then why the hell are you so sad?...

I'm beginning to notice a common thread in all of my blogs...they all start out with song lyrics. This really wasn't at all intentional, but I guess it just sort of happened that way.

However, this entry's lyrics are brought to you courtesy of Sheryl Crow and "It It Makes You Happy." I've always found the chorus of that song to be very interesting.

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, but I've decided that happiness is an extremely difficult subject to tackle. And I think Sheryl might have a point. Often times, I find that the things that make us happy are the same things that serve as points of contention, frustration, anger, and downright hurt. You can love someone with every single piece of your heart, and never feel it in return. The action of loving someone makes you happy. You find joy in seeing them, excitement from their smile, etc...but if you don't feel it in return, just how happy are you? "If it makes you happy then why the hell are you so sad?" Does that mean that we should avoid trying to be happy in the first place if we know it isn't going to end well? Does the fear of the happiness causing eventual pain prevent us from striving for happiness at all?

I don't think so. Another favorite quote of mine is "Never regret anything because at one point in time it was exactly what you wanted." The thing you wanted the most at one point might eventually break your heart...the boy that doesn't love you back, the seemingly amazing job that turns it's back on you and lays you off, the husband or wife who betrays your fidelity and trust. However, I still find that quote to be most certainly true. I try to treat every experience with a certain amount of respect, knowing that some kind of wisdom can always be gained, whether or not the eventual outcome is what I wanted it to be. I recently heard this line on Grey's Anatomy and was struck, not only by the poignancy of it, but the accuracy..."Sometimes you have to make a big mistake to figure out how to make things right. Mistakes are painful but they're the only way to find out who you really are." I think the same goes for happiness. Sometimes we have to make a big mistake to figure out what really makes us happy. And the mistakes we make throughout our journies are definitely painful, but at some point along the way, we couldn't have been happier.

I am also reminded of the great Henry Miller and his famous quote on life...I think it ties right into happiness, too...
"Life moves on whether we act as cowards or heroes. Life has no other discipline to impose, if we would but realize it, than to accept life unquestioningly. Everything we shut our eyes to, everything we run away from, everything we deny, denigrate or despise, serves to defeat us in the end. What seems nasty, painful, evil, can become a source of beauty, joy, and strength, if faced with an open mind. Every moment is a golden one for him who has the vision to recognize it as such."

So we look to the future, hoping for the best and sometimes expecting the worst, trying to ease the pain of eventual disappointment. But how much happier we would all be if we lived as the beautiful Grace Kelly instructed..."One shouldn't talk about the future. It's the best way to mess it up."

Shells sink, dreams float...

...Life's good on our boat.

That's part of the chorus to another one of my favorite Jimmy songs. And on Father's Day, what more appropriate song than "Delaney Talks to Statues"?

My dad celebrated his 20th Father's Day this year...or maybe his 21st if he counts when my mom was pregnant with me. It's a little surreal to think about...

I'm writing this entry tonight from what used to be my bedroom, and is now my dad's home office. (The wifi at our house hasn't been working on my computer for a few days, so to check Facebook (and other gravely important things), I've been having to come back to the office).

As I sit here and look around the room, I think back to my childhood and the transformation that this room has been through. The multi-colored striped window curtains that my grandmother made for me when I was a little girl still hang in the windows, and the bright teal-colored walls are still the same. But instead of little-girl artwork and paintings, they are now adorned with Daniel A. Moore's "The Catch" from the 1998 National Championship (Tennessee over FSU, 23-16), a University of Tennessee diploma, numerous Associated Press and Alabama Sports Writers Association honors and awards, and several sports pictures. The closet that used to hold my dresses and baby-doll outfits now holds a TV, filing cabinets, media guides, and stacks and stacks of CDs. The carpet has been removed and is now a hardwood floor.

The "look" of the room has certainly changed, but the memories will always stay the same. I can still remember exactly where all of the furniture used to be. I remember waking up in the middle of the night when I was only 3 1/2 or 4 years old and hearing my baby sister crying from her room next to mine. I remember stacking my stuffed animals up neatly on my bed after I first learned how to make it up properly. I remember getting my first big-kid desk to do my homework on. I remember the night that our sweet old dog Wilson got stuck under my dresser because he was so scared of the thunderstorm and we couldn't get him out until the next morning. And I remember my sister and I coming up with secret knocking codes so we could "talk" to each other through the walls after my mom made us go to sleep at night. Memory after memory comes flooding back, and just for a second, I feel like it's my room again.

In middle school I got to trade this room for the one on the other side of the house that had it's own bathroom. I was tired of sharing one with my sister and Dad agreed that it'd be OK. After new carpet and a fresh coat of paint, his old office was mine and that was the end of my little room at the back of the house...

Sitting here tonight, I was browsing the internet and getting ready to get off and go to sleep when I noticed a picture frame hiding behind the edge of the computer monitor on the top of the desk. It's a picture I've seen a thousand times, but yet one that today put a smile on my face and gave me a lump in my throat...it's of me and my dad when I was probably no more than four or five. We're on the sofa together and he's got me under his arm. The look on my face says that he was probably tickling me. And the look on his says he couldn't be happier.

This was my room when I was that age. I'm older now and I have a bigger room. My dad's older too. And yet, I don't think that look on his face has ever really gone away.

The days of sitting on the sofa under his arm and getting tickled have gone away...but the man in the picture will always be my Daddy. And just like that look on his face, that will never really go away.

"Father, daughter, down by the water...Shells sink, dreams float, life's good on our boat..."

I knew this girl...

Where to begin? For years, I've been trying to make myself keep a journal, or at the very least to write things down. In high school I decided that I was growing up and didn't want to be 50 years old and not remember things. So thanks to modern technology and the crazy world of blogging, this will be my attempt to write things down, to remember things, to savor moments that I won't want to forget...with the hope that when I'm 50, I'll still remember things - big or small, important or trivial.

The title comes from one of my favorite Jimmy Buffett songs, "Lone Palm." It's on the Fruitcakes album, and was one of the first songs I learned growing up. My mom would listen to that CD in the car over and over again and I soon found myself singing right along on the way home from...pre-school, I guess. The song begins with "I knew this girl made of memories and phrases." Years after learning the song, that line finally resonates with me. I feel like that describes me and who I am.

So hopefully I'll be able to fill this blog with my "memories and phrases." I'm not really concerned about anyone reading this or not. Hopefully I can offer something for someone to enjoy - entertaining moments, an insightful thought here or there, etc. And if not, then I'll still be here with my memories and phrases..."ride if you will, ride it with me."