Footprints

When I was in high school, I was obsessed with the poem, "Footprints."  I still love the idea of the poem, but its meaning was deeper than the story of the poem.  Something about the poem and the title constantly reminded me of the footprints people were leaving on my life.  At that point in my life I had moved quite a bit, and something inside me told me I'd be moving more.

That has held true.

Somehow Facebook helps and, yet, I don't know that it does.  Through Facebook I am able to "stalk" those who left deep and permanent footprints on my life.  These are people that have influenced my personality to the point that I would be a completely different person if it weren't for them.  Yet, Facebook just reminds me of the distance...physical, emotional, time and space from who I carry with me on my heart.  To call someone up today to thank them would probably really freak them out.  To call them up and mention you saw they're having a bad day and you'd like to be there for them in a way they were for you ten plus years ago...that'd probably freak them out.  I also get the impulse to congratulate them; to tell them how happy it makes me that they found happiness in something big or small....that could probably freak them out too.

So, if you're reading this and you have known me at some point in time, please know this....thank you.  I am who I am because of who you were to me.  I still hold you dear.  And, if you're ever in the area, please look me up.  I would love to catch up over coffee, pizza, beer or wine. :)

Your footprints on me remain.

Don't Be Fooled, History Will Repeat Itself

Have you ever considered what words you say that have already been said?  Or, maybe you wonder as you go through some action, if someone before has done the same thing.  If you look at the history of humankind we have a tendency to repeat our mistakes over and over again.  I to have made mistakes over and over again struggling to learn the lesson I'm meant to learn.

For example in the fourth grade on the third day of the school year, my friends and I were enjoying a pleasant lunch.  It was a Friday, so those of us required by our cruel and unusual parents to eat school lunches had the joy of at least drinking chocolate milk instead of the white milk served Monday through Thursday.  As I was sipping this refreshing chocolate milk, Rachel James said something hilarious.  Now, I wish I knew now what it was, but considering it was the fourth grade, I'm not sure I'd still find it funny.  Anyways, she was funny.  We all broke into laughter.  And, because I had not timed my chocolate milk consumption with the delivery of her punch line, as I laughed chocolate milk came out my nose.  For those of you who have not had this experience, let me spare you.  Chocolate milk burns the nose.

So, fast forward almost 20 years, and I have been fortunate to avoid this combination of humor and poorly timed nourishment.  That is until tonight.  Tonight as I ate a chicken sandwich with hot sauce and ranch on it, Susan just had to be funny.  She's usually just funny looking while I eat, which I can maintain my composure while I eat (I've practiced over the years).  But, tonight she timed her funny looks with her witty comments at the same time as my dinner munching.  Next thing I know, a tiny piece of chicken with hot sauce came out my nose.

Now, I know this story will not win me my future husband.  But, I'm hoping to protect those innocents still left out there.  There is no need to test this at home.  Chocolate milk and chicken with hot sauce both burn equally when passing through the nasal canal.  Oh, I don't remember what Susan said either.  However, both of these ladies are quite hilarious.  Final lesson, history will repeat itself even when least expected.

When You Find Yourself Through the Fingerprints of Others

Twenty-one years ago today, I received a bouquet of flowers and a balloon at school from my grandparents who lived 60+ miles away.  I remember wondering how they found a florist who would drive so far for a delivery.  We had moved to Richland Center, WI only a few months before, and that moment when I read the card was the first time I had felt like myself since moving there.

Please understand; the teachers and students were very welcoming and friendly.  In fact Rachel used to tell the story about how she and Jenny Larson argued about who would show me, the new girl, around on her first day.  Unfortunately, I only remember the girls' bathroom from that tour.  This move though was not my family's first, and I think they were just wearing me down.  That day though with the flowers and balloon; it was a turning point for me in Richland Center.

The following weekend I had my first and last birthday party of my childhood.  Yes, I had sleepovers with one or two friends for my birthdays growing up, but this was my only authentic birthday party.  For my 8th birthday, we invited Rachel James, Kelly Keene, Jenny Larson, Nicole Krug, Danielle Stussy, Marci Hill and Maria King to my house for games and cake.  I wonder if there is a picture of all of us somewhere.  I remember at one point crying in our fort because I thought people were having more fun with my aunt Pati than with me.  She did make a cool cake and rocked at tetherball.  I remember thinking though that the crying really made it my party.  "It's My Party" by Lesley Gore seemed to be influencing my understanding of a successful part.

Something about that birthday - the bouquet from my grandparents, my mom and aunt throwing me a party, the friends I had only known a few weeks coming to celebrate with me - has influenced how people permanently affect my heart and personality.  I wonder if people realize the emotional impact the connections we had have had on me.  I feel as though my heart and soul are much like the Hollywood Walk of Fame on Hollywood Blvd and Vine St; each person whom I've had a relationship with has left their mark - their fingerprints perhaps - on whom I am.

If you're reading this and have been a part of my life, I want you to know that I would not be who I am today if it weren't for you.  Thank you for touching my life.

*Note: If you were at my 8th birthday party and I didn't list you, please forgive me.  I'm getting old.*

None of that Sissy Crap (from a good friend)

Are you tired of those sissy 'friendship' poems? Well, here is a series of promises that actually speak of true friendship. You will see no cutesy little smiley faces; just the stone cold truth of our great friendship.

1. When you are sad --I will jump on the person who made you sad like a spider monkey jacked up on Mountain Dew!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2. When you are blue -- I will try to dislodge whatever is choking you.

3. When you smile -- I will know you are plotting something that I must be involved in.

4. When you're scared -- we will high tail it out of here.

5. When you are worried -- I will tell you horrible stories about how much worse it could be until you quit whining, ya big baby!!!!

6. When you are confused -- I will use little words.

7. When you are sick --Stay away from me until you are well again. I don't want whatever you have.

8.. When you fall --- I'll pick you up and dust you off---After I laugh my butt off!!

9. This is my oath...I pledge it to the end. 'Why?' you may ask -- because you are my FRIEND!

Friendship is like peeing your pants, everyone can see it, but only you can feel the true warmth.

Decades ago

I've been thinking about this blog post for a while now. It's just taken me a bit to get around to actually writing. Now, I have homework to do, but I think I'll pound this out. As it is, I really don't blog as often as I'd like.

So, I've been thinking about 10 years ago. And, when one does that, they begin to think about 20 years ago. I am currently in a place - time, space, location, relationships, etc - that makes me happy. I am content and pleased with where I'm at. When I really think about it though, I realize that 10 years ago I didn't think life could get any better.

10 years ago I had just recently completed an incredible trip to New York City. I saw Les Miserables on Broadway, Ellis Island, Mahanttan from the top of the Statue of Liberty (including the WTC), Strawberry Fields in Central Park, FAO Swartz (and I did play on the giant piano), Lincoln Center, Madison Square Gardens, Teresa Witherspoon (yes, I got a pic with her) and so much more. I also just celebrated my 18th birthday 10 years ago. Is there a bigger birthday than 18? Really now, I was finally an "adult"...as if I had any idea what that meant. And, quickly approaching was my graduation from high school. I truly believed that 1999 would be the best year of my life.

20 years ago I was sitting in a new town and new school. Now, I had been there for a few months. The whole experience though was surreal. I had my first, and last group, birthday party. I had balloons and flowers (from my grandparents) sent to school on my birthday for the first time. I also was getting invited to birthday parties and went to my first slumber party.

Looking back I just wonder. It's crazy to realize how much time has passed from April 1989 and April 1999. I'm connecting with people for the first time in decades online through services like Facebook. I'm remembering people whom were developing great relationships and friendships with me. I find it still very surreal.

I know I'm not old. And, I know I'm not alone. I just find it interesting how pinnacle those years were. It makes me wonder what's in store this year. It makes me wonder the next time I'll think "life doesn't get better than this" or "will life ever get better than this." How will I remember your influence on my life in 10 years?

Hancock and my hometown

Note: if you have not seen Hancock and intend to, there may be content that could be considered spoiler material. I wouldn't continue reading.

Tonight I watched Hancock for the first time. With unique timing I received an email regarding my high school reunion being this year. Reflecting back on the movie and my relationship (we'll call it that for simplicity's sake) with my hometown, I found some intriguing parallels.

In the movie John and Mary are drawn to each other. She says something along the lines of: it doesn't matter where or how far she goes, he always finds her. There is always something bringing them back...and it's cosmic therefore unbreakable. Yet, when they're together, emotionally and physically, they become weak. They get hurt by each other and hurt by others. Essentially they are each other's worst enemies.

I think that's me and my hometown. I can't get away. I have family there. I have emotional ties to that community and the people within it. Yet, when I get close, emotionally or physically, I get hurt. All I want to do is wash my hands of it. And, I do all I can to not completely cut myself off. On the other hand, if I don't get hurt, it's usually because I'm not letting myself. I build myself up to someone I'm not, so I can look down my nose at those who have hurt me so bad in my life.

I don't think I'll go to my high school reunion. I might; I have a tendency to randomly change my mind. But, like John and Mary, perhaps life is better from a distance. Less people get hurt, and I don't wake up ashamed of myself.

Part of my About Me

What seems like a long time ago, I had an awful nickname. While that nickname was only with me for a few years, the way it made me feel summarized my whole childhood in one full swoop. I felt as though I never belonged any where because we moved so often. Even when we didn't move often, the long stays were in small towns that I would never be a 'native.' Unfortunately for those who did accept me for who I was, I always had that underlying nagging of the not belonging.

When I graduated high school I had an opportunity. I was going to a new school in a new state. No one can be "from" the college, so all students are at the same starting block. No one knew my nickname. No one knew my history. I had a clean slate handed to me at a school that didn't have any other students from my hometown. After one year of school my parents moved again. With that I did something I will never fully recover from.

I walked away from my hometown.

Almost a decade later I've begun the process of reestablishing contact with those who meant the most to me in middle and high school. I'm realizing that getting completely wrapped up in the bubble called college I neglected some relationships that didn't deserve to be ignored. I didn't fight with these friends. I didn't even say good bye. I just stopped communicating with all of them. I didn't visit because my parents and sisters were across the country. I just disappeared, and I didn't mind until now.

I hope to keep pursuing these old friends and the friendships we once had. I hope that a hello here and there will instigate further conversations. Maybe we can catch up. Maybe a new relationship will flourish between to the new people we are today. I'm not confident, but I am persistant. I'm also sorry. I wonder if those who meant the most realize that. And, I hope someday they give me a chance to tell them face to face.

Have you neglected a relationship beyond repair? Did you ever work to fix it? Did who you were in the past buy you a second chance today or ruin it?

And, the Grinch's Heart Grew 3 Times Larger

Just short of two years ago, I chaperoned a youth mission trip to Kentucky. This was not only my first mission trip ever, but it was my first time meeting many, if not all, of the youth. This group is from my family's church in Michigan not a church locally that I attend.

On the final day during morning devotionals, each person there - leaders, chaperones and youth alike - shared the "light of their week." Many discussed the people they helped and/or their vast feats at improving the living environments for so many people. My light was the youth working as God's hands. To this day I am amazed at how dedicated and loving they were while working under conditions of sleep deprivation, heat, humidity, distractions and excitement, constant interactions with friends and the mothering and fathering of us chaperones. Often it was the youth driving the work forward and refusing to head back for the night to prepare for the next day. Often it was the youth bonding with those we were helping and drawing smiles from faces who had seen harder times than many of us can imagine. It was the youth following God's will and showing his love that shown so brightly for me that week.

This week I chaperoned another trip with this group here in Chicago. For weeks I have been excited in anticipation to see the youth I had worked with before. I rarely see them, and now was my chance to catch up and get to know eachother all over again. In the end the week was more than I could have imagined. In addition to those I had come to love just a couple years before, I met more of their friends and group members. It was as if I understood the pain and joy the Grinch felt when his heart grew that much larger so quickly.

This week I watched young men and women dedicate their time, energy and love for a week. They ate the food at the shelter without complaint. They worked on projects that put them outside of their comfort zone. They slept in a building with only one room with air conditioning and the others with little air circulation at all. They worked with children and their reading, they cleaned homes and thrift shops, they built cabinets and dry-walled. These youth only wanted to do more than they already were doing. Most simply put, they left things better than they found them. And all the while, my heart burst with love and pride for every one of them.

Tonight I'm back home. While I sit here missing each and every one of them, I think about where each of them are headed. Some are in middle school, others high school and the rest are headed to college this fall. With my own impending move to Denver, I know I'll see them even less than I have these past two years. I pray they continue their relationships with Jesus. I pray that they remember they have each other. I pray they know they are loved and that this was not just a "mountaintop experience."

And, I think back over the week and realize...once again they are my light of the week. Through each and every one of them I saw Jesus this week more clearly than ever. Thank you, Lord, for such a brilliantly bright and loving week.

Tell Me You're Kidding...

A few weeks ago I was catching up with some friends. We were discussing our latest endeavors. My good friend -- well best friend but when I say it like that I feel like I'm on the playground making declarations, -- Susan, was telling everyone about how she's going to go back to school for library science. Yes, that means when she grows up she wants to be a librarian. She says it's because of her love and appreciation for books and knowledge. I think it has something to do with telling kids to be quiet and stop running. We're off topic. When a couple of people snickered at her aspirations, she deflected by telling them to ask me my plans. Well, my plans are to move to Denver, Colorado this fall. I'm going to go to school at Iliff School of Theology for a Masters of Divinity. Ultimately, I want to become an ordained minister in the United Methodist Church. One of our friends turned to me with what can only be described as horror in her eyes and said, "tell me you're kidding."

I'm not.

I have a lot of beliefs, morals and value structures. Most I'm sure I share with many other people. Some, I'm just as confident don't line up with as many people. At the end of the day though, I've always been this person. I'd like to expand more on my beliefs, morals and value structures in my other blog. Maybe sometimes they'll overflow here. But, that's not what this blog is for. On the other hand, I want each and every person I've ever known to know that I'm not leaving who I am for another person.

I know there are a lot of people out there with different religious views from me. I know that denominations aside, there are agnostics and atheists out there. I'm friends with a number of them. I'm not going to the dark side by becoming a minister. I'm not becoming closed-minded and an elitist by becoming a minister. I'm following what I believe to be a calling. As Martin Luther King Jr said, "Faith is taking the first step even when you don't see the whole staircase." My next step is school. I think ordainment will follow, but I'm open to other options as well.

In the end I want to assure people that I will still be me. If nothing else I hope to gain a stronger faith as my knowledge of the bible and religion increases. Perhaps some day we can talk about religion. Perhaps we never will. I'm okay with whatever you're most comfortable. If you have questions or concerns about this endeavor, talk to me about it. I'm cool with apprehension; trust me, I'm full of it all the time.

No matter what, I'm not kidding.

Just Stop Talking...Gone

As you may or may not know about me, I'm not good at keeping in touch with people. I tend to get caught up in my day-to-day life. More often than not, people call me not I calling them. I think in addition to being wrapped up in myself - which I know is not a good quality - I hesitate at calling people out of fear of interrupting their life. Maybe fear is too strong of a word, but the people I reach out to most often are those whom I know their schedule or I can text confirmation that now is a good time to talk first.

That being said; there is a disconnect in this world - possibly but hopefully not just with me - where people just stop calling/writing/dropping by. I can think of three people instantaneously that have drifted away without notice or reason. Of those three people I know one made the last call to me. I didn't return it for whatever reason. He never called back. Now I don't think I even know his number. He was a colleague from a job who shared an office with me. It wasn't like we dated or were best friends, but he was a friend.

The other two that I'm referencing today puzzle me a bit more. One was a best friend and the other I did date. One week we're talking and/or hanging out and the next week nothing. This nothingness has continued for months. It's to a point that I'm assuming unless we cordially cross paths on a random street later in life the relationship is over. (Please note: I am not denying my role in any relationship, but confused in general on this concept.) Why would you end any relationship with just not talking again?

Has this process been used on anyone else? Have you called once, twice or so many times it's awkward just to give up assuming they'll call when they have a chance only to never hear from them again?

In today's day and age, how can you lose track of anyone? How can it be impossible to keep in touch, especially if that individual is reaching out initially to you?!? What with telephones at home, work and your pocket and computers also at home, work and everywhere else; I'm sure everyone has at least one number to be reached at and/or an email address. And heaven help us if those don't work; last time I checked we still had a US Postal Service which delivers HAND-WRITTEN mail to peoples' homes.

I again admit that I am the epitome of awful at keeping in touch, but I'm saddened by the relationships that have washed away with time and lack of communication and nothing more. It's hard enough to lose people to fights, death, change and every other reason that severs relationships, but to lose more simply because you never talk again leaves a person a little empty and questioning what happened.

Am I the only one to lose friends, colleagues, associates and such to nothingness, or have you to? Any thoughts to this phenomenon?