Full Circle

My mom decided to move to Holt because it was near her place of employment and also near my sister. I liked Holt. We lived down the street from an ice cream store, we were near all of the fast food chains, the mall was only a 10 minute drive and dad was nearby, too. I adapted pretty well, though I missed the country and Fawn.

I remember this time as being scary for my mom. She had nothing and was on her own for the first time ever. I had a lot of new freedom because mom worked a lot. I was too young to start abusing the freedom, though.

What is the first thing you do after moving into a new community? Right! Find a church. My mom attended a local Methodist parish and I remember her coming home disappointed. No one spoke to her. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do. She contemplated checking out some other Methodist Churches in the area. I remember wondering what the big deal was. Methodist, Catholic, non-denominational….who cared? Why does God even care about all of these religions?

My sister got married in 1989. She married in a Presbyterian church in Dimondale. The church was beautiful and I felt comfortable there…except…behind the alter was a stained glass window…and in the center of the stained glass window…was an eyeball—the eye of God, or something. Again, a little creepy. My mom liked the church and decided to make a religion leap by checking out the First Presbyterian church in Holt. She went. She loved it. She asked me to come and I did. I hated it. The place looked like a barn and I was bored out of my mind. So I stayed home while my mom joined the church.

It was around this time, 8th or 9th grade, that I somehow decided I wanted to be Catholic again. All of my friends were Catholic and it seemed like a cool religion. Also, my step-mother had explained that Catholicism is the absolute true religion. Everything else just broke off from the Catholic church. I decided she might be right. I started telling people I was Catholic.

On Good Friday that year, I attended stations of the cross with her. Time for communion. She sat there. I finally asked: why?

“I’m not allowed to. I didn’t receive the sacrament of marriage in the church.” I remembered that they had been married in a Methodist church.
“Why didn’t you get married in your own church?”
“Because your father isn’t catholic.”
“So….he couldn’t get married in your church…because he’s not Catholic…”
“Not unless he annulled his first marriage,” she explained, “and by annulling his first marriage, he would have annulled you and your sister. The church would recognize him but not the two of you.” I felt so little when she told me all of this. Did God not love me because I wasn’t Catholic? How could a church ask someone to annul his kids? Is God full of these rules? Screw him, then.

I entered high school, had a lot of fun, went to church a couple times a year, still prayed, but never had a use for a personal relationship with God. Who really needed him unless you were scared, hurt or afraid? Besides, no one wanted to be a Jesus Freak. There is a time and place to be a Christian: Sunday. But as Jimmy Buffett stated, “There’s a fine line between Saturday night and Sunday morning.” It was all idealist BS and boring. People would shove their beliefs down my throat. Bah. Didn’t want it or need it. At least, I didn’t think I needed it.

The details from one day in particular will never leave me. It was the summer before 10th grade. My mom and I had moved into a house earlier in the year. My sister came over to the house. I wasn’t sure why. She sat on the floor of my bedroom and started looking at my photo albums. She was wearing white bib shorts and a blue shirt. Her hair was short and curly. We didn’t talk much. She just looked at pictures. Then she got up and left. The next day, my mom was driving me to Mason so I could take my driver’s ed test. Somewhere along Cedar Street, these words fell out of her mouth—David left your sister.

I felt so violent. I wanted to kill this guy. He was supposed to be my brother. We were all supposed to trust him.

“And, Holly…your sister is going to have a baby…you’re going to be an aunt.”

Pure joy now came over me. I wanted to cry and did. In fact, you can see it in the picture that was taken of me that day, the picture that went on my first driver’s license. I was confused, angry, and ecstatic.

After my mom had a bedroom built for her, my sister moved into the basement. It was the first time the three of us had lived together since 1979…and it was 1991. My mom got her oldest daughter back. I got to experience life with my sister. There were actually meals served and the laundry smelled awesome. My sister had cool clothes…clothes she couldn’t fit into for awhile. Yes, the benefits were wonderful and yes, stressful. For the most part, everyone got along and the best part was that I got to watch the baby grow.

He was born in March, just after I turned 16. I remember not being able to wait one more day. We all wanted him to be born so badly. And we had already named him: Zachary Edward. We were there when he came into the world. We all held the squirmy, little, yelly thing. The next day, my mom and I went to visit him. We asked to see Zachary Edward Goodrich in the nursery. They looked at us confused. There was no ZEG. My mom and I raced to the hospital room. David was there feeding his boy. “Say hi to Bradley Victor,” he said. I wanted to slap him. How did he have any right to this baby? He had left them. I hated David.

Bradley came home to live with a house full of women. He entertained us and I took care of him during the summer months, taking him everywhere with me. He was baptized and my sister attended the same church as my mom.

Throughout all of this, I was learning about life. When to keep your mouth shut, when to open it, etc. I got myself into a lot of little messes, all part of the learning process. I also had some internal struggles, too. The peer pressure was so intense. Have sex, drink until you puke, have the coolest clothes...I'm surprised I made it out alive. I made some bad choices. Very bad choices. Yet, there was something instilled in me not to steal, not to take advantage of my mom, and to always eat breakfast.

My sister started dating again. In fact, she became engaged just after Bradley turned one. She and Jeff married in March 1994. Our little boy left home. It was sad but a few months later, my mom got remarried to a man she had met at Lyn’s first wedding. She and I moved to Laingsburg to live with Dean the week after I graduated from high school.

It felt like my life had come full circle: being separated from my sister and father, moving away from Laingsburg. Now, everything had been put back into place except that it was different. A whole new journey was about to begin: my life as a college student.

Officially 29

I made it through my birthday and it was one of the best because it was so simple. Here are the highlights:

• Dinner with friends and family at Emil's on Saturday. Even though we didn't go roller skating, it was still fun. Joey and I saw a movie instead (Hotel Rwanda).
• I got the Karate Kid DVD set.
• My dad's best friend got me a necklace with a cross.
• Krissie gave me a Ray Charles CD and my favorite lotion.
• Came to work yesterday and my co-workers had decorated my cube in Mexico's national colors. They had signs that said "Pedro wishes Holly Feliz Cumpleanos! Vote for Pedro!" Then they also got a pinata and hung it up. My old team helped decorate, too.
• I was welcomed by a slew of e-mails from current friends and people I haven't spoken to in awhile, all wishing me a happy birthday. Very nice.
• Kim's dad, Howard, sent me pictures of his favorite flower--his way of sending me flowers on my birthday.
• Oh, and I did get flowers sent to me on my birthday. Very nice, indeed.
• My Saturn Dealer called to wish me a happy birthday.
• My co-workers scheduled a birthday lunch for me at a new restaurant. People just kept showing up so the staff had to add extra tables. About 20 people in all. I was amazed. Never before, in the history of...me...had so many people shown up. Dana and I decided it was because people needed to get out of the office. The food wasn't that great (I ate cheese) but they brought out a little cake as we were putting on our coats. Everyone grabbed a clean utensil and passed the cake around for one bite. "How does the flu get spread around?"
• My friend and co-worker Adrienne made me a special cake and I invited everyone to a piece. Very yummy.
• After work, I met up with Becky and my roommate at the Olive Garden for wine, salad and breadsticks with Alfredo sauce. We had a great time laughing and sharing.

As I drove home from Olive Garden, I counted myself lucky and blessed. 29 is alright so far.

Riv Kid

I worked at Riv Kids yesterday. After church was over, there was still one little person waiting for parents. Chaz walked in with a baby as the room was going to be used for child care during the Meet the Pastors pizza party. This little person wanted me to play basketball. What she really wanted was to try to get by me with the ball.
Kid: Okay, you be the mean person and I'll be the nice person. You try to get the ball from me but if I make it to the other side of the room, I win.
Me: Okay.
I let her go by a couple of times. Then she said...
Kid: Okay, you be the mean black guy and I'll be the nice white person.
Me: Come again?
Kid: You be the mean black guy....
Me: Whoa, whoa, whoa....(Kid takes off running).
I looked at Chaz. We were both staring at each other in disbelief.
Me: Ummm...we have to handle this. What do we say?
Chaz: Isn't there some kind of question flow chart around here.
Me: Oh geez...I have to say something to her.
The child came running back to me. I told her we had to stop playing and talk. Somehow, I tried to explain that black people weren't mean. I said when she watches it on TV, everyone is just really intense and aggressive because they are playing a sport. I asked her to repeat back to me what she understood. She just said yes. I wasn't sure if I handled it well or not. If people didn't know, the only kid experience I really have is with my niece and nephew. Still, I prayed right before I said what I had to say...I guess it was the best answer I had at the time (on top of me being completely shocked). I think this whole Riv Kids experience is definitely making me stretch my understanding about the world around me.

Showers

Lyndsay: I have to take a shower before the birthday party.
Me: Okay
L: Will you help me?
M: Yes
L: Please turn off the radio first.
M: I'll turn it down but I would like it on.
L: You shouldn't have electricity near water.
M: The radio is too far away and too high up.
L: Still...
M: That radio has been in this room for 10 years. Every time I am here, I listen to it in the shower. Seriously, 10 years. Nothing has happened. You're safe.
L: Okay, you have to make sure the temperature is just right.
M: How is this?
L: Too hot.
M: This?
L: Still too hot.
M: Now?
L: Too cold.
M: Lyndsay....
L: Okay, now its good.
Hops in shower. I put on my make-up.
L: Um...Aunt Holly?
M: Yes?
L: It's still a little too hot for my feet.
M: How is it now?
L: Good! Thanks!
Return to the mirror.
L: Um...Aunt Holly?
M: Yes Lyndsay.
L: It isn't about the temperature.
M: Okay...
L: Could you please get a little hand towel next to the shower in case I get soap in my....oh no! Ow! Ow! Soap's in my eyes.
M: Here, here, here. Wipe. Try to get a little water in there, too.
L: That's better. Thank you.
I return to the mirror. I hear Lyndsay singing.
M: What are you singing, Lyndsay?
L: I'm not.
M: I thought I heard you.
L: Oh, I was saying all the names I know from video games and TV.
M: Oh, okay.

I thought I would throw this one on, too: me getting baptised. I've been thinking about doing it again. My mom said she would support that because this day was more of a confirmation and promise on her part to raise me as a Christian. I said, "But remember that big party you had afterward and everyone got me all those gifts?" She said, "We'll just have another party." I laughed and said...okay. Of course, I'm kidding.

Me at 19. Take note of what is happening in this picture. It paints the perfect picture of who I was: a freshman in college away from home on my first Spring Break trip (South Padre, TX). The cup in my hand is probably an alcoholic beverage. Behind me, a drinking game is taking place called Circle of Death. The girl in the doorway was my future roommate. The boys were friends at the time. My shirt was a souvenir. It said all of these wonderful things about being a woman and hateful things about how men oppress our gender. I was kind of a spitfire.

Me at 9. Make fun of the dress all you want. I loved it. I was in 4th grade when this picture was taken. My teacher was Mr. Gehrig and he was related to Lou. Oh, and no, that isn't a mullet. This is what you would call "the feathered look."

Me at 9 months vacationing at my villa in the Alps. Yes, the background is a fake of course. There are no mountains in Laingsburg. I remember getting my picture taken at the hardware store in town. The photographer was also the hardware store owner, weekend deputy, and mayor.

Since it is my birthday, thought I would share some great pictures. Yes, this is a human baby. At least my mom thinks I was cute. You have to cut me a little slack because I came out with a broken collar bone. I had also asked the nurse to fix my hair before she took the picture but she didn't. I wasn't pleased.

I'm Getting Older

I fell down the stairs last night. It was only a few but enough to do damage. Scraped up arm, banged up knee, bruised lower back...yes, I'm getting older. When I hit the bottom, something like a cross between laughter and crying came out of my mouth. Falling down the stairs made me feel foolish so I was laughing at myself but it also hurt pretty bad so I was crying out in pain. 40 years from now I might not live through a fall like this which makes me feel young, but I see how my body has definitely been changing since I was 19.

*I swear I'm getting arthritis in my knees. They ache. They hurt. I'm screwed.
*My teeth hurt. I have to wait for my cereal to soften in the milk before I eat it.
*My skin is okay but I see some of the sun damage. Oh, and that whole Jimmy Buffett line, "Wrinkles only go where the smiles have been"...I think I might be smiling too much.
*I'm actually the same weight I've been since...well, not high school and not college either...I'm actually okay in this area and am fine with my weight.
*I can't touch my toes but I never could. I was reading in a magazine that everyone should be able to do this and it will help with flexibility and arthritis. Drat.

I guess I know I won't be a spring chicken forever. The body will give out even if your spirit and mind don't. It must be so frustrating. It seems so unfair. Then, there is the whole other spectrum...you know...the clock thing. I don't necessarily feel it ticking but I really want to have kids. I want three or four of them. Time might not let me do that. The other morning I was driving into work. A commercial came on the radio. The woman was talking about a seminar for women who wanted to freeze their eggs. I almost started crying. Freeze my eggs! Ahhhhh!!!! I came into work and told my co-workers I was going to have a bake sale to raise money to freeze my eggs. They laughed. I didn't. They stopped. "Holly, stop worrying!"

I know...I worry too much...worry less, pray more.

Last night, I was watching the news. A 29-year-old murder case had been reopened because of new evidence. The case had been titled, Oakland County Child Killings. Apparently, four children were abducted and murdered within a one year period. All of these murders took place in cities I frequent and have lived recently: Ferndale, Royal Oak, Berkley, Birmingham. All of these murders took place in 1976-1977. The first to be killed was a little girl. They found her in February 1976, the same month I was born. While I was busy trying to come to earth, she was leaving in a horrific way. This puts all of my aches and pains into perspective. She never got the chance to get older.

So, it does suck and its going to get worse but I get to go through it because that's what us humans do. Yay.

An Alma Matter to be proud of...

From Methodist, to Catholicism, to Pentecostal, to Methodist

Every other weekend, I would stay with my dad and step-mom. They married when I was five. Sis and I were in the wedding. I liked my step-mom but she scared me, too. I was afraid of doing something wrong, which was easy as there were four sets of rules to follow (my mom’s, my dad’s, Lee’s and Christine’s) and I didn’t want to follow any. The rules were all different, too. My parents were much more relaxed than the “steps.” Still, Christine was a great influence in my life. She built my pride in being a woman: she was a feminist, liberal and a catholic.

Christine attended St. Thomas Aquinas Catholic Church. It was completely different from the Methodist church in Charlotte. An enormous room with a ceiling that felt a mile high made the church an intimidating yet beautiful place. It hosted 1,000 people weekly. Their minister was called a priest but he had a small posse following him around as if he were Jesus. Beautiful robes, beautiful stained glass windows, beautiful pews…and right in the center, was a giant, dead Jesus, hanging from a cross, staring at all of us.

Did I mention this church was intimidating?

The Catholics did all sorts of cool things like kneeling, crossing themselves, dipping their fingers in holy water, and communion. For some reason, however, my step-mom never went up to receive communion. I didn’t ask why and knew I wasn’t allowed to receive it, either. After all, this wasn’t my church. I wasn’t a member. These people were too good for me. I worshipped and talked to God in my heart but I felt surrounded by something I could never have. I could never be good enough because I wasn’t born Catholic. I was a lowly Methodist.

The second church I attended had yet to explain why Jesus died for us. The connection wasn’t made. But there he was. Hanging dead from the cross. Staring at me. I knew to feel guilt. Feel it deeply.

Home life in Charlotte was good. I loved and detested Chad and Fawn as if they were my own brother and sister. Fawn and I shared a bedroom from the beginning. We had bunk beds and would pray every night. It was weird because God and Jesus were important but they were such distant beings. Our nightly prayers thanked him for this and that, asked him for so-and-so.

When I was still fairly young, my mom found us a new baby-sitter (we had several). This family lived in downtown Charlotte and, oh joy, they had two little boys our age. We had no choice but to go. Their boys were hellions and actually got us little angels into trouble. One time, Fawn and the younger brother were caught eating cat food. The dad picked out a nice piece of wood and began to carve it into a giant hand. Fawn knew she was safe but the other kid was hysterical. We got the real hand when we were bad. This poor kid was being tortured with a thick, wood board. Yikes. Wednesday nights, when our parents worked late, we had to attend church with the family. It didn’t make sense that they attended church during the middle of the week. It was all a little strange. Their church was outside of town and looked nothing like ours. Everyone sat in chairs and instead of a pastor, the members would get up and speak. This family didn’t watch us for long, though. But now, I equate Witnesses to this: a large, carved wooden hand ready to smack my butt if I stepped out of line.

My sister graduated from high school and moved to Lansing. She started dating a pastor at this small church called Mt. Hope. I started going to church with her. This was a church unlike any I had ever been to. People were yelling, screaming, rushing to the alter, babbling…I think I wanted to cry in fear. I saw the effect it had on my sister, though. She loved it. She had a personal relationship with Jesus and with all these people. I liked the people, too. They were fun and young. I would hang out with everyone after church. No one really pushed Jesus on me, but I felt this weirdness. I wanted to fit in, though, so I started throwing my hands in the air and pretended to “feel God”. The church was growing immensly. They were building a new facility and it was immense. It was about this time when my sister gave me a necklace with a peace dove hanging from the chain. She told me this necklace would give me faith and keep my faith. I wore that necklace everyday for a year until the day it broke. A week or so later, my friend Kim died. I was convinced it was because I wasn’t wearing the necklace. I tried to fix it and asked my sister for a new one. She laughed. “It was just a necklace,” she explained. Huh? I was now 12 and pretty confused. Look what I had been exposed to so far:

Jesus in the Methodist church—the guy who hung out with little kids and sheep; always seemed to be smiling; smelled kind of dusty; really boring
Jesus in the Catholic church—regal, dead…very dead, snobby, boring
Jesus in the Kingdom Hall—not there but at the home of the Lounds, he was going to spank my behind for thinking bad thoughts; boring
Jesus in the Pentecostal Church—really flippin weird

My sister’s engagement was broken and she left the church. Secretly, I was glad. The place freaked me out too much. I left Mt. Hope church at 12 and never went back. When I look back, the whole experience was strange. All I wanted was tradition, I wanted to be around familiarity.

A new pastor began leading the Methodist church and he really shook things up. People were excited and attendance rose. Pastor Bob also began a youth group. It consisted of seven kids, the only kids who attended the church. My mom volunteered us to join. We bellyached but went. Pastor Bob had us visit senior citizens homes, hold spaghetti suppers, and he tried to get us to talk about Jesus. I hated it. It creeped me out. I liked Jesus on my own terms but I was almost a teenager and I was starting to rebel against goodness. Pastor Bob was a music reviewer for Youth magazine. He asked Chad and I to help contribute. The two albums we had to critique: Bon Jovi’s New Jersey and Kylie Monogue’s Locomotion. I put my good, little, Christian girl hat on and ripped apart the Bon Jovi album. I told Pastor Bob what he wanted to hear. Secretly, I liked Bon Jovi.

Trying to be someone you aren’t gets tiring after awhile. Chad felt the same way. We rebelled against the pastor. He would ask us to do something and we would flat out say no. I remember this conversation well:
Bob: Alright, who’s going to volunteer to do the dishes after the pancake supper?
Chad: Like any of us are going to volunteer.
Bob: Okay, then, Chad can do them.
Chad: I’m not doing anything (leaves room).
Bob: Holly, you and Darrick will do the dishes.
Me: Okay, I’ll go get Darrick (disappears outside and finds Darrick hiding in the cemetery; ducks behind a nearby headstone).

We were jerks. Eventually, we quit going. I was talking to Chad recently about Pastor Bob. He hung his head and said, “I treated that guy so badly. I’m pretty ashamed of myself. All he ever wanted to do was help and teach us.” I never felt guilty about Bob before then. I feel a little guilty now.

The summer of 1989 approached. It was one of the best summers of my life. It was also my last summer living in Charlotte. My mom and I were finally leaving. After 9 years of being together, she and Lee were finally breaking it off. My mom found a place in Holt that she could afford and I was excited to move to the big city. I was also excited because my sister and her fiancé lived a few blocks away, the closest I had ever lived to my sis.

2 Years

I'm sitting in Mr. Pita. It's raining but the sun is shining brightly on the cozy, little restaurant and all of us inside. I wonder if anyone else notices. As soon as I started blogging "In the beginning," the sun came out almost as if to offer encouragement.

Last night, I was reading about Jesus and John the Baptist. John wore the same clothing as Elijah. Then, I had to go back to figure out who Elijah was again. I have the worst time remembering this stuff. I never really had Sunday School. I only started paying attention two years ago. But all of that is getting better. I attend Sunday School every other week. People think I help out at Riv Kids to volunteer my time to the church. I really do it so I can finally go to Sunday School. Just kidding...kind of. I mean, I learn just as much in Riv Kids as I do in the service.

Right now, YMCA is playing. I smile, thinking about seeing them in concert last November and the story Noel told us about getting hit on by the Indian. Oh yeah...Noel, the pastor. The thing that really gets me about this whole two year anniversary is the fact that I was led to a church so full of misfit Christians like me. What I mean is that Riverview is like the land of misfit toys...strange people, funny people, people with all sorts of pasts, people who love God. The irony is that I used to tease Joey that he went to a church called "Riverdance."

Me: So what did you do today?
JC: Went to church.
Me (being a smartass): Oh, yeah...what is that place called again? Riverdance? What religion is that anyway?
JC (politely laughs): Christian...and its called Riverview.
Me: Whatever. I suppose its one of those places that plays really loud, modern music.
JC: Yeah, they do.
Me: Forget it. I could never go to a church like that. Someone starts playing the guitar and I'm gone. I want the tradition. I want to her my mom's voice above the others in a choir.
JC: Yeah, I like choirs to. My old church had one. My mom sang in it. My mom goes to Riverview now.
Me: She does?!
JC: Yeah.
Me: Hmmmmm....I suppose this is one of those places where everyone wears jeans.
JC: Yup.
Me: Figures. It's some kind of new wave church where everyone just loves Jesus so much it's gross...isn't it.
JC: Sure.
Me: So what did you learn at Riverdance today?
JC: Sex
Me: What?! Sex?! You can't talk about that in church.
JC: Well, we did! The pastor talked about good sex and bad sex. Want to know more?
Me: Maybe...
JC: Let me get my notes.
Me: Notes! You have to take notes! What kind of place is this?!

So, yeah, the topic got me through the front door...eventually. But I didn't like Riverview much the first time. I dressed up. I didn't like the relaxed look everyone else had. I couldn't stand the music. The pastor wasn't quite reaching me because there were so many layers to get through. I started dating Joey near the beginning of March. I asked him to come to the Presbyterian church in Holt because I felt like I needed the tradition. So, we went. Then, we went to Riverview.

I had relaxed a bit and just felt convicted to give it another try. I was blown away. Scenes from Signs, The Matrix, a story told with South Park characters and the best part was Johnny Cash's version of Hurt. I cried. The message talked about our Christian hope. Thankfully, I had a little of that left. After church, I knew there were changes I wanted to make. God was reaching out, almost like a last ditch effort by actually relating to my life.

It has been such a scary, weird journey since then. I have definitely had my moments and might tell you about one I had recently. There's still so much work to do...more miles to travel...

In the beginning....

Tomorrow marks my 2 year anniversary of the first time I went to Riverview. I wasn't dragged there. I wasn't expecting to be changed, either. I was hung over and sick. I was also searching, but used to it by now. For the past few years I had been intensely seeking for a place I fit in, a place to grow, a place to know God...a place I hadn't really ever had. I listened with skepticism as the pastor discussed being in a rut. I chuckled to myself. Yes, sir...my whole life.

My parents were high school sweethearts, married right out of high school with a little girl on the way. They lived in Laingsburg, MI sandwiched in-between my dad's family: grandpa and grandma on one side, aunt Helen's family on the other. My mother worked as a hair stylist to help put dad through Michigan State. After he graduated, he took a job as a bartender. Both had jobs which required communication skills and dealing with other people's issues but they were so tired of being young, struggling, supporting a family, the two caved under the pressures.

They separated in 1975 and my dad moving to Lansing.

The End.

Oh...wait...there must be more.

Mom did the best she could with an 8-year-old. They continued to go to the Laingsburg Methodist Church with the rest of my dad's family, who fully supported my mom's decisions. Dad came back to Laingsburg once a week to watch my sister on Wednesday nights. I guess its safe for all to guess that my parents still had some kind of love between them otherwise, I wouldn't be writing this :)

I don't know if I was supposed to save their marriage, if I was a "surprise" to them, or if they panicked when my mom got the results. Mom says she was happy but I wonder. The truth: my grandfather was diagnosed with lung cancer and asked my pops to move back home. I guess, in a way, the tragedy of my grandpa dying is why I might be here. God knew I was going to arrive on the scene but everyone else thought my sister was going to be an only child.

Mom and dad did get back together until I was about two and a half. My father finally confessed he was in love with someone else and they got divorced.

My mom had little options at the time. She met a man who was 10 years younger. His wife had left him with a four year old son and a one and a half year old daughter. We went to live with him in Charlotte but we had to leave behind the family, including my sister. She was 12 at the time and did not want to live with Lee. My mom's parents took her in so she grew up in Ellsworth, a small town next to Charlevoix, MI.

My mom stepped right in as a surrogate mother to Chad and Fawn. Fawn even called her mommy. She brought us three kids to a little country church around the corner from our house. This church resembled the church from Little House On The Prairie, complete with a Reverend Alden. Approximately 20-30 people attended, all of them were our neighbors. A large cross hung behind the minister over a red curtain backdrop. I always wanted to know what was behind the curtain. A picture of Jesus hung above the organ. I would stare at His image, wonder why this guy loved me so much. I saw pictures of Jesus playing with sheep and holding little kid's hands. It didn't make sense to me. But if we didn't love him, we were going to hell for sure. As far as I knew, hell meant no Barbies, Pound Puppies, big wheels, or family. Sure, I'll love Jesus. He did die for me after all...wait...I wasn't even alive. How did he die for me before I was even born? I just did as I was told. Believe him. Love him.

There is a memory that stands out. Nighttime. Candles flickered. Everyone was singing Christmas hymns. Lee was there which was unusual. The "Larder" children were asked to come to the front of the church and recite a poem. It was about a Christmas Tree. We had one little line each. One of us froze. Can't remember who. I was deathly afraid. It was probably me.

For the most part, us three kids went to church every other weekend when we were home. We dreaded it. Getting dressed up, putting on the tights, dress pants, uncomfortable shoes, curling the hair. My argument was that the guy in the pictures wore a robe and sandles. Why were we getting so pretty? It was ingrained into our minds: it is respectful to dress up when you enter the house of God.

Church was boring. We usually had to sit through the entire service because there wasn't much of a Sunday School program. My mom bribed us by promising McDonald's breakfast afterwards. The whole charade was over by the time we were 10. I'm sure it broke my mom's heart but we were relieved.

But there was something else going on behind the scenes. It was taking place every other weekend when I visited my father. It was confusing. It was a little scary. It was Catholicism.

Bad Day

I'm cleaning house a bit today on my blog and going through drafts I never posted. I wrote this on 2/14/05.

It is difficult to admit this happened...but it did. I had a rough day this weekend. I was challenged in a big way and I fell. I was quickly reminded about a line I have to draw. It is not a line regarding sexuality or drinking. It is a line of what I can expose myself to as a fairly new Christ Follower.

The wise know and understand the truth. Yes, they seek more wisdom but having a firm perspective and knowing the Bible makes them less susciptible to controvery. They walk into a fire, they leave unscathed because they hold on to what they've learned. Throw a new believer in the fire, chances are they will get burned unless someone brings them out of it.

I saw the book sitting out and I read one page. It was a book which explains the Da Vinci Code. I thought it was the book which disproved the Da Vinci Code. Nope. One page was all it took to make my head spin. Immiediatly, I went to my Bible and tried to look for answers to some crazy theory I just read. I didn't find anything. Tired, I took a nap.

Upon waking an hour later, I felt so cold and alone. It was almost like I could feel my own mortality...the fact that I wouldn't always be alive. But the feeling of just complete lonliness pressed my heart.

"What in the hell was I doing? What was this religiousy crap I was buying into? And God? Give me a break. It's like Santa Claus and I'll never know because there is no God...there is no God? Is there a God? Have I been brainwashed? What is happening?"

I seriously panicked. Lost. Confused. Sick. Anger. Tears. Shame.

Every new Christian should have a sponser of some sort. So I called mine, JAC. But I was evil and spoke evil. All of this anger was just building inside of me. The sponsor picked me up and we started driving out to Charlotte to see some friends. We got as far as the high school when I got a call from my sister that my car was blocking her in. We turned around and went back. As we left for the second time, I said, "maybe we weren't supposed to go to Charlotte tonight. Let's go to 2 Feathers. I've never been."

So we went. And the Holt Wrestling Coaches were there. And they were so happy to see us. They invited us in and we ended up laughing a lot. And it was purely coincedence, right? I finally admitted why I was tripping out so bad. My sponsor listened paitently and said some things I took to heart.

I feel okay right now. It's almost like after a fight when you feel a little sensitive around the person who hurt you or who you hurt. God didn't hurt me but I still feel a little shaky. I suppose this happens to people without wisdom and knowledge. I'm quickly trying to gain some but it could take my whole life. What am I supposed to do in the meantime?

Listen to my own stupid advice. I mean, look at what I had written the day before about turning God on and off? How He is always there. It is so hard to follow advice whether it is your own or another humans. Anyhow, all is good now. I got back up but feel the limp a little. It will heal. Damn that satan, too. He's a tricky-you-know-what.

Gone Fishing

I read an article today entitled “When God Seems Distant.” The first line is “God is real, no matter how you feel.” Conclusion: We can’t turn God on and off. We can turn ourselves on and off but God remains.

The author of this book brought up something striking for a new Christian: sometimes God shuts up. He doesn’t go away but it feels like there’s nothing there. “When you are a baby Christian, God gives you a lot of confirming emotions and often answers the most immature, self-centered prayers—so you’ll know He exists.” I can agree with this. God has been on my speed dial for two years and I can’t believe the things I’ve been blessed with just by asking. He does the craziest little things and makes me KNOW it is Him.

The author went on to say how God will wean us of this excessive dependency on feelings. He wants us to grow, live in faith, and trust Him. “The most common mistake Christians make in worship is seeking an experience rather than seeking God. But seeking a feeling, even a feeling of closeness to Christ, is not worship.”

This was tough for me to read let alone understand, but I see what the author is saying. We should not base our relationship with God on feelings alone—we need to base it on faith because the feelings will leave us. We will go through periods of “dryness” or a rut. “Yes, God wants you to sense his presence, but he’s more concerned that you trust him than that you feel him.”

The author gave tips on what to do when it feels like God's gone fishing, especially at the worst times in your life: "How do you keep your eyes on Jesus when they’re full of tears?”
*Tell Him how you feel, just as Job did. “God can handle your doubt, anger, fear, grief, confusion, and questions.” This author states that admitting your hopelessness can be a statement of faith.
*Focus on who God is:
Good, loving (I first thought this said good-looking), all-powerful, in control, knows everything about us, and will save us.
*Trust God to keep His promises, even if we don’t see the result for 50 years.
*Remember what He did for you.
Even if God never does anything for you again, remember that He gave us His son. “That alone is worthy of your continual thanks and praise. Never again should you wonder what you have to be thankful for.”

It is these times of absence when we mature, grow in our faith and learn to trust God when we don’t feel God. Is God with us right now? Yes. Do you feel Him? Do you need to? I like it when I can feel God, but I know that I won't always...and he'll still be there secretly urging me to grow to a new level.

I could also just be crazy.

We have a friend named Dan. His dad isn't doing so hot. Please pray for his father and for the family. I'm sure it helps that Dan's wife is hot and his baby is the cutest but...man, this sucks...its hitting extra hard. Good ol' empathy....

This is AWESOME.

Day 1

The first day of Lent went pretty well. Went out for drinks with a friend and ordered a sandwich with no cheese. I also flossed last night. Yay, me. Then came my mini Bible study, starting at 10:30 (so I can be in bed by 11). I meant to learn something new about Jesus but I just couldn't pull myself away from Acts. It was getting so intense. And now...a Bible question for you:

Who is considered the first Christian martyr?

I'm sure all of the elders know this but I wonder, without looking it up, how many people know this person. The bonus question is how did this person's death result in the spread of Christianity?

I know, I know...probably too easy for all of you but being a toddler, I just thought I would throw it out there.

Unanswerable Questions

On May 23, 1994, I handed in my last Modern English Literature paper to Mrs. Lynch, 5th hour. It was handed back to me a week later with the following note: Holly-This is so special-it made me cry because I was once-and maybe still am, that little girl, too—I doubt, I question, I ache for answers which don’t come-you put it together in pain and hope. A+

This might be the only A+ I ever received. It was definitely the most important because I bared my soul to Mrs. Lynch. I seriously took the barriers down and wrote as if my reputation didn’t matter. I believe this paper reflects the faith struggle I was going through 10 years ago. I couldn’t write the faith journey without this reflection of myself at 18-years-old. I’m not sure I’ll share the whole thing. Some of it is too private to post. But I’ll share what matters. This paper wasn’t about shock value. It wasn’t full of original ideas.

Please keep in mind this writing reflects who I was 10 years ago. I was seriously a confused individual :) Here goes nothing....

Unanswerable Questions
It was the month where the snow covered most of the Western Hemisphere. Chilly winds brought drifting snow through the midnight sky. Most people were asleep. Some people were preparing for the next day’s Sunday service. This midnight was no different from the rest. It was this midnight, however, a baby girl was born.

Did she blow in with the chilly winds? Was she brought with the drifting snow? Could she have been sent from the heavens above? No one asked the questions. No one seemed to care. The baby was there, finally, and every heart that knew her felt blessed.

The baby girl was tucked away in a cozy little town. An abundance of security surrounded her life. Daddy, Mommy, Sissy, and baby Jesus were among her first words. She was brought into God’s body and baptized.

A tragedy struck the baby girl’s home. The death of her grandfather shook the family. As his loved ones buried him, they looked to his baby granddaughter sadly. She would never know the great man he was. They thought, “God must have His reasons.”

The little girl’s security was taken from her at a young age. The family split up. Daddy moved to Lansing and Sissy went to live up north. Her mother was left to guide her. They moved far away from her cozy home into a nicer home with a man, a boy, and a girl. Her new companions quickly became her older brother and younger sister. The little girl was surrounded by new security and happiness, yet her heart ached for her father and Sissy.

The little girl’s mother decided to begin the teachings of religion. Church and Sunday School were attended. Stories for Jesus’ miracles were read. They fascinated her young mind. However, her mother never explained the more specific ideas of their Methodist religion. The little girl lost interest but not faith in God nor Jesus. Even at her young age, the little girl decided that she did not believe in organized religion.

Time passed. The little girl spent the weekdays at school and the weekends at her father’s home. Once a year, she and her mother would travel up north to visit her grandparents and Sissy. Life was grand. God was loved.

The girl began middle school. She made some friends and her time was occupied. She said her prayers every night and respected all of the Ten Commandments. She even attended church annually to please her mother.

The girl’s life was so secure and happy, she didn’t see death sneaking up behind her. Slowly and painfully, it took a friend. For the first time, anger towards God filled her heart. Unanswerable questions were raised.

Where was Kim? Was she on earth watching everyone as an angel? Was she in heaven with God? Kim’s step-mother gave birth to Kim’s brother the day after she died. Had Kim been reincarnated into the baby boy? Was she just dead? How could God take a fourteen-year-old daughter, new sister, and friend?

Months sped by and July brought a summer rainfall. After the rain ended, the girl and a friend were driving on a three wheeler. The girl saw the barbed wire fence but the tires slid in the mud. Her leg and arm were ripped open. The friend climbed over the fence and began to run the half mile for help. The girl was left alone.

She screamed in fear for help. She screamed for Kim. Loneliness surrounded her. She began to say the Lord’s Prayer. It was then that a ray of sunlight burst through the clouds and shone on her broken body. The girl’s spirits were raised. She felt God. She felt Kim. She felt her grandfather. She wanted to go to them. Her spirits soared. The pain was gone. Someone shook her body. She had been rescued. God was forgiven.

A new school was attended. Her brother and sister fit in perfectly. Everyone seemed to hate the girl. The girl wanted friends but had a hard time making them. Then, another major tragedy hit the family. Her step-father’s best friend was killed in a car accident half a mile from their home. Her step-father turned to alcohol. Long nights in the bar pushed him away from his son, daughter and wife. The girl didn’t really care. Her feelings were gone.

Summer came. It brought warm temperatures, nights in the tent listening to the countryside fall asleep, fireworks, bike rides, pool parties, and a separation.

The girl and her mother fled for happiness to a place called Holt. At first, the girl was terribly lonely without her brother and sister, but now she lived ten minutes away from her father and Sissy lived down the street with her new dog and new husband.

School started and Holt became the heaven she had hoped for. New friends filled the gaps and new adventures brought her smile back. Unanswerable questions she used to ponder on became trivial. Living life was more important.

The death of Ryan White took a little more faith away from God. The girl believed Ryan was supposed to make it. He was a good person. Why did God allow him to get A.I.D.’s? Why did Ryan have to suffer? If God was purely good, why did all of these horrible things happen?

In the middle of her tenth grade year, the biggest miracle of all occurred. Her baby nephew was born. He arrived in the middle of a snowstorm. He was born at a difficult time. Sissy was going through a divorce. However, the baby boy brought everyone hope.

The girl began to ask questions again. Where did the little miracle come from? Did he come in with the drifting snow or the chilly winds? Why was he born now, at a time when the world seemed to be crumbling?

The girl grew. A new best friend entered her world and they were inseparable. They felt they were now mature enough to begin drinking. They went back to the girl’s old home and partied with her brother. They drank. They had fun. They enjoyed their youth.

The snow came back and brought a new tragedy. A girl they partied with was killed. Their beer bottles dropped and shattered.

The girl reached inside herself for help. People called her moody. Some called her a bitch. The only thing she could see was the future. Her final year of true adolescence had arrived. It was time to grow up. High school life became juvenile. She was tired of the petty fights and insignificant friendships. Drinking and drugs were stupid. She preached against "certain things"…and then did them. Everyone thought she was so special. She going to be the first in her family to go away to college. No one knew. No one except for God. Of course He knew. He let it happen to her.

She scrambled inside for an answer. She couldn’t let her family down. She had prom, college, a future. The little baby, who was now a young woman, brought those unanswered questions up again.

She had been baptized but what did that mean? She had been a fairly good child and had always put her faith in God. She did not believe in organized religions but used their churches to worship God on her own terms.

The tragedies had always come with the snow: grandpa, Kim, Allen, Ryan and Christina were dead. Yet, the snow had also brought in miracles and hope: her own birth, the birth of Kim’s brother, and the birth of her nephew. So the girl attempted to rationalize God’s reasons. Kim’s death prepared her for the other tragedies. Allen’s death had brought her to Holt. Ryan’s death had saved him from a vicious disease. Christina’s death forced her to rethink her habits and way of life. Were these lessons of God or just lessons of human life?
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I’ll come out of this shell to say I believe in fate. I believe I control my life. I believe in God, though sometimes I think he might exist only because people need to have something to believe in. After all, the things that have happened in my life, it’s easy to put my faith in something superior.

But it makes me wonder. We all start out to be perfect little babies no person hates. As we grow, something changes us. Some remain good, others stray far from innocence. We gain enemies. We gain tragedies. We gain miracles, too. Things tend to even out rather than being all good or bad. We get ourselves into our own messes. How can God control all of this?

One of my biggest questions is where is Jesus? If he’s the messiah, why hasn’t he come back? Is it because all of his brothers and sisters have turned their backs? Or is it because Jesus was just a quack like the one at my step-mother’s church? I believe in Jesus. He was a real man who performed miracles and loved people but how does He fit into my life?

Now Matt’s gone. Damn it. We all pulled for him. We showed him how much we cared even though we didn’t know him and now he’s gone. Two weeks until graduation and he’s gone. The hallways I walk and see, he once saw but now he’s gone. Just like that. His life is gone and ours goes on. Our God did this?

In the end, maybe we are the ones who watch out for ourselves. Maybe there is no reason to be kind to one another or to abide by the rules. Maybe there is no ultimate goal. It’s hard to imagine, however. There must be a heaven. My faith is somewhere but it’s lost. The only thing I have are these unanswerable questions.

Packzi

Yesterday was amazing. Religion was flying around here at Valassis. It began in the morning when I discovered some of my electronic folders were missing. I called and left a calm, yet urgent message for Dave. His line was busy because at the same time, he had discovered my electronic folders were missing and was frantically leaving me a message.

We finally connected. It was strange because this dude was panicked.

"Dave, you call in the big guns...IT...and while you're doing that, I'll pray." He agreed. I prayed. He called me back. "I need to have more faith because I found the folders.

"I wasn' t worried," I said.

After lunch, I went down to check on Dave. He relayed that the day was really going down the sewage drains. I laughed and said maybe he should eat a packzi. This started a conversation that lasted 45 minutes.

Dave (the Pentecostal), Jimie (the Catholic) and me (the...ummmm...mutt? mixed breed? Great Commission Church rep? Oh! Plain old Christian) discussed our religions and how I didn't really have one. We laughed about Dave's church, we joked about Catholics, and they both agreed I belong to the church that handles live snakes (still don't understand the joke but they thought it was pretty hilarious). The conversation got really interesting when Chuck rolled his chair over. We all busted out laughing.

"Glad you joined this discussion," Dave said. Chuck asked why. "Because we needed to add a Jew, " I joked. We all laughed and then in a non-threatening manner, we discussed religions and beliefs....a tricky thing to do in a corporation.

Later in the afternoon, I went to get some packzi's for my teammates and ran into Dave talking to four others in the hallway. Something about the way they were all just standing there in the middle of the hallway made me curious, so I stopped. Guess what they were talking about? No, they were actually talking about Easter.

Apparently, one of the girls I work with thought Easter was some kind of Hallmark holiday and full of eggs, the Easter bunny and baked ham, but not green eggs and ham. Seriously, I almost started crying but held back. We explained it to her but the loudest voice was coming from Geetha, who is from India. It was such a mix of culture, really interesting.

The best part from all of these discussions is that no one was judging each other and I wasn't judging in my heart. I really don't like how religion is such an icky conversation topic but everyone was able to discuss, relate, and ask questions without feeling threatened in any way. Yay, God.

I'm Sorry

If you hadn't wondered about me,
I wouldn't be where I am now.
If you hadn't cared about where I stood,
I would be stuck in sinful relationship.
If you didn't lead me,
I wouldn't have followed.
If you didn't show me my potential,
I wouldn't be showing others their potential.
If you would have given up on me,
I would have given up on myself.
If you didn't love me more than yourself,
I would not know Christ's love.
And I'm so, so sorry that I don't love you back,
the way you need me to.

Lent

This is my favorite time of the year.

Lent is an exciting time, propelling us closer to spring. Warmer temps, more sunshine and the best part: rebirth. During these 40 days, nature slowly transforms itself into soft new colors, buds sprouting, tulips popping…from death to birth

Lent is a sad time, especially this year, though not compared to last year. The death Christ suffered for us moves me to no end. But we are also approaching the anniversaries of friends/family who have died.

Lent is a powerful time. We reflect on what God did for us and the sacrifice of our savior.

This weekend marks my two year anniversary, or birthday of the day I woke up, stood up, and paid attention by listening to what God was trying to tell me for so long, and following Him: my death to my birth. Over this season, I will be taking a look at a story…it’s about faith…its mine. I’ll share the journey I’ve traveled so far. Some of it is personal, but not too personal (those will be omitted).

And now, here are some things I’ve given up for Lent from high school thru last year:
Skittles
Swearing
Fast Food
Pop
Drinking

This year, I plan on giving up cheese...and shopping for myself. I’m also going to do the following:
Floss every night
Learn one thing about Jesus every day and journal it (maybe not here but in my Jesus journal).
Meet one new person at Riverview every Sunday.
Stop talking about Riverview.

Huh? Stop talking about Riverview? Yes, I think Riverview is my key to opening up dialogue with non-Christians. It is very easy to talk about my church. It opens the door to many interesting conversations. However, I want to talk about it less and talk about God more. Of course, if Riverview comes up or naturally works itself into a conversation, I’ll go for it. I just feel like I sometimes shove it down people’s throats, so I guess I’m giving up shoving Riverview down people’s throats.

Understand, I do all of this for fun. It has nothing to do with my salvation and I understand I’m not sacrificing to God. I do it because I’m hoping some of these changes will form into good habits. I’ll use Lent as the excuse.

Blow drying my hair this morning, the old mind wandered back to college days. Senior year, I started dating a guy who had several friends that were really pretty girls. Two of these girls drove me nuts. They seemed flawless: the hair, the clothes, the humor...I was a little (lot) insecure. What made it worse was that Angie and Shelley didn't always seem so friendly. In fact, I always felt like they were judging me. So I wanted to change.

I went to my mom with a picture in hand. "Mom, I want this haircut." "Why this haircut?" "Because....there are these girls that hang around with Bush and I just need to look extra...I don't know...good (meaning hip or cool)." Now, my mom could have argued with me about feeling like I wasn't good enough blah, blah, blah but she just gave me the haircut. I was satisfied. I felt cool. No, it didn't fix the relationship between Angie, Shelley and myself.

Yes, I was thinking about all of this while blowing drying my hair this morning. Then, I smiled.
*I was a bridesmaid in Angie's wedding.
*Shelley just sent me an early birthday gift--clothes from my favorite store.

These two people have been my close friends for over 5 years now. Funny....weird funny....

This year, I'm not even going to pretend to care about the Superbowl. I'm just not into it this year. In fact, I think I'll watch a movie or do something else.

Right now, I'm eating a Jaime Hitch Superbowl cookie. It has little helmet sprinkles on top of Jaime's famous frosting.

I care about the cookie but not the Superbowl. Please don't tell my dad.

What do you think of this picture?
It resembles my Michael Jackson Barbie...

The Day The Music Died

Driving into work this morning, the radio faithfully scanned for a good station. The word "died" shot through the speaker and into my ear. I hit the scan button to return to the station. "Did you know the song 'American Pie' is about Buddy Holly?" the disk jockey asked.

I rolled my eyes. Doesn't everyone know that?

Maybe not. After all, I had forgotten the day. How could I! Forgetting February 3 is like forgetting the day Laura Ingalls Wilder released Little House In The Big Woods. People don't just forget. By a small miracle, I was reminded.

I love Buddy Holly's music. It started when I was in 10th grade. After watching La Bamba, I was curious to know more about this guy who, through a stroke of bad luck, charted a plane that killed all three stars and the pilot. I studied Buddy, bought CDs, found a collection of his records...loved him.

He was so young when he died but had accomplished a great deal in such a short time. The Cricket's first hit "That'll Be The Day" wasn't released until 1957. Buddy was dead two short years later.

Here are some facts surrounding Buddy:
*Peggy Sue was written about Jerry Allison's girlfriend (and later ex-wife), NOT Buddy's girlfriend as some would have you believe.

*On "Everyday" the slapping sound you hear is Jerry Allison slapping his legs to the beat of the song. He was doing this during practice and Buddy like the sound so much, they added it in.

*On Peggy Sue, the drums get softer and louder as the engineer opens the door to the room Jerry Allison was in playing drums. Oh, technology...

*There is another song where Jerry Allison plays on a box top but I can't recall which song.

*The day Buddy Holly met Maria Elena in New York City, he took her to dinner and asked her to marry him. She said yes.

*Buddy didn't want to go out on tour but he was cash poor with a baby on the way. He left behind reels of music which were later finished and released.

*Buddy was tired of the bus breaking down so he chartered the plane for his two bandmates, Waylon Jennings and Tommy Allsup. Tommy gave his seat to the Big Bopper. Waylon flipped a quarter over his seat with Ritchie Valens. As the VH1 "Behind The Music" story goes, Buddy teased Waylon for foolishly staying behind. "I hope your bus breaks down," he yelled back to Jennings. "Yeah," Waylon yelled back, "well I hope your plane crashes."

My sister and I went to the place where Buddy played his last concert: The Surf Ball Room in Clear Lake, Iowa. We also trekked out to the site. Really sad. It is in the middle of a corn field (surprise). Three records engraved on a gold guitar.

Two of my friends, Errol and Blaine, are also huge Buddy fans. For the past 5 years, we've been trying to plan a trip to the Surf Ball room because they hold a Winter Dance Party this time every year. Its funny...we start talking about it in the summer but forget and then boom...its February 3rd. Part of the problem is that the place is in Iowa and who wants to travel to Iowa in the winter (or at all)? Too far of a drive. But it seems to creepy to fly. Anyway, I'm going to give those guys a call because next year, Feb. 3rd falls on a weekend so we are going!

Back in the day...

I went to the Holt vs. Grand Ledge dual meet last night at Holt High School. This was the first dual meet I'd attended since my graduation some...Um...10 years ago.... It was a different experience hanging with the crowd because my place was either at the head scoring table or the bench with the team. The fans around me could attest to this fact: I got a little carried away at times. No more than anyone else but....you would have thought I was the team mother.

"Pick the ankle! Bring up the head! Look at the lights! Squeeeeezzzze! Pin him!"

I had yelled at Joey earlier because he was coaching all of the kids under his breath (a little distracting when I was trying to plan my moves). Once Joey started shouting, I was convinced the wrestlers could only hear the two of us. They needed us.

The bright moments were few and in the beginning of the meet. A Holt kid was winning by one point. There were 5 seconds left. The GL kid was trying for a takedown. Simultaneously, as the clock buzzed...the ref gave the GL kid two points for a takedown. The GL kid went nutso, yelling, screaming, jumping for joy, showing off his muscles to the crowd...the poor Holt kid hung his head in shame. But wait! The scorekeeper disputed the call! The ref confered with her. She insisted that the time was up before the ref called the two points! The ref reversed the call and Holt wins the match!!!! Yay!!!!! The Holt kid starts yelling, screaming, jumping for joy...while the GL kid goes nutso, yelling, sreaming, cursing. But hey, if the daughter of Holt's head wrestling coach says the time was up, the time was up.

I had a lot of fun even though Holt got killed. Some things change. I also got to watch the kids wrestle under the light. That is so cool. The kids don't run out to "Buddy you're a boy make a big noise, Playin' in the street gonna be a big man some day, You got mud on yo' face, You big disgrace, Kickin' your can all over the place..." That used to get the crowd and the team going. It's probably considered un-sportsman-like now or something. Booooooo....

Also wanted to mention that I went to Monika's son's basketball game before the wrestling meet. Monika was there with all three boys. They love her so much. I stood in awe of the way she communicates and handles their personalities because all three are so different. Zehlin, who is almost 9, came running off the court after his game. He gave Monika a big kiss and gently rubbed the top of her head. "Good game, brov-a" Griffin tried to tell him. Joey had to pull me out of there because my eyes were welling up. I hope I'm that close with my kids.

"Of course I'm having fun! If I were having any more fun, I'd have to hire someone part time to help me enjoy it." ~Shane, Purchasing Supervisor with Valassis, on trying to help me solve yet another major printing snafu I had somehow created.

Quiz

I attempt to put quizzes on my site but am not well learned. I'm attempting this again but in case it doesn't work...well, you know I tried. I'm still figuring out how to put the quiz online so all of you who've never even heard of my church can take a stab at the quiz.

This was a quiz to find out which Riverview Pastor you are most like (created by another Riverview Pastor). I laughed at the results because I answered all but three of the questions as "Not at all."

These were the results:

Which Riverview Pastor are you?
created with QuizFarm.com">

You scored as Steve Sommerlot. You actually look younger now that you shaved your head. That still doesn't mean you're good looking. You laugh at yourself...a lot...and so others laugh with you. Steve Sommerlot 25% Paul DenHerder 13% Noel Heikkinen 13% Rob Schiller 0% Mark Brett 0% Which Riverview Pastor are you? created with QuizFarm.com

This dude wants to get married really bad...

Movies

I know no one is going to admit to this but we are among friends here on this blog. Everyone knows each other, right? I've tried to introduce everyone to each other a little bit so we all feel comfortable. Now, I have a questions...between friends. Is there a movie that has made you cry but you've been too ashamed to admit it? Come on now...I won't tell...in fact, I'll tell you that every time I watch Prince of Egypt, I get a little teary.

Anyone else out there? Matt.....? Sonny.....?

Oh, Joey and I went and saw Finding Neverland yesterday afternoon. It was REALLY sad.

Hello, Special Guests

Recently, someone mentioned to myself and about 1,000 other people how much he enjoys reading people's blogs. It seems, however, he doesn't like the "dumb" pictures. Weeeeeeeelllllll, last time I checked this was MY blog and I like posting pictures. Therefore, I posted a whole bunch for everyone's enjoyment. By the way, God loves it when I post pictures, so there. My blog, I'm in control, meow.

Ha!

My father, Prince Charles, and I, Princess Holly, on Christmas night. This is the man who thinks I belong to a cult. Well, he thinks Joey belongs to a cult and Joey got me involved. Someday, I'm going to convince him to come check out my cult. We'll have to plan it out ahead of time so someone can approach him after the service to ask if he would like to come to the back room and drink goat's blood. I'm positive my pastors could set this up. Right now, my pops is helping my step-mom make communion bread for the church. He doesn't attend the church with her, just helps make the bread. I was joking with him and said, "Is this what is going to get you into heaven?" He replied, "I'm hoping..."

Lyndsay and her Christmas gift. When I saw her last weekend, I asked if she could play anything, yet. She said, "no, not really...but I'm taking lessons from a 5-year-old..." Apparently, the next door neighbor is a real musical genius. I've seen him play, too. He's pretty good.

Rocky (with his piece of cheese) and I 2005

Rocky and I in 1994

I got my pictures back from the trip to meet Jillian. She is adorable but Monika is sooo sick of pink. I had a good visit with Monika, too. I showed her what I wrote about her on Loki Life. She was quiet while she read, asked who reads the site, and said, "you know, it's all true...all of it. I'm so mad at myself for leaving." "But, Monika, you came back. You didn't have to. A lot of people don't. You did and I give you so much credit." The next day, Monika called me. "Holl, can I have a copy of what you wrote? I'm not sure why I gave it back to you but I really want a copy. Oh, and Chris and I want to check out your church. We really want Jillian to grow up knowing God." I said of course to both and also promised to get her permission next time I wrote about her. She said she didn't care because it was all true and she didn't see it as malicious. Still, I'll ask permission next time. I also know I'll be calling her for advice when each one of my children are born.

Little Jillian

Jillian and her mom, Monika

Monika and I in 1994

I have this wrestling scrapbook full of newspaper articles, pictures and other memorabilia from when I was the manager for the Holt Wrestling team (1990-1994). After I graduated from high school, my mom would save me the whole newspaper when there was an article about the team (they decided to get really good after I left). I was kind of lazy about it and just shoved the whole newspaper into the back of the scrapbook instead of cutting the articles out and pasting them in. Every so often, I would go through the book and look at the newspapers. I even did this as recent as last winter. So what do you think I was missing this whole time?

Thursday night, I was prepping my scrapbook for the wrestling banquet. Finally, after almost 10 years, I was finding some time to cut these articles out. I looked over one paper and something caught my eye: the date. March 3, 1996. This was the anniversary of Kim’s death. I got chills. My eyes fell to the picture of the 1996 Holt Varsity wrestlers with their trophies. And then my eyes fell a little bit more…to an article…an article that had been in my possession for almost 10 years. An article I’ve been unknowingly carrying around with me every time I moved. From Mt. Pleasant to Farmington Hills to Ferndale to Novi to Wixom and now to Walled Lake….

New Church is Proposed off College Heights.

Um...Holy Crap, Batman? How….what…no way…when…huh?

“Pastor Steve Sommerlod (no this is not MY mistake), 44, and his counterpart Pastor Paul DenHerder, 42, have a lot to be excited about these days…” The article goes on to explain the new building and even to show what it was going to look like. And I finally know why my church is called Riverview: God wants us to be like trees firmly planted by streams of water. It is derived from a Psalms verse. The church was also boasting 200 members. Wow. Amazing. 200 members. How did I not see this article before?

Oh, and directly under the article is an advertisement for an attorney that specializes in divorces, restoration of driver’s licenses and drunk driving. Perfect.

Project KMM~Update

Doors have been swinging open in the past few weeks. People I never thought I would see again are right in front of me. Still, there are disappointments I'm trying to figure out. Here is the scoop:

• I found Earl who was Kim's boyfriend. He gave me the names of two other people, but he couldn't offer me any specific memories.
• I got a hold of Kim's step-sister, TJ, who is going to help me to access to hundreds of pictures.
• I spoke to my step-bro about the project because Kim was his first love (at 12). He couldn't offer anything either...except one lead. He told me Kim's friend from roller skating worked at the Dawg House. "Mary Ann?" I asked. "No, Mary Kay," he answered. This was the girl I had been trying to find for years! Jackpot! I called up to the Dawg House. Mary Kay turned out to be a 55 year old woman. Nuts. I called Fawn, my step-sis. She laughed at me but then she said, "There is a waitress there who is really short...but her name is Jennifer." I felt defeated. I didn't remember a girl named Jennifer that hung out with Kim. For some reason, I pulled out my diary from when Kim died. I had listed the people who were at her funeral: Johnny, Jimmy, Earl, Jason, Mary Ann, Jennifer (Mary Ann's sister). Of course! Chad remembered Jennifer but he just got the details slightly confused. I called the Dawg House again, talked to the right girl, and set up a time to see her.
• I met up with Jennifer last night. She is so personable, sweet, and instantly I felt a connection to her. Her excitement to meet me led to a mini-reunion of Kim's friends from 17 years ago. Jennifer invited Mary Ann, Johnny, Marie, and a girl named Krista who drove from Warren to meet up with everyone. It was a great time, everyone hanging out, catching up, reminiscing...except...no one could really offer me anything about Kim. I mean, I could tell she effected them deeply because she was their friend and she died, but other than that...nothing. I sat there feeling defeated because this outcome wasn't what I expected. I also don't think they understand what I want from them. Nothing specific, it could be as general as they want. "Kim used to skate with so and so and we used to go to the dances and...." something! I took off a little frustrated but not showing it, of course. Jennifer walked me to my car. I now know she is the key to Kim's roller skating days. She wants to hang out with me again and I can see us becoming friends. I got into my car, turned it on, and the song "everything's gonna be alright..rock-a-bye" came on. I smiled, called Joey and drove home.

Joey made an excellent point: maybe I was only supposed to get them together. Maybe last night didn't have anything to do with Kim but it had everything to do with old friends meeting up after so long. Thinking back to last night, I remember Mary Ann saying she was so excited she couldn't sleep the night before. Still, I know Mary Ann and Jennifer have some stories to share, but perhaps last night wasn't the right time for 1987 but it was just time for now.

God is the best, though. I still talk to him about everything. I ask for his will and even though I got a little frustrated, I'm not giving up. There are still plenty of people to talk to and to meet. I'm not going to see this as a set back. I have all year to finish and I knew this wasn't going to be easy. Keep on....

Hmmm....

Now I KNOW more people read this web log. Will the stragglers please come forward? I feel like pulling the ol' "Don't make me pull this car over..."

I have things I want to post but I'm starting to get nervous...I'm not sure who is reading. I think it would be different if I was writing to a mass crowd...I know all of you (I think). There are so many things I want to share. I'm coming up on my 2 year anniversary of deciding to follow Christ...many have asked about my faith story and I'm contemplating it. Still, some things are too private. I'm saying all of this to guilt people into the roll call.

To those who came forward. And responses:

Joey: I met you 10 years ago. I've known you well for 2 years. You told me all of your stories within the first month of our courtship...but thanks for listening to all of mine, too. I do credit you for leading me in the right direction (even though we took a few wrong turns here and there). I love how well you know Christ even though you don't act like a know it all. You sit in Route 66 and whisper all the answers Chuck asks. I try to encourage you to speak up but you don't want to be wrong or upset people. The irony is YOU'RE A TEACHER. What is that saying teachers always say? There are no dumb answers? No....wait...there are no dumb questions but there are plenty of dumb answers....

Mike: I know I'm tied for first place as your favorite cousin. You rank up there, too. It's crazy stuff how Grandma's death really brought us together. I miss her so much but there is never enough thanks I could express to you for bringing her into your home while she waited for God to prepare her new one. I still don't like Star Trek all that much but you inspired me to try and do what I've always wanted to do with my life: produce videos/dvds. I hope you liked this lame post.

Matt: My republican friend! Thank you for your viewpoints even though you know that I know that you know that I am not so much into politics. But we do share a love for presidential history. Thank you for your insights and for letting us dress you up as the Homecoming King. You are the best writer I know. Thank you for your advice and encouragement. Go State!

Noel: You've been my best friend for so long I don't know what I would do without you. Remember our trip to Florida on the Greyhound when you sold that ex-con the bottle of vodka and we had to write his name on his shirt because he drank the whole thing right then and there and passed out? Oh, wait....that was Kelly. Noel, thanks for being...you know....you...my crazy pastor. You teach me a great deal and open my eyes to so many things. I try to be a good sheep and follow...not you, of course, but JC. And no, not Joey Corr, but Jesus Christ. Are we all on the same page yet?

Chuck: I'm considering your idea. Just want to make sure the right "person" gets the glory. If you think it would help people, I'm in. Thanks for coming forward. Very brave of you. Thank you for Route 66. I walked out of there blown away at what an awesome book the bible really is. We all need to go see the Mega 80s next time they are in town. They rock out.

Kelly: You've been my best friend for so long I don't know what I would do without you. Remember our trip to Florida on the Greyhound when you sold that ex-con the bottle of vodka and we had to write his name on his shirt because he drank the whole thing right then and there and passed out? Of course you do :) Anyway, we have...I don't know...15 years of history? And I do know plenty of embarrassing stories about you...Gretchen! You are awesome, Kelly Roo. I miss you. Move back.

Dan: Even though you sing the songs wrong, you make Joey and I laugh. Yes, we laugh at you when you are on stage. How can we not? You're a funny guy. Thanks for wanting to get to know us and for the awesome advice you once gave us on how to approach a farmer about his dead calf. Thank you for encouraging me to start a blog. It seemed kind of freaky at first but...it's still kind of freaky. And Dan, we don't really laugh at you...we laugh with you even when you're not laughing. I love your wife, your son is adorable...thanks for making the move up to Lansing. You all needed to get out of Ohio.

Sonny: The story you told about when we met...that wasn't me. You must be thinking of someone else. We met when I went with my parents to a summer resort and you were the dance instructor. Remember how we planned that big finale together? My parents were soooo T.O.'d. You walked in and said, "No one puts Holly in a corner." We sure showed them..... Thank you for all of your wise instruction in Adobe photoshop (today) and for imaging my coupons on to the plates. You make me laugh and I pray you make the right decisions (hint, hint) about your life THIS YEAR.

Steve: Yay! You finally commented! I knew you could do it. I was thinking about your one decision just now...how many lives it changed by you moving out of the boonies and into a real city. The first time I went to Riverview, you taught about ruts and how we get into ruts with God. The whole Riverview thing blew me away. Thank you for your nuttyness and for teaching me a little something about imported beer. You know, when I think back, even to this summer, I was a little scared of you. I don't know if it was the bald head, the wrestler in you or what. I'm glad we've gotten to know each other better. Thank you for your compliments and for becoming a Christian.

Anyone else?

Roll Call

Some other people have done this on their blogs. Their blogs are published. Mine isn't. I thought you could only get to my site with my invitation. The invitation was extended to others. I've been pleasantly surprised by people commenting about this silly blog...surprised they were reading it and surprised they kind of liked it...kind of... So, what I would like to do is have a roll call. Post a comment telling me your first name, how we know each other and how well you THINK you know me (heh)...oh, and if you're really brave, offer an embarrassing or funny story...about yourself, not me :) I just want to see how many people are reading and who you are. Maybe if I know that, I'll think twice before publishing something lame. Thank you for your time and continued support.

Footloose

I purchased this staple 80s movie yesterday with a gift card. Love it though, Kevin Bacon could definitely be put under suspicion. A little too loose with the dance moves if you ya know what I mean.

I remember when this movie came out. My mom loved it. Willard reminded her of her younger brother. We all know a Willard. I know several. The farm boy who learned to dance. But that isn't what the movie is about. Those of us children/teens of the 80s can sum up the story well. A preacher goes hell bent on saving the town of Beaumont from sin after his son is killed in a car accident. He leads the town in banning rock music, dancing and books. His logic was that dancing leads to sexual irresponsibility. His wife, a quiet little bird with common sense, tries to rope the Reverend in. "Kids looking at each other gets them excited! Are you going to poke their eyes out?!" "I thought you would support me, Vi. Meow. I'm going to roll over and go to sleep now for dramatic effect."

This Reverend took on so much. He deems himself "responsible for the spiritual life of this community" by passing laws. Wow. My pastors have a lot to live up to. Rev. Shaw had a whole community to take care of so he had little time left for his teenage daughter who likes to dance, loves rock and roll.

Things start heating up when Ren rolls into town and decides to hold a dance. Then the climatic scene...Ren has to give his speech and what does the Reverend's daughter do? What do all pastor's daughters do? They flip out and rebel! No, no, no...this girl could have turned from the very thing taking up all of her father's time (God) but she turned to Him. She gave Ren a bible. Deep down, she knew it wasn't God's will to ban certain kinds of music, dancing, drinking, gambling, and books. Ariel gave Ren God's words to try to get through to the people of Beaumont. Ren, who claimed to be such a horrid speaker suddenly becomes a professional in front of the board. There is a time to every purpose under heaven. There is a time to dance.

The town really gets fired up after Ren gives his speech. His mom gets canned from her job, bullies throw a brick through the window. People start freaking out all over the place and the Rev. was facing a monster of his own creation. The final straw was when the book burning began. Rev. Shaw unleashes his anger and gets to see what a hypocrite he has been. "When did you all decide to sit in judgment? When were you elected to save everyone's souls in the city of Beaumont? Satan is not in these books. He's in here...in your hearts. Go home and sit in judgment of yourselves."

And then, everyone starts treating each other with love and graciousness: a happy ending. Well, after the fight there's a happy ending. I love the fight, too.

Rusty: No fights, Willard (punch, kick, slap)
Willard: (getting punched) what do you want me to do, Rusty?
Rusty: Kill the son of a bitch!
Ren suddenly runs out of the barn because he just had this sneaky suspicion that Chuck was there beating up his friends...what a guy.
Chuck: Hey, it's Mr. Dance Fever.
Ren: Yeah you're a real g-d d--m hero when it's 5 to 1. (punch, kick, punch, punch).
Ren: Let's Dance!

A couple of final thoughts about the movie:
That show, Joan of Arcadia where God takes on a different character...well, I think God was Andy, Ren's boss. Watch Andy next time the movie comes on TBS some random Saturday afternoon (or borrow mine). He's this quiet, character who doesn't say much but holds a lot of wisdom.

What a sweet soundtrack. I bought it in college. Everyone should have a copy.

For never dancing, these kids sure had some stylin moves.

Question, why in the world did Ariel give Ren a musicbox? And he liked it! Corn.

Soooo, kiddies, what movie shall we review next? Sixteen Candles? Top Gun? What has my life turned into...

One Decision

Saturday night, I went to a banquet honoring Rocky Shaft, Holt’s head varsity wrestling coach. The banquet honored him for 25 years of his service with the Holt Wrestling Program.

Rupert Shaft was born into a family of five children, he being the youngest and the only boy. They were all relieved that dad was finally getting his basketball player. He grew up in Holt but didn’t grow much past 5’6”. Every year he went out for the basketball team…and every year he rode the bench. So Rocky made one simple decision: wrestling.

He knew nothing about wrestling but he did it anyway. His family knew nothing about wrestling but he did it anyway. His father was a little disappointed but he did it anyway. He was pinned in 17 seconds in his first match but Rocky did it anyway. He went on to lead the Holt Rams to their first state wrestling title in 1971. Rocky went to Western Michigan but came back shortly after graduation. He became the head wrestling coach in the late 1970s and coached 20 individual state champions, 54 state placers and 149 state qualifiers. There’s also that infamous back to back state title in 1996-1997. Rocky’s overall record has been 275-39 over the past 24 years. And who does Rocky credit for these achievements? The kids, the parents, the assistant coaches, the managers, and his family...not himself. His motto: the fun is the memories.

Because of Rocky’s one decision in high school as a 16-year-old, a room full of people numbering close to 200, felt touched by him. Person after person stood up to express how much he helped them, what he taught them, how he changed their lives. And Mr. Shaft took it all humbly.

So why would I care so much about Rocky Shaft? Why would I be invited to a wrestling banquet?

Because of one complex decision my mom made. We moved to Holt in 1989…across the street from the Shafts. When I was in 8th grade, I often wondered about my neighbor who drove the big brown pick-up truck, was the father of three little girls, over decorated his house for the holidays, and hardly ever spoke to me. When I would pass him in the halls, I wondered if he knew I was his neighbor because I certainly knew him. He was coach Shaft. He seemed friendly but he was also intimidating—didn’t take crap from anyone. There was something about Mr. Shaft that made you want to know him.

So how did I meet Rocky Shaft? How did I become part of his inner circle? That’s right. Because of one simple decision I made: to become the freshman football manager. When I was in 7th grade attending Charlotte Jr. High, I decided I wanted to be the first female collegiate football coach. This was because of a decision my father made to take me to Michigan State football games at the age of four and teach me all of the detailed rules. Still, my becoming the manager of the freshman football team only got me slightly closer to Rocky. But a chance class schedule did. Rocky became my science teacher and convinced me to be the manager of the wrestling team even though I knew nothing about wrestling (except that guys were constantly throwing wrestling moves on each other that resembled hugging). Rocky was my coach, sending the bus to pick me up at my house on the way to weekend tournaments, having faith that I would learn fast, putting me in front of a team of hyper, teenage boys, teaching me the rules, the scoring, the different moves. He also became a second father to me, making sure I ate, that I had money, watching that no one gave me too much crap, and giving me the evil stare when I stepped out of line (oh so rare :). For four years, I worked with him, two of those years I was his varsity football manager as well.

Mr. Shaft taught me a lot. He made me laugh a lot, too. I know I made him roll his eyes a lot. I will forever thank God for getting the chance to know this man.

The decisions we make are so weird. Do you ever think about them? Ever wonder at how it all gets weaved together? I think it is true that if Rocky had stuck with basketball, my life would be fine. But I feel lucky and loved and blessed for having known Rocky Shaft. As my friend Dan once said, God doesn’t make just one decision the right one for us. We can pick and choose. The importance is to remember that our decisions have an impact, small and tremendous.

On a sidenote, have you ever attended a Holt Wrestling Match? When the lights turn off, the dome light lowers closer to the mat, the sound of Queen rocks through the gym, the wrestlers run out and around the mat, with their humble leader behind them…if you get the chance, check it out sometime. Tell Rocky that Holly sent you. I'm sure he'll roll his eyes :)

Andy lives 2 blocks from Wrigley Field. I grew up with a Cubbies fan (my dad) so I love Wrigleyville. This is a statue of Harry Carey. My pops used to yell for me right before the 7th inning stretch so we could sing with Harry. I would peddle my big wheel like mad trying to make it back to the apartment in time.

I ordered this baked potato on New Year's Day. It was friggin huge. Ry looks on in amazement (yes, that is Blue Moon in the pitcher. Thanks for asking.)

New Year's in Chicago. From l to r: Beks, Ry, Me, Andrew, Chip

My dear friends Kelly and Chris came to visit from Florida. More pictures were taken...still waiting to get those, KELLY :) Little 'fo on Kell and I:
*We met in 9th Grade at Holt Jr. High School. Yes, I'll say it, Kell...ummm...no I won't.
*We became friends in 10th grade after discovering all of the things we had in common (Laingsburg was our hometown)
*Kell moved to Duck Lake and graduated from Springport but I was there allll the time. Oh, the memories of Duck Lake...
*I credit Kelly with helping me become a Parrothead, though it was a combination of things. She is definitely my favorite Parrothead friend.
*Kell went through some really rough times after high school. She was living in the hood of Lansing. But she got out of it (thank you, Lord!).
*Kelly and I have too many stories to post. Other than my cousin, she has known me the longest on this blogsite. "The stories we could tell..."
*Kelly married Chris. She inherited two step-daughters. I was the maid of honor.
*Kelly moved to Florida, adopted two little boys, works as a Victim Resource Advocate, and watched her roof get blown away in both hurricanes.

My friend Ryan (Uncle Ry)

Becky and I at her birthday party (my condo in Walled Lake)

Jan. 24 called worst day of the year
Krissie and I wondered why we were so sad this morning....

Phobia

I have this fear...it's kind of weird...so far you aren't surprised. I'll just say it. I'm afraid...of Baby Showers. Actually, I'm afraid of Bridal Showers, too. I don't know what it is but I attempted to analyze this fear to try to find the source and fix it.

This always starts the same. I get the e-mail: "Hey! I'm having a baby/bridal shower in X month! Do you think you can come?" Feelings of excitement, joy fill me and I write back, "Absolutely! Can't wait!" And then the invite comes. I look at the date, make a mental note, and leave it somewhere. Weeks go by. Occasionally, I'll think about the shower, know it is coming up, vow to get something off their list and then don't.

Flash forward to at least two days before the shower. I start panicking. I figure everything they wanted is already bought so I don't even look at the registry. I go to stores where I can buy more for less and spend hours mulling over what in the heck to get these people. Then the sweat, shaking, anxiety...now I'm trying to figure out an excuse not to go. I don't like to go. I don't like having my gift opened in front of a whole bunch of people oooooing and ahhhhhing. Or, my gift has already been purchased so it goes into the return pile and everyone laughs.

Ok, arm chair psychiatrists. What's my deal? Why don't I rush out and get the registry right away? Why don't I hardly ever look at the registry? Most of the time, I don't have a lot of money to spend and I always think more is better. I don't know. I think there are feelings of inadequacy floating around like my gift isn't good enough. See, I like shopping for people. I like getting them stuff they want and need. But I would much rather go out to dinner with this friend and quietly give them the gift. No games. No dog and pony show.

Does this mean I won't have a bridal or baby shower? Probably not :)