I Want It! I Want It!

If you believe hard enough, if you pray hard enough, if you have faith hard enough….your prayers will be answered.

Is God a genie in a bottle?

I used to ask my parents for stuff all the time. “Yo, Dad. Can I have this doll that wets itself and is anatomically correct?” “Mom, I want four new Pound Puppies for my birthday.” “Pops, will you buy candy bars for my entire class and drive an hour and a half to Olivet, Michigan to deliver them?” A spoiled child would have received all of these requests. Yes, me, the spoiled child. My parents had guilt because of the divorce and because they didn’t get to see me a lot. Mom worked in Lansing and we lived 40 minutes away. I only saw my dad every other weekend. Still, there were thousands of things I asked for that I didn’t receive. Did I get angry? Yes. Did I think they didn’t really love me? Yes. Did I forget about it 10 minutes later? Depends. My point? They knew what was best for me. They did not always say yes, yet they still welcomed my requests and yes, I knew they loved me even when they said no.

How much more does our heavenly Father love us? Whoa. I couldn’t begin to tell because I cannot comprehend.

As a Christ Follower, do I sometimes think all of my prayers will be answered? Sometimes…yes. Sometimes I still feel like a bratty, spoiled, little girl. Do I know that just because God doesn’t answer prayers doesn’t mean he is uncaring? Yes. God welcomes our requests but sometimes we ask for things that just will not be granted…maybe they will 30 years from now…maybe never. But please, keep on praying and even more, keep on praying for God’s will, not your own

Growing Pains (Not the TV show)

I see it happening. I’m going through a righteous phase. This is where I become overly opinionated and everyone should think like me.

I’m a bright, yellow Hummer with road rage, passing people by, taking up the whole road, causing fellow drivers to give me the lone finger or (gasp) a swear. I see a group of people on the side of the road. I pull over, quickly throw them into the truck and peel out while they scream, “what are you doing? We don’t want to follow you, you mad person!” Yes, I see me as this person right now, steam rolling those who oppose me. Telling them their way isn’t right or acting like I agree when in my heart I’m crying out, “fool! You don’t need all of that! Simply follow the Lord!” I’m making myself a little sick. I know I need to be….well…the Stormy Grey Saturn Ion 3 with a MP3 player and sunroof that I am. Resolute yet yielding to others, listening to others, being kind to my fellow drivers, explaining my beliefs and agreeing to respectfully disagree.

What has made me this way? Surrounded by pre-Christians, non-Christians and atheists at work, I hear things. God works His way into my conversations—not always by my will. I try to take the time to listen to people’s perspective...but sometimes I only want to push my own agenda. Ooooh, that really wins people over. Still, people see something in me that makes them ask questions. And I have ways of prompting them....

I keep various conversation starters up in my cube: the Jesus figure with gliding action, my Riverview water bottle, various little quotes from the bible, pictures of Jimmy Buffett, a picture of my little boy, and a book called “The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Understanding Catholicism” sits on my desk (thanks, Sonny). This is the best conversation starter. People say, “this is hilarious? Why do you have it?” I ask, “Are you Catholic?” Most times they respond, “yes.” And then I say, “I have it for you.” I work with a lot of jokers so I usually tailor my answer but the bottom line is that I have the book to help explain why things are done in the Catholic church…because most of the Catholics I work with don’t know why…they just do it. For example, a guy I work with was thumbing through the book and said, “I didn’t know that New Year’s Day was a day of holy obligation!” I asked, “what is a day of holy obligation?” “A day you have to go to church.” “Did you go?” I asked. “welllllllll….we don’t get to church much. We just don’t have the time.” See. That is what I would want to change.

I went from dreading church to looking forward to it. The things I learn, the people I’ve met, helping kids understand…it is something I need to help get me through the rest of the week. Why can’t all people experience this? Time would disappear if they went to a church they liked. It wouldn’t be a “holy day of obligation.” Really, though, I’m judging people and I shouldn’t be doing this. Oh, and I’m not disapproving of the Catholic church. I only have my opinion from being exposed to it. I guess I want to spread my excitement. I want everyone to be on fire for God. I’m sure there is a high rate of this “excitement spreading” from new believers. I just don’t want people to miss out.

I’m sure this is all part of my growth process…a growing pain if you will.

Riverview

Okay, so I don't have the best church ever...but I secretly think so on a personal level. I just love it and when I saw these pictures, I got a little emotional. True, many were there to fulfill their Easter Sunday Church requirement, but this is the biggest Easter service I've seen so far and a lot of people are sticking around...and getting saved.

Easter Dinner-Blah

My little chat with the parents did not go well. I was nervous and it showed. I didn’t feel confident, didn’t sound confident, and came across unsure of myself. It sucked. I came right out and asked them during dinner: would you come to see me get baptized….again. Yes, I threw in the “again” to soften the blow. They both kind of looked at me, looked at each other, looked down at their plates and then…silence. So I tried to fill the silence with a bunch of babble. Then, my step-mom said…

Step: Weren’t you already baptized?
Pops: Yes, she was…in the Methodist church.
Step: What makes you think that one didn’t take?
Me: (not very smoothly) Uhhhh…well…I’m an adult now and I didn’t really have a choice or know what was going on when I was 6-months-old so I would like to do it now as an adult. I want to say it with my heart and accept it with my mouth. I mean, say it with my mouth and accept it in my heart.
(Silence while they traded looks with each other.)
Me: I’ve been doing all of this now for two years…going to Riverview, following Christ. This isn’t some sort of passing thing. This isn’t a phase.
Pops: See, that is what bothers me…the word “follow”. Who are you following? You know, you have to be careful because a lot of people thought they were following God when they were really following Jim Jones. These people get all whacked out and walk into their new wave churches and shoot everyone.
Me: Dad, someone could walk into Christine’s Catholic church and shoot up everyone. Someone could walk into the local high school and shoot up everyone. Please.
Pops: You’re right, you’re right.
Step: What denomination is this again?
Me: We don’t wear name tags.
(Crickets chirping.)
Me: Non-denominational. My pastors teach from the bible and relate it to our lives. They don’t want to add all of the religiousy things to the message. They are trying to change the context but not the content in order to reach the teens and twenty-somethings, the ones who are falling off the radar and not going to church at all.
Step: First of all, you have to be careful when someone says they are teaching from the bible. They can take things out of context and get you to follow their own agenda by using the bible. Second, you have to be careful with the bible. It is full of contradictions. The problem with religion today is that you have all of these churches springing up which are loosely based on Christianity and all these churches do is teach hate: hate women, hate homosexuals, hate non-Christians. And if your pastors are saying that other religions are bad, then…Blah blah blah blah….

I tuned her out at that point. I felt so hopeless. I knew she was wrong but I have never had the heart to go toe to toe with the woman. She is so opinionated and judgmental to the outside world. The Catholic church is perfect in her eyes and the one true religion. She pushes a lot of people away with that superior attitude and has hurt a lot of her close friends and family...including my sister and I. I would be lying if I said “at least I didn’t cry.” I felt defeated. She was asking me questions about my pastors. What are their qualifications? Did any of them major in theology? I couldn’t answer her. She crushed me.

My dad (not nearly as harsh and opinionated) said, “Holly, of course we’ll go to the baptism. We’ll support you.”
Step: Of course we will, Holly. Even if we don’t agree we will support your decisions. You’re an adult and can make up your own mind.

I started thinking about all of this last night and on the way to work this morning. I was playing the old mind game “Why didn’t I say this. Why didn’t I fight that.” Everything became clear after a good sleep. I almost sat up in bed and said, “Hey, wait a minute!” The whole line about supporting me even if they don’t agree…do I really even want them there now? I so wanted them to see Riverview with their own eyes. I wanted them to meet the pastors and somehow know that they don’t teach hate, they don’t push their own agendas. I also wanted them to know how the leaders have stood up and said, “do not hate other denominations or even bad-mouth them because they are the bride of Christ and this is not the perfect church…we will take stands on things we shouldn’t or do nothing when we should have done something…but we will always go to the bible for guidance.” I tried to tell her about the hate series and how we don’t go to abortion clinics to picket. I wanted to tell her how the bible does not contradict itself but explains itself when you read the whole thing.

I didn’t choose this battle. I walked in without my ammunition or my armor. I was unprepared and all of it fell on deaf ears. Now, I find myself second-guessing. I know it is so much more difficult to talk to the people who have known you forever about this stuff than discussing it with a total stranger…but does God really want to send me to Germany? Will I do a better job if and when I am asked about my Christian faith? I need to take a step back and take everything in again. Listen to the messages, review the notes, remember that I do know but just need the confidence or something. And what about my parents? I know this is bratty, but I don’t think I’ll mention the baptism to them again. If they ask when it is, I’ll tell them and give them all the info they would need, but for now, I just don’t need it. What I need to do is focus on why I am getting baptized and dispel any seeds of doubt my parents might have planted.

I don’t want to be a fake. I don’t want to just be a Christian around my Christian friends and at church. I want to be a Christian to all my friends, all of my family and at work. So far, I’ve done okay in integrating, but dad and step-mom are the last frontier.

“Love your enemies…and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you.” Matthew 5:44

PS: Go State

Advice

So, I need some advice. I'm going to my dad's for Easter weekend. I think I'm going to ask him to come to the baptism...but I'm a little scared. For some reason, I think he'll flip or my step-mom will flip or something. My dad thinks we are a cult. My step-mom is a devout Catholic who also thinks I'm in a cult. This would be the perfect opportunity for them to see my church and witness this important event and decision in my life. I can't keep hiding it from them. Why DO I keep hiding it from them? I'm not sure how I should ask them both to come. I think I fear rejection but I won't let rejection stop me...I'm just a little nervous. Thoughts on how to bring this up?

Dino's Food Fixation

I helped my step-dad start his own blog called Dino's Food Fixation. After I signed him up, he said, "Wow. I have a blog. I don't feel any different."

I don't know if he'll update it but I'm trying to encourage him. Want to help?

See! The winter is past;
the rains are over and gone.
Flowers appear on the earth;
the season of singing
has come...
~Song of Songs 2:11, 12

Here come the tornados. Yee-ha! Of course, we still have a whole month and a half of snowing left. It did snow here last year on April 30.

Teacher?

Yesterday, Riverview rocked. Let me start over. Yesterday, God rocked. This is what He did to me.

I started helping out with RivKids in November. All I'm supposed to do is assist the teacher. I play with the kids, help with snacks, and do potty breaks, leaving the lesson up to the teacher. Yesterday, Missy informed me of the following: Holly, the teacher isn't coming in. Can you handle the class or would you like help.

I felt this slightly nervous excitement. Four girls and one boy were in the room. I told her I could handle it. Wow. I was the teacher.


We went to big group and watched a video about the disciples. They were played by teenage boys and the acting was really intense. It held my kids attention the entire time. One little girl said, "Teacher, Jesus died...but how did he come back to life?"

Are you kidding me? This little person was coming to me for answers. I promised her we would talk about it when we went back to the classroom. Upon our return, we discovered Kaitlyn was going to join us as well. Normally, Kaitlyn wants to do her own thing and not participate. This day was different. She sat at the table, colored, join in on all of our conversations. And the kids were answering the study questions! They hardly ever do! I asked the kids what they would say to Jesus if he walked into the room. The answers were I love you and I miss you. We talked about their favorite movies, food, Easter memories and some other bible stories. After our snack, we played Duck, Duck, Goose and London Bridge. Everyone participated.

It was such an awesome feeling to teach and have those shiny little faces understand. I wonder if that is how Noel, Steve and Mark feel when they are teaching us.

After class, Missy's assistant gave me an Easter egg and congratulated me on my first day as a teacher. She complimented me and said it looked like I had everything under control. I smiled and said, "I can't take all the credit. God is in control."

Would I want to do this full time? I don't know. I might not like it as much if it were all the time. Perhaps there is a seed being planted. Perhaps not.

Take My Hand And Walk

I know there are times
Your dreams turn to dust
Yyou wonder as you cry
Why it has to hurt so much

Give Me all your sadness
Someday you will know the reason why
Wih a child-like heart
Simply put your hope in Me

Take My hand and walk where I lead
Keep your eyes on Me alone
Don't you say why were the old days' better
just because you're scared of the unknown
Take My hand and walk

Don't live in the past
cause yesterday's gone
Wishing memories would last
you're afraid to carry on

You don't know what's comin'
but you know the one who holds tomorrow
I will be your guide
take you through the night
if you keep your eyes on Me

Take My hand and walk where I lead
Keep your eyes on Me alone
Don't you say why were the old days better
just because you're scared of the unknown
Take My hand and walk...

Just like a child holding daddy's hand
don't let go of Mine you know you can't stand on your own

Take My hand and walk where I lead
YOU WILL NEVER BE ALONE

Hebrews 11
The Kry

We woke up to a sad morning and the end of a crazy week. They found Jessica and it confirmed everyone's worst fears. She suffers no more. One of the local car accidents happened on my dad's road. It missed my step-mom by a half hour. She would have been leaving for work. Kelly's mom starts chemo. Fawn and Chad's grandpa died so my mom and I went to the funeral home last night. My sister had what her doctor thinks was an asthma attack, one day before the anniversary of Simeon's death. Today is that day. And Terri Schiavo waits to die without her feeding tube.

What a crazy, sad world. But we continue to find things to be happy about, laugh at, and joy in. And like the song above says, but your hope and faith in God. His promises are coming.

The Spartans won...that makes me smile.

Not the real deal

I was driving into work this morning, grooving along to "Who's Johnny" by El Debarge, when I noticed a mini van with a picture taped to the back window. The picture was of a young woman and underneath--the explanation: my daughter was killed by a drunk driver.

I felt a small pain of sadness but it quickly faded as "When I Look Into Your Eyes" by Lifehouse blasted from my speakers. We learned about death last Sunday, that it isn't the end, only the beginning. After hearing the teaching, I turned to Joey and said, "I'm still scared to die. This didn't help." But like so many other things I learn, it is only until later do I get it.

I feel sad for the young woman's family but I do not feel sad for her. For all I know, she is in paradise. Down here...we are in the trenches. I kind of feel sad for us, not those who get to be with God and I will never understand the immensity until I go. The part that sucks is that so many suffer before they die. Then again, so many suffer their whole lives. NO MORE SUFFERING AFTER WE DIE!!! Whoo-hoo! AND we get to hang out with God and JC. I wonder if They listen to 1980s music...

Let us acknowledge the Lord...
As surely as the sun rises,
he will appear;
he will come to us
like the winter rains,
like the spring rains
that water the earth.
Hosea 6:3

Clarification

I wanted to clarify some questions I've been receiving about Simeon. I knew when I posted the picture of him with a cigarette hanging out of this mouth and then explained how he died, people would think it all made sense. Why would he smoke if he had severe asthma? I'm not sure when that picture was taken of Sim. I would have to guess a couple years ago. I got it from this site.

Simeon was diagnosed with asthma in January, a month and a half before he died. Treating his asthma was new to him. The tragedy was that Sim could have learned to live with it but it came on too fast and too strong one Friday afternoon. They had to get a special prescription filled and somehow, the pharmacy called it into the wrong store. The bottom line is that when Stevie went to pick up the prescription, it wasn't there. This added more time to the whole damn thing and by the time she finally got back to Sim, well...yeah...

Smoking makes me angry. It upsets me because people can quit. However, it is a tough habit to break. Many of my closest friends smoke. I have never had even one. Who am I to really judge, though? What does it matter when someone gets lung cancer or dies? I just can't have the attitude of "it serves them right" or "they should have known better."

Now for another clarification. Why do I care so much and post so much about someone I meant once? Because after Simeon died, I grieved for him every day because Ben was with me every day. I was one of the people who listened to him, cried with him, read from the bible with him, prayed with him...almost every single day for months after. Simeon's death changed my life. It really made me stretch my understanding of death, loss, mourning. My role as a friend bordered one of a grief counselor because there was no way I was going to let Ben go through it totally alone. Ben's family was in Kalamazoo, Atlanta, the east coast and his girlfriend lived in Cincinnati. Ben had us.

I really had no business trying to help him. I was way out of my realm and comfort zone. It affected me in many ways, positive and negative. But that's what you do for the people you love. Sometimes you suck it up and pretend you can handle all of it. You hang on to the truth that God will not give us more than we can handle. And really, what do I have to complain about? I didn't lose a member of my family. I didn't even lose a friend. I never felt like that, though.

I guess I just wanted to explain. I always feel like I need to explain myself. There it is....

Simeon Seinen

"I'm 22 for a moment
She feels better than ever
And we're on fire
Making our way back from Mars

15 there's still time for you
Time to buy and time to lose
15, there's never a wish better than this
When you only got 100 years to live"
~Five For Fighting

A year ago last Saturday, I went to Sommerset Mall with my friend Andy. Deciding we had covered both buildings and all floors, we turned to leave…but something stopped me. “Wait, I think Ben’s brother works here in the Apple store.” Andy gave me a look like, “so.” “Soooo, I want to meet this guy,” I explained. Andy nodded and followed me in. I had never been in an Apple store before (no need) and I felt a little lost. Also, not knowing what Ben’s brother looked like or his name was a bit of a challenge. I scanned the faces of the trusty Mac employees and my eyes fell on a young man with a Seinen look…the eyes, the mouth, the height. I mumbled to an employee, “is….ummm….Seinen…here?” “Simeon Seinen?” I shook my head yes. The employee pointed to the young man I had suspected.

Sim didn’t look much like his tow-headed older brother. He was a little huskier and darker then Ben. I approached him feeling somewhat intimidated. Simeon was standing behind the Mac Genius counter with a countdown clock behind him. He was intensely working on someone’s computer so I had second thoughts. I voiced my concerns to Andy and he was all for leaving. His reply was, “what are you going to say to him anyway?” But I didn’t back down. Turning to Simeon, I marched right up to the counter. “Can I help you?” he asked. I introduced myself as his brother’s employee. He smiled and we shook hands. I can’t remember exactly what was said but when I explained that Ben was my supervisor; he jokingly apologized to me. When I was leaving, I told him I was going to be seeing Ben that night and I would tell Ben that Sim says hi. Simeon replied, “No, just give him a hard time for me.”

That night, I saw Ben at Krissie’s birthday party. I told him that I met his little bro. Ben laughed. “I wondered if it was you. I was in there about an hour later and Sim said one of my employee’s was just there. I asked him the name and he couldn’t remember. I asked what the girl looked like and he said, ‘I don’t know…she was hot.” We all laughed.

That’s the story about a chance meeting. I can’t tell you why I felt so convicted to meet Simeon or why I chose to go to Somerset Mall that weekend because I only go once or twice a year. What I do know is that Simeon died almost a week later at the age of 22 from a acute asthma attack.

March 19—Valassis held a huge party for March Madness. Sparty came into our work to hang out. We also had games, prizes and food. Ben and I were e-mailing each other in the afternoon.

Then Ben left and headed down to Cinci to spend the weekend with Nicole. I went to Lansing to spend the weekend with Jac. I got the call around 6:00. It came from Krissie.

“Holly, I just got a call from LP…Ben’s brother died this afternoon.”
“Ummmm…what?! Oh no…oh…you’re joking….#$*%...which brother?”
“I don’t know…the one who lives in Michigan…”
I’m not sure what I said next. I know I didn’t cry. I was just in a state of disbelief. I continued telling Joey the stories from the day and slowly it all started sinking in…then my thoughts turned to Ben. Shit. He was driving by himself to Cinci. Where was he? Was he okay? I felt I had no right to call him. I couldn’t imagine what he was going through. I started becoming concerned about his faith. Was it strong enough to handle this? Was God with him right now? Oh geez, what about Sim? I started shaking. I remember Joey sat me down on the couch and I just shook and cried. He said some things that calmed me down and gave me the courage to leave Ben a message. It all felt so tragic but a small amount of peace filled me. "God has him now."

I called Ben and left him a message telling him I was so sorry, that I couldn’t stop crying, I don’t understand why, hang on to his faith, God is there, I’m praying hard for him. I never thought Ben would call back but he did. I was standing on the front porch. It was so cold. Ben was racing back to Michigan. I asked where he was. Wopakoneta. We both laughed at the private joke. Ben explained how he got the phone call from Stevie and how he didn’t turn around right away because he just never thought…

“Holl, I had to tell my dad…” Ben said. Oh…Jesus…why? No frickin way was this happening. Before we got off the phone, Ben said, “just pray. Pray for my family and for Simeon’s wife who is by herself at the hospital.” I promised I would.

I was in a fog the rest of the weekend. At times I felt fine, like nothing had happened. Then, I would remember and would fight this neauseating feeling. I found myself slipping into a teary mess during church that Sunday. I believe the series was on Boneheads but I could be wrong. All I knew was that I needed God more than ever. I knew none of this was about me, but I couldn’t help but take it personally. It is that whole ultimate empathy thing I’ve got goin on. I left several times during the singing and the teaching to wipe my eyes. Where was God? I felt completely lost. On my last trip back from the restroom, I saw the pastor who had just been teaching. He was standing by himself, near the coffee. I didn’t know him well but…I needed something…comfort…a hug…something to ground me. I appoarched him and complete jibberish spilled from my mouth. Whatever I said didn’t make any sense and I could tell this from the look on his face. I complimented him on his teaching, said that my best friend’s little brother died for no reason and blah, blah, blah. What I really wanted to say to him was please, take this pain away from me. Please, give me a verse or something that will make me feel better. I got nothing but a confused look. Defeated and slightly shamed by my actions, I turned away and headed back to my seat. Out of no where, the other pastor, the one I knew way better at the time, was standing in front of me…with his arms outstreatched. I took the hug without a word. How had he known? Don’t misunderstand, either. This is the same pastor who has been known to harass me with teasing. It was just the perfect moment…almost as if…God somehow sent it Himself. I returned to my seat feeling much better. Comforted. Ready to face the crazy crap that was coming during the week.

Mar and I were determined to go to the funeral. We were convinced not to by upper management. I will never allow people to control something I feel so strongly about again. I was afraid, though. Afraid that Ben didn’t want us there. I was also afraid of upper management. We went to the funeral home and I saw the kid I had met only a week before. He was wearing the same Apple shirt I saw him in. All of it was so heartbreaking. It didn’t make sense. Then, there was his wife. She was so small, maybe 100 pounds. She seemed to be holding up okay but really, I just don’t know how she did it. We gave Ben all the love we had and went home.

Ben called on a few of us to help clear out Simeon’s apartment. Stevie had decided she wanted to move back to Kalamazoo. She went back one more time, the one week anniversary. She took some things and then said, “pack the rest into boxes and maybe someday I’ll go through it.” So, that was what we did. I can tell you it ranks up there as one of the most difficult things I ever forced myself through. Ben was up and down in his emotions. At times he was focused and then he would find an inhaler and get upset.

“You know what my last conversation with my brother was about, Holly?” Ben asked through tears.
“What?” I said.
“That you are hot,” Ben said with a laugh.
“I’m so sorry,” I said with tears on their way. "Why did it have to be about stupid me? Why couldn't the two of you told each other how much you love one another?"
Ben paused and said, "we didn't know we were saying good-bye."

I kept packing and finding little things that had made Simeon so precious to his loved ones: Apple T-shirts, CDs, pictures…How did he die of an asthma attack at 22 years old? I was completely sure this was a mistake. God messed something up by allowing this to happen. When I found Stevie’s wedding dress, I was convinced we would all wake up from this disgusting nightmare soon. Can you imagine…packing a 21-year-old woman’s wedding dress into a box, taping the box up and writing “wedding dress” on the box in marker. This was mistake. I prayed for God to comfort them in their sorrow but secretly, I was pissed at Him. It wasn’t a secret from God, of course, but He wowed me by sustaining faith in Ben and Ben’s family. They made it through and continue to make it through, even when it is entirely painful.

And so...it's been a year. Ben moved to Cincinnati and will be married in a month. He continues to have faith even though he thinks his faith is weak. Just by having it after all of this brings glory to God. Because Ben and his family turned to each other, asked for prayers, prayed themselves they all give glory and hope to others who suddenly lose loved ones. This weekend will suck. They will all get together and mourn, cry, share memories...they will relive losing the family baby. All of this will help them heal more because God will be there, in their hearts, helping them to move forward. God bless you and be with you this weekend (and always), Seinen Family.

You used to captivate me
By your resonating light
But now I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams
Your voice it chased away all the sanity in me

These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I've held your hand through all of these years
But you still have all of me

I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
And though you're still with me
I've been alone all alone

"My Immortal" by Evanescence

God, if you check my blog, please be with Stevie as she enters this milestone. Please, help her mourn the loss of her only love. Please, heal her and help her to forget what she helplessly witnessed. It wasn't her fault. Make her be still, God...and help her know You. Amen.

A Fresh Start

I apologize ahead of time for the length of this posting. It is a part of my Jesus Story...even though Jesus isn't mentioned much. You might want to take a pee break and grab a sandwich before you start...

I loved college and hey, college loved me. Not at first. No, no, no…there was definitely a lot of character building. Still, Central was good for me and provided many different experiences, good and bad.

• Freshman Year—Lessons learned: Don’t trust just anyone, especially when things come up missing. Don’t give up after the first month (I almost did). Go to class but not when you are so sick you…get sick…during class. Don’t drink a Bellringer from the Wayside all by yourself or you might do crazy things and almost kill yourself. By the end of the year, I wasn’t living with the same people I had started living with at the beginning. Most of college was like that.
• Sophomore Year—Lessons learned: It isn’t always the best idea to live with your “closest” friends. When someone says you can borrow their lotion/perfume/clothes/CDs anytime you want, they don’t mean it. Your closest friends can break your heart. Not all classes can be blown off.
• Junior Year—Lessons learned: Living with three boys can be fun, exciting, a riot, messy…as long as you don’t start dating one of them. If you can’t make friends, buy them. Broadcasting people are just as weird as I am. When you break up with your roommate/boyfriend, move in with your cousin’s friends who are twin brothers (this actually worked out well until one of them started liking me). Sometimes heartache and displacement can cause you to do better in school and get on the Dean’s List. Smile more and you will win “Prettiest Smile” in the broadcasting department (along with most eligible bachelorette…and two scholarships).
• Senior Year—Lessons learned: Living with 20 other girls isn’t a horrible idea, as long as you know when to stay out of the fire. When you break up with someone, sometimes it isn’t always a clean break. Just because you put your heart out there to someone new doesn’t mean they will accept it and the two of you will live happily ever after…and sometimes, it does work out. When your kitty cat dies, it hurts almost as bad as when your grandpa dies. Hanging out with the frat boys across the road is an excellent way to scare off most dates. It is okay to graduate without a job…and to fall in love right before you leave college forever.

The best part about attending Central Michigan was you got a fresh start. The title you held in high school, didn’t have to follow you to college. I tried to break my moody reputation and get to know different people. I also enjoyed my classes and the freedom of doing what I wanted and when. I had a routine: go to class, eat, workout at the SAC, study for a few hours in the library, go to the bar. It didn’t work so well during certain semesters but I did get on the Dean’s List twice and graduated with a 3.47 (just short of honors—was the bar really that important to me? Yes). I loved the whole scene.

CMU was full of quirky, religiousy things. First, there was The Preacher Dude/Weirdo. He would stand between Anspach and Moore Hall trying to save all of us sinners. Great tactic. Yell how we are all going to hell. It didn’t work. People would gather around him, though and try to debate. Second, the Jesus Freaks that lived in the old frat house on Main Street. They were the fraternity of God (the Greek letters they used were Alpha and Omega). They would come after all of us, too. Not effective. Third, the student catholic church on campus that had a really excellent way to get to people’s hearts: put crosses all over the lawn to signify the number of abortions in a week/month/year. It really creeped me out. I wanted to protect those little crosses, shield them from the snow, rain, cold, heat. I knew the church was trying to make a statement but those mistakes didn’t belong to them. If they were trying to show Christ’s love, they were missing the point. Girls already felt alienated, shame, guilt. These crosses really rubbed it in. It was a slap on the face, a constant reminder.

Central quickly became my home, though. The only problem was going back to Laingsburg on weekends. My step-dad and I couldn’t stand each other. On one occasion, I called my sister, crying. She was in the process of buying a house behind Holt High School. She said there was a spare room in the basement. “If you want it, it’s yours,” she told me. I smiled thinking about how mom and I had made a room for Lyn in our old basement. When Lyn moved into the house, I gladly moved all of my belongings in. I came home to Holt and lived with Bradwee Bictor again. My sister saved me, even during one of the most difficult times of her life: she and Jeff could not have children together…at least, not the old fashioned way. I felt extremely disappointed and sad for them. My sister, however, was not down. She was optimistic and said with a little help from science, they were going to try other routes and methods.

During the summer months, I worked door to door jobs with Kelly. The jobs were horrible but Kelly and I became closer than ever before. We hung out on Duck Lake, went on many road trips, and caused trouble around Holt. The door to door jobs were bad but it taught me to not have fear of rejection. In August, I began my second year of college. Lyn and Jeff were expecting. Naturally, we were joyful.

I barely made it through my Sophomore year, the worst year at CMU. I didn’t get along with my roommates, my sister lost the baby, I didn’t do so well in my classes and I had just signed a lease to live with three boys. After the year was over, I went back to Holt.

In May, I received a call from my grandma early on a Thursday morning. I was half asleep in my room, listening to Bradley playing and Jeff taking a shower. It was hard to understand what my grandma was saying. She could barely speak. All she could get out was…your grandpa. I dropped the phone and ran to the bathroom door, yelling for Jeff. Soaking wet, he ran out of the shower with a towel wrapped around him. He went to the phone and I just stood there, shaking. My whole world was crashing down. All I could do was stand there in disbelief as Jeff talked to my aunt on the phone. I looked down to the face of a little four-year-old boy. “Aunt Howee, what’s wrong?”

Jeff got off the phone and explained grandpa wasn’t dead. He had gone in for hip surgery and was given too much morphine. He was in a coma.

My mother and Dean had just moved into a brand new home in Holbrook Hills, the neighborhood behind my sister’s. Mom was recovering from gall bladder surgery. I called and spoke to Dean. I hadn’t spoken to him in almost two years. Jeff dropped me off at their house. Dean gave me my mom’s car keys and $50. He said to call him when I got up to Petoskey and let him know how things were going. He didn’t want to tell mom just yet because he wanted her to get some more rest. I thanked him and began my drive up north.

I cruised up there praying the whole way. “Please, God, don’t let him die. Please, let me get up there. Grandpa, just hold on.” The drive up north is one I will never forget because I felt a sense of peaceful urgency. Tears…calm…pain…peace…sorrow…awe. I made it to the hospital in Petoskey and entered my grandfather’s room. He was snoring, loudly. I smiled but I was scared. It seemed like he was only asleep but I knew he was never coming back. The nurses urged me to talk to him. He made little noises, somewhat acknowledging. I told him how his children were flying in and driving up to be with him. The call had gone out. Grandpa was dying. I stood next to his bed, holding his hand, gazing out the window. The sun was setting on Little Traverse Bay. The whole scene from the hospital was nature at its finest. “What a beautiful place to die,” I thought.

Grandpa held on until each one of his kids, including his youngest (my sister), came to say good-bye. After a week of being in a coma, he slipped away, peacefully. That same day, my friend Monika gave birth to her first son. There isn’t a loss without some small gain, as the saying goes. Another little miracle was in store for our family, too. My sister was pregnant again. While we said goodbye to our grandfather, we madly prayed for the health and safety of the child she carried. This was the last time Lyn and Jeff were going to try. This had to work.

Christmas break arrived and I spent it at my sister’s. Early Christmas morning, the labor pains began. At 1:23 a.m. on December 26, the baby we prayed for was born: Little miss Lyndsay Marie, named after her mother and her aunt. We finally had our little girl.

My final year of college began in 1997. Four years plus one summer and I was almost free. It was fun living on Greek Row. I split my time between classes, the Bird, the house and the Crow Frat house across the street. We did lots of fun things like holding picture composites hostage and forcing the boys to come sing for them back. We had South Park, 90210 and Melrose Place nights. Bar night was every night. Yes, my senior year was a lot of fun.

In February, I realized a couple of things about my life: it was totally going to change in just a few months…and I was scared to death. February was a tough month for my life. I turned 22, was turned down by someone I really liked, my 14-year-old cat died, and Spring Break turned out to be a big, fat joke. But something else happened in February…an event that eventually led me back to God.

Updates

Work is keeping me busy. Church is keeping me busy. Here are some updates, though.

Baptism
When: April 17th
Where: Riverview Church in Holt, MI
Time: Not sure, yet. I think it will take place after the 11:45ish service but I don't have the official timing.
Guests: If you want to come watch my two pastors hold me under water and laugh, excellent! Just let me know.
Gifts: Sure, if you want. Just kidding. I'm doing this as an outward sign of an inward decision I made two years ago. This is one of the greatest gifts I could ever receive. If you decide to attend, that would rock more than a gift. Besides, I don't need anything...yet (see below)...

Mission Trip to Koln, Germany
When: June 25-July 3 (no, I'm not moving to Germany)
Why: Hmmm...I believe it is to see how many people I can trick into going to church. Oops, no, that isn't it. I am going to Germany to build relationships with people which may plant a seed which may lead them to Christ. I will not be handing out Jesus pamphlets. I will not be digging wells. I might be feeding the hungry but not with just 5 loaves of bread. The purpose is to meet people and perhaps share our stories with them.
Money: I'll be asking for some...not much...so you might be getting a letter from the Great Commission Ministries church (and me). It is tax deductible and a great cause (Go ahead, make God smile).

I'm really excited. Yay!

Send Me

Yesterday, Tami (my co-worker) and I were at our weekly prayer/bible study meeting at lunch. I caught her up on Germany and this smile came over her face.

"Holly, while I was waiting for you to get here, I flipped my bible open. Sometimes I say a little prayer, 'God, what would you like me to read?' and then wherever my bible opens is what I study. Let me read to you where the bible opened up today:

Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?" And I said, "Here am I. Send me!" Isaiah 6:8

Tami reaffirmed this with, "Holly, I think you are definitely supposed to go."

I got chills but felt warmth at the same time. I hear You.

Our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. --2 Corinthians 4:17

It just got worse...

My best friend's mom was diagnosed with lung cancer. All of this really makes me want to sing that song from church: Where are you, where are you, oh my God?

Please pray for Jo and for Kell and for the cancer to just go away.

I went out to eat with my family on Saturday for my grandma's birthday. Lyndsay and I were sitting on opposite ends of the table but I could tell she was spinning some excellent story. I was too busy listening to the other end of the tables conversation about scars. Suddenly, I heard her little voice above all others saying the following: Yeah, he does have it pierced...and he's Aunt Holly's pastor!

The entire table...no...the entire Big Boy...stopped short and looked at me. "Is that true, Holly?" my step-father asked. "Umm...that depends on what she said he has pierced."

"His eye-brow."

"Oh...that...well...yeah...my pastor's eyebrow is pierced." Everyone kind of stared at me for a minute. "What's the big deal?" I asked. "Tattoos, piercings, polka dot hair...God cares about your heart." I knew they were still sitting there slightly judging me so I blurted "in the summer he teaches barefoot."

My family is officially never coming to Riverview.

And here it is...

Another reason my family probably won't ever come to Riverview. Wait, its the same reason. Yes, this is the guy that finally got me to "get it" about Jesus and God. Well, this dude and another dude that I don't have a picture of...yet...

Mission

After my birthday dinner a few weeks ago, Joey and I decided to take in a nice, light comedy at the local Celebration Cinema. Because it was my birthday, I chose Hotel Rwanda. Nice pick. My cousin, who is in charge of security at Celebration, just shook his head. "Great movie....if you want to see a bunch of people die." Gulp. There was a point early on in the film where I said, "if these people get shot, I'm leaving." That was how intense the movie really was. I didn't leave, though and I'm glad. Still, the movie was so powerful, we had a hard time leaving after it was over. We felt spaced out and sat down on the couches for no apparent reason.

Joey: I want to join the Red Cross.
Holly: I want to join the Peace Corp.
Joey: I want to sell everything I own and go help people.
Holly: I want to help people, too...maybe even locally.
We were both feeling moved to do something.

And then...well...then God stepped in. Actually, it was Chuck and his roommate who were leaving their movie. We all laughed because Chuck had just eaten dinner with us a few hours before.

Chuck: I didn't know you were coming to the movies tonight.
Holly: Either did we.
Chuck: So...what did you see?
Joey: Hotel Rwanda.
Chuck: Whoa.
Holly: What did you see?
Chuck: We saw Constantine...oh, and do you both know my roommate, Clark?
We shook our heads.
Chuck: Clark, this is Joey and Holly.
Clark: Whoa...Joey and Holly from Riverview.
Joey and I nodded nervously.
Clark: Wow! Glad to finally meet you both. Your names came up in a meeting I was in recently. It was about the mission trip to Germany.

We were floored. Here we were feeling so convicted to go out into the world and do something, serve somehow...and God responded.

We went to the meeting Sunday after church. I didn't sign up because I wanted to pray on it a little. Later, as I was driving back to Walled Lake, I started laughing at myself. What more do I need to know I should do this? A bolt of lightning? An angel? God already gave me the sign. So....I'm doing it. I'm signing up. Now, if God doesn't help out with the money situation, then perhaps I misunderstood His intentions. Still, I do want to ask my friends, family, and leaders for council (that is what us Christians do--seek council). Any thoughts?

See, the thing is...I've never been outside of the continental US. I've never flown over an ocean. I've never been to Europe. I've never had a passport. I've never been the minority. But I have talked to complete strangers about God. I have reached out to my best friends about God. I'm pretty good at gauging when to push forward and when to shut up. I'm also doing my own study of the gospels in an attempt to really get to know Jesus. I'm not afraid to do this mission. I'm really hoping God wants to send me.

Okay, okay

I know I shouldn't hate things. Sometimes, "things" get us all really down. It isn't just cancer. Its a lot of "things" in this world. The cold that is kicking my butt, for example. That is really getting me down. All of my colds start with a sinus infection. The one I got the week of Christmas started with a sore throat. I never get a sore throat. This one started with a cough. I never get a cough. I like variety but come on. I need to do something about my immune system. But back to God...

God doesn't like it when we are hurt or suffering or sad. And it seems kind of strange that we are put in bodies that will somehow fail us...whether its cancer, sickness, old age, an accident...we are frail in these human clothes. But I guess that is why God makes our souls strong because when he takes us out of this skin, we get a new one (so I'm told).

I remember a line from a Will Smith song. "Hate in your heart will consume you, too." It was good advice he was giving his son. It is good advice for everything in life. I try not to hate cancer or anything else. Hate is its own cancer. I guess the only options are to pray it out of people or pray for their soul to be safely taken home. Either way, God's will be done.

I have a fever of 102. Could you tell?

17 Years

March 3, 1988
Dear Diary,
I haven't written you in a long time because I lost you. Well, in the morning, TJ called and said she couldn't come to school because Kim got really bad overnight. I was mad at Brad for putting up pictures (of swimsuit models) in his locker. I didn't talk to him. After school, I tried to call TJ but the phone was busy. I didn't get through until after dinner. Carolyn answered the phone and said let me talk to your mom. I yelled for her to pick up and then I hung up. Fawn asked if anyone got the mail. Chad and I shrugged. As Fawn went outside, my mom called me back to her room. She was crying. She wanted us to come back to her room when phone came inside. I went to the living room. Chad was laying on the floor watching TV. "My mom wants us to go to her room when Fawn comes back," I said. "Did Kim die?" Chad asked. "No, don't be stupid," I said. When Fawn came in, we went back to my mom's room. Crying, she told us that Kim had died. Fawn started crying. Chad got really upset. I didn't cry. I went to the basement and sat by myself on the dryer. It was cold. Everything felt cold...and alone. I went to my bedroom and put my George Michael tape in. It was Kim's favorite. Fawn and I listened to One More Try. Finally, I did cry.

March 3, 1989
Well, it's been one long year since Kim died. Chad and Justin are being such jerks! Here I am, sitting on my bed listening to One More Try. It is exactly 11:14 pm. I thought about Kim all day. I carried her picture, listened to her songs, read stuff about her and most of all wrote about her. I can't stand the thought that she's been gone for one full year. I look back on this year as long....but kind of short. Now I'm listening to Lean On Me. I remember when Karen and I went to TJ's grandma's. We were jammin to this song and Karen taught me the words, just as her older sister Kim had taught her...I knew I could always lean on Kim.

March 3, 1990
It's been two years since Kim died. We went to the Band Festival at Jackson Northwest, Kim's old school. We had major fun on the bus. We were all friends because we were all in this together. When I got there, I looked for Kimmy's little sister, Karen. Couldn't find her. Percussion forgot their music! It was almost time to go into the warm up room! Percussion came through for the band and found some copies and a copy machine. After we played, I found Karen. We talked for awhile. It was time to go and everyone was getting on the bus. John Sonnenburg got on the bus and started screaming, "Ones! We got all ones!!!" Everyone started cheering. We had a lot of fun. When I got home, I listened to to all the depressing songs that remind me of Kim. I cried and cried. My mom came in and held me. She said, "I don't ever want you to change. I always want you to be sensitive." I love you, Kimmy. You'll never be forgotten.

March 3, 1991
Three years. Holy Hornets! Three years Kim has been gone. I'm so confused about her. I've now passed her age. I'm 15. I look nothing like her. I mean, when she was 14, she looked and acted like she was 17. I looked up to her so much. I was only an 11-year-old. I got a lot of things straightened out about her death this past year. The doctors never found the brain tumor. Her brain died of increased intercornil pressure. Chills. I quote Kim's dad, Howard: I hate f-ing cancer (except I wrote it out). I remember Kim, Mary Ann, Crystal and I out on Crystal's swing set talking about Chad and how much Kim liked him. She was such a sweetheart but she could get a nasty temper. I really didn't know her well. We were friends but not close. One truly amazing thing is that I still feel the same way. I can feel the hurt, fear, disbelief and emptiness I felt three years ago. I guess it never leaves, like the stories and memories.

March 3, 1992
It seems like yesterday. Everything seems as if it just happened. It's scary how fast time is going by me. I sometimes wonder who will read my diaries when I'm gone. Burn them, quick. I visited Kim's grave on Sunday. I hadn't been there in a few years. There was a Mary statue at the end and some type of flower covering over her grave. I called Howard yesterday. Jack answered the phone. The little baby I used to know can talk! He will be four tomorrow. I really don't have much to say so good-bye for this year and I'll be writing again...tomorrow.

March 3, 2005
I tried to write about Kim every year. I didn't want to forget her. I only knew her from July 4, 1987 to March 3, 1988. Before I knew it was wrong to worship and idolize people, I worshiped and idolized her. Don't paint the wrong picture of me as an eleven-year-old stalking the poor girl. It was just that there was something about her that I envied. I looked up to her. I mimicked her dance moves. I paid attention to the songs she liked and the phrases she said. And then she was gone. There was never another her.

So, it has been 17 years. I lost touch with her father and siblings but never forgot about her. I reached out last year and found Howard. He had remarried again and shared custody of Jack and Allie, the brother and sister Kim never knew. Jack turns 17 tomorrow. Allie will be 16 on the....9th, maybe? She is an honor student and doing very well. Karen, whom I got in touch with in January, is the proud mother of a 9-year-old boy, Matthew, and a 9-month-old baby girl, Payton Kimberly. Karen will be married in August. She has invited me to the wedding.

I'm still working on the Kim project but I've realized that besides Kim's family, people don't seem to have stories to tell. Seventeen years ago for them was....seventeen years ago. Ancient history. But it's not for me and I don't know why that is. God blessed and cursed me with a sharp memory: easy for me to recall a time Kim laughed when she said she was cereal (instead of serious) and easy for me to recall a time when I made Kim cry because she said I looked like Alyssa Milano. Yeah. I made her cry. I didn't like Who's the Boss. Someone told me in an elevator a few years ago, "hey, you kind of look like that girl...from Charmed....Alyssa...." "Thank you," I said with a smile. Anyhow, I'll close for this year, since I'm sick and have a fever. Here's to you, Kim. I hope you're having a good time in heaven. Hopefully, some day will be better friends.

I wonder if God hates cancer as much as I do.

Jesus Videos

Okay, I've been a little down the past couple of days so I thought I would post this to cheer myself and y'all up (or just make you laugh if you needed it). Steve showed us these videos in church last year and it was such a good time I had to dig them up again. Have fun....

Time to pray

There are a lot of things to pray for right now. Personally, our friend's dad...well...I just pray extra more than I already was. Joey and I were discussing the situation after church yesterday. Joey is usually the one who sets me straight when I fall off the path. I was a little surprised when he said, "What's the point?" I got scared for a minute. Did he mean the point of life? The point of believing? Following?

H: What do you mean?
J: What is the point of cancer?
H: (silent)
J: (silent)
H: Well....I guess...I don't know. I mean, right now, maybe it's about glorifying God. If Dan's dad and his family continue to glorify God through all of this, then it will...glorify God. You know, it will make the rest of us stronger. Or...maybe the best thing God can do right now is rescue his dad from all of this. I'm not making sense....
J: (silent)
H: This is where I start to question things. Why can't us followers have some sort of little shield around us? We have chosen to live our lives for him, why can't he offer us some sort of protection down here in the fallen, sinful world?
J: (silent)
H: (silent)

We went and ate breakfast with my parents and had a good time. Still, I think Joey and I both know the answers to our questions....we are fallen people, too in a fallen world. God will rescue us when the time is right. I believe we will be taken up to him to a place where we never have to suffer. I guess we were both just having a moment.

Another prayer goes to the family of Jessica Lunsford. My best friend, Kelly, is a Victim Resource Advocate for Citrus County in Florida. She has been working with the family and called me Friday morning to ask for prayers. She had been out all the night helping to look for this little girl. This is the first time in a long time that I have seen Kelly's job really effect her. Usually, I am amazed at how well she handles the stress. She has that "it's just my job" attitude but I don't think she realizes that so many of us couldn't handle it.

She e-mailed me this morning and said, "When I called you that morning I almost started crying. I was sitting at a traffic light when a procession of about 50 law enforcement unmarked cars went through the light, all with their strobe lights on, very slow and solemn. It gave me the chills. I've been with this family since Thursday night, minus about 3 hours for the Buffett concert (which we left early from). They are all so sweet. I can honestly say this is the first year I've gone to a Buffett concert and was not able to enjoy it. We left after the 2nd song after the intermission. Couldn't get into it one bit. The parking lot was kinda fun, more distracting than anything, but once you get inside and start listening to the music and relaxing it starts to hit you of what is going on back home."


"Yesterday Gene asked me how I could sit with the family for 12-14 hours a day and just "sit". He said it would be like a funeral visitation, just longer and with no body. I started thinking about that later, and it's about how it is...You would think that if she was going to be found alive someone, somewhere would have seen her. That's just it. We haven't had anyone, anywhere see her. Not in our county or any of the others. She has to be somewhere close, but we just can't pinpoint where. We've got the FBI, FDLE (Florida Department of Law Enforcement), Team ADAM from America's Most Wanted, ATF, Child Abduction Response Team and many other detectives from other agencies but still come up short. The family just needs some closure."

And I sit at my desk and complain about making coupons.

I pray for the family, for the little girl, for her abductors that they have a heart(or if it is a family member, to come clean), and for Kelly along with everyone else who struggles to help us, rescue us, and put the pieces back together when it all falls down. Prayers to you, Kelly, for helping us when tragedy strikes.

Excitement

Today, I saw God work on someone else. I saw the absolute thrill and rush of love that hit this person. It was so exciting.

I work with a woman who has been asking her husband to attend a church with her. I know this young couple is extremely close but of course there are hurdles in marriages. Jaime, another co-worker of ours, was talking to the woman about being a Christ Follower, about religions, and finding a church. I walked into the conversation and encouraged everything Jaime said. The conversation lasted for about 20 minutes before I had to rip myself away to finish work.

10 minutes later, the woman came rushing over to my desk.

"Holly, while we were talking...my husband e-mailed me...I had mentioned going to church with Jaime this weekend and....he e-mailed me while we were talking and...the e-mail said 'of course I will go with you this Sunday.' Can you believe it?! WHILE we were talking about it...."

"God put it in his heart," I told her. I also mentioned how cool God really is. She was beside herself in awe.

I am too, God.

Baptism Fo Shizzim

Sorry about the lame title.

The subject of baptism keeps finding its way into conversations. It began when I posted the picture of me getting "baptized." Kelly asked why I would do it again. I started thinking....

Here is the research I have done on baptism:

• A water ritual used as a spiritual symbol
• A sign of repentance (turning away from sin)
• A sign of conversion (initiating people to the faith)

I also discovered something so obvious in the bible: Jesus was baptized as an adult. In fact, all of the people getting baptized were adults. Where did baby baptism get started?

I have been taught that a baby needs to be baptized soon after birth. Here are some reasons I have received from others this week as to why babies should be baptized: to take away original sin, to make sure the baby goes to heaven in case she or he dies, and to recognize the baby will be a follower of Christ. Great reasons...if they were true. The bible doesn't seem to support these reasons but I've only scratched the surface, I'm sure.

I spoke to Christian confidant at work. I asked her if she had been baptized as a baby. She said yes, but that she was officially baptized when she was in 6th grade. I asked her if she would have her baby baptized. She said no, that she would have a dedication but that the baby, when she or he grows, will decide if and when to be a follower of Christ. She said that baby baptism is done for comfort reasons. It makes everyone feel better. But again, say it with your mouth and believe it in your heart.

My friend Chuck has also helped me understand that my baby baptism may not have actually been a baptism. He sides with my mother, Joey, and my friend from work. Chuck also said you only need to be baptized once, unlike my comment stating that I could do it every year for the rest of my life. Chuck also said, "We become Christians when we personally accept the free gift that God offers us (ie. we stop trusting in our good works and ourselves to get to Heaven, and place our trust in Christ alone and what He has already done for us). It's D-O versus D-O-N-E." This I understand. I was also reminded of this: The Lord said, "You are My friends if you do what I command you." (John 15:14). Jesus commanded us to get baptized when we become Christ-followers.

When I think about getting baptized, I think about a story my friend told me awhile ago. I asked him when he had been baptized. It happened when he was attending First Christian Church in Lansing. The pastor asked for people to come up to the front if they wanted to be baptized. On his own free will, this friend felt convicted to go up to the front with other adults and become baptized. He was 12. His parents were shocked because no one had put any pressure on him or had discussed it with him. Joey just knew he wanted to do it. He said it with his mouth and believed it in his heart.

Therefore, I think I might do it. I don't know why I feel like I already have. I don't know why I feel like it might be a little redundant. I don't know. Maybe I'm not quite there. It's a little scary to think I've been hanging out in this world, struggling to be a Christ Follower and only been sprinkled when I was a babe. Geez, I'm still a babe so I guess I should go for it. Okay, sorry for the lame joke. I'm feeling rather lame tonight. I would like to ask, if you remember to, maybe say a little prayer. Something like, "God, I really pray that Holly would get her act together and let go of some of the traditions she was raised with, the ones that get in the way of truth. I pray that you convict her to keep moving forward and to not stop when she hits these little hang ups. I also pray that you give her the encouragement to face her peers and family when they do not support her new path." Wow. I just prayed for myself on a blog. I've hit a new low.

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...