Moments with You #4

It’s been a while since I’ve had the capacity to write much for myself, but here I am with a 4th installment of “moments with you.” I first started writing these short vignettes about important unnamed people in my life back in 2017. They are mostly for me, but if you’d like, feel free to read along. :) 

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You say, “do you want to see a doggie?” Several of us chime in, “doggie, do you mean rabbit?” So far, you’ve pulled a monkey and a rabbit out of your pocket, like a magician, at just the right moments for her. I don’t know why any of us are surprised when you do, in fact, pull a tiny dog puppet out of your pocket. She, of course, is delighted, which seems to be her default setting with you. The louder, the sillier, the better, with her. She loves each and every one of your made-up games. As you pull out the tiny puppet from your coat pocket, I laugh and joke about what the airline security folks might have thought as they screened your jacket, seeing a pocket full of tiny toys. Maybe they marveled the same way I do now, at your thoughtfulness. I imagine you walking around the house in the days before your traveled here, gathering her favorites from the last time she was there. I picture you pocketing each tiny toy and the joy at knowing she would soon be playing with them again. I smile at you, in my imagination, imagining her look of surprise and squeal of delight as the animals appear one by one. 

&&&&

I feel like a little kid again, playing this way.  All of the sudden I take stock of the other adults around me, and notice she isn’t with any of us. As I turn around, I see her with you, happy, playing, exploring. You’re showing her how it works and she’s looking up at you. You stand with your arms out, ready to catch her if she stumbles or falls. She doesn’t notice, but I do. 

&&&&

At first I think you’re driving, maybe that’s the background noise I hear. But no, as we chat about our days recounting the highs and lows it turns out you’re cooking, again. I’m leaving late and was just starting to worry about whipping up the dinner in time, but there you are already ahead of me. Ahead of me, and beside me. 

&&&&

You rewind and pause the show for me. How sweet, I think. I come back and you tell me that I’ve missed a great line of dialogue, so I excitedly sit back down to watch. You press play and I’m waiting for the great line and as the scene plays out, it’s the worst line, the most annoying one. For a split second I’m incredulous, confused. You can’t hold back your snickering anymore and it turns into a laugh. You got me, I’m laughing now too, you know me, we both smile. I’m so glad I’m yours. 

&&&&

You’re back, thank goodness. It just feels better to have you in the building, even on the days our paths don’t cross. Your sense of humor, your passion for helping the kids, the way you balance it all, even the way you complain only in a commiserating type of way, I appreciate it all. I had heard great things about you, but I didn’t expect to claim you as a close friend. Our lives are so different, and yet, are they really? I do like your wisdom, and I feel good when you think I have some to share, too. As we stand and chat about everything and nothing what I feel most of all is gratitude.

&&&&

You practically push us out the door, and now that we are in the car, I’m already glad. You claim that this is what you want, for you, but I think I know deep down it’s actually also what you know we need. As we stroll through long aisles and laugh at titles and book jackets far outside our taste, I think about how you knew just what we needed. As we sip our milkshakes, reflecting on the year behind and setting intentions for the year ahead, I think about how fortunate we are to have you looking out for us, so often intuitively knowing just what we need.

&&&&

You answer the call and I feel immediate relief. She’s smiling now, just seeing your face seems to do the trick, and I take a deeper breath myself. She pulls the phone close to her face and examines yours. I wish we could really pull you closer, across the miles. When I speak to her I so often hear your voice coming out of my own mouth. How lucky it is that your voice in my mind is the one telling me I can do it, not to sell myself short. I hope that’s how she will hear my voice in her own head someday, when life inevitably carries her miles away from me. 

&&&&

The usual chatter is going on around you as we recount the day’s events over spaghetti and homemade meatballs. All of the sudden you proudly, and loudly, announce “mustache!” You are grinning ear to ear, delighting in our laughter as we turn and notice your crafty noodle mustache. You are ever surprising us with your wonderful sense of humor and your silly antics. I love how you seem nearly always ready for a game, a laugh, a smile. You bring so much joy into our lives. 

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Four Years of the Both/And Life

Tomorrow marks four years since Maggie died, and somewhat strangely, it also marks two months (8 weeks) of marriage for me & Ted. Reflecting on these two very real, very different "anniversaries" this week has caused me to again reflect on what has become a bit of a life motto for me, which is living the "both/and" life.

To endeavor to grieve Maggie's loss sincerely and fully, and still also fully embrace the life and love ahead for me, was a goal, a struggle, I first publicly shared about seven weeks after she died. At some point along the way, I started referring to this as the both/and life, writing Grief isn't my whole life, but it has become an important part of it. I am learning how to embrace life that is happening now while still missing Maggie, how to hold the terrible and the beautiful in both hands and let them coexist.

Of course at the time, I had no idea I would meet Ted or that so much brilliantly beautiful happiness would come into my life because of him. Or that although they would never meet, they would share a birthday. The ultimate invitation to the both/and life... each year as I miss her on her birthday, I get to celebrate his right by his side. Some might see it as a weird coincidence, but it's actually comforting to me. Maybe it is divine intervention, or maybe it really is an odd coincidence, or maybe it's fate. Or maybe no matter why it is, the what I choose to make of it is more important- it's a beautiful personal reminder that love and loss are both essential pieces of what it means to be human. To me, it's also a striking reminder that life is short.

Most of this week I've spent sitting in data meetings, or stats classes, or answering emails, or giving reading tests to Kindergarten and first grade students. Some days, I've had unwelcome painful memories rush in and open up doors in my mind without even knocking, just interrupting my thoughts and ushering in feelings of anxiety and deep sadness along with them. Some days, I've blissfully daydreamed myself back to the sand on the south coast of Bermuda, reminiscing on each and every incandescently happy moment of the magical beachside candlelit dinner Ted set up for us on our honeymoon.

I can't choose to experience just one or the other. My love for Maggie remains as real and true as it has ever been, and so my grief does too, as I miss her in new ways through new seasons of my life. She would be seventeen, and I often wonder what that would look like for her. What would she have been like at our wedding? Would she have danced to our songs? Would she have brought a date? What would she be planning for her own future now, if she were still here? How many more pets would she have talked my parents into bringing into their home?

And also I can't spend all my time wondering, stuck in what-ifs and the missing. To quote one of her favorites, "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live" (said Dumbledore to young Harry, as the boy spent hours in front of a mirror showing him his parents, who had died).

Just as real and as true, and just as overwhelming, is my love for the life I am building with my beloved husband. To come home each night to a man who shares my hopes, dreams, and faith, (not to mention much of my taste in TV shows and late-night snacks) is an unbelievable privilege and joy. He is a better partner for me than I ever had dared to dream I would find. He is unfailingly patient and consistently affectionate and seriously hilarious. His witty jokes, creative problem-solving, tight hugs, and sweet words make every day better than it would otherwise be. He cheers me on through success and comforts me through sadness. He has a curiously clever mind and a singing voice that makes old ladies we don't even know turn around and compliment him in church. Some days I look over at him on the couch and I think my heart might just explode with the warm fuzzy happiness of knowing that he is mine and I am his. 

I get to pursue a career I find deeply meaningful, alongside some of the best people I have ever met. My relationships with my parents, Ben, and Katie have been stretched and grown and deepened in ways I couldn't have foreseen. I've married into a new (to me), wonderfully tight-knit, loyal, and fun family. Even on the most difficult days of this life, I feel ridiculously blessed when I think about the people with whom I share this wild, weird, beautiful, terrible, lovely human experience.

Sometimes I feel pressure to write something sort of profound, or at the very least inspiring, when I write about grief, or love, or especially when I write about both. Today I don't have any wise words or call to action, just my own reflections to share. I think that maybe I knew the secret to living the both/and life all along, which is that you just do... to embrace all of the human experience means to love, which also means to grieve, which also means to love.

International Women's Day 2019

A note of appreciation to the women in my life:

I have been blessed with an unusual number of incredible women in my life, from the time I was young, up through today.

My mother is a formidable woman in the best way; she is one of the strongest people I know, in her power and in her resilience and in her love. I admire her and like her, and realize more with each passing year just how lucky I am to be her daughter. I will always be grateful for her pushing me to do my best, never letting me sell myself short, and being a safe base from which I could explore the world. How lucky I am to have had a model as a young girl of a woman who was driven in her career, happily in love with her husband, and fully engaged in parenting her children. Growing up and learning that parents are humans, too, complex and multidimensional, has only increased my respect and love for her as I reflect on my childhood years.

It was my parents' example which first helped me to push back in my mind against the patriarchal messages I heard as I grew up. Each time that I heard someone say that a husband should make all of the decisions in a home, or that a woman should not desire a career outside the house, or anything of the sort, I knew better because I had seen better. I got to witness my parents talking out decisions together, trying their best to arrive at a joint conclusion. I got to see my parents decide how to divide "family labor" and push back at the assumptions that the mother should always do the dishes or  always drive the children to sports practice or always tidy the living room. I knew that Mom cooked because most of the time, she liked to (and because Dad was, er, gifted in other areas...). I knew that when Dad spent time with us children he wasn't "babysitting" for Mom, he was being our parent, an equal partner with my Mom in building our family. I knew that when I had a field trip coming up, either parent would need to check their work schedule before agreeing to chaperone, and that both would want to if they could. I learned that it was okay if parents fit a stereotype for their traditional role, like Mom cooking or Dad mowing the grass (I should also note that Dad often washed dishes and Mom often did the weeding). It was okay if it was what came naturally or was agreed upon together, and it was also okay if they didn't fit those prescribed roles. I knew that Dad was much more likely to tear up in a children's movie than Mom, and that Mom was much more likely to want to play outside.

As I look to build my own marriage and become my own version of what it means to be a wife, I am grateful for their example. No people are perfect, but they are wonderful together. They balance each other out and have continued on loving each other through the best and worst of all life has thrown at them.

If my own mother wasn't enough of a blessing, I've also known incredible women in my extended family. I often think I am more like my two grandmothers than either of my parents, as a mostly-extroverted, card-writing, talk-to-anyone, loves-to-host-parties kind of person. Both of my grandmothers are also strong, kind, warm women. They each have incredible stories of persevering through extraordinary life circumstances, all the while loving their families fiercely. Each of them has their own ministry, official and unofficial, in which they tangibly love everyone around them. They are hardworking, fun, driven, loving women, and I am so blessed to have them in my life. They have both been present (whether in person or by phone call or letter or Facebook message) for all the major events in my whole life thus far.

I've also had the privilege of knowing even more wonderful women in my family, including my Aunt Jan who has been a kind of second Nana to me, showing up for concerts and sports games and graduations, sending Easter cards and giving big warm hugs. She is loud and funny and giving and loving. My aunts and my parents' cousins have also been there, cheering me on each step of my life, even as they care for their own families.

My little sister Katie, who is less and less "little" (is she taller than me? I'll deny it a bit longer...), is becoming an incredible woman herself. I am both apprehensive and hopeful for her future as a woman in our society. My dream for her is to become everything that she wants to be, knowing it is up to her to decide exactly what that looks like, and not for anyone else to prescribe for her. I hope she continues in becoming the strong, brave, smart, thoughtful woman she is already.

Soon, I'll be marrying into a second family, and I'm grateful to be getting to know even more inspiring women. My future mother-in-law is smart, kind, giving, and driven, always juggling several projects at a time, whether for her family or her church or her community. I can see why Ted loves and respects her so, and how she has helped shape him into the loving man he is today. I've had the good luck to have been able to meet her own mother, who is just as witty, warm, and generous herself. I'm looking forward to meeting more of his family as we continue towards our wedding!

I should take a minute to mention the women who have passed through my life just for short times, and still left an impression on me. I need to thank the Sunday school teachers, camp counselors, school teachers, Bible study leaders, and mentors who have given me their energy, their advice, and their life lessons. I wouldn't be where or who I am today without the classmates and coworkers who provided a listening ear and helped me discover my career path.

Finally, I have been surrounded in each season by lovely women as my friends. Some of my girl friends from elementary school remain in my life, even as we each pursue our own paths. Friends from high school and college have stuck around, staying in touch through technology and old-fashioned letters. This collection of amazing women are leaders, teachers, wives, students, professionals-- current and future forces for good. These are friends who would be, and have been, there for me at a moment's notice, ready to lend a hand despite their own full, busy lives. I'm grateful for "old friends" who have known me for so long, and have chosen to stay a part of my life.
Now in this season of graduate school, I find myself again surrounded by some of the most intelligent, kind, hardworking, generous women I have ever met. These are also women who I can call at any hour, with any problem. They will be the change-makers and the leaders of our field, I am sure of it.

Each of these women have lived unique stories, pressed on through challenges most people don't know about, loved bigger and deeper than I could explain. Their daily lives look vastly different from each other, and they are headed in all different directions. What they all share in common is that I admire something about the way they are living in this world as women, and they have touched my life.

Here's to you, the women in my life. Thank you for all that you are- for being examples, inspiration, and support. Thank you for your strength and courage, for being in my life, and for loving me so well. May you know your infinite value, and may you know the impact you make for good in the world. <3

Three Long Years & Growing through Grief

**If you or someone you know has been affected by suicide, this post may be difficult to read.**

May 19, 2015 out for ice cream after her choir concert

It's been three years today since suicide stole my little sister Maggie from us. Those words sting to type and still feel unbelievable, three long years later. It's true what they say- it doesn't get easier, you just get stronger.

The both/and life continues... So much life has happened for me, for my whole family, since Maggie's death. And with each and every milestone that passes without her, we feel her absence. I am planning my wedding with my best friend and soulmate, who she will never meet. It breaks my heart that she won't be there with me on what I'm sure will be one of the best days of my life.

I don't think my heart will ever be whole again. Maybe that's right and good. She will always be missing, and I will always be missing her. These three years I've been earnestly seeking a way to incorporate this lifelong grief into my life in a way that improves me. I feel strongly that it is right to both weep and laugh at my memories of her. Losing Maggie has changed me forever, and I am choosing to grow through my grief.

I say "I love you" all the time, constantly aware that tomorrow isn't promised. I care for the people in my life wholeheartedly and unapologetically. I am somehow less afraid of the darkness, because I know that I have faced something incomprehensible and continued on through it. I am calm and careful in every risk assessment I conduct with clients, knowing how important it is to make sure they know I am listening. I call my siblings some weekday afternoons just because. I work hard to keep margin in my life even during the busiest times of the semester. I actively count the blessings in my life so I don't miss the beauty of the human experience. I know that time with loved ones is more precious than any single other thing in this life.

Let me be clear: I will never say that Maggie's death happened for a reason, or that God called her home early, or anything of the sort. It will never be okay. And also, I can choose to be better for what I have endured and continue to process. Some hours, some days, I'm a mess. It's sad and it's hard and it isn't fair, and so I take my time to cry long and hard. Most days, I am actively engaged in building a life I love. It is not one or the other. It is missing her, remembering her, grieving her, even as I embrace the people and the life still in front of me.

Moments With You III

You walk through the door with the vacuum cleaner I completely forgot, and I think for the millionth time, how lucky am I? Lately I feel more aware of it than ever. At the movies, during time with my grandparents, while cleaning toilets, as we carry heavy things. Your love is patient and reliable and generous. You are there with me in the fun moments and busy moments and hard moments, all the same. Grateful cannot begin to describe how I feel in this moment, or in so many moments every day as you love me so well.

&&&&&&&

The living room looks so empty now, and your mom's car by comparison hardly has an inch to spare. I knew it would be sad, watching you both leave, even as I am excited for you in the new chapters you each are beginning. As I scrub and paint, I reflect on the past year and feel both happy and sad. Happy to have known you, sad to see you move on. Happy to welcome new friends into this home, sad for your absence here. A year filled with so many moments with you both. The time I tried to walk home with a heavy test kit and it was dark and I was tired and you drove to pick me up. The night we drank wine every time Hermione saved the day. The weekend days filled with homework and cooking and cleaning, and also the ones filled with visits from friends and family. What a blessing it has been to share a space with you.

&&&&&&&

You surprise me, even though this isn't my surprise party. As you watch me open my gifts in the parking lot- a soft fuzzy blanket and word board- I can't help but smile so wide at how well you know me. I'll miss you as you adventure and study by sunny beaches, and I'm touched by the way you planned ahead. I'm so proud of the man you are. 

&&&&&&& 

The smell of campfire-roasted-marshmallows makes me feel excited and relaxed, like I've really celebrated the season of summer. I'm so happy you invited us to join you for this short-notice night in nature. I love the way you squish us tight in your hugs, the way you make time for fun, and the way you work hard to make a home away from home for your family. As I watch the red and orange flames dance in the cool evening breeze, I take a deep breath and try to freeze this moment in my mind. If I could look back in time through past summer memories, I bet there would be a lot of moments just like this with you, in campgrounds and backyards and kitchens and living rooms. I'm so glad there will be more to come.

&&&&&&&

As I read your text, my eyes well up because my joy is spilling over. You've never been this way before, so giddy for me, with me. To be fair, it's never been this good and this right, either. I love that you love him. Your words are a confirmation of what I know to be true, that this is unlike anything I've known before, that he is unlike anyone I've known before. I thrill in your open arms and open heart to this new normal. What a sweet new normal this is, with new definitions of "us" and "we" and "family" on the horizon. 

&&&&&&&

Something doesn't seem quite right, and though I can't put my finger on it, the nervous feeling in my chest won't let me stay at home. I tell you, rather than ask; I'm coming over. I put my toes in the grass next to you and we chat. As the sun makes its way down through the sky you open up to me. I'm glad that I came. You are strong and beautiful and you make me feel less alone. I hope I do the same for you. I can't help feeling as I leave that perhaps I needed this time as much as you did. Too much time to be still and too little time to be still culminate in this evening good for both of us, company for you and a pause for me.

&&&&&&& 

Bright lights and fireworks and professional dancers and an international icon and 60,000 other people steal my attention, but I'm noticing you. You who give so generously, standing beside me in a t-shirt I picked out, smiling as you watch me scream-sing every word. You know how much this means to me and you document the moments one by one. I try not to step on the five gluten-free cookies you bought me for dinner before we found the hamburger stand, and I try to remember this night. I'm grateful for the lengths you go to make me happy, to give me good things, to spend time with me.

&&&&&&&

You help us to lay out the blanket that you brought and we all sit down to eat. What a view, with the sun slowly sinking over the green mountains. The cover/tribute band rocks out just loudly enough behind our conversation. You make me feel so glad I ventured out tonight for this perfect weather and good food. Over fresh squeezed lemonade and still-hot fries we relax into what's left of our summer. I know that when classes start and we are all busy and I'm tempted to skip fun times like these, you'll be there to push me to come anyways. When those days come again, remind me how we feel in this moment. 

Year 1 Reflections

As of this afternoon, I've officially completed my first year of grad school! What a year it has been. I am so glad I chose the field of School Psychology (or as one of my professors might say, it chose me). This past year I've learned a lot, and I am more convinced than ever that all of the long days and late nights will be well worth it to make a difference in the lives of students, their teachers, their families, and their communities. I'm also convinced that divine intervention led to perfect timing for me to meet some of the world's most generous, kind, intelligent, lovely human beings as a result of me starting grad school when I did and where I did (shoutout to my love Ted, my housemates Megan and Leah, and my co[heart]!). I am infinitely grateful for their support throughout this past year.

I wish I had the brain power to write some eloquent reflections, but I think my brain is tired after the past few weeks of final projects, exams, papers, and presentations, and this week of administering and scoring assessments (fluency week- check!). Instead, here are some sound-bite-sized reflections:

~A walk outside can do wonders for your state of mind on a busy day.
~It's important to learn how to do some things just "good enough." (Thanks, Karen!)
~Learning new things alongside others makes a steep learning curve so much more bearable. (shoutout to my co[heart] and the rest of the amazing SPSY students!)
~Stress can have a huge impact on your digestive system (oh hey, IBS symptoms appearing at the worst times).
~You know you're a nerd when you feel so pumped that you found the perfect article to cite for a key point in your paper after reading tons of abstracts.
~We expect so much of teachers and provide them with far too little support.
~I used to think 5 years sounded like a lot of time to spend in a graduate program; I now realize it's definitely not enough time to learn all that I need to learn about my field.
~Grad school might be the perfect time to start a relationship with a patient, understanding, loving partner.
~If you'd like to accomplish something slowly, try doing it at a large university with guidance from overworked professors. Expect to exchange at least five emails in order to establish a meeting, which will inevitably begin later and end earlier than you had hoped. You'll leave with more questions than you brought with you. Keep on keepin' on.
~When you're in grad school at a large university, you have access to so many interesting lectures and trainings that you'll never have time for them all. (But hopefully just a few really good ones!)
~No matter how many kids you work with, they will continue to surprise, frustrate, and inspire you in new ways.
~Trust that while the expectations of you will grow, so too will your skills in meeting them.

I'm excited to reach this small milestone, and I continue to be inspired and uplifted by such wonderful people in my life. :)

Moments With You II

It's been a long week of studying and working and here we are, spending our Saturday afternoon the same way. You're getting antsy and I'm getting cranky and so you suggest a walk. I'm so glad you did, because I start to feel better as we stroll hand in hand through the neighborhood nearby, peppered with cute houses and colorful leaves. It is a busy, beautiful season in our lives. I'm thinking to myself what a blessing it is to have you by my side. We get back to the house, settle onto the couch, and you look at me in thought. "What?" I say, and you say "thanks for spending so much time with me." And I smile and I laugh because I love spending time with you. You make everything better.

&&&&&&&&&&

As I trudge back to the student room it's like my body knows I've made it through the last requirement for today, and I can feel the wave of exhaustion swelling up to overtake me. When I walk in the room I see a sparkling gift bag on my shelf... I'm excited, then a voice in my head says it can't be for me, maybe someone ran out of room on their shelf, but I pull the bag down and I see, there on the top, a note for me from you all. With hearts drawn in ink and words written in love, as I read your support the tears well and my heart buoys. I have the best friends. She did, too. Oh how I wish she could have believed in how many more wonderful moments there were to come, that she could have felt in her soul the truth that we are never, ever walking through our hardest days alone.

&&&&&&&&&&

You seem so excited as you talk about your new dance class and the start to your cross country career. I love seeing your eyes light up as you grow in confidence in your abilities. You tell the funniest stories about your teachers and classmates and I again admire your story-telling skills. I wish I saw you more often during this stage of your life while you are quickly becoming an adolescent. Every time I see you you're taller and more mature and I know that these stages take forever when you're in them but go by in a blink of an eye for the rest of us. Your texts make me smile and I'm so thankful to see you doing so well.

&&&&&&&&&&

As we crunch through the leaves reining in the dogs with each passing squirrel, I can't help but picture our future, Taylor-Swift-style imagining the minute details of our happily ever after. We've talked about the dogs we might adopt someday, the home we might have someday, the life we might create someday. It's hard to believe it's only been months since I started calling you mine because it feels like we have fallen into love so naturally and effortlessly. But it does take effort, building this partnership with you, and every day we choose each other and it's everything I've ever wanted. You make me dinner and I pack your lunch and together we navigate the insanity of our schedules like it's easier than it is, because everything is easier when we do it together. 

Here and There

It's hard to believe how quickly two years of my life have flown by, and harder still to believe all the life that's happened in them. In a few shorts days I'll be packing everything I own into a truck and moving (back) to Pennsylvania, to State College. Thankfully, due to some inspirational Pinterest posts, my helpful roommate Ashley, and a more well-developed ability to let go of stuff, everything I own is about 6 bags of trash and 6 bags of donations less than it was just a few weeks ago!

Leaving NOVA will be bittersweet, because so much life has happened here. Most of all I'll miss seeing my roomie Ashley all the time, and the friends I've made from work and bible study.
It was here that I worked my first grown-up, full-time job, which taught me more about managing both spreadsheets and people, both of which I enjoyed more than I had anticipated (though the people were much more fun than the data, as expected!). It was here that I got the call about Maggie's death, and here that I've processed the immediate and very worst of my grief over missing her. (Though I miss her still, and always will.) While living here I volunteered with a humane society for the first time and loved it. It was while living here that I tried online dating, fell in love, and then we together ended that relationship. It was here that I decided to get my first tattoo-- a simple design that represents my forever love for my family-- that thankfully turned out exactly as I had hoped. Here I observed, up close and personal, what it's like to be in a clinical psychology PhD program. Here I researched graduate programs and decided against clinical psych and for school psych, wrote my application materials, and prepared for interviews. It was here that I got the emails about my acceptance to Penn State! Here I helped, from a distance, to plan and prepare for some of my dearest friends' weddings. Here I bonded more deeply with Katie during several sister weekends, packed with quality time over Netflix and cupcakes and snuggles. Here I questioned, explored, and clung to my belief in a loving God. It was while living here that I learned more about renter's insurance, auto insurance, finding new doctors, roasting vegetables, and all those adult life things. Within my last few months of living here, I took a chance and answered a message from a kind, clever, handsome redhead, who I'm so thrilled to be moving towards later this week. :D

There is so much I'm looking forward to in State College: getting to know my new roommates (and their cute cat!), bonding with my cohort, starting my program, becoming reacquainted with my favorite college town, and being geographically closer to everyone in my immediate family and my boyfriend (lucky, right?!). :) Arguably the most important life lesson I've learned during my time here is that I am surrounded by an overwhelmingly faithful, caring, generous, global "community" of people. I know that no matter what the next chapter of my life entails, no matter what difficult and wonderful things will happen there, I will not ever face any of it alone.

Shoutouts to: my friends here for the cards, presents, and epic farewell parties!, and the awesome folks planning to help me move all my belongings this weekend! Happy Valley, I'm coming back! :)

Thoughts on International Women's Day 2017

Today I pause to consider the women who have gone before me to pave the way for me to be able to achieve my goals. If it were not for women and men of incredible strength and perseverance, I would not have been able to attend college, to work in the field of psychological research, to soon train and study towards a graduate degree, etc. I am pursuing a career in which I will make scientific discoveries as well as educate, train, and empower children, their families, their teachers, and their communities. It is my intention to continue to gain the knowledge and skills to make a lasting, positive impact for the lives of the people I interact with both personally and professionally. I am grateful for the women who have gone before me to create precedents for female engagement in my field and others related to it.

I also pause to reflect on the blessing of my wonderful parents, who every day provide an example of a loving partnership within marriage between two equally compassionate and strong individuals. To have been raised and be continually supported by a mother who is both nurturing and assertive, who is an essential presence in her children's lives and in the work force, who is passionately well-read and educated, who is a comfort to me in hard times and a catalyst for my success in all parts of life, and more, as well as a father who is both courageous and sensitive, who actively prioritizes time with family over time at work, who has used his position of authority to advocate for patient access to care, who expresses affection consistently and frequently, and more, is a privilege for which I am so grateful.

When I think about the character of God, I find it inspiring that both man and woman were, together and collectively, deemed a more full human representation of deity. The Bible is filled with stories of women and men radically defying their culturally prescribed gendered roles in order to together better advance the gospel and share the news of God's love. We are at our most successful, most loving, most godlike when we intentionally and actively consider one another as equal partners in the human experience.

Moments with You

//Here you'll find a new creative exercise for me, an attempt to put into words some snapshots of moments with important people in my life. Each "you" will not be named, though some may be easier to identify than others. This may be the first of more like this, I really enjoyed putting these memories into words.//

__________________________________________

I look over at you as we drive with the windows down, the wind blowing through my hair and a smile playing on your lips. You reach over with your right hand and place it gently on my knee and I grin at you and you grin back. We are loving this unseasonably warm weather and I'm purposefully picking songs from my phone with that "chill vibe" that you like. I'm also purposefully choosing ones about love and happiness. You ask me if we should turn right or left, and I say you should pick, I really don't care, because we have nowhere we need to be today, and my isn't that a glorious thing. I focus only on the music, the sunshine, the wind, my hand on top of your hand, your smile matching my smile. 

&&&&&&

You smell like hard-won self-care. The scent of your aromatherapy lotion grounds me as the three of us lay here together, reeling, trying to breathe and make sense of it all. You hold us both close as we mostly cry, talking here and there when we can. Eventually you get up, we move on to the rest of the daunting day ahead of us. Months later I track down the lotion you were wearing and I buy some for myself. It makes me think of you, which brings me comfort.

&&&&&

As we sit down at the picnic table, you start unpacking the lunches that you made for us. You're such a planner, and generous and thoughtful, too. You dole out the sandwiches and snacks you packed and the four of us settle into a pattern of light chatter between bites. I still can't believe we've convinced the littler ones to come along, but somehow your enthusiasm must have spilled over into them because everyone seems to be in a good mood. We take our time eating, then pack up and set off for the hike. Just before we reach the clearing with the tower we encounter tons of butterflies, or maybe they're moths, it's hard to tell but it doesn't really matter because the visual effect is the same- it's beautiful. 

&&&&&&

The airport noises dim as I turn around to see you, unexpectedly, here in my dream. You've been missing from them lately, or when you do appear you're fleeting, something is always off. But not this time, this time you seem as real as ever. You ask me if I have any questions, and I can sense the urgency of the moment, like in a second you'll be gone again, and so I say no, maybe later, maybe next time. For now I just want to tell you that I love you. And you tell me you love me too. When I turn to the others, maybe to alert them that you're here, you disappear again. But you felt so real, I think the moment was real. 

&&&&&&

Your text response makes me smile- something so simple yet so thoughtful, conveying that you listen when I speak and you care about what I say. I've volunteered to bring home some cheese for us, to pair with the wine and crackers you already have. I've asked which kind of cheese you'd like, and you say I should get whichever kind doesn't make me sick, because you know that for some reason my digestive system plays nicer with certain types of cheese than others. You know this because we talk about pretty much everything, mundane and important alike, and you have a knack for knowing when something is important and you tune in and make a mental note, and you remember.

&&&&&&

The weather is just starting to turn chilly, still in between winter and full-on spring, and we're both wearing sweaters but no coats. You hold my hand as we talk here on this bench we happened upon down the trail in the woods and you sense that what I'm saying will be hard to hear. At least, it seems you do, because from the pained expression on your face you are recognizing the place of pain I'm speaking from. The tears come on a bit unexpectedly, and soon I am crying more than you've seen yet and more than I would like, this being a date and all. But you wrap both arms around me and you start to tear up, too. We sit like this, not saying much, as I catch my breath. You wait for me, you don't hurry the moment. You're okay to sit with me in this not-okay state. And a few minutes later, when I'm ready, I bring up a new topic and you gracefully move right along with me. As we walk back to the car, I think we decide to go bowling. You crack a joke, I laugh, I check my make-up in the passenger side mirror and I realize that I'm falling in love with you. 

 

1 year too long

How do you love someone after they've left you? How do you remember someone who has done both wonderful and terrible things to your heart? How do you ask the same God for comfort who allowed the pain? 

I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. And yet, I'm doing it, I'm doing all of it. And I'm not alone.

I remember what it felt like to hold her hand, her short fingers smushed between my long ones. I remember the sound of her voice calling me "sistah." I remember moments of calm and joy and moments of panic and hopelessness. And I don't want to forget. 

Mag, it's been 1 year too long without you here. You should be here. And I love you still. 

Come, Jesus, come. 

"this happened for a reason," and other well-intended things not to say

I've been meaning to write a post like this for some time. Not because I want to shame people who have made insensitive comments to me in the last 10.5 months or so, but because of all that I've been learning in these months, and in fact, because I want to thank people who have made comforting comments to me in this time. Today, as I sit here eating a fudgsicle and rock out to a song by Alessia Cara that I think Mag would like (Scars To Your Beautiful, if you're wondering), seems as good a time as any to try to type out some of my thoughts.

[I know that most of my blog posts recently have been about grief, so if that's not what you want to read about, and you're my friend or my family member and you feel like you're supposed to read my posts, it's totally fine. I'm not going to be offended if you admit you've never read any of these, promise. ;) I am blessed to be surrounded by so many wonderful people that if this topic makes you uncomfortable, you don't need to enter into it with me. I have people who will and who do. And there are times when I don't need to talk about it, and in those times I will be happy to discuss practically anything else with you :) My purpose in writing posts like these isn't to ask for help- I am gratefully so well supported already. My purpose is to contribute to the online body of personal writing that talks about grief, that I have been so thankful to stumble across these past months. I've found great comfort and wisdom in the words of others writing about their losses, their journeys with missing loved ones, and I hope my words can do the same for someone else. I digress!]

Grief isn't my whole life, but it has become an important part of it. I am learning how to embrace life that is happening now while still missing Maggie, how to hold the terrible and the beautiful in both hands and let them coexist. I think it's important that I clarify that I will never stop missing her, I will never stop noticing her absence, and I will never be okay with the way that she died. This doesn't mean that I am always sad, it just means that I am allowing myself the freedom to feel what I believe it is right for me to feel.
I've been wrestling through what it looks like to respond to this loss in light of my faith- a faith that was shaken when I lost Mag. In truth, it was shaken before she died, as I watched her struggle and I watched God seemingly ignore the heartfelt pleas for healing prayed by herself and a multitude of people I would consider as close to righteous as humans can get. Ironically enough, the very event-her death by suicide- that caused me to most question God's goodness/character, is the one that most compels me to believe Him. How could He allow this? How could He not intervene? And yet, my one hope of reunion with her, my one hope for her being at peace in a redeemed body and mind even as I write this, is that God is love and that she is now in Heaven with Him. Oh, the tension. 

When Jesus lost a close friend, His response- despite knowing that He was about to literally resurrect said friend- was to weep. If my God's reaction is to weep in the face of loss, even with His full knowledge of the "big picture" and even with both the power and intention to bring His friend back to life, then surely it must be okay for me to weep too, in my human state here without that omniscience and without that power over death. If loss breaks His heart, it is right for it to break my heart too, it seems. (Forgive me if I am repeating this from a former post, it's been a profound thought for me.)
I'm less angry at God now than I was a few months ago, so you might see or hear me talk about my faith a bit more, or at least with less bitterness in my voice. This doesn't mean that I've found peace about losing Maggie or that I see a reason why God allowed it. In fact, I venture a guess that I won't ever get to know that reason, if one exists, this side of Heaven. Which brings me to the point I meant to write about to begin with...

I am the type of person who always wants to say the right thing to the hurting person. And goodness has losing Maggie taught me how HARD that can be. Phrases like "everything happens for a reason" are phrases I once used to enjoy. I probably even said that phrase in the past to someone who was hurting and patted myself on the back for offering up such a helpful, hopeful platitude. Now I grimace at my former self. But I meant well. And so do the people who repeat my mistakes. It's important that I note here that, based on my own experience, it is better to say something, anything, even the wrong thing, than to say nothing at all. That simple truth will underlie everything I am about to write. Having said that, there are things you can say that are helpful and things that are not-so-helpful. Maybe it's comforting for you to hear that your loss happened for a reason. For me, it isn't. Because I don't know the reason why, and I might never in my lifetime. And even if I did know the reason, would that really make it hurt less? I don't think so. What qualifies as helpful vs. not helpful will differ from person to person, so these examples I'll list will only be for me and my experience.

Not-so-helpful:
1. God is in control.
2. This happened/everything happens for a reason.
3. God must have needed him/her more than we did.
4. Time heals all wounds.
5. I know exactly what you're going through.

^I should note that some things can be true without being helpful. Certain words can be helpful for some, in certain circumstances, and not helpful for those same people in different circumstances, can be not helpful for different people in those same circumstances. We will misspeak, we will say things we shouldn't and we will not say things that we should. Love covers over a multitude of sins. And actions really do speak louder than words. And being present is more important than saying the right thing. And yet it is still worthwhile to endeavor to say something that may truly be a comfort, and not pour salt in fresh wounds. (Please see the excellent song "Not Right Now" by Jason Gray).

Helpful: 
1. (This is so sad, and) I don't know what to say.
2. I'm really sorry this is happening/happened to you.
3. He/she (who you lost) touched my life in a significant way.
4. I would like to bring you food, who should I talk to about this?
(Bonus points if through asking around you've already coordinated with others to find out what is needed, to not repeat a dish, to find a convenient time to drop it off, and to make something that can stay frozen for a while)
5. I went through something similar, and while I don't know exactly what you're going through, I know it must suck.
6. If you want company, I am happy to come and just sit/walk/be with you. Call me any time.
(Bonus points if you make it clear there's no pressure to call)

^It's also super helpful to follow up any of these phrases by letting the grieving person know that you don't expect them to reply any time soon. That you understand they must be overwhelmed, that you want them to do whatever they need to do to cope, that you're there if they want you to be and not if they don't. This communicates that you are recognizing their time of crisis and placing their need to cope over your need to feel like a good friend/family member/what-have-you. Everyone processes grief in unique ways, and often in different ways throughout the hours, weeks, days, months, and years after the loss.

Speaking on my own experience... When I got the news that Maggie died, I cried alone in my room for a short time before knocking on my roommate's door and waking her up. She gave me a really big hug and said she was so sorry and didn't ask me any questions at all, which was what I needed at that time. She is a blessing. At a certain point, I did want to discuss details about that terrible night, but when it felt like I was swirling into a dark hole was not that time. She is one of the friends who has listened to me many times since then, and she's also helped in really tangible ways like bringing me pants which I forgot to pack in my daze of shock.
In the days that followed, despite the fact that I am usually quite extroverted, I found it really difficult to be around more than a few people at a time. I was so exhausted trying to manage my own emotions, that I felt it nearly impossible to try to help others manage their emotions as well. Even though I didn't need to manage their emotions- many didn't need or want me to- unfortunately it's a part of my personality that was difficult to get past at the time, and so I didn't accept many offers for company. I ignored texts and calls from people who I love who love me. It was just too much. I asked a best friend to be there with me nearly constantly for the week between Mag's death and the memorial service. She's definitely awesome, and she's experienced the loss of a close family member as well, but it wasn't that she had some magic words that others didn't have, and it wasn't because I loved her better than my other friends. It was simply reactionary, it was what made sense to me at the time, it was what felt tolerable, what felt helpful. She put food on my plate that she knew I would like, and threw it away for me when I couldn't eat it. She proofread the words I wrote to be read at the service. She handed me tissues, she sat in silence, she cried with me, she watched episodes of HGTV on Netflix with me. She talked to our other friends for me and updated them, and she stacked cards for me to read when I was ready. She is a blessing. And so are the many who reached out that I was not able to connect with at that time. It was incredibly humbling to, in the midst of the hardest part of my life thus far, be contacted by literally hundreds of people who wanted to express their condolences, offer their help, let me know they were praying and thinking and caring for me. In the months since then I hope I've been able to thank everyone personally who reached out (if I missed you, please know I do appreciate your care!).

A couple of my friends have joked with me that I should write a book about all of this. And maybe someday I will. I've read some good blogs and books, but I've stumbled across little that deals specifically with losing someone to suicide, very little that deals with losing a sibling to suicide (usually focused on losing a child to suicide), and almost nothing on losing a younger sibling to suicide (a few I've found were younger sibs grieving a lost older sib). It is true that loss is loss- while each is unique, there are some deep similarities in the human experience with grief that transcend the specifics. Maybe someday I'll use pieces of these blog posts to form a larger piece. I've also been collecting brilliant quotes and lyrics from others that bring me comfort, and maybe sometime I'll compile those into a post too.
For now, I just wanted to get these thoughts and lessons written down, and say that I SO appreciate the folks in my life who are muddling through all of this with me. Seriously appreciate. I cannot express in words how valuable it is to have people in my life who are totally comfortable laughing and crying with me, even in the span of just a few minutes.
I am so blessed. Thank you to everyone who is learning, with me, to enter into the pain and the joy of our own lives and the lives of people we love, and to do it with as much grace as humanly possible.

~~~~

"I did not go through pain and come out on the other side; instead, I lived in it and found within that pain the grace to survive and eventually grow. I did not get over the loss of my loved ones; rather, I absorbed the loss into my life, like soil receives decaying matter, until it became a part of who I am. Sorrow took up permanent residence in my soul and enlarged it."
-from "A Grace Disguised" by Jerry Sittser

Memories of Maggie

On February 24th, 2002, my life was changed forever when my little sister Maggie came into the world. She was born with a full head of dark, bushy hair, and an adorable little nose, and quite the set of lungs. I loved her before she was even born, and I love her still. She brought so much joy and meaning into my life, and I am proud to be her sister. And I can't explain how much it hurts to not be able to give her a birthday hug for the first time in 14 years.

Tonight I started writing her a letter, to try to somehow deal with her absence this week, as I should be writing in a card for her to hang up on her wall the way she always did to copy me. But that letter is a little too full of bitterness and anger and heartbreak to share with the world. Mixed in with all of the darkness of grief is also a deep sense of gratitude that I ever got to have her at all. So here I want to share some of my last memories with her to celebrate the love she brought into my life and the place in my heart that will always belong to her.

The last time I got to spend with Mag in person was on a weekend away about a month before she died. I met up with Mom, Dad, Maggie and Katie, as well as Grandma and Papaw, and Uncle Dave, Aunt Sue, Alex and Alex's friend Jack for a long weekend in Ohiopyle, PA over Labor Day 2015. Ben wasn't able to join us due to obligations at college, but we all thought of him often. Maggie's attendance for the weekend had been looking iffy because she hadn't been doing well in her then current inpatient stay, one in a string of several. She had really wanted to come and everyone felt it would be good for her, so in the end Mom and Dad were able to pick her up on their way to the house where we all stayed for the weekend.
We all had so much fun together- swimming in the river, getting our rafting tube stuck a thousand times on rocks, relaxing in the hot tub, roasting marshmallows, and cracking each other up.
Maggie and I shared a bed and it was so nice to wake up in the mornings to see her sleeping peacefully next to me (even if she did kick and snore in her sleep, haha!). That weekend we got to catch up more than we'd been able to do over the brief phone conversations we had while she had been inpatient that time. I told her about Justin Bieber's new song- "what do you mean he's cool now?" she asked, followed by, "I feel like I've been living under a rock without social media." She had moments when she withdrew from us, but it was never too long before she would get pulled back in by the contagious laughter, or the offer for a back massage, or the invitation to a new activity or conversation.
At the end of the weekend Mom, Dad, Maggie and Katie chose a lunch stop that was partway on their way and also my way home (they were headed back to PA and I was headed back to VA). We stopped off in some little town in Maryland and ate McDonald's in the grass outside the restaurant. It was a really sunny day out so we walked around the town and found an ice cream shop. Eventually we all needed to get back on the road and I hugged everyone goodbye. I had no idea that would be the last time I would hug Mag, and I can't even remember if I said "I love you" to her or to anyone else as we got back into our separate cars. I probably did but I wish I could remember for sure. For some reason I can recall her Jaws t-shirt and her long lanky legs and her messy bun and her tired smile, but not the words we said. I know for sure that I told her I loved her at some point throughout the weekend, in between other hugs and kisses and laughs.

The last time I texted back and forth with her was on September 9th, a few days after the Labor Day weekend trip. She was getting ready to watch the newest episode of a show we used to watch together called "Switched at Birth." It's an ABC Family drama, aptly categorized as such for the crazy amount of drama written into each short episode. She texted me a picture with a quote from the upcoming episode saying "oh no this looks intense" with a crying face emoji. I texted back saying that it was intense, and the last text I sent said "Don't worry it's happy at the end though!" She didn't respond after that because it was getting late at night.

The next month of her life was spent in and out of inpatient centers with not much more than a week in between stays, from what I can remember. Sometimes she was allowed to get phone calls and letters, and whenever possible I tried to connect with her that way. She often wasn't very talkative over the phone, but when I would ask her if she was done talking with me or if she wanted me to hang up, she would tell me to just keep talking about myself and stay on the line, because she wanted to keep "visiting" but didn't have anything else to say. The last time she was inpatient she wasn't able to receive phone calls. I'm not sure when the last time I talked with her on the phone was, but it was likely sometime in mid-September. One thing I regret is not calling her after her last discharge. The night my parents brought her home again I texted Dad to see how things were going, and I got updates throughout the weekend of the fun things they were doing to celebrate her homecoming. I had made plans to have a "sister night" with Maggie and Katie on October 10th, and figured that since I would be seeing the girls in only about a week I would have a better chance to catch up with them both in person. Of course at the time I had no idea that I wouldn't get the chance to ever talk to Mag again; I still wish I had called.

Something that's always bothered me as long as I can remember is when people leave without saying goodbye. I used to make my friends turn around on their way out of youth group to come back and give me a hug and a proper farewell, despite knowing I would see some of them the very next morning in school. It will always bother me that I didn't get a goodbye from Maggie. I would of course rather there have been no need for a goodbye, but the fact that she didn't leave any personal message to me hurts. There were a thousand times that she was so thoughtful towards me; I have piles of cards and notes and coloring pages that she gave me over the years. Based on the rest of her life I can only assume that she was so far out of her right mind that she wasn't able to consider how her death would affect me, would affect all of us. I think if she'd been able to think clearly enough to leave a proper goodbye, then maybe she wouldn't have left at all. Lacking a real goodbye, I'm so thankful that the last time I got to physically spend with her is full of positive memories, and for the ability to relive years worth of memories in pictures and reread all the sweet messages she wrote to me on paper.

It's hard to feel much like celebrating her birthday this year, but I do want to remember her. These last almost five months have been the hardest of my life. As I continue to learn how to live with grief, there have been new joys, new memories, new friends, and new hope brought into my life. I am trying my best to allow myself to experience all parts of this life, and through it all to remember her. I hope that she is able to see both my tears and my smiles, and I hope that she is able to feel my forever love for her. Happy 14th Maggie, we all miss you so much. <3

I found this picture today as I was looking through old Facebook photo albums. She wrote in chalk "I love Cory." This is from March 2011 :)

A collage of some of my favorite camera-captured moments with Maggie over the years.

Seven Weeks

Disclaimer: this is a bit raw, more than a bit sad, and a lot emotional. It's about my feelings, which these days are mostly sad, with a bit of hope mixed in.

Tonight marks seven weeks since I lost my little sister Maggie to suicide. It stings to type that, to think that. It's a harsh new reality for me that still steals my breath in the worst way and at the most random times.

Today at work things were busy but I got a lot done and things went smoothly for the most part. I chatted with coworkers, checked things off my to-do list, even tidied my desk before I left for the night. I met up with a coworker for dinner after work and we enjoyed really great conversation, we laughed and I gave her a hug when we left. I texted my parents, sharing how happy I was to be making friends here in my new home after a few months of living here.
As I was driving home a song came on my playlist that I've listened to probably a hundred times in the last seven weeks but for some unknown reason this time it made me think about missing Maggie more than it ever did before, and as I pulled my car into a parking spot at my apartment I began to fall apart. And so I sat in my car and cried for about fifteen minutes before I decided to go into my apartment, where my roommate greeted me with a hug and a large amount of understanding. I am so thankful for her.

This week is Thanksgiving. And I don't want to do this week. I don't want to face my first holiday without one of my most favorite people in the whole world. I don't want the head count to be five instead of six. I've never spent a major holiday apart from anyone in my immediate family; we've just always been close and always prioritized family time and always been fortunate to be together.

In the past I've been like a little kid in my levels of excitement for holidays. I love all the cheesy holiday-specific products that I know are mostly designed so companies make more money but they feel like extra little celebrations to me and so I buy some of them anyways (the Halloween cookie cut-outs, for example, with pumpkin stamps on them!)

And so this year, this week, I'm feeling like I am caught in a terrible, beautiful, overwhelming stormy sea of emotions. I like holidays, I love family time. And yet I can't help but feel the ache of loss to a deeper degree as I face this first holiday without Mag. And I know it's not truly without her, because she'll be in our thoughts and our hearts and our conversation and I hope and pray we will even feel her presence. But it'll be without her tangible company, and that thought is enough to break me down in the middle of a drive home from work, in the middle of typing this blog post. How do I live my life, really live it, while allowing myself to experience this grief? How do I seize each moment with my loved ones who are still physically here with me, make new memories, and yet feel the emptiness in my heart that will always be Maggie's place? I don't know. So far, I'm taking it moment by moment. Let myself be happy for the lovely dinner conversation. Let myself break down by the reminder of the loss. Let myself be comforted by the hug from my roommate. Let myself laugh at the funny internet video. Let myself cry again as I write about my life.

Feeling lots of feelings isn't something new for me. I've long been "in touch" with my emotions, long been someone who feels things deeply, and wants to. But experiencing this level of negative emotions is certainly a new frontier for me, grief is new, and loss is largely new to me. And I recognize how blessed a life I have lived to be able to say that this is new, however terrible it is.

So even though a big part of me really doesn't want to do this week, I know that this week is going to happen with or without my permission. And there are good moments to be felt in this week, I know that too. There are memories to be made with family and friends. There will be sadness, and there will be happy times too, because I will be with people I care about who care about me. Ben will make me smile and Katie will make me laugh and Mom and Dad will make me feel loved, and time with my friends will make it easier to breathe in the moments we are talking about their lives, their challenges, their joys. And so my game plan for this week, and for life in general right now, is to try to embrace as much of it as possible. Remembering Maggie hurts, and feeling her absence is the worst feeling I've ever felt. But I don't want to forget her, and even the memories that cut through me like a knife also make me smile. It feels right to remember her, to keep her spirit close to mine, to think about her and to talk about her. (And sometimes to talk to her, thanks for passing along those messages, Jesus.)

A couple of months ago I started this "dare" from a book I was reading that challenged me to list 1,000 gifts from God. The author explains that for her, discovering more joy in life came from discovering more about God's goodness, which came from purposefully noting God's many gifts to her in her every day life. There's a lot more to it, but that's the basic idea, and I loved it. I started listing and the more I looked the more I saw, and it was fun. Since losing Maggie, I've been taking a break from my list. I've been thankful for many things in the past seven weeks, and I've thanked those around me and even God for some of those things. But I couldn't bring myself to start my list back up again because it felt insincere, no matter how thankful I do feel, to pursue joy when I am feeling so much sorrow. To thank God when I am still confused and angry at Him for letting Maggie leave, for not answering "yes" to my desperate prayers that night for her to be found safe, and if not safe, at the very least alive. But I've recently remembered that my God can handle it if I am simultaneously confused and angry and sad and also thankful. I can be sad and happy and everything in between, and I can be it all in this moment, and the next, and this week. It's exhausting, and there will be moments when I can't handle feeling it all, and I'll just block it out. And that will be okay, too.

And so in the spirit of embracing this messy life, here is a short sample of things I'm thankful for from the past seven weeks:
1) Cheryl driving 5 hours in the middle of the night so that I could be with my family as soon as possible after hearing the worst news
2) My parents, and my whole family, being surrounded by loving close friends in our darkest hours, days, and weeks
3) Friends from different chapters of my life, different states and different countries reaching out to let me know that I have been in their thoughts and prayers
4) A boss who not only let me take a week off with no notice and insisted I not make up the hours, but also told me to choose when I came back to work, baked me homemade bread, wrote me a handwritten card, and still asks each week how I'm doing
5) Coworkers who bought me flowers and cried when they first talked to me about Maggie
6) Getting to go home for Halloween and help Katie do her makeup and walk around to the first half of the houses with her
7) Having a dream in which Maggie hugged me and told me she loved me
8) Wearing Maggie's shoes and feeling a little bit closer to her
9) Planning hang outs with friends
10) Remembering the last time I saw Maggie, the weekend we shared a bed and I hugged her and snuggled with her and laughed with her and even counted gifts with her and read her part of my list, highlighting ones that included her
11) Warm blankets as the weather gets cold
12) Pictures capturing hundreds of moments of Maggie and I together over the years
13) Being able to text Ben and Katie and Mom and Dad and hear from them every week
14) Coming home from work each day to a roommate who is also one of my best friends
And much more.

I know this post was a lot to share with the world wide web. Lately I've been reading blog posts from others who have lost loved ones, and their vulnerability and heart-wrenching honest words filled with hope mixed with sorrow have been a comfort to me. My hope is that in sharing this openly that someone else may feel less alone as they travel their own unique journey with grief. There are many characteristics of Maggie that I hope to make more a part of who I am going forward- one of them being her willingness to share her struggles whenever she felt it might help someone else to feel less alone in their pain. <3

"I Want Crazy"

The song "I Want Crazy" by Hunter Hayes came on my favorite local country radio station (98.7) on my drive home from work last night. It's a really fun song, and even though in my last dating relationship it used to be one of "our" songs, I found myself happily singing along to every word. I love the lyrics...it talks about not wanting a love that is mediocre, but one that drives you crazy in the best way, passionate love. Obviously in any relationship, especially romantic ones, there are going to be tough times when commitment to one another, not feelings for one another, is the glue that holds the two people together. This song's declaration of that crazy, passionate kind of love reminds me of a quote I've seen on Pinterest: "Unless it's mad, passionate, or extraordinary love, it's a waste of your time. There are too many mediocre things in life; love shouldn't be one of them." While I don't agree that any love could be a waste of time, the second sentence really does resonate with me. Why bother loving if it isn't deeply, intentionally, passionately? Before my last dating relationship there was a period of time when I said that I was not going to date/become romantically involved/whatever you want to call it, unless it seemed crazy not to. This was, of course, inspired by another great song about love... Danny Gokey (who I've met, fun fact!) has a song called "Crazy Not To" that he reportedly wrote about falling in love with his wife. He sings about how he's only willing to give up the safety net of not being in love because this woman makes him feel like he would be crazy not to pursue the relationship (worded in more fun ways of course, because it's a song!). I really did stick to that particular idea, and only started dating after several months of thinking it over, when it seemed to reach a point where I would have been crazy not to go for it. And even though it ended, I do still think it was "meant to be" for the time that it was. A weird thought, maybe, but it makes sense to me. I learned so much, grew so much, etc through that relationship. There were of course ups and downs, and maybe it should have ended sooner than it did. But for the vast majority of the course of the relationship, for me it really was that crazy, passionate love. I was so in love- lose sleep to stay up late texting when he's upset, drive through a blizzard just to see him one more time before a long period of time apart, list 52 reasons I love him for a Valentine's Day present, think about him all the time- that kind of love. And I smile looking back on it, and I smile when I see other people in my life who are so obviously and wonderfully experiencing crazy love, and I think to myself "I know how they are feeling" and I'm happy. I'm happy to know what it feels like to have been crazy in love.

Everyone who knows me well at all knows that I'm a hopeless romantic and proud of it. It has been a dream/life goal of mine as long as I can remember to one day fall irretrievably in love, marry, and raise children. Although my career ambitions are also very important to me, if I had to choose between being a successful psychologist and having a family (a choice I will endeavor to never have to make), I would choose the family with no deliberation and no regrets. Of course, it's my aim to have both. ;) While these are my dreams/goals, I must say that I am thankful to have been/to be single in this current "season" of my life. To have navigated my senior year of college and the academic and personal stress involved there, the job hunt and subsequent relocation, and to navigate my current busy and somewhat unpredictable work schedule, all without affecting a significant other has been an unexpected blessing. I am an extrovert in terms of how I feel energized, which is nearly always through interpersonal interaction. I have really come to enjoy time alone, but after a few days it becomes stifling rather than restful for me. I'm not sure if this is best or not, but the most core ways that I define myself are generally in relation to others; the most important roles that I see for myself in life are those that relate to the people closest to me- daughter, sister, friend, etc. So relationships are important to me. But I recognize that right now in my life it's not only convenient to be single, but it's also a blessing. There are things I can only enjoy right now because I don't have the role of girlfriend or wife. Aside from the things I already listed, other benefits include: more time to invest in other relationships in my life like family and friends, no feeling torn when I have time off- being able to prioritize my family with no need to factor in time for a guy/in-laws, being able to pick up last minute appointments or change my hours last minute at work because the only person directly affected by my schedule most days is me, not needing to feel the financial strain of preparing for my own wedding as I start my first job but instead being able to budget for the weddings of my friends that I'll attend in the near future, being able to make travel plans last minute, going to sleep pretty much whenever I want each night with no demands on my time from a boyfriend/husband/children, no one depending on me to feed them except myself, and the list goes on. Someday, when I fall in love and a man falls in love with me and it seems crazy not to, I will happily relinquish all of these benefits and put in the work to enjoy the relationship that comes with crazy love. That's what I'm waiting for. :)

Most people in my life who are close enough to me to feel okay asking about my "relationship status" already know it, or are interested because they personally care about my happiness and know my hopes for a family someday. There are of course those few people who make the jokes or slightly insensitive comments like "so no Mrs. degree with your graduation from college?" To those people, which thankfully are very few in my life!, this blog post is all that I wish I could say in those passing moments of social interactions. Yes, I want crazy love. I want it to naturally develop out of a real friendship connection, which isn't something I can go find or manufacture or control. So I just wait, until it is God's timing to give me that gift, or maybe some other gifts instead that will be even better than what I think that I want. :) In the meantime though, I am not pining away for love lost or love not yet found. No, as I wait, I am happy (okay, giddy even) to enjoy the stories of crazy love being told all around me, whether that be in book or film, or better yet the lives of the people I care about. So here's to you, reader- I hope that you, also, experience love that is passionate, deep, and crazy in the best way. :)

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Link for Hunter Hayes "I Want Crazy" with lyrics: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-WOODJ7lYi0

Link for Danny Gokey's "Crazy Not To" with lyrics in the description below: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2BW-1KWnr6Q

Nueva a NOVA

I'm not sure if I can use that Spanish word for "new" in that context or not, but it seemed fitting to use Spanish for the title of this post because in my new locale (NOVA= Northern Virginia) there are a lot of Spanish speakers! Which is exciting, because that also means cool ingredients in the grocery store and lots of Mexican restaurants (Mexican food is my favorite).

Despite adjusting to driving in significantly more traffic than I've ever driven in before, I am really liking my new hometown. Centreville, where I live, is much quieter than Fairfax, where I work, and yet still not too far a distance from my frequent haunts (read: Giant, Walmart, Chipotle). Actually, there's a Chipotle-one of my most favorite restaurants-literally around the corner from my apartment complex. I may or may not have been there an embarrassing number of times already... No regrets. Conveniently, there is also a Dollar Store and a US post office in that same plaza, along with a gas station, a Subway, and a few other stores. The way I described it to my parents when they came to help me move in was "there are so many places to spend money around here!"

Speaking of my parents, they're the best. They helped me move almost everything I own into a second floor apartment in a building with no elevators. They paid for the Uhaul, which Dad drove from PA, and even spent the rest of the move-in day with me at the apartment pool and a nearby mall (only like 20 mins away and bigger than most from home). My nuclear and extended family have been super supportive of me moving into this next phase of life, not that I expected anything different. :) I'm super grateful for technology that allows me to stay in touch with them, as well as friends who are across the country and abroad, and of course to all of them for taking the time to keep in touch with me despite their own stress and busy lives. Shoutout to iMessage and Facebook, shoutout to wonderful friends and family!

But back to NOVA. There are stores and malls and restaurants everywhere, which is fun (even when you're just starting a job and don't have much money yet and mostly have to window shop). I've only been into DC once so far, but it's about an hour away via a short drive to the metro station and then about a 45ish minute metro ride, so I'm planning to visit again soon. There are all kinds of new sights, including a national park which I visited last weekend with my roomie, Ashley, and we loved.

Let me just say what everyone knows already: I'm so glad Ashley's here now! I need my alone time as much as the next guy (actually, probably less than the typical human being), but I don't like living alone. I knew when I planned to move here that I would have about four weeks of living by myself before Ashley's job in State College ended and she would move in with me. I also knew that month might be a struggle for my extrovert-leaning self. Without many friends in the area, I knew I could count on a lot of alone time, something that I don't really like. I did have a lot of alone time, and I made the best of it. I got caught up on some movies I wanted to watch (via Redbox), but because I didn't have internet at my apartment (I chose not to pay for it until Ashley got here so as to save some money) I ended up doing a lot of old school activities- reading books, journaling, swimming in the pool, taking baths, and good old fashioned thinking. I'm very introspective, and while my middle school and even high school self got stuck ruminating on all my faults and mistakes with any large amounts of introspection, my 22 year old self kind of enjoys it. Thankfully, my self image has really settled out into a pretty positive one, which I could attribute probably half as much to my hormones calming down as I could to the influences of faith, family, friends, thought, life experience, etc. So my large amounts of introspection during my month-long roomie-less living weren't quite so melancholy as they might have been in my younger years, but instead a good time to evaluate and reflect, make goals, and above all, be thankful.

I am endeavoring to practice gratitude right now more than ever. It's mostly due to that devotional/book I'm still reading "One Thousand Gifts," which is still challenging and encouraging me more than I even hoped that it would. I'm learning experientially that what makes the greatest days is a grateful heart, and to be living life to the fullest and to love gracefully and to worship God genuinely, it all requires recognizing the countless evidences of God's love for and grace towards me. So of course the best way to let it sink in that these evidences are countless is to count them. I'm at 138, and admittedly, I don't write every day and I'm certain that I've missed some as they've gone by. The truth is, like a pastor said this past Sunday morning at Grace Covenant Church here in Chantilly, that if God never does anything for me in my whole lifetime except to save me, then He has already done enough to be forever worthy of my worship, already done more than I ever could have asked Him to do for me. I don't live my life with that kind of thankful attitude every day, but it's my aim. God's been so gracious to me, across my lifetime and especially in this season now, and I'm learning to make gratitude a much bigger part of my life. :)

Truthfully, I don't think there's much I can complain about right now. Gratitude goals even set aside, I'm happy here in NOVA, and excited to continue to settle in, meet new friends, learn and grow. I'm still getting comfortable with my job, but I do really enjoy it. It is fast-paced and different every day, and while I have a lot of responsibilities, many of them involve interacting with families and that's my favorite part. I feel lucky/blessed to have landed a job that challenges me AND I enjoy, with coworkers and a boss who are really great people. I love that it just so happened to work out (read: God orchestrated) that one of my best friends moved to the area and agreed to be my roommate. I so enjoy the fact that my new home is only about a 2.5-3 hour drive from my family's home, and that I've already been there to visit them and even got to help move Ben into his first year of college at St. Francis. It's so fun that Ashley and I even know a few other friends in the area and have been able to visit with them already. Our apartment is perfect for us and we're enjoying decorating it and making it feel like our new home.
Working full-time is an adjustment; some days I come home and I'm so tired that I pretty much eat dinner, check social media, and go to bed. But I am learning so much in this season of life, and truly enjoying it. All of it. (Okay, most of it. Not the paying my own bills part. Not the more taxes part. Not the figuring out lots more paperwork part. And while I'm happy to be "single" right now, I wouldn't mind if that changed eventually. In fact, if you're a male reading this and you love Jesus and music and children and conversation, and happen to live in the NOVA area, feel free to ask me to coffee. Hahaha. End digression). I guess what this long ramble-y post is trying to say is basically... I'm adulting! Yay! It's kinda hard but also kinda fun! Look mom, I'm doing it! :D

To quote a country song called "Real Life," "...this is real life, in the real world... it ain't all good, baby, but it's alright, real life." :)