My gift

Today I was able to leave the house. Caroline and I went to the grocery store and wore real people clothes for the first time in four days. That may not seem like something worth celebrating...but when you're trapped in your house due to snow and have an eight year old...you're desperate to leave the minute you're able. We were taking our time, going down every aisle just to make sure we didn't miss anything on our list. I've been the main grocery shopper since my mom's illness first started - I feel like a full fledge soccer mom when I'm shopping. I've got my list and know where everything is located - I can be in and out in under 20 minutes...regardless of how many items are on the list. Today was different though...we were laughing and smiling and enjoying being away from home. When we were done shopping we loaded the groceries in the back of my car and Caroline insisted on putting the cart away. I'm the person that leaves the cart in another parking space...especially if it's super cold or a nasty day. My sister is the person who will walk a mile in the tundra just to make sure that the cart is properly put away. Caroline finally got back to the car and we took off. We got stuck at a stoplight right outside our neighborhood. I'm not sure why but I turned to Caroline and said "I want to speak at mom's funeral". Caroline looked back at me and said "I do too...what are you going to say"? A year ago we would have laughed at a conversation about death...because we had plenty of time before we had to worry about things like that. You never think it'll happen to you or your family until it does. Death is something that I'm not okay with...is anybody? I don't think anybody really wants to die or face the reality that death is coming and will eventually happen to all of us. We sat in my car listening to Dave Matthews on the radio, talking about the stories we want to tell at my mom's funeral one day. Surprisingly, it was not a morbid conversation - there was much laughter as we reminisced about the crazy scheming of our mother.

Here's a fact not many people know about the Robinson girls: I did not like Caroline growing up. I didn't like her because she was younger...she couldn't run as fast as me or play the big kid games I wanted to play. I could only play with Barbie shoes or play-doh when she was sleeping...my mom was paranoid Caroline would eat them. As we grew into little people I didn't like her because she always wanted to play with me...she would never leave me alone. Finally, my mom would make me play with her. We would go out in the front yard and play soccer. I was three years older and at the time a much better soccer player than Caroline (though later she would become way better than me - Mia Hamm status). I would make my goal twice as big as Caroline's, so she would get fed up and leave me alone. Whenever we played together it usually ended in Caroline crying and me being put in time out. I was a natural bully with a permanent time out chair. At the end of my freshman year of high school my mom shipped Caroline and I out to Colorado to spend a week with her childhood friend Leigh. Caroline and I knew who Leigh was...but we weren't very close to her - in fact, the whole trip seemed rather odd. At the time, Caroline and I just thought we were having the trip of a lifetime. The first night we stayed there I was terrified of bugs and Caroline wasn't too ecstatic about being away from home - we were really far and not used to that kind of distance. Over the course of that week we had many new experiences, great laughs and better friendships...but not really with each other. A couple days after my mom's diagnosis this summer, Leigh flew across the country to visit us in Roanoke and spend time with my mom. One night we were reminiscing about that oddly awesome trip. Leigh admitted that our "trip of a lifetime" was really my mom's last attempt at helping Caroline and I get along. That's all my mom wanted.

Over the years Caroline and I have become friends...slowly but surely we grew into each others best friends. When I went to college and had a less than desirable experience Caroline was my mom's rock. She was the one still at home and able to listen and offer advice. In my experience, I never realize how much I truly miss someone until they're gone. I missed Caroline being around. She has this infectious smile and personality - you always want more. I can't think of anyone that's more kind or giving. Caroline would share everything with me growing up and I wouldn't dare let her touch any of my things. In the car today we started talking about my mom's other crazy ideas to bridge the gap between us. At one point in time there was a "special dinner plate". Growing up we ate dinner together - there was salad, bread, placemats and candles....every night. Each night a different person was given the "special plate" to eat off of. When you had the "special plate", every one else around the table had to give that person a compliment. Caroline and I became hysterical reminiscing about the things we would say to each other. Caroline would always have some heart breaking response like "I like when you share with me". Whenever it was my turn to compliment Caroline, I struggled to find something to say. I would always give her petty compliments like "I like your eyebrows" or "you have a nice face". My mom would always get angry with me and take away my dessert.

 

I'm not sure why I had such a resentment towards my sister. Today, I can't think of a better person to be stuck in this miserable situation with. Caroline is my best friend. She's the only other female in the world that understands what I'm going through. Don't get me wrong, we totally still fight and get mad at each other. But she's the best gift my mom could have left for me. She's still younger and she doesn't always understand my point of view...but I don't resent her for that. I'm so thankful to have a sister that never gave up on me. Even though I never let her drive our pink Barbie jeep, score any goals or be the teacher when we played school...she always wanted to be my friend. Christ has worked through Caroline all these years. My favorite passage in the Bible is the one I'll be using for the devotional today. It's from Philippians 4:6-7. The passage reads "Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus".

Like my dad, Caroline has had such a strong faith through my mom's illness. I'm the one that's waivered and been doubtful that God's around. My prayers have been for mercy - to take my mom out of her constant state of pain. I pray desperately that her quality of life improves...and to be honest, it's hard to pray for that because I want her here with us forever. But if her quality of life can only improve when she's with Her maker...then I guess that's where she needs to be. It's just hard to pray for things like that. It's hard not to be selfish. When I think about this passage and read it again, I think more thoughtfully about God and my mom. There was definitely a plan. To become pregnant once and have a healthy child is a miracle. This happened for my mom three times. The third time was a miracle for many different reasons...but there's a reason my mom had two kids consecutively. God intended for me to have a built in companion. God knew we'd have some challenges in life to overcome. He knew, before all of us, that we were meant to be a family of 5, not 4. He knew I'd need help raising Michael with dad. When I read this passage, I think about the things I pray for continuously...and realize that many of my prayers have been answered. I pray for strength - and He gave me a sister to cry on, encourage and pray with. I pray for mercy - and He's given me another broken hearted companion to rally with. I pray for a better quality of life for us all - and He's provided my strong and incredible family of 5.

God knew what He was doing all along. My mom tried to help Him out by giving us special compliment plates and trips out to the beautiful city of Loveland, Colorado...but it just wasn't enough. Things come together in their own time and I'm so thankful for God's plan, my mom's spirit and Caroline's persistence.

You can be certain.

 

Today is another snow day. I love not having class and work...but I'm not about being trapped in my house for the foreseeable future. Snow days are typically relaxing and stress free days used to catch up on assignments or snuggle up under blankets and nap the afternoon away. At my house, snow days are kind-of a nightmare. We wake up early so that we can clean off our cars and shovel pathways out of the house in case of an emergency. The minute we aren't prepared...something will go wrong. Constantly prepping for an emergency sucks the fun out of a snow day. While brushing off my car this morning I pushed snow into the wind. It came back and hit me in the face. I quickly became wet and annoyed. It was my fault and I should have seen it coming. The snow pelted my face much like sand would on a windy day - it stung but quickly went away. I stopped being productive and began to watch my brother play in the snow. I felt bad for him because we live on a cul-de-sac and have older neighbors. Snow days aren't so fun when you're 8 and nobody wants to play outside. He was throwing snow in the air and trying to catch it on his tongue. It didn't seem to bother him that the flakes would pelt his face as they fell. I kept my distance because I knew Michael would want to snowball fight and I wasn't ready to be pelted with more snow. It reminded me of our old house in Norfolk. When Caroline and I were little, we actually had a legitimate snow day. There were neighborhood kids on our street that wanted to snow ball fight. I remember walking outside all bundled up and being pelted with snowballs to the stomach and face. These kids were older and didn't understand how unfair it was to peg two little girls in hot pink coats and Barbie boots...especially before we even had a chance to hide. Don't worry though, my mom came out in slippers and flannel PJ pants to set them straight. Those kids learned their lesson that day...they never spoke of the snow ball situation or played with us again. My mom was determined to make sure snow ball attacks didn't happen to any other little people like us. I've thought a lot about my mom today. She's stayed inside and napped through most of the day - but she loved snow. She could always be found with her nose pressed up against the glass saying "Look girls! It's coming down"! She would make snowmen and snow angels with us until we were all frozen and desperate for hot chocolate. I'm not sure who had more fun - my sister and I or my mom, but we all played together and didn't waste a minute. We were certain that it had been the best snow day ever. Now, we've had many snow days since '98, but each one was considered 'the best day ever' because we all had such a good time. How were we certain it was the best? Because our hearts were glowing and overflowing with the miracle of snow and the blessing of quality family time.

When I was in kindergarten at Granby Elementary, there was a boy named Brandon Dixon, and he had a huge crush on me. He brought me roses and serenaded me with that "Easy Breezy Beautiful Cover Girl" song they used to play in commercials. I should have been flattered...but he just annoyed me. He was the kid who wouldn't take 'no' for an answer - I mean his persistence was incredible. One day on the playground he tried to talk to me when I was with my friends. I did what my mom had told me to do and ignored him. I don't remember exactly who was there or what he was saying, but I'll never forget what he did to set me off. He reached up and pulled one of my pigtails. You NEVER pull a pigtail - not only is it painful but it makes the pigtails uneven and you look like a fool with lopsided pigtails. I turned around and pushed Brandon to the ground. I pushed him right into the sand. Sand was all in his hair, shoes and mouth. A teacher came over and sentenced me to time out. I was merely protecting myself from a boy that adored me too much. On Valentine's Day that year he brought me 3 fake roses and told me he would love me until they died. I thought he was stupid because the roses weren't living - then my mom explained to me what he meant. I don't know what happened to Brandon...what he's doing or whether he's dating someone now, but I do know he loved me very much. How was I certain? How many kindergarten boys give you fake flowers and serenade you every day? How many boys are that persistent when it comes to love? I hope that Brandon has found love from someone that actually wanted it.

A couple weeks ago Coby and I were watching a movie. I looked up at him and asked "why do you like me"...you know, only the most cliché question of all time. I didn't ask him because I was concerned or desperate to know...I just asked him cause I was curious what he would say. I was expecting some cheesy answer that would bring about laughter and tickling. He started to laugh and asked if I was serious. When he realized it wasn't a joke he said "I like you for what's in here" and pointed to my heart. He continued with a couple other reasons why he liked me - some legitimate reasons and others just to be silly. When I think about him, I think about that night and his answer. I think about what it means to like someone for what's on the inside and not just the outside. How am I certain he likes me? Why would he continue to talk to me while in Arizona? It'd be pretty easy for him to wipe his hands and be done with me...but he's stuck to his promise of  "nothing changes".

Today's devotion is from Isaiah 62:1-7, 11-12. With God things are different. We don't need to wonder whether God likes us or not. We don't need to know why He likes us. We don't even need to like him back. Even in times of uncertainty we can be certain that God loves us. With the Lord is where we belong. The Lord cares for us. The Lord rejoices over us. I don't know why you wouldn't love Him back - He doesn't yell at the neighborhood kids in flannel PJs or give us fake roses or cheesy reasons why we're adored, but He's provided life and relationships for us to have and to hold. On this snow day, I encourage you to find the kids that are down to play anything and stay away from the ones who only throw snow balls. I encourage you to share love with one another - bundle up near a fire, start a pointless conversation that results in laughter...spend time with the ones you love. Snow days won't last forever, but the memories you make with the ones you love will - this I am certain.

Message received?

Here's a summary of my weekend: it was great! However, some things happened that I just can't stop thinking about. I have to believe that there was some divine intervention going on. I'll let you decide.

Friday night: Maria's birthday.
When you're in college, part of a Greek organization and it's your birthday there's only one place to go: The Edge. The Edge is a bar right off campus, at ODU. It's the Greek hangout spot. We had a whole group of sisters that were enjoying the evening gabbing and dancing together while celebrating my big sister's birthday. My big sister's name is Maria and I honestly wouldn't be who I am today without her. She's the first person to encourage and support me in good decisions I make and the first to talk me out of bad ones. I could write an entire blog about how awesome she is, but I'll spare you the details...just know that she's an absolute treasure. Our group was standing in a circle so that we could all talk and toast to Maria's big day! I was near the back wall a couple feet away from one of the bouncers. He leaned over to me and said "you write a blog". I glanced around and asked him to repeat himself...cause surely he didn't ask me what I thought he had. He said "you're the girl that writes that blog". I smiled. He said "my brothers read your blog...what you're doing is awesome...keep it up." He then walked away to another location in the bar. I stood there with a goofy grin all over my face. Out of all the people in the bar that night...how did he pick me out of the crowd? Why did he pick me out of the crowd to tell me I was doing good things? Especially if he didn't even read this blog? Who are his brothers? All I know is that he made my night. God works through so many people and I was completely caught off guard by the bouncer at the Edge telling me I was delivering Good News.

Saturday night: Winterblast.
For those of you that don't know...winterblast is an annual country concert at the Hampton Coliseum. This year the show featured Kelleigh Bannen, Eric Paslay, The Brothers Osborne and Scotty McCreery. I love Scotty McCreery. My friend Kerry and I went to this concert and were seated in row 10, seats 14 & 15. A.K.A. right in the front middle of the arena. I don't think it was possible to have better seats. We arrived late to the concert because showering and eating took priority. We arrived in time to hear Kelleigh Bannen perform a song called "church clothes". This song gave me goose bumps. This song paints a picture of the ideal couple sitting in church sharing affection and communion, but being so broken outside the sanctuary walls. One of the lines in the song says, "These days we fight like hell, but nobody knows when we're wearing our church clothes". This song stuck out to me because I believe it to be true. When I was little my parents taught my sister and I to be on our best behavior in church. If Caroline and I were fighting at home, it could continue on the drive into Norfolk...but it ended when we got out of the car at church. Church was a place where you represented yourself, your family and God. I've never heard such an honest country song before - I encourage you to look it up. This song made me think about the roles society gives us. It made me think about the different clothes I wear to make people think certain things about me. It made me think about the couples and families that sit in the pew with me. What are they going through that you can't tell from their praying posture and sweater vest set? If my family came to church prim and proper, would you know the struggles we face every day? Would you care?

Sunday evening: Annika's house.
I have the privilege of babysitting the world's most adorable 4 year old. We are two peas in a pod...which is quite strange since she's 4 and I'm 22. We had a girl date, shared pinky promises and played way too many rounds of Go Fish. I tucked her into bed after reading a story about 999 frogs. I asked for a hug and she squeezed me very tightly. She laid back down and said "Ms. Katie, I love you a whole lot". I smiled and said "I'm so glad"! She rolled her eyes and said "aren't you going to tell me you love me too"? I got a good laugh out of this and told her I loved her too. Her response was priceless, "one day I'm going to be just like you". I don't think I'm someone to emulate, but I'll take the compliment. God works through this devilishly charming little girl to show me that even when I don't value myself, someone else does. She's 4, cheats at Go Fish and is afraid of animals...but she understands love and that it was meant to be shared.

The devotion for today is from 1 Samuel 3:8-10, 19-21. Sometimes I struggle to hear God's voice. And by sometimes, I mean all the time. And by the time I think I've heard Him talking to me...I wonder if I've received the right message. I just wonder if I've heard him clearly. This weekend I was having fun and enjoying time with friends that I haven't seen in a while. I didn't have my guard up - I was truly in the moment and I heard Him. I heard God talk to me through that bouncer and encourage me to continue sharing His Good News. I heard God in that song about the seemingly perfect couple. The song bothered me because I know people think that way. People think church is a place to show your face and be social. It's so much more than that. When you come to worship, you should come as you are. If you're tired and broken - God wants you in no other way. If you're happy and carefree - God wants you in no other way. We have this misconception that the rest of the congregation needs you to be strong or on your best behavior...when that's simply not true. We should be the same people whether we're dressed for Wal-Mart or when we're wearing our church clothes. This life was meant to be shared - our joys, our fears and our burdens - all of it. I am a member of First Lutheran not just to celebrate in the baptisms and the weddings...but to share love and prayer in moments of sadness and tragedy. I heard God in my sweet little mini-me. In her constant faith proclamations and love. She shares more love than any other child I've ever met. I admire her bravery and her passion. I wish that I was more open about my emotions and feelings. I wish that I had the courage to share that much love. God wants us to love unconditionally - if she ever found out her parents paid me to play with her...we'd really test whether her love was unconditional or not. I've learned that if you take the time to enjoy life...you start to witness God's presence all around you. You begin to understand that you're part of a bigger picture - you see, feel and hear God talking; I encourage you to listen.

Playing for Keeps

I watched a really terrible movie tonight. The movie was called "Playing for Keeps". It's about a retired soccer player coming back into the picture and coaching his son's soccer team. While coaching he falls back in love with his ex-wife. The soccer dad is super attractive and desirable...even though he is severely in debt and lacks stability in his life. The movie ends with the two love birds reuniting and playing soccer under one roof with their freckle faced son. The movie is terrible because the plot is so predictable. Even the title gives it away. I usually love romantic comedies...they give me a warm glow and butterflies in my tummy. At the end of a movie I've usually got some ridiculous smile on my face and a stupid love song stuck in my head. However, after watching this romantic comedy, I found myself crying in my bed under a mountain of blankets feeling sorry for myself. This movie brought back a lot of memories surrounding my childhood.

I grew up playing soccer because my dad was the coach. My dad loves the sport. We have every soccer channel, magazine subscription and jersey you could ever want or need. I loved soccer for a long time...but I'm not sure it was ever the sport I was crazy about. I didn't like to be dirty or pushed around by other people on the field. I think I loved it so much because it was something my dad and I could do together. My dad was my coach for my entire soccer career, from age 5-15. There were days we would go to the park and play...just the two of us, for hours. We would race home and he would always let me beat him to the front door so I could say I won. When we drove home from the park or the field we would ride with the windows down and the country music would play on the radio in the background. We would travel together. I would talk and he would listen or turn up the music. We would go on dates together to Mexican places and stop for ice cream - even if it was before dinner! My dad was my number one fan and I could do no wrong.

As I got older, the sport became more time consuming and intense - the girls weren't very nice and things became entirely too competitive. My heart wasn't in the sport - it was in the time spent with my dad. I remember talking to my mom about not wanting to play, but needing to play so that my dad and I could have something in common. One day she took me to Owls Creek and signed me up for my first tennis lesson. I was taught by this crazy guy named Wayne who had Barbie blonde hair, a super fake tan and said "okay" waaaay too many times. After one lesson I was able to serve, rally and master a couple ground strokes. He said I was a natural. A month later I made the high school tennis team. Three years later I walked onto the Roanoke College tennis team and played competitively. You know the best part of it all? My dad never missed a match. Both of my parents would come to all my high school matches and watch me clobber other girls...but my dad would drive all over the state to watch me play matches in college. I remember one match in particular. We were playing Randolph Macon. The girl I was playing was better than I was. I was down by two games. My dad was standing right behind the gate watching my every move. Tennis is played with a racket and a ball and takes place on the court and in your head. You can hit winners on the court, but you can't win if you're heads in another place. I hit a winner and my dad stood up from his chair and said "THAT'S IT KATIE". A smile spread across my face and I continued to hit winners and take back the match. I won that match very soundly - not because I was better...but because I wanted it more.

 

Your parents are supposed to love you - they're your parents. I realize that this is not as cut and dry as I make it seem. I was blessed with a family that supports me and loves me. I was blessed with parents that wanted me to be happy and helped me succeed. My parents were and are my number one fans in every move I make. Things are a little different now because I don't play much tennis anymore. I came home tonight and started talking to my dad about my technology and society writing class. The class is super dry - it's hard to get excited about the effects of technology when it's being taught by a man who's as old as the dinosaurs (just saying). I pulled out my homework assignment that said "excellent work, Katie". My dad jokingly told me to stick it on the fridge and that he'd get around to framing it. It was just a homework grade that barely counts for anything...but my dad smiled wide and read every word I wrote. The devotion tonight comes from Ruth 1:14-21. The passage is about Naomi and Ruth. Naomi lost her husband and both her sons. She felt like God had abandoned her when really he provided a gift in Ruth. God often uses others to show His love, mercy and presence.

My dad is incredible. He takes care of us all. He takes even better care of my mom. I thought my mom was selfless before, but she could learn a thing or two from my dad. I think I believe that we were created in God's image because I see a lot of God in my dad. He's strong, supportive and provides unconditional love. While my dad sucks at showing affection...he's a loyal friend and one of the most kind-hearted people you'll ever meet. When the cancer saga was unfolding in Roanoke, he was the only one who had faith. After the first 24 hours I stood in the lobby with my head buried in my dad's chest . He kept hugging me tighter and tighter telling me that God has a plan. My dad's never been vocal about his feelings, emotions or faith. I'm 22 and I've never heard him mention anything about God and his faith...at least not without being asked first. I still remember the shock factor from his "God has a plan" speech. You know when you're little and people tell you that if you're in an emergency to call 911? If you've ever had to call 911 in an emergency, you know that number gets a little harder to remember and it's not as clear what you should do. Having faith in the midst of a crisis is the same way. Eventually, you figure out what number to call - just like I've figured out my new type of relationship with God. My dad didn't stop believing in me when I switched sports...and God didn't give up on me when I gave up on Him. Instead God turned to my dad - He knew I'd listen to him.

God hasn't abandoned my family. He's provided some challenges and some specific people to help us get through it. So many people go through crap in their lives and most don't go through it alone. We don't have to. Let me say that again. We don't have to go through the crap alone. God provides people for a couple months, many years and sometimes for a few minutes. He gives us what we need...it may not be what you want or what we think is helpful...but in God's way it is part of the plan. While my life will never be predictable like the romantic comedy I watched tonight, I do know that God plays for keeps too.

The ultimate scapegoat

What transports you to another place when you're angry or upset? Is it talking to another person, meditating in silence, or jamming out to your favorite CD? I am a music person. I've always felt that the world becomes a better place when I have my ear buds in and the volume up to a ridiculously high level. I'm all about vacations and in theory - a good road trip. But about twenty minutes into the trip when Caroline wants to hear some girl bop band and Michael won't stop talking...the ear buds go in and I drown myself in another world of Scotty McCreery and DMB. When I drove to high school every day, it was a solid investment of time. I found that listening to the radio made me very angry because in the thirty minutes I drove, I would only hear a handful of songs between the commercials about laser hair removal and the VA Aquarium. I had different CDs to play depending upon where I was driving, for example: I had a CD I played before every tennis match so when I got out of my car I was ready to make someone cry. I had a "boy bashing" CD so that every time my feelings were hurt or I got ditched or dumped I would play it and hate the whole male population. I had a "chill" CD that I would play on my way home from school when I fought through rush hour traffic and I had my "morning feel good" CD that contained songs like "Smile" by Uncle Cracker. It's impossible not to smile while listening to this morning CD. I don't use CDs very much anymore because my car has an ipod/iphone hookup that's much more convenient to use. A couple days ago, while I was waiting for my car to warm up, I found the "morning feel good" CD in my glove compartment. I laughed at myself because that's what I had actually written on the CD with a giant smiley face. I proceeded to insert the CD and listen to all its contents. Sure enough, I couldn't help but smile the whole way home from school. If anyone was driving near me they would have witnessed car dancing, obnoxious laughter and very expressive singing. I arrived at my house and sat in the car for another 15 minutes until I was ready to get out. At that moment I was in my happy place - the music had saved me from an angry phone conversation about fighting traffic or overthinking decisions I've already made. I got out of the car in a great mood, opened a cold one and began to make dinner. As I began to chop veggies I thought about the different types of CDs I had made throughout the years and how they made me feel.

I still remember the summer I got my first Britany Spears CD. My family had rented a beach house in Duck, North Carolina with some family friends. It was a huge house with three stories and swings on every level. It was beautiful and super close to the beach and sound. I don't remember what we ate or who exactly was there, but I'll never forget having that Britany CD. My friend Katie (I know right) was a huge Britany fan too. Every afternoon we would take our boom-box and stake out the huge balcony off the third story of the house. I remember blasting the Britany CD and dancing on that deck for hours. I had the time of my life singing into a hair brush, showing off my Britany moves and pretending the day would never end. I also remember screaming and crying while my dad pulled out countless splinters from both my feet...I guess that's what happens when you're eight, have a Britany CD and dance barefoot on a deck every day for a week. Music takes me to a place where I have no worries, concerns or fears. I often find myself wishing there was a soundtrack of my life. When I listen to songs I think about certain aspects of my life and try and blend the two together and take inspiration from the lyrics. I really enjoyed the movie Pitch Perfect...not because of the insanely cliché story plot, but because the movie was centered around music and how it has the ability to influence us towards better decisions and those we love. Carrie Underwood's song "See you again" took over the radio towards the end of this summer. I remember hearing it on the way to Smith Mountain Lake for our family reunion with my mom singing loud and proud. I remember hearing it in the ER waiting area at 4 am through my tears. I remember hearing it in my car when my cousin drove me home from the hospital for the first time in 24 hours. When we all got back to VB, I stopped playing the radio because I couldn't handle listening to that song and hearing my mom's voice echo with Underwood's in my head. One of the first times I was with Coby, that song came on in his car. He turned it up and began to sing in a high pitched goofy voice...I began to hear the song differently. Sometimes we need to hear someone else sing the words. Sometimes we need to hear another perspective in a grim situation. Sometimes we need to have more faith in ourselves and in our ability to truly listen because you might hear what you were intended to hear all along. Underwood's lyrics say "sometimes I feel my heart is breaking, but I stay strong and I hold on cause I know...I will see you again. This is not where it ends. I will carry you with me". I can't think of a more positive way to talk about a heart breaking situation, like a terminal form of cancer. My heart breaks a little more every day. Its a little harder to force a smile sometimes since my sorority has been put on hold, my boyfriend is in Arizona and my mom's health is continuing to deteriorate.

Today's devotion discusses a "scapegoat" in the passage from Leviticus 16:3-10. I thought I knew what it meant, but just to be sure I looked it up. Dictionary.com defines the word as "a person or group made to bear the blame for others or to suffer in their place". We have the ultimate scapegoat in Jesus Christ. He died on a cross so that our sins could be forgiven - forever and always. I can play loud music to drown people out, car dance and sing into a hairbrush for hours but sometimes it's not enough to escape. Jesus wants us to blame our problems, worries, concerns and fears on Him; He tells us to blame Him, because He can not only handle it...but He can fix it too. I'm notorious for not letting people into my life and telling them the way I feel because I don't want them to run and not be able to handle it. I have a man who is telling me to give my issues up to Him and blame Him for all my problems - how often in your life does that happen?! Typically, when you blame someone for your problems, it doesn't solve the problem...it just gives you a tummy ache because you know deep down they don't deserve the blame. If you blame Jesus...it's a little different - at least for me. I don't "blame" Jesus for my mom's cancer. I don't "blame" him for moving Coby to Arizona. I don't "blame" him for the 15 splinters I had removed from my foot. Instead I lift these concerns and negative aspects of my life up to God and say "I need your help". I'm finally at a point where I realize I can't do this all on my own and I need help. I don't really know how I need help, I just know that I do. Music is super helpful in influencing my mood and putting a smile on my face, but it isn't going to solve the problem. Next time something bad happens don't immediately blame something or someone else...lift it up to God. Trust me, you feel better.

Dear God, I lift up mean girls that spread rumors - may you help them understand that their words are worthless. I lift up the Peterson family - surround them with your peace. I lift up splinters, Arizona and super girly music. I lift up Bible passages we fail to understand.  I lift up blame - help us understand the consequences of our actions. Help us to know that we can always trust in you. I lift up my fears to the ultimate scapegoat, Jesus Christ. Amen.

What's in a bully?

In the 7th grade I had a problem with a bully. This bully was not big and tall - she did not steal my lunch money or give me swirlies. This bully was 5' 2", fake blonde hair, attractive and had a 4.0. This bully was a mean girl; a mean girl that aggressively used the internet, notes and word-of-mouth to maliciously ruin every chance I had for happiness in middle school. I made my mom drive me to and from school because I was afraid to ride the bus. She would sit in the back and make fun of me the whole way there. In middle school I switched out of an elective because this queen bee bullier was in my class and I didn't want to be tormented. I became a "guidance helper" - A.K.A. I sat in the guidance office and delivered notes and files to other offices. I remember one day very vividly. I was walking to my fourth period class from the guidance office. I saw the queen bee from the other end of the hallway. I had learned not to make eye contact, but it was too late. The hall was beginning to clear because the bell was about to ring. I started to walk faster. The bell rang, making me and the queen bee both late and in the middle of the hallway together. I was sweating and I thought my heart was going to explode from my chest as she walked right up to me. She threw her books on the ground, pointed right at my face and said "you told (insert name here) that I was fat...you think you can say that about me and I wouldn't find out"? First of all, I never called this girl fat (even though she totally was. She was actually really large and incharge - but the only person I told that to was my mom. We talked smack about this girl all the time at home.) She yelled at me for a couple minutes longer. You know when you play freeze tag - if you get tagged, you're frozen and you can't move until someone untags you? That's how I felt. Except, I didn't have anyone to untag me. I just stood there in the middle of the hallway, soaking up every mean word she yelled and threw in my face. Finally, my Spanish teacher came out into the hallway and made the queen bee leave. I sat in the hallway with my teacher and cried. A substitute came to cover the class so my teacher could talk to me about what had happened. The queen bee got a couple days of ISS and had to apologize to me. It was the worst apology ever - she said she was sorry and then rolled her eyes.

Fast forward a couple years to high school. High school still sucked because I was still surrounded by the same bullies - we were all just a little bit older and better at manipulating each other. On the way to school one morning the end of my neighborhood was closed. There were fire trucks and ambulances everywhere. I had no idea what happened but immediately prayed that no one was injured or killed. Later that day I found out that the queen bees house caught fire through the night. It started in her bedroom and spread throughout the house. Nobody was hurt, but their house was ruined. I hated this girl - she ruined middle school and my self esteem. But nobody deserved to watch their house burn down. I remember dropping a bag of my clothes off on her doorstep so that she would have something to wear. I would think that if my house burned down, and I was inside to see the fire spread...I would be a lot kinder to people and more gracious to those around me. Nothing about this girl changed however...if anything she was more horrible. High school wasn't all bad because there were football games. One game I remember all too well. I went to grab a soda from the concession stand and ran right into the queen bee, wearing my old clothes, and her pathetic posse of followers. Something about that night was different. She fired off some horrible phrase to me and I fired something smart back. She stopped dead in her tracks. I remember her looking at me wide eyed for what felt like 10 minutes (it was probably 30 seconds). What happened next could have easily qualified for America's Funniest Videos. The path to the concession stand was underneath the bleachers where students and parents sat to watch the game. A soda dropped from the stand right onto the queen bee's head. She was soaked in what looked and smelled like root beer. I remember walking away and laughing hysterically feeling like a champion. What are the odds that a soda dropped at the moment in which I started to stand up for myself?! While I don't think God deliberately placed a clumsy kid in the bleachers right above the path to the concessions, I do think he was with me that night.

The devotion for today is from Exodus 3:1-12. The story is about Moses and the burning bush. I think most people would read this passage and focus on Moses acknowledging the "holy ground" that was before him. However, I read this passage and focused on Moses' reluctance to trust God's word and do what He asked. God asks Moses to go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt. Moses explains to God that he isn't capable of this great undertaking - he doesn't have the credentials to make such a controversial move. But God responds by saying "I will be with you; and this shall be the sign for you that it is I who sent you". At this point I switched from my devotional to my Bible to read more about the story. In the next couple verses, Moses panics and asks questions regarding what he should say if the Israelites ask who sent him. God responds by saying "I am who I am". Sometimes I think God is a smart-alike too. I began to think about middle school and how I was never very good at being myself. Heck, I'm still not sure who I am. But as I think back to times I was bullied, there's always been a silver lining in every situation that involved learning a valuable life lesson. God was with me through all the messy friendships and relationships I've endured. God was present in my Spanish teacher that untagged me from my interrogation nightmare. God was present in the queen bees house fire - holding her family tight and protecting them from harm. God was present at the football game where my arch enemy was covered in root beer. God has been with me and will be with me for the rest of my days - through the good and the bad. He asks us to do and endure things we wish we hadn't...but it provides interesting stories to write about in a blog or read further about in the Bible.

What's your excuse?

I'd tell you why I haven't written an entry in a while...but at the end of the day, it's just an excuse. Excuses make the world go round - there are some that get you out of un-fun situations and others that contribute to make a situation ever worse. Growing up I had a lot of play dates with neighborhood kids. There were days when my friends and I would play Barbie or dress-up for hours on end and other days where I wanted to play by myself. Everyone grew up with that annoying friend that never knew when to leave or would never stop inviting you to things. As a kid, you want to make your friends happy...even if it means doing things you don't want to do. There was this girl on my street named Elizabeth and she was trouble. She would make up horrible scenarios for Barbie - like rejection or death. Every time I would talk to her or see her she would complain about her mom being mean. To be fair, her mom was really mean. I didn't blame Elizabeth for being at our house all the time (cause I certainly didn't want to be at her house) but she never seemed to leave. The worst was when she asked Caroline or I to spend the night at her house. We didn't want to be with her for THAT long nor did we want to be at her house with her mom. I remember crying in our old kitchen about not wanting to go and how it was so unfair. My mom hugged me and told me I wasn't allowed to go. My mom didn't care if I spent the night or not, but if she told me I couldn't go...I wouldn't be able to go! My mom had a standing contract with us that if we didn't want to do something, we could blame her. My mom didn't care if a kid disliked her for a couple hours. She never forced me to do anything I didn't want to do - the 'mom excuse' has worked for the last 21 years of my life...but unfortunately it won't work much longer.

I found out a couple days ago that my boyfriend was leaving for the spring season MUCH sooner than anticipated. It's hard for me to understand why every good thing gets taken away from me too soon. Needless to say, I didn't handle it very well when he told me what was happening. He is so talented and gets to follow his baseball dream and I have absolutely no intention of standing in his way...I just want him here, to be with me. While freaking out about the situation, I began to bring every other horrible aspect of my life into the picture. I talked about my mom, dropping my sorority, the burdens of being 22 and a mom/maid/sibling/student/chef. It all came out of my mouth like word vomit...triggered by our initial conversation of leaving. He was patient with me while listening to the insanity coming from my mouth. While driving home with mascara stains all over my face, I thought two things: I hope nobody sees me in this state and why did I act like that? I began to call a series of people who I thought could make the situation better. I called number after number, some numbers several times but nobody answered. Finally, I pulled over on the side of the road and cried. I did what my mom has always told me to do - I let it out. I yelled and screamed and cried hard...I was so frustrated and overwhelmed. Then I realized something, the only person who can help me at this point...was myself. I can call a million numbers and explain the situation an infinite amount of times...but nobody knows how I feel and nobody knows what I want to hear. I used Coby's excuse about leaving, to let go of 5 months worth of emotions, anger, fear and frustration. I was selfish in thinking that he can't leave because I'm not ready. It's not up to me or him...there are more important people calling the shots. I have no choice in the matter, but should be thankful he spends time with me and excited that he gets to play! Don't get me wrong, I'm very upset he's going so soon...but he could have told me my hair looked bad and I think I would have reacted in the same type of way (slight exaggeration - but you get my point).

The devotion for today is from Exodus 4:1-4, 10-13. The Lord tells Moses to throw his staff down and turns it into a snake. The Lord tells Moses to pick the snake up by the tail and it becomes a staff again. I read verses 11 and 12 over and over and over again because it spoke directly to me, "Then the Lord asked Moses, "Who makes a person's mouth? Who decides whether people speak or do not speak, hear or do not hear, see or do not see? Is it not I, the Lord? Now go! I will be with you as you speak, and I will instruct you in what to say." A lot of times I don't know what to say, how to say it or who to say it to. I usually say too much or not enough. I usually am not very specific or am overly dramatic. I struggle with my emotions and fears, because they change like 20 times throughout the course of one day. I am notorious for trying to suck it up and be a big girl. But what I'm going through is some real crap and it gets harder and harder every day. Little kids need their parents to stick up for them until they get their own confidence. As you grow up you come to understand that people deserve to know you don't want to do something...not because your mom won't let you...but because you have no desire to do what they're asking/suggesting. I have a lot of growing up to do...I can't just explode on someone because I'm not ready for them to leave. I can't use other people's problems to focus on my own. I forget that this cancer is my life and my tragedy. I forget that ultimately it's my problem that I am facing, nobody else's. Many other people are affected by my mom's illness...but nobody is as directly affected as my nuclear family.

When God calls me to do something, I think of a million reasons why I shouldn't. But my excuse is not even a slight challenge for God. I'm pretty sure He looks down and laughs at me saying "wrong, try again". God wants to use me for something...I'm not sure what and I'm not sure when exactly I'll find out. Natasha Bedingfield has a song called "touch" and it explains that everything happens for a reason - "Every choice we make and every road we take. Every interaction starts a chain reaction. We're both affected when we least expect it." We all have so many excuses that surround us in our lives...I think sometimes we forget what is real. God speaks through me - through my moments of brilliance and insanity. I try so hard to push people away because I don't want to overwhelm them...but surprisingly, nobody has left. God gives me words to say - the right ones and the wrong ones. He wants me to continue making mistakes and sin boldly, for that's how I learn. In the Bible He explains that we are the chosen ones, given mouths to speak and ears to listen. I've decided to cut the excuses and say what I need to say. Exploding and blaming things on other people, whether they care or not, doesn't solve any of my problems. I don't think some of my excuses are bad, but I think I need to be a better listener to God, my heart and my mind; I wish they were as easy to sync as my ipad and ipod.

Bloom where you're planted

I am a senior in college. Tomorrow is my first day of school for the spring semester. I still get nervous about the first day of school, even though I've had multiple first days. I don't know my professor and I'm not sure who will be in my class. I don't know where I'll sit or what content knowledge I will need to succeed. I find new experiences very intimidating. I've had entirely too many first days, in addition to the first days we all have every year. My family moved when I was in elementary school and I began the 5th grade at a completely different place where I knew no one. First days are different when you're in a new place. In elementary school it's not as scary though, because the "I desperately want to fit in" crisis doesn't really start until middle school. In middle school most of the kids from my elementary school were shipped there too - it wasn't a terrible first day because there were some familiar faces. In high school I decided to transfer schools my sophomore year. It was one of the scariest days of my whole life - I was the new kid and the "I desperately want to fit in" crisis had set in. Most everyone wanted to be my friend at first because I was new and someone that wasn't wrapped up in the dramas of freshman year. As time passed I quickly became boring and fit into the crowd. I decided to go to a small liberal arts college in hopes of becoming a first grade teacher. I was able to play tennis competitively for the college which was by far the best decision I made there. I had many preconceived notions about the school when I committed and was quickly proven wrong upon my arrival.

In a small liberal arts school it's not uncommon for everyone to know everything about each other. I found that as a freshman, you were faced with two options: you become someone or you reside as a nobody. I chose to become someone and joined an organization that I quickly became embarrassed and unproud of (unproud isn't a real word, BTW). This organization had a way with words and was home to some of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen. They made me feel like I belonged and was one of them...then they turned on me and made me feel insignificant and sorry I was alive. These girls were privileged because their two-faced "kind" words and super model physique got them everything they wanted or needed. I managed to get myself out of the situation by switching roommates, drowning myself in homework and focusing on my tennis. My new roommate and I had very little in common and I could not have been happier. We were so different that it worked - I actually cried when we parted ways. When my mom was diagnosed at Roanoke Memorial this summer, she actually came to the hospital with flowers. She's taught me a lot about what it means to be an unconditional friend and how it feels to be respected. In addition to having a great roommate, I fell in love with fitness and tennis again. Tennis was an outlet for my stress, anxiety and anger. I played every day, worked out three times a week and competed in tournaments on the weekends. I took all my aggression out on the ball instead of the mean girls that taunted and harassed me every day on campus. You know the saying "when life gives you lemons, make lemonade"? I think it's more like "when given a trash truck, drive it proudly". I would never repeat my freshman year, but I learned so many valuable lessons and made a handful of friends that I will have forever. I was able to be a college athlete with good stats and maintain a B average through all the animosity I endured.

Today's devotion is from Genesis 39:2, 4-10, 17-20. The phrase that best describes the story between Joseph and Potiphar is "bloom where you're planted". Potiphar tells Joseph that he is in-charge of the entire household. Soon after, Potiphar's wife asks, begs and harasses Joseph to sleep with her. Joseph says "no" because Potiphar would be mad and it's not in God's will. Potiphar's wife accuses Joseph of fooling around with her while her husband is away. Potiphar believes her and sentences Joseph to prison. Being in jail probably sucks - it's dark, dirty and lonely. Joseph had nothing to be ashamed of though, he obeyed his master and was part of God's family. My freshman year of college felt like a prison sometimes. There were people constantly putting me down, wishing ill upon me and hoping that I'd fail. There were many slanderous things said about me that were intended to hurt and ruin my reputation. Looking back, I realize I cared way too much about what those girls thought when ultimately it didn't matter. In the end, I was victorious like Joseph. I changed my life for the better - I made all those changes while at that college but then I transferred somewhere else. I found my passion in fashion and changed my degree. I joined a sorority with values and morals that are actually practiced and upheld. I became the friend I'd actually want to have and need when times got rough. I am so proud of everything I've overcome and accomplished. 

First days are indicators of what the future might hold. The phrase "bloom where you're planted" means to make the best of every opportunity, seize the day and to try again - even if it's your 48,765 time. Even though Joseph ended up in jail, he obeyed his master and God. He made the best of the situation and was faithful to his master and Lord. Thankfully, I'm not in prison but I resonant with the feeling of being trapped. I am often overwhelmed with not so fun situations and emotions regarding my mom's fight with cancer. It is hard to bloom where I'm planted because I'd rather be planted somewhere else, away from cancer. To put it simply, my family resides in a big pot of flowers, each person a flower with their own stem. Together we make a happy little bunch weathering wind, rain and sunshine on a daily basis. This cancer is like a weed that spreads, never ceasing, no matter how many times you spray it with weed killer. As far as I know, flowers don't see a weed approaching and drop to the ground because they're scared. They have roots to help withstand the forces they cannot control. Flowers grow with their pedals facing the sun, much like my family turns to God. We will continue to make the best of every situation we are given, regardless of the weeds that try to crowd our planter, continuing to bloom where we are planted. 

I have a dream

We live in a world where nobody is equal. We live in a world of VIP events, preferred parking and elite shopping districts in which you need a membership to consume. We live in a world of "walmart shoppers", those who wear pj pants and curlers to the store, and "fitness freaks", those who wear yoga pants and ponytails who've never seen the inside of a gym. We live in a world that is driven by materialism - trapping us all in this illusion that we must be better than our neighbors.

A couple weeks ago I found an old diary from when I was between the ages of 7-9. I realized a couple things: I was a weird kid, I was obsessed Harry Potter and I judged everyone. It's human nature to compare yourself to someone else...but that doesn't make it right. In my second grade diary it had questions like "what do you want to be when you grow up", "what is your biggest secret" and "who do you have a crush on". I got some quality laughs out of this old diary - it brought back some great and seemingly awful memories. It was a great reminder that things can be horrible and hard at the moment in which they happen, but years later they will seem like no big deal. One of my "biggest secrets" in 2001 was that someone told the youth group I liked Coby. I was devastated and I thought my life was over. Truth be told, I don't actually remember that event happening, but I wrote about it on December 16, 2001.

On another page, it had a question and provided space to make a list, "These are my friends"- it was cute to see my old handwriting and the names on the list. I went through the list taking pictures of the names to show these people we were "friends" in my diary way back in the day! After reading the names a couple times over, I was horrified to see what the next list in the book was, "These are not my friends". I don't know what kind of diary promotes animosity in elementary school girls, but I got a couple good laughs out of the names on that list as well. I didn't remember half the people I wrote, except for Coby (got a great laugh here). I noticed that I had crossed people off my friend list and moved them to the "not friends list" or lower on the "friends" list. I immediately became embarrassed; I had ranked my friends on their level of importance. I have no idea why some people were lower than others or what caused them to suddenly not be my friend, but it's funny and awful that as an 8 year old, I thought this was acceptable behavior.

The devotion for today comes from Genesis 37:3-8. It talks about the problem of having favorites. The problem with favorites is that if you are someone's favorite, than you think everything revolves around you. It's easy for you to get into trouble with other people. The problem is that we show preferential treatment when we should be treating everyone as if they are special - everyone is then special and the same. I'm 22 and I struggle with treating everyone the same way. I have some really great friends that I've had since middle school and I have some really great sorority sisters that I've connected with over the past 2 years. As a child, my mom would sing me that infamous song about the quality of friendship: "make new friends, but keep the old, one is silver and the other's gold". I have two main different sets of friends, one from my childhood and the other from college. The only difference between these two groups is the amount of time we've spent together. They're all special people to me and ones I've deeply relied on through the tragedy in my life.

My problem with this notion of everyone being a "favorite" or a "best friend" is that our society rejects it. Who do you pick to be a bridesmaid if everyone is the same quality friend? If you win Wheel of Fortune, and are unattached, who do you take with you on your destination trip? Or, the most honest of all questions: if you have one piece of gum left, who would you give it to? Nobody can honestly say they'd pick just anyone for any of these questions - regardless of their extremity. The point that strikes me as odd - we make up society. If we begin to reject these societal norms and treat everyone as if they're special, valued and NEEDED than maybe we can prevent future generations from ranking their friends in a diary or worse. I think part of the reason people act out, make hit-lists and resort to suicide is that somewhere along the line, someone made them feel like they didn't matter. Maybe someone told their secret or crossed their name of the bff list...we should work to promote kindness and love towards everyone, even if they get on your nerves or have wronged you once before.

I have a dream that one day Harry Potter will actually be cool. I have a dream that diaries printed in 2014 will come without a "These are not my friends" list. I have a dream that diaries continue to provide an outlet for children to write about the things that make them angry or upset...no matter how trivial they may be; at the time these events, people and situations matter. I have a dream that kids will play together on a playground, in the sandbox or cyberly without isolation. I have a dream that college kids will be able to forgive, forget and move on from gossip and slanderous words. I have a dream that people will trust and love one another because it's what's right and good. The world needs more Good News - let's celebrate Christ's love by giving preferential treatment to all our friends, the good and the bad ones. It's not our place to judge whether or not they truly deserve it.

Counting to 10

"H". It is a common occurrence in my house, for my sister and I to come home and immediately search for food. It is also common for us to complain about not having "any" food in the house. Of course there is food...just not what we were looking for. Sometimes if I wait too long to eat I start to feel lightheaded, nauseous or get the shakes from low blood sugar! I don't miss a meal because my tummy does an excellent job in telling me it's ready to eat. It sounds like a lion is going to erupt from my stomach. In the time between realizing I'm hungry and eating, I become more difficult than normal - I am irrational, stubborn, rude and extremely blunt. It's not a pleasant feeling to be hungry. After I eat adequately, I feel like a brand new person. I have energy and a positive outlook - I want to do things and achieve! It's amazing what food can do.

"A". Another unpleasant emotion is anger. Anger is something I have a lot of these days. I am angered by insensitive people that just don't understand other people have problems. I'm angered by the girls that have worlds the size of pinheads revolving around The Bachelor, tanning beds and social events. I'm angered by silence in moments where there should be talking. Being angry is not flattering for anyone. It's also an emotion that can't be avoided. Sometimes people or events make us mad and it's good to acknowledge those feelings - especially while grieving. In moments of anger I've said things I didn't ultimately mean...but at the time I had to make my point. In moments of anger, we have different intentions - or at least I do. I don't care about hurting feelings or solving the problem...I want to convey that I'm angry and hurt/upset about what that person has done or what that situation has created. I've taken anger to whole new levels and held grudges for years. After a situation has been resolved or I've had time to cool off, I come to my senses. I apologize for my hurtful words or actions and I learn from my foolish mistake.

"L". I could be in a room full of people and still feel alone. I feel lonely often. It's not that I don't have people to love me...it's that my emotions reside on a pendulum - back and forth - regarding the topic of "love". There are few constants in my life now when there used to be many just 4 short months ago. I know my mom loves me, but she doesn't extend a hand or a hug anymore. She doesn't throw out compliments like candy at a parade or facetiously tell me I look like some gorgeous celebrity in People Magazine anymore. Words mean a lot and it's great that she tells me she loves me, but love is meant to be felt and not just heard. Sometimes I have a hard time understanding that I'm desirable. As a young woman I've struggled with this for years - but never to this extreme. I see my mom look in the mirror and talk about the things she doesn't like - her swollen cheeks, her pooh bear tummy, her bald head...and every time I reassure her that she's strong and beautiful. I just wish there was someone beside me every time I thought negatively too. I've learned that loneliness is uncontrollable if it's experienced too long - I work myself up thinking I'll be alone forever or unloved...even though I know it's not true. I am positive 90% of the time, but the 10% I'm not become more of a struggle every day.

"T". Finally, tiredness is no stranger at the Robinson household. We are always tired. I juggle classes and work. My dad is always tired because he wakes up to help my mom to the bathroom 3 times throughout the night. My sister is tired because she puts my brother to sleep - and that is no easy process. We are tired of living this life full of frustration, constantly grieving and helplessly watching this disease take over our lives. We often fight with each other because its easy to reach a point where it all becomes too much to handle. We need time away. If I have a morning shift - you won't catch me at my house that evening too. Being tired is the worst because you're in a bad mood from the start - you basically just wait for someone to say the wrong thing that will set you off. After a good day or a good rest, you feel rejuvenated and ready to assist again. Tiredness is what pokes holes in my tightknit family.

The devotion for today comes from Genesis 25:29-34 and tells the story of Jacob and Esau. Jacob had made food and Esau was starving. Esau begged for food and in an act of desperation gave up his birthright to Jacob. After he ate, he had realized his foolishness. I love food and hate to starve - but I'm not sure I'd agree to give up my birthrights. Fortunately I've never been given this ultimatum or anything close, but if I were truly desperate...who knows what I would do to eat? This passage extends beyond the culinary world we all know and love - it's very applicable to life in general. My devotion book explains the acronym H.A.L.T. - these letters spell a word that means to slow down or stop. The "H" stands for hungry, "A" for angry, "L" for lonely and "T" for tired. These are all describing words that bring out the worst in us. I am a monster when these words are used to describe me. Whenever we (my siblings and I) would do something bad or get into trouble my mom would always walk away and count to 10. She would count to 10 because it gave her a chance to calm down. In those "10 mississippis" my mom would come back a totally different person - a calm, understanding and stern person. She never yelled harshly or irrationally...there was always a purpose to her tone because she calmed herself down and sought to solve the problem rather than win an argument or prove her point. Counting to 10 would make a huge difference in my life regarding my actions and word choices - I need to learn to respond and not react foolishly.

The Bible tells us to slow down and be patient with one another. This life is not a race, it's a marathon. We are not perfect. We make mistakes. God created us so that we could feel a multitude of emotions - happy, sad, angry, loved, lonely, tired, hungry, full, etc. If we all counted to 10 in  moments of weakness or strength, the world might be a more accepting and loving place. I think God counts to 100 when it comes to me. I often doubt Him and do things that He may not think are pleasing. He has had much patience with me as I learn my lessons through a "crash and burn" approach. While we cannot escape the unpleasant emotions like being hungry, angry, lonely or tired, we could work to HALT them before they spiral out of control.

Mission Possible

All my life I've been a student. As a student, I have mastered the art of procrastination. It's safe to say that without deadlines, nothing would ever be accomplished. At least not in a timely manner. My boyfriend's family had gotten back from a trip late last night - completely exhausted from fighting bad weather and traffic for over 4 hours. We were watching the Packers v. 49ers game on tv and eating Taco Bell when they arrived - being totally useless and lazy. They unpacked, settled in and began to watch the game with us. I noticed that we were missing someone and got up to investigate. I went into the kitchen to see his sweet little sister slaving away on her homework. She looked up with a face I know all too well - the overwhelmed "I hate myself for waiting to the last minute" face. She had math and history and essays...entirely too much to do after a long weekend of driving and freezing temps. Sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do, because they have to be done. As I drove home from their house, I got a phone call from my mom's best friend. We talked a long time about doing things we didn't want to do - and doing things because they're expected and you have no choice. Throughout my mom's fight against cancer, I have grown up a lot. I don't mean that I was immature - I mean that I've had to take on a lot of new responsibilities that most people my age wouldn't care about or understand. I haven't been surprised that I could do it - because I truly believe you can do whatever you set your mind to...but I've been surprised that I could accomplish so much, so well, in such a small amount of time. I don't have deadlines per say, but in a household you've got chores that HAVE to be done. I never thought that I could juggle all my responsibilities so well, but I didn't have a choice - things needed to be done for my mom and my family.

When my mom was in ICU at Roanoke Memorial Hospital, we lived with my aunt and uncle. My cousin moved in, with her two little people, to keep us company. This cousin in particular has always been one of my favorites; we've always had such a special connection that can't really be explained or described. Throughout that month, we all spent a lot of time together on "Mauney Island"; I lost a cousin and gained an older sister. She had always been my role model and hero, but she became so much more. She was brave, caring, always smelled good and was ready to drop everything and give me a hug. Hugs are timeless and always welcome. She was the first person I hugged when the doctor told me our fate. She was the one standing in that ER room when we saw the tumor on the monitor, holding me as I was sobbing uncontrollably. God was there that day, in that room, at that time holding my cousin and I. She was strong for me - demonstrating that God has a plan and has given us people with purpose to help us get through this "mission impossible" scenario.

The devotion for today is from Genesis 21:1-7. "The Lord kept his word and did for Sarah exactly what he had promised. She became pregnant, and she gave birth to a son for Abraham in his old age." This would be impossible - without God. Abraham was 100 years old when his son was born. Not only is it slightly gross and weird to think about having a child at 100 years old...it's a reminder that God can do anything - there is no "mission impossible". I do recall he helped the Virgin Mary become pregnant with Jesus...that's pretty impossible too. He performs miracles that our intellect can not process, but they happen every day on smaller and more recognizable scales. The more I think about my family and my mom and this tumor that's taking over her brain...I start to think that maybe this is "mission possible". None of us can predict the future - we have special medications, CT scans and MRIs that help provide information...but they're not 100% accurate. My mom was given 1 month to live without any treatments and 13 months with treatments. It is now January and she shows no signs of slowing down any time soon. She's a fighter and she's in this to win it - she certainly won't go down without a fight.

There's a show on the Food Network called "Restaurant Impossible" about a chef that visits failing restaurants and helps them make necessary changes to remain in business. The episode always ends with the restaurant successfully making changes and doing better business than ever before - so why isn't the show "Restaurant Possible"? I think we need a safety net - a back up plan. If the restaurant were to not be successful, it would live up to the name "Restaurant Impossible" but if they fix the restaurant for good, it proves that phrase wrong. Doctors tend to be very negative when giving diagnosis and recommendations...and I think it's because they'd like to be wrong. Nobody wants to be told "you've got 15 years to live" and then die of the disease tomorrow. If you're told you've got 13 months and you make it the best 13 months of that persons life...it'll be as if they've lived a lifetime - and who's to say she won't make it longer?! There is nothing God cannot do. He does everything with a purpose. We don't always understand - but I don't know if I could handle his reasoning right now anyways. This fight with cancer relies a lot on attitude and perspective - I'm looking at this the way Rocky looks at a fight - this is our mission, and it's Mission Possible.

The green-eyed monster

Today I went to the grocery store, made lunches, did a couple loads of laundry, cleaned the downstairs level of my house, cooked dinner and then cleaned my room - I think Cinderella and I switched places for the day. I've been very productive all day - but it's been quite an emotional struggle. I was in the grocery store with my 8 year old brother, who HAD to push the cart, and every other mom in America. Why don't dads grocery shop? Why don't teenagers grocery shop? Why does it have to be all moms? After I returned home with the groceries I met my sister for lunch at Moes. Caroline and I love Moes...it's our obsession/lifestyle choice. I look up from our booth and see that we're surrounded by little kids and their moms. Seriously? I didn't realize that Saturday at 1 pm was take your child to Moes day. Don't dads eat too? Earlier this evening I cleaned my room. I was carrying a pile of clean clothes to my dresser when I bumped into a shoebox left cattycorner on the edge of my desk. The box fell over and all its contents spilled out. While I stated a few choice words, I began to pick the clothes and the box contents back up. I saw a pink envelope with my name written on it. My name was written in my mom's handwriting. I tore it open as fast as I could to find an old Valentine's Day card from her and my dad. It wasn't so much what it said inside as it was seeing my mom's handwriting for the first time in a long time. I began to cry. My mom continues to tell me that sometimes a good cry makes everything better and more manageable. You let it all out and then you can refocus. It's times like this that I'm not so sure she's right.

Genesis 4:6-10, 13-15 talks about the relationship between God - Cain and Cain - Abel. It talks about jealousy. I know all about jealousy. On August 10 I was with my whole family, on a pontoon boat at Smith Mountain Lake. We had just gotten back to the dock from our morning outing. My phone rang and it was one of my good friends from home - I answered to brag about my boat ride but never got a chance to speak. He told me that one of my childhood friends attempted suicide this morning and she might have succeeded. She was in a hospital and in trouble. I remember hanging up the phone and hysterically crying. My mom helped me off the boat and back up to the house. I sat at the kitchen table with her and cried until I was gasping for air. I prayed all day for her and her family. I thought about how final death is...and how low you must feel to take your own life. I went to bed early that night and woke up at 3:15 in the morning to my mom having a seizure. My last day with my mom was spent dwelling on someone else's self-inflicted tragedy. My friend recovered after a few weeks and is fine now - thankfully. Suicide is a serious thing - it should never have to happen.

I see tweets from people on Twitter saying things like "I hate my life", "Shoot me now", "I wish I could end it all". In moments of jealousy and frustration I feel like tweeting back "DO IT". Nothing makes me more mad than seeing my peers say things like that...wanting to end their lives early when I know someone who would love nothing more than to continue living. My mom doesn't want to die. She's afraid and not ready. She has so much more to do in this world and so much more kindness and love to share. The world needs more people like her and less people wishing it would all end. It's easy to feel trapped in misery - take it from someone who knows. I see people with their moms on social media sites, on tv shows and in public places...my first thought isn't that I'm sad - it's that I'm jealous. Do they really love spending time with their mom? Do they talk crap about her behind her back? How would they feel without her in their life? I'm jealous that August 10 was wasted on someone else's poor decisions (especially since everything turned out fine) and I wasn't able to just play on the water with my mom. My last full conversation with her revolved around such a foreshadowing topic, that "everything happens for a reason".

I'm glad so many people have their moms throughout their entire life. I'm glad so many people are best friends with their moms. I'm glad there are so many people that truly look up to and respect their moms. Having 22 years with my best friend, role model and mom has been more of a blessing than I'll ever understand. These last 4 months have been different because we have a very different relationship than we did before. I still love her and idolize her because of her strength - but we can't communicate on the same level. She can't really give me relationship advice or talk at length about our trashy reality shows anymore...but she still tells me she loves me. She tells me at appropriate times and randomly. She tells me when I wake up and when she goes to bed. I'm jealous of others because they get to spend time doing the things my mom and I used to do together. I know my mom loves me and is thankful for the many things we do for her, but it's hard to not envy those in seemingly perfect relationships around me. The bible says "sin is crouching at the door, eager to control you. But you must subdue it and be its master". I don't know that this jealousy will ever go away completely, but there are certainly ways to better control it.

Practice makes perfect with everything in life. I'm aware that the world isn't a fair place, but I'm learning to make the best of the situations and moments I am given. We all have things that make us tick and bring out the worst green-eyed monster possible, but snapping at people on Twitter and crying hysterically aren't what God wants us to do. He wants us to reject our jealousy and promote love. He wants us to talk it out, turn to Him and let go of our problems. This is all waaaay easier said than done - but it's a step in the right direction to acknowledge that this is what He wants and what it takes to be a Christian. I am thankful for every moment spent with my mom and family of 5. I am thankful for her handwritten notes and continued signs of affection. Though our relationships are different than they used to be, they're still recognizable and valued. This situation is so hard, frustrating and unfair to all of us - we just need to remain as positive and thankful as we possibly can. Some days are worse than others and finding handwritten notes and old photographs don't make it any easier. While they're deeply upsetting showing that our life has drastically changed, they're also comforting reminders signifying that her spirit is still with us and will be in us forever.

Pinky promise

Today my heart is so happy. I spent the morning with my mom, the afternoon with my man and the evening with my mini-me. I have absolutely no complaints. I babysit for the most darling little girl - I mean absolutely adorable. When talking to her I see her sassiness, spunk and kindness overflow. I think that if I were 4 years old, we would be best friends and play all the time. Every time you babysit for a child that can talk, you learn about the things their parents tell them or their perspective of various situations. Note to parents: watch what you say, babysitters know all. Tonight we went on a girl date - we ate pizza in a dimly lit room and talked about our day. We talked about Barbies, books and what it would be like to live in CandyLand - the real deep stuff. As a babysitter, I've learned that kids talk a mile a minute and feel the need to tell you everything they possibly can as fast as they can. This presents a problem when you're asking them to eat dinner with you...especially when on a girl date. Several times I had to ask her to continue eating. Finally I broke out the pinky promise. She had never made a pinky promise before so I gave it to her straight. I explained that pinky promises were real serious things and can never be broken. She stuck out her pinky and twisted it around mine. We kissed our thumbs and then laughed cause it's silly. But she ate her food immediately and we moved on to the next activity.

Later in the evening I was tucking her into bed and reading her a story about two mice. One was named longtail and the other was littletail (which she explained were really her and me - only slightly offensive). The book talks about the games played between a big (adult) mouse and a little (baby) mouse; it explains that over time the baby mouse will grow up and they won't be able to play the same games forever. The book ends with the big mouse telling the baby mouse he'll love him forever and that will never change. I closed the book, turned out the light and made it halfway down the stairs before I heard "Ms. Katie". I turned around, switched on the light and asked what she needed. She said "I will love you for 100 years". In that moment, my heart melted. It's moments like that you remember forever and tuck away for a sad day. It makes me think about words and how much power they hold over us.

The devotion today is from Genesis 6:11-14; 9:11, 16. It talks about why God flooded the Earth. It discusses God's instructions to Noah and his promise to every living creature. The rainbow is a symbol of God's promise to never again flood the earth and destroy life. This is a pretty hefty promise from our maker. He has all the power in the world and can wipe us out whenever he wants. My mom's signature sarcastic phrase holds true for God too, "I brought you into this world and I can take you out". Why do we trust God's promises? Let me rephrase my question. Why can we not trust people at face value? If we are all created in God's image, why do we question motives and words and resort to pinky promises? I'm guilty of putting up walls against everyone and everything. I don't think that's uncommon though.

I'm pretty sure nobody asked God to pinky promise that he wouldn't flood the earth again. I think they just believed him and moved on. That's quite a concept...moving on. Makes me think about all the things I've done and said without moving on. I am learning to believe others and trust those around me simply because I'm tired of feeling so alone; not everyone is going to hurt me. This devotion extends far beyond floodwaters and the preservation of animals you can now visit at the zoo. Pinky promises are silly and great bonding activities for little girls (or women of all ages). I maintain that they have a place in the 21st century. However, I do think it's time to believe what others tell me - to trust their words and not go to great lengths researching on whether it was the truth or not. If we were truly created in God's image - we should be able to trust, love and make promises to keep with each other. It's easy to believe the things we want to hear - like being loved for 100 years. It's the words like "terminal, cancer, persevere, faith" that I have a hard time processing and finding promise in; it's sad, but true. We use a lot of different words every day in many different ways. I search daily to find words that explain insight into my life and my faith for the world to read in this blog. All I'm saying is that if God can promise to never flood the earth again and destroy living creatures, I can believe when others say "I'm sorry", "You're forgiven" and "I love you".

2 > 1

The devotion for today comes from Genesis 2:15-24 and discusses the need for a soulmate. God created a mate for Adam because "it is not good for the man to be alone". This is perfect timing since half of my friend group has recently gotten engaged over the break or been busy planning their dream weddings. I'm at the age where marriage and serious relationships are a reality and it's intimidating. Sometimes I feel like I'm in the hunger games, desperate to find someone that's unattached and relatively normal. I start to think that I'm ready for it all to happen - the proposal, the house, the dinner parties...but then I start to laugh. I was the girl in middle school and high school that had lots of "boyfriends". It was your typical check 'yes or no box' notes, meeting at the park to hold hands and talk on the phone about tv shows for hours. Dating in middle school is beyond ridiculous because you can't really go anywhere and you don't have money to spend on anything. High school dating was a little easier because you're mobile...but if you have a job you're only making minimum wage. Your parents set curfews and if you dated me, an adorable 6 year old boy was sent to annoy you when it was time for him to leave our house - incredibly clever and super annoying. Dating in college is a whole new world because you can date whoever you want without your parents knowing. My mom has always been my best friend and my life has always been an open book. She knew everything about everyone I ever liked. I guess that's why I struggle with my emotions and feelings now...because we can't really have the same level of conversation anymore.

Three summers ago I had my first serious relationship. I learned what it was like to build your life around someone, to make future plans and become secure in yourself and his identity. Fortunately, God stepped in and saved the day. My mom was right behind Him though. Love is blind sometimes...and can definitely be blinding. I was blinded for months. Towards the end I started to realize I had lost my voice, my passion and my identity. I was so excited that someone loved me and wanted to be with me that I had settled. I realized the things he was telling me and saying weren't true. At least not what I believed to be true. I learned what his intentions were in faith, society and life. We were polar opposites on issues that should have been addressed early-on in the relationship. I have not had a serious relationship since it all ended and I don't think this guy is a terrible human being. I think there's a perfect match for everyone; man and woman, woman and woman, and man and man...whatever floats your boat. I wear my heart on my sleeve and give way too many chances for redemption. After it all ended with this guy, my mom and I had several long talks about finding the "perfect" guy. Perfect is a relative term because nobody is perfect. You need to find someone that is willing to compromise, bring out the best in you and what you love and respect you always. I hope to find someone as wonderful as my dad. My parents have known each other since they were 15. They have a disgusting love story - the kind they write about in movies: junior high sweethearts that dated for 8 years, got married and love each other more every day. In the process of reorganizing everything in our house to better suit our needs, we found an old jewelry box that belonged to my mom. The only piece of jewelry inside was a little gold ring. It looked like a cheap gold wire that had been bent to form a heart. I brought the box to my mom and asked what and why she kept this; she explained to me that this was the first piece of jewelry my dad had given her...when they were 15 or 16. She wore it all the time and kept it to remind her that she had truly married her best friend.

I'm fortunate enough to be dating the first boy I ever liked. The best part about the whole situation is...I don't know what will happen or what to expect, but I know my heart is safe. Dating is about having fun...if you're not having fun, you're not doing it right. Whenever I'm with him I learn things about myself and what I'm looking for. For Christmas he gave me a card that said "you are one of the strongest people I know, with a huge heart! Don't change for anyone!" He also gave me the world's greatest gift in addition to this card (proving that he definitely hears me when I talk). One of the main things he's taught me is to believe in myself - to have confidence in my feelings and emotions. I don't know that there's anyone out there who knows me better than he does. You see, we've known each other since the third grade, been valentines, plus-ones to date functions and friends for all those awkward teen years. We've seen each other grow and change in so many ways - be in love with and hurt by those we thought we could trust. I don't have to pretend to be some girl I'm not - I'm goofy and sassy and inquisitive about everything. I probably annoy the crud out of him on most occasions. Throughout the tragedy in my life, he is a true ray of sunshine showing me that even through adversity I can smile and stand tall. I've learned to trust in him because you get what you give. God works through him and his family daily, reminding me that I shouldn't have to go through this by myself. It's okay to make mistakes, doubt and be complicated but it's even better to let things happen in their natural order. Whatever's meant to be will be - God has a plan and he won't lead us astray. He wants us to find happiness not only in ourselves, but through others as well. It's like going to Busch Gardens by yourself. Chances are you'd still have fun because you can ride the rides, pay way too much for crappy food and do whatever you want. However, it'd be way more fun to have someone to sit with, talk to and complain about the overpriced food and drink. All aspects of life are meant to be shared, whether it's for two months or a lifetime.