I don't

Politics aren't really my thing.

I have views about things like healthcare, taxing, war, helping other countries, etc., but like most people, I believe that those are my views because I have the best interest of our country at heart. Should someone present to me a better plan and the research around it, I would happily hop on board.

I was only 14 when President Obama got elected for the first time, which was young enough that the extent of my political upkeep came from what my parents talked about at the dinner table. To their credit, this actually was a decent amount of information because they are both in finance and were interested in the changes. Most of the time though, it was about our days at school and other, more timely matters. I was 22 when President Trump got elected - on my own student loans, living by myself, seeing my own primary care doctor, living a few hours away from my parents. My knowledge about 'adulting' has vastly expanded (although still needs work) to include issues that are included in political matters like healthcare and taxes. For the first time in my life, I actually care (and need to know) what's going on in the White House.

Yesterday I read on Twitter that President Trump actually referred to a few African countries as 'shithole countries' and expressed his displeasure about gaining immigrants from these countries.

Just let that sink in.

As far as I know, there isn't video footage of what President Trump said, so I have no 100% proof that it actually happened. I am going along with what news articles have said instead. Truthfully, it really doesn't matter whether or not he said it - this message is still applicable - to African countries and otherwise. Our president has said plenty of unprofessional and downright mean things about people or groups of people in his short year, so I'm going to argue that I can write this blog regardless.

Immigration is something that, as a very big picture thinker, I can see pros and cons on. I believe in helping people but immigration can be a big undertaking as many countries in the rest of the world see more turmoil. In a perfect world, immigration would be a fast and seamless process and our country would never run out of space or resources and everyone would live happily ever after. Unfortunately, we all know that isn't how it works.

The first week of January, my family and I took a trip to the Dominican Republic for a vacation. We had a wonderful time, and one of the friends we made during our trip was Franklin, who worked at the resort in the entertainment department. Franklin picked up on my sister's name the second day we were there and he would walk through the resort yelling hi to her - it always made us laugh to hear him from the other side of the pool. He spent some time just talking with us on the beach for half an hour or so one day and we learned a lot about him - he is 25, his parents have both passed away, but they are originally from Haiti. He has five (I think) siblings, and he has worked at the resort for three years. He works 9 am to midnight, 11 days on, 3 days off, unless instructed otherwise. During Christmas he worked 15 straight days. He says the pay is okay, but he laughed when we asked how they treated him. When we asked him who Donald Trump was, he laughed even harder. I wonder what he would think of to hear his country referenced in such a way.

There is a good chance that if you are reading this, you have, at some point in your life, been left out of something. The playground at school, drinks after work, or a group at school you wanted to be in. In my experience, 9 times out of 10, this is an accident. Both my college group of friends and my graduate school group of friends consist of lots of people who kind of mix and match together, and it's easy to unintentionally leave someone out. Nevertheless, the intentionality of the action does not change the hurt that you probably felt. The hurt that says you bring nothing of value to this group, so we didn't invite you.

When I have been to other countries, vacations and mission trips alike, one of the things that they all seem to have in common is that they think America is the greatest country in the world. Hannah told me that in Spain, people believe we are hardworking and efficient. When I was in Nicaragua, people stood in awe of the Americans who came to their village. In Hong Kong, we were stopped many times in the temples and asked if we would take pictures with people. It was like being famous for doing absolutely nothing. It breaks my heart to think that this president represents what people hear from America - he is the voice that so many people look to to represent 'the greatest country in the world.'

My dad and I have discussed many times this concept that people think of America but how we almost feel as though we are lying to people. I don't think I live in the greatest country in the world. I think that I have been phenomenally lucky to be born into a family that has health insurance, two parents with good jobs, a roof over my head, warm meals, and the opportunity to go to college. My dad and I have both been to Nicaragua on separate occasions, and we have discussed how truly, those people we met there would probably hate living in America. We are fast paced, self sufficient, and can be greedy. The people of Nicaragua have a heart like nothing I have ever seen before - they are giving all they have to help each other survive. Many of them are impoverished - but while they are impoverished of the body, I think America is impoverished of the heart.

President Trump's views probably represent a very small, small percentage of America, but unfortunately, he's the one with an 'official' voice, and something really needs to be done about that. I am Christian, and I believe that God does not create all people equally, but he creates them of equal value. Thus, we do not function in isolation, we function as a unit. The people of Nicaragua have it down - they give and receive to make their community whole. They help one another in times of need. I believe that giving freely and loving fiercely are core principals of my faith, and not everyone agrees with my faith - but I think just these principals, untied to religion, could really change the way this country moves.

Being from the geographical center of the United States, I have substantially less interactions with people from other countries than my friends on the coasts, but they do happen. There was a girl in my workout class last night who, based on the way she was dressed, led me to believe that our ethnicities, cultural beliefs, religion, and many other things were vastly different. Let me add that I am not juding her based on her choice of clothes or headwear - I am simply empathizing with the fact that I am sure she get s many questions and stares because she looks 'different.' Additionally, but I bet we have this in common: we both like people and want the best for them. During the class I kept thinking about this girl. I had no idea where she was from or what her story was. She could have been born and raised in Omaha for all I know. I have no idea if she has heard the things our president has said about specific parts of this world. I prayed that she hadn't, to keep her from thinking that anyone could ever think less of her, but I prayed that she had, and I prayed she felt empowered by it. I assume that this girl has a family who loves her, friends who enjoy her company, a job she may or may not enjoy, and probably, like the rest of us, a guilty pleasure TV show.

While writing this blog, I desperately wanted to yell Jesus doesn't play favorites. Jesus loves incredible people from all corners of the world. HOWEVER - I am playing a religiously neutral writer here and attempting to keep my Jesus comments to a minimum - trying to appeal to many viewpoints. I want to make the point that religion is not the only reason to accept people for who they are and understand their incredible value to this world.

Awhile back (and probably still going) there was a movement in the country of women who had been sexually assaulted who were encouraged to say 'Me Too." as a sign of their unity. I saw it everywhere - on my Facebook, TV , even written on cars. That one did not affect me personally, but I thought of one that does. Our country has always had issues and I refuse to believe that they are the fault of one specific person, but I think people can contribute great amounts to segregation and hate, and comments about countries being shitholes can do just that - so I, for one, don't.

I don't believe that, girl in my workout class. I don't believe that your heritage, culture, or anything about you is anything less than amazing. I don't believe your country of origin determines your impact on the world. I don't. I don't, Franklin from the Dominican Republic. I don't believe you lack value or greatness. I don't. To the little children of Nicaragua that I came to know and love - I don't. I don't see you as helpless. I don't believe that your country is anything less than amazing, because you rest inside of it.

I don't.

According to Schedule

I have a very associative memory.

I remember specific dates like weddings, parties, or big family events by what others were wearing, or other minor, but oddly specific details. It's almost photographic, but not in the helpful 'ace my test because I memorized the book' photographic. Most people are like "oh, was that Christmas 2014?" and I'm like "Whichever one where my sister wore the green jacket."

I remember people's birthdays faster than their names. This is a super power my friends have tried me on, and it almost always works. (November and March are kinda hard, I don't really know why.) It's almost like there's a special file cabinet in my brain where birthdays are stored.

Similarly, dates seem to take up a lot of space in my brain. I associate dates with everything. I left my favorite job in the whole wide world on August 17. I gave my last dance performance ever on February 24. I graduated from high school on May 20. I promise you I am not crazy. I think it's because I am calendar and schedule oriented.

As you can imagine, this trait seems to be on blast on days that are REALLY important. May 25 is a day that will never leave my mind. Listed directly below it are all the days associated with it - funeral and visitation days, court dates, the day we got to go through some of Brenna's things. January 10 is one of those days.

I woke up this morning with no recollection of the date or it's significance. This is a first for me. When I have these dates engrained in my brain for bad reasons, I tend to know they are coming - it's like a gray cloud that slowly gets closer and closer to me and then hangs over me for that day, and then the day after, it leaves. It's like magic. Annoying magic, but magic nonetheless.

January 10th is the day engrained in my brain as the cold day over winter break of my freshman year of college when I came home from lunch with a friend to find my mom at home in the middle of the day on a Monday. Once I put my stuff down, she said to me "I came home because there's something I need you to read." She sat on my bed while I sat down at my computer and read the CJ online article that had been released on that day because it was Dustin's last court date before his sentencing. It went into horrific detail about how she died. And it broke my heart. My mom laid in my bed with me and cried for what felt like forever. I remember exactly how that felt. It was a weight that I cannot describe to you. All the guilt that had come over the last few months had reached it's peak - irrational and ridiculous questions my friends and I asked ourselves thousands of times about ways we somehow could have prevented this - now seemed like a direct stab to the heart.

That night I sat at a Coldstone with my friend Natalie and went through the details with her. She listened to me with great empathy as the tears streamed down my face. Nine months of processing this death and it wasn't getting any easier because court is the slowest process on the planet. It just keeps coming. It felt similar to getting a really bad cut and then accidentally putting on hand sanitizer the next day. The way it manages to scream at you exactly where that cut came from, and how it felt, and where it is.

My friend Hannah met me for pizza on the three year anniversary of Brenna's death. We had been friends for maybe, two months. But we lived forty minutes from each other in the summer so we met in the halfway spot on the highway and drank coke and ate pizza and talked for like three hours. She was a great listener and added so much joy to my day.

Hannah and I have been through more together than I have with almost any of my other friends that I have made since starting at K-State, and she knows me better than I do. She will tell you that one important thing about me is my need for a schedule. I like plans, I like warning when things are going to change. One cancelled class or moved meeting can throw my day off entirely. Hannah and I always joke that I'm the one that keeps us on track and she's the one who keeps me sane when being on a perfect schedule never works. I think that is one of the things most frustrating about grief is that it does not go according to schedule.

Today, I was sitting in the library between classes when I opened up the "On this Day" feature on Facebook. I was scrolling through when the photo of Brenna next to Dustin's hit me like a ton of bricks, along with the link to the article. It seemed like the previously loud library was silent as all those emotions came flooding back. I was so angry at myself - how could I have forgotten this day? More importantly, why did I forget? January 10 was a different kind of pain than the whole grief journey had been so far. I felt the same anger at my local newspaper as I did on this same day five years ago. I texted my friend Katie before class just so that I could tell someone about it. Simultaneous thoughts of "Why is this bothering me five years later" and "How could I have forgotten this day" ran through my head. Either way, I didn't plan for this.

"That's a sign of healing, Em." were the words she said. and she is so right. "You can't sit and wait anymore. It's okay to remember the good times, but also to forget the bad." One of the reasons that article made me so furious five years ago and today is because I was afraid that the sickening details of Brenna's case would cause people to forget the brilliant, inspiring, kind person that she was.

I've written previously about the difficulty that comes after someone dies when the months or years have gone by and you realize you feel yourself starting to change. You aren't completely weighed down by that thing anymore - but now you're weighed down because you don't feel weighed down. I remember when the WWBD finally came off the back of my car, when I took the yellow bracelet from her funeral off for the first time, and now, for this first, forgetting an important day because it didn't creep up on me like it has in years past. January 10th has always been more quiet - just a dull pain, remembering the feeling that surrounded my community when the news was finally out. It was hard. It is hard to not feel as though January 10th should be a day to grieve this anymore - but Katie is right, it doesn't need to be. Today, for the majority of the day with the exception of half an hour this afternoon, January 10th got to be about having lunch with my friends for the first time in three weeks, exciting new class schedules, and talking about starting my first long rotation in May. It felt really good. I like 'new' January 10th.

It is unfair for Brenna to be known by the scary details of her death, and it is unfair for me to allow the space in my memory reserved for her to have anything less than brilliant, inspiring, and kind things inside of it.