Grounded

Every year around this time, I start to ponder what I should write about this year. The first few years after Brenna died, I was more intentional about writing on this day, but the last 3-4 years it seems as though God decides what he is going to have me write about for this day. I just wait it out, and if He does not want me to write, He will ensure that I have writer's block. A few years ago I realized this when I put a lot of pressure on myself to write SOMETHING because my friends had told me how helpful it was. Seconds before I was going to publish, it crashed and the entire thing was gone, despite having it saved. I managed to crank out a completely new post and topic in under ten minutes. This blog is not mine to write.

Sure enough, I pondered all week without coming to much conclusion. It's currently close to midnight on Wednesday as I start this. God loves to give me blog ideas at this time of night, and that's how I know they are His - nothing productive for me happens after about 9:30 p.m.

Looking at my timehop and Facebook memories around this time of year is very strange for me. Right after Brenna died, I realized that my memory between the last party on the night of my high school graduation (Sunday, May 20 around midnight) and the first phone call I got that Brenna was missing (Friday, May 25, around 2 p.m) is completely wiped. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And the things between 2 and 11 p.m. are in a very strange order and in an uncomfortably vivid detail. Now, six years later, that seems very normal - why would I remember mundane and unimportant days working at a daycare six years ago? Of course I would remember such an awful day in great detail. But On Sunday the 27th of 2012, it seemed very strange to have that much memory just gone. Looking at my Facebook and Timehop memories is a very strange experience because for a solid week, I remember none of it, even now. I sat down with my neuro professor at Creighton and talked with her about this - sometimes that is a protective instinct of your brain to block things out, it seems like my brain just blocked the wrong stuff.

What I do remember, however, is the events that took place on the evening of the 25th (so well, they're probably engrained in my brain forever) and that Memorial weekend - a Memorial weekend that no one in my friend group will probably ever view the same way. This year is especially strange because, for the first time, the days of the week align with the 2012 calendar. All the events will pop up on the memories and on timehop on the same day that they actually happened.

Now that it has been six years, and even some before this, I have come to a closure, for the most part, with the events associated with that weekend (I think I say this every year, but it's a good feeling, and I have to remind myself of that sometimes. We've come a LONG WAY.)- the panicked phone calls, looking for my friend in shrubbery and woods and knowing whatever I found wasn't going to be good, and watching so many people I loved go through that much pain. I have made peace with the details and watched my friends become engineers, teachers, and doctors, study abroad, get married, have kids, and so many other things they dreamed of doing. I know that Brenna watches out for us and she's unbelievably proud of what we've become. Those details no longer matter - it's almost like watching my friends become so successful with college, careers, and families has made up for all the hurt in that day, and it's made them twice as good at whatever they set out to do.

The number one thing that has never faded from my mind has been the support. Starting with my family, stretching to the far corners of my community. I didn't grow up in a small town, but the Seaman community kind of feels like one. Since Brenna, my high school has probably had (I'm not counting, just estimating) around 10 student deaths. Every time it happens I flash back to the day during my junior year that I went to school after three girls in my class had been in a serious accident the night before, and one of them died. The school was eerily quiet all day and all we did was watch movies and color. I watch time and time again as my high school handles these situations with grace and love and makes going to school after a tragedy even safer and more comfortable than before. There seems to be an unspoken bond in our community - kids who deal with the death of their friends now know that those of us who graduated six or seven years ago are all too familiar - we may not ever meet, but we just seem to know.

The night that Brenna died, I remember support. I remember people bringing cases of water and food for those who had spent hours searching. I remember my school counselors coming on a Friday night to stand in a field and love on hundreds of broken kids. I remember someone opening a church (that most of us didn't make it into) for us to have a place to just be. The weekend that Brenna died, I remember support. My parents will never know how much it meant to me that they opened our home for two solid days to anyone and everyone who wanted to be there. I grew up in a house very close to the high school, so it was easy for people to be there. Hundreds of people flowed in and out of the house throughout that Memorial weekend. A lot of them were people I didn't even know. We rotated from working on a scrapbook about Brenna, to laughing and crying at our memories. We would gather in the living room when the news came on, breath sucked in waiting to learn anything new, and scared of whatever it was. My parents made sure the house had a ton of pizza and snacks, and asked us regularly if we would please eat and drink water. Despite the heartbreak, one of my fondest memories of my friends is that weekend and how we supported each other. I remember almost 1400 people attending her funeral, the line for her visitation lasting almost five hours after it ended, a balloon release at my high school, staff members allowing us time to sit in the auditorium and talk and laugh together, and lots and lots of hugs. I remember the Westboro Baptist Church protesting her funeral. I will always brag about that. I have a friend who lived a life so incredible by the age of 18 that the Westboro Baptist Church protested her funeral. I remember the Patriot Guard showing up to support us. I remember feeling somehow so empty and so loved at the same time. The summer that Brenna died, I remember support. I was working at a daycare that I had fallen in love with at 14 and was not ready to leave. My coworkers spent my first six weeks back from Brenna's funeral handing me baby after baby and knowing that snuggles were what I really needed. They offered a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on as they helped me sift through so much adult information as a seventeen year old. My parents supported what had to be the most angry 17 year old that summer they ever thought could live under their roof. In the last six years, the support has never faded.

Right after Brenna died, people often asked me how I could possibly live the rest of my life knowing that my friend was killed intentionally by another human being, and have no idea why this person wanted to do that to her. I used to tell people that I always pray that someday I won't wonder why he did it, I'll wonder why He did it. I finally feel at peace with that. I don't even necessarily wonder why God allowed it to happen anymore - I kind of just count my blessings that have come from the situation and take that as my answer. Even six years later, He doesn't seem to be done working with it yet.

Although I know that Brenna looks down at those of us 'doing our thing' now - I know that the one thing she would be brokenhearted about is the violence in this world. I'm not sure if her death just opened me up to it all as an adult, or if things really are getting worse, but I don't think I ever was made aware of a school shooting until I graduated high school, and they seem to keep multiplying. She wanted to be a kindergarten teacher, and I know it would crush her to know how many kids are put in danger just by going to school. Just last week, ten students were killed at a high school in Texas because of one person. It took years for me to mend losing one friend to an intentional act - I can't fathom ten.

While this world seems to be becoming more violent, more sad, and more broken, I've found that the bonds that were created on that warm May evening are what keeps me grounded. I can thank my friends for teaching me about supporting each other in tough times. I can't control what happens in the larger world, but in the small community around me, I can at least take some part in it - knowing how much a hug, kind words, a shoulder to cry on, good food, or a sonic drink on my roughest day made things just a little bit easier. I'm never going to know the reasons why anyone would want to do something like kill another human being - no one will. But there is never a wrong time for kindness.

I wrote in a previous blog about letting go of the promises you make to yourself after someone dies. You know, the ones about never replacing them, keeping the superficial items of theirs, or similar things. Although we never said it, I think my friend group has an unspoken promise to look out for each other. The death of someone you love at such a young age makes each reunion a little bit sweeter. My friends are of different religions, political beliefs, career paths, and a variety of other things- but we have a blast getting together for a wedding or a night of cards and drinks on Christmas break.

I'm writing this blog from my new favorite spot in this tiny town in Louisiana - a coffee shop that sits right on Lake Ponchartrain. I'm enjoying coffee with whipped cream in Brenna's honor and I took a stroll by the lake earlier. I've got treatment plans to write, sessions to plan, and documents to write up. I've got diagnoses to learn, theories to study, and a lot of kids waiting to challenge me. But I'm thinking about how far we've come. My friends from high school and I don't talk much anymore, but I know they're doing incredible things, changing the world in their own ways, with a sturdy foundation of strength built from this very weekend six years ago. This morning I was on a home visit for my rotation working with a little girl and I realized I was able to get her hip braces on (despite her stubbornness about them being on) and get her up, walking, and fed, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. I am finally, finally doing what I've always wanted to do. But it comes with a little bittersweet today, because although I am, someone else I love is not.

These last two weeks have been a big transition for me that helped inspire some of the thoughts in this blog. I moved to Louisiana two weeks ago, and although it's only for 12 weeks, it's an adjustment. I've never lived alone or this far away from home, and I've never moved to a brand new city without knowing anyone. Each transition in life seems to come with a slight relapse of grief, and I've been feeling it this week. Nothing major - but instead of appreciating her song on the radio, the daisy I walk by, or laughing at the whiffle ball that suddenly seems to have jumped off the shelf at the therapy clinic, it takes me a minute to get through it. It's never a big deal, but it is noticeable.

My hope is that even if we forget the superficial promises and feelings we had that weekend six years ago, we'll never forget the most important ones. My friend Tyler said in an interview the day after she died that they had both wanted to be teachers, (and teach in classrooms next to each other) and now he would have to do twice as good of a job because she wouldn't be around to do it. I hope the members of my community who were present on that awful, awful day are still promising to do big things in the world.  Many people let go of their high school by the time they are six years out and I think most of us have. I don't visit, I don't think about it much, I just keep up with my favorite teachers on Facebook. But there's always going to be a part of me who is thankful that the Seaman community is bound together by tragic circumstances that hold together like glue. More than that, we're empowered with the knowledge and desire of wanting to live out the wishes and dreams of our classmates who will never have the chance. Every year, this day makes me proud to be where I'm from. We may not be able to change a lot, but we will ensure the pain we went through never goes to waste.

Good Scary

I just got back to Omaha from my very last ever Sunday drive back still facing a week of classes. How that drive has changed...

My first entire semester and a half at Creighton, I cried so hard when I had to leave home on Sunday afternoons. My parents would send me off with tears in their own eyes, always reminding me this was my calling and they believed I could get through another week. "A smile on your face and a song in your heart" is my mom's famous line, and many weeks, the smile took everything I had and the song was very faint. It wasn't that I disliked being in Omaha or at Creighton, but it was merely that I was so unbelievably overwhelmed with all the new in my life that home was the one place when things are familiar. And every Sunday, I HAD to leave. And I hated it. Change has always been hard for me, and this seemed magnified.

Slowly, though, things changed. I wrote last year about my relationship with Emma making my Sundays so much easier. Soon, instead of the dread that filled me upon waking up on Sunday morning, it was excitement. I knew there was the cutest four year old in the world coming to dance class that day, and it was with my help that she was able to participate and do the thing that every four year old girl deserves to do - go to dance class. Although some tears were still shed on the drive back, slowly, I would get it together. I would sit down Sunday and look at the week ahead, and week by week, it got easier to figure out how all the homework was going to get done, when I could squeeze in time to develop friendships, and how I might even work in some time for myself - or even time to ponder what 'time for myself' even was. The drive back used to take forever, because it was filled with anxiety.

Today, my drive back took forever because I was so excited. Emma and I have a dance recital today. Her mom said that she is SO excited, and she's been talking about it at dance for at least six weeks, and when you're five, that's forever. I'm excited because this week I get to spend a lot of time with my friends here for that last time until I see them again one year from now, for a few days at graduation. When I truly think about it, there has probably been less than an hour each day (except for when I'm sleeping) for the last two years that I have spent NOT with someone in my class at Creighton. When you spend that much time together, dealing with something so stressful, and all working towards the same goal and passion, you have to like each other.

Many people have asked me over the last six weeks or so about my 'next steps'. It's difficult to describe the rotation process to someone who isn't in school/doesn't work in healthcare, so I've had to think of a lot of different ways of explaining it. In case that's you, I've lived in Omaha for two years, going to school and taking four separate weeks 'off' to go on a small fieldwork experience. This week, my class makes the big transition to our 'level 2' fieldworks and we will essentially be students at hospitals, clinics, or schools for the next twelve months. Those twelve months are split between three sites (summer, fall, and spring) and they are located all over the United States, with a few of my classmates even spending time overseas. As you can imagine, this adds a lot of chaos. Although Creighton organizes this beautifully for us, and it prepares us well for our future, finding housing, moving our belongings, and site-specific requirements are still on us. So, not only are we preparing to take on our own caseloads for the first time next week, many of us are moving to new cities, living with new people, and saying goodbye to great friends. People always ask if I'm nervous, and I usually say that I am scared - but it's a good scared.

This week is going to be filled with a lot of laughs, probably some tears, and basically zero studying. (sorry to any of my professors if you happen to find and read this). I have a peds test tomorrow, and I should be studying, but I'm not. I can't waste time studying or packing when I have to enjoy this time. As my friend Natalie told me this morning - 'it's going to be bittersweet. immerse yourself in the sweet now, and cry about the bitter after you leave'

Coming to Omaha has blessed me beyond measure. I remember the night before I left to come here, we had some friends over, and I stood in the driveway and cried because I didn't want to come. I had spent the entire summer 'nannying' for one of my favorite families in the whole world, and I wasn't ready to leave (I offered to stay but Ray and Steph politely told me that they loved me, and they were firing me and sending me to OT school). I stood in my driveway and cried because I was so scared about what was to come - however, next week my parents, aunt and uncle, and Ray and Steph are coming back to help move my belongings home. I have a feeling that there will be some tears, both because I'm nervous to go on fieldwork in new places, but also because I'm so sad to leave everything Omaha has given me.

Omaha blessed me with an incredible roommate, who, if you know us independently, you would wonder how on earth we get along. More than that, Leah has become one of my best friends and taught me so much with her positive outlook on life and the way she just finds so much JOY in everything she does. Omaha blessed me with an incredible counselor, who has now become a dear friend, who gave me more confidence in myself than I ever thought possible, and helped me work through past losses and grief that finally, finally, finally, I can feel at peace with. Omaha blessed me with the Gehring family, who have taken me in, let me come sit on their couch, and feed me dinner when I come over. They have set an incredible example of hospitality, love, and opening your home to others. They will never know how many nights I came to them at my wit's end with school or personal situations, and them allowing me to feel productive by changing diapers, helping with dinner, or just being a part of their family got me through. Omaha has blessed me with a class of 62 incredible people who I know are about to go change the world and the face of healthcare in a variety of settings, locations, and ways - people who, one day, I will get to say proudly "I went to OT school with them". Omaha has blessed me with Katie, Christin, and Megan, three of my best friends who I would not have survived the last two years without, and I will probably be calling a lot over the next year as I deal with complex patients, difficult situations, and exciting milestones with my clients. Although this list isn't even close to being all inclusive, you can guess why this week might be a little emotional.

When I think back in my life, there has been lots of tough situations, but not a single season of life has God called me to and then not blessed me with things I never knew I needed or wanted - and I know moving to Louisiana next week will be no exception. This transition is going to be sad, and without a doubt it will be scary - but I know that there is some serious joy and blessing that awaits. To everyone who has made Omaha my home for the last two years, thank you so much. I am so looking forward to the next chapter - and in the words of my friend Brenna, I am very excited to take lots of pictures, but always remembering - the best is yet to come.

The Dancer

Anyone who knows anything about me knows how much I love to dance. I started dancing in a studio when I was four years old and quit when I was a senior in high school - I miss it every. single. day. I am always the one nagging my friends to dance at weddings, and I think it drives them nuts. Swing and two stepping was one of my favorite Friday night activities in college (and I'm still the one that makes everyone go whenever we're all together). Dance has provided one of the best stress relievers for me - nothing made a bad day at school better than six hours of rehearsals. Dance taught me a LOT of lessons about life. I learned how important it is to have something like dance to relieve stress when life gets a little rocky.

In case we haven't been friends on Facebook for very long, or you REALLY don't pay attention, you may not know about Emma - the new friend I made in Omaha last fall. Emma is in kindergarten and has been undergoing chemotherapy treatments on and off since she was diagnosed with a brain tumor at seven months old.  We met as buddies in a special needs dance class last fall. 45 minutes of dance can be really exhausting for someone who doesn't stand on her own, let alone walk. I think I spend 50% of class CONVINCING Emma to do what I want her to do (I'm pretty good with kids, but she figured out how to get whatever she wants out of me on week one. We do a lot of bartering. Sometimes it involves coffee.)

One of my favorite moments with Emma over the last year happened during the second 'season' we had together. There was a move in the dance where the kids were supposed to start with their arms above their heads and basically 'roll' their arms all the way down to their toes (Think like what you would do with your arms in a Conga line). This required them to bend in half to touch their toes. This was EXTREMELY challenging for her, because, truthfully, she didn't trust me. I usually hold on to her at the waist/tummy and support both her balance and her body weight. This move essentially required her to put ALL of her trust in me that I wouldn't let her fall flat on her face. Each week I would cue her to do this and she refused. The other teachers noticed and tried to get her to do it and she absolutely would not budge. She would cry and scream but she would not try. Eventually, I would cue her, compliment her for her efforts when I felt the slightest muscle tension, and decided that eventually she might give it a shot, but it wasn't worth the fight. Sure enough, about a week or so before her recital, she went all the way to the ground. I don't think she realized what she did until she got down there, because it took her a minute to remember how to get back up. But she popped back up quickly and kind of turned around and looked at me and giggled. I wanted to jump up and down at how excited I was, but I knew better - I simply brushed it off, and, after that, I never had to ask her to do it again.

Truthfully, that little dance move is kind of how my relationship with Christ feels right now. Life. Is. A. Nuthouse. After living in Omaha for two years, I'm getting ready to pack my life up again and move to Louisiana for the summer, home for the following six months, and then Dallas for the five months following that. I'm trying to divide up which of my belongings go to which state, plus trying to finish up projects, finals, and hanging out with my OT school friends, probably for the last time, because who knows what the week of graduation will bring. Additionally, the spring has always (for the last six years) been tough for me because of Brenna. Working with a counselor has helped me understand that this is because I have high levels of empathy - I literally just tend of absorb all the feelings going on around me. I am sad, excited, nervous, overwhelmed, thankful.. and just about every other emotion that you can imagine right now.

Thursday night I got to go see MercyMe in concert with three of my best friends from Creighton. I have always loved MercyMe, their song I Can Only Imagine was one of the first Christian songs I ever heard, and I spent many nights in tears after Brenna died listening to their music and wrestling with how this possibly could have happened, and, essentially 'feeling all the feelings'. They have a song for pretty much every thing you'll ever experience in life, and I fan girl over them SUPER hard. Greater, Dear Younger Me, Even If, and Best News Ever have been at the top of my list, if you're not familiar and want to give them a listen. Even If is especially my favorite for people who are grieving or struggling with something long term. One of the most irritating things as a Christian can be when you know God CAN fix something, and you're praying so hard, but He just hasn't done it. It's hard to worship God during those times. Thursday night was hard to worship - how am I supposed to be thankful and honor God when I have a dear friend who would have been 24 today, but will never celebrate another birthday? When one of my favorite little girls on this planet battles a brain tumor and has to undergo more than most adults ever will? When I feel like I JUST got settled in Omaha and I have to up and move again, and it took so long to settle here in the first place?

I think that one of the hardest things after losing someone you love, after all the initial pain and shock goes away, is transitions. Moving to Omaha was really hard for me because grad school was the first big season of life Brenna never got any part of. The empathy in me feels immense guilt getting to move on in life without her. It feels strange that this summer, I start rotations for something I've always wanted to do, and it's one step closer to having a job and a career. I just got settled in Omaha - how am I supposed to leave? I think that life is mostly made up of that - you get used to one way of living and something new comes along. You're never comfortable for too long. Life is that way and grief just kind of adds to it. I have several friends who have gotten married since college and one who is engaged. Marriage was something Brenna looked forward to so much. It's a bittersweet thing to try to find joy for her since she can no longer be here to do it herself.

Truthfully, Omaha has blessed me beyond measure. I am in awe now that I actually was seriously considering two other schools besides Creighton when I made the decision to come here. I have met some incredible people, including a great roommate and three best friends from Creighton that I'll be friends with for a long time. I saw a phenomenal counselor during my time here who I also will be friends with for a long time. My little five year old dancer (and her family, who tolerates me coming over all the time) is no exception.

This week, I had MercyMe's album on repeat, as I normally do, and I caught a line of I Can Only Imagine that somehow had never jumped out at me before - it says 'will I dance for you Jesus, or in awe of you be still?' Someday my only concern will be to dance. I could do it for days and never get tired. Ever. But wait, it gets better.

Someday, Emma and I will be in heaven together. and we will get to dance. And I won't have to hold on to her. She will be able to do it all by herself. How does it get more exciting than that? The transitions of life, the stress and the worry, and the scary new things will no longer exist because that is all we will do.

I wish I had a recording of her voice last year as we were walking backstage before our recital. It was with the rest of the studio we dance at, so we hung out in her dressing room for a bit and then meandered through the narrow hallways and staircases to get backstage. As we were walking up the stairs, I felt Emma's entire body start to kind of shake and tense up, and she squeezed my shoulder. "You ok?" I asked her. "Yeah." She said "I just so 'cited.'

IMAGINE BEING SO EXCITED TO DO SOMETHING FOR GOD YOU SHAKE.

Many people have asked me about leaving Emma when I move in a few weeks. And I have been honest, she will be the hardest person for me to leave. I can't just text her or call her like I can my other friends (I can but I think her attention span for this will be fairly short. Plus, you can't FaceTime snuggles.) I will miss being able to drink Starbucks with her, and most importantly, I don't get to be her dance buddy anymore. I don't get to pass on my love of dance to her, or help her learn to do things she didn't know she could do, or be the person who waits backstage with her, or answers a thousand questions about whether or not Mimi and Papa are coming to the recital. Someone else will get to do that. But it gives me great peace to know that for Emma and I's joint dance career, this isn't it.

One of the things that Emma and I do at dance class is go across the floor. This means you practice big, traveling movements, literally, across the floor. When you don't walk, these things are near impossible. So I always make her a deal - if she is the arms, I will be the legs. Emma thinks that this is my way of meeting her halfway, but really I just want her to have a chance to practice her arms without worrying about the lower half of her body. Also, she is at the perfect combination right now of getting stronger and not quite strong enough, So I need break. (Don't tell her that this deal benefits me too) She knows this deal though, and repeats it, and she knows that if she doesn't hold up her end of the deal, she will walk across the entire floor. This is not her favorite.

Last year in May I mentioned in a blog that Emma has filled a hole for me that seemed eternally, painfully, unbearably empty after Brenna died. Her tiny little self filled it with giggles, the perfect bow for every outfit, and her love of Starbucks. She reminded me (almost scary, somedays) of Brenna's fashion sense, her contagious laugh, and the times we would sit at Nib's in the summers when she was on her life guarding break and I was working and we would drink coffee. This year I learned that Emma hasn't filled that hole, but she's created something entirely new inside of it. And man, that feels good. This week I was so excited because her mom said I could pick Emma and take her to Starbucks today - my counselor encouraged me to try new traditions and events on Brenna's birth and death days to make them easier and finally try to close that hole. Last year, her birthday fell on a Friday and I had five tests the following week. It was the hardest day in a long time. I sat in the library for most of the day and got nothing done. But this year, I'm happy to report a much easier week and day, thanks to my favorite five year old and a good trip to Starbucks, plus some snuggles. Truthfully, I can't think of anyone I'd rather spend it with. Although I have faith that someday Emma will walk on her own, even if she doesn't walk, I hope she's always dancing.

God, I am doing my best down here to serve, worship, and love, despite loss, stress, and missing some people that I love dearly up there. Please let me be the arms, and you can be the legs for me when I fall short - even if I never learn to walk with you, help me to always dance.



"The Journey between who you once were and who you are becoming is where the dance of life truly takes place." -Barbara De Angelis

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.

Powdered Sugar Magic

Christmas has really never been my favorite holiday. I could live the rest of my life happily without seeing another winter, I don't particularly care for the presents, and I don't really understand all the hype about it. I really love Christmas Eve church, but that's about it. This season really doesn't do anything good for my mood/depression either, I think I just need a little extra Vitamin D that winter just doesn't give me. Over the last few years, several of my friends have tried to teach me all the things they love about Christmas, and it's helping A LITTLE, but in my heart, I'm just really a fourth of July, 100 degree weather, knee-cap sweat kind of a girl.

This weekend, a few events changed my perspective about Christmas - even just a little bit. Friday night I had the opportunity to go to the Christmas party that my parents host ("Party with a Purpose"). They've been attending or hosting the party for almost 20 years and this was the first time I was actually able to go. The idea of the party is that they are able to adopt several families through the Christmas Bureau and then they have a party and everyone spends time shopping for the families, plus a little socializing and drinks after.  My mom, knowing the way to my heart, gave my friend Heather and I a set of three year old twins to shop for with special needs. Do you know how hard it is for a pediatric therapist to shop for a three year old in 45 minutes? Hard. But we did it.

After we got back we wrapped all the presents (which is actually very funny, men aren't really the best present wrappers, but they give it their best effort and their most positive attitude. If there's anything that puts you in the Christmas spirit, it's people doing things they hate/are very bad it for the good of someone else. While smiling.)

I don't see my parents in situations like this very often. They both spoke and had a long list of people to thank - people who donated, people who catered, people who shopped extra, etc. The room was filled with smiles by the time they were through - tons of people giving what they had (time, money, and skills) to help families who needed it. Most of all, to keep the magic in Christmas for kids. I've learned over the last few years that if I need reminded of some of the positive things about Christmas, go hang out with some kids. My parents always made sure my sister and I had MORE than enough and that Christmas was a very magical time of year for us. To hear them talking about moving all the magic they gave my sister and I as kids to other families who could use some extra magic this time of year really made me feel good - definitely something that I want to emulate in my own life.

Yesterday, I spent the day at my neighbors house baking cinnamon rolls as a fundraiser for a family who is near and dear to my heart. I spent countless hours at the Savages growing up - playing in the treehouse or on the trampoline, making and frosting cookies, and playing Mario Kart in the basement for hours. Once Luke was born, we played a lot of Wii games with him, trains, hide and seek, and legos. I don't make it over there as much anymore, but some things never change. Turns out I'm still just as messy making Christmas treats at 23 as I was when I was 10. 60 dozen cinnamon rolls, several tired bakers, and a LOT of powdered sugar later, I was ready with 11 dozen to come back to Omaha today.

Tonight, I had the opportunity to pull off a Christmas surprise for said cinnamon roll family. My main job was transportation of rolls and presents to Omaha, as they were all put together by the "Luke Squad". They were beautifully wrapped and the tags looked like something that came directly from the North Pole.Then I was meeting Santa in our church parking lot. I was so nervous for this. I wanted everything to be perfect.  I met Santa and him and Mrs. Clause rode with me to the house (you can imagine the stares we got on the highway). Although our visit was VERY fast and chaotic, I wish I could relive it over and over again. I wish I could have captured the joy in those kids' eyes when they saw Santa in their home, opened their presents, and just took in the environment around them. I thought about how all this was put together because one family suffered immeasurable hurt at the loss of their own child, and the desire to help others in a similar situation was what they wanted to do for this Christmas season without him.

I did not cry during delivery tonight like I thought I would, until I heard Brent read the snow globe that Kim sent for them - it had Luke's verse printed on it, and I don't know the last time I heard it out loud. It may have been at his funeral.To hear it read by people that I love, for people that I love, in memory of someone I loved, was really special. Luke made his presence pretty known tonight - especially with a Lightning Mcqueen toy.

Today, I realized, that for me, Christmas is never going to be snow on the ground, or presents, or certain music. I will probably never like peppermint flavored anything, wearing 10 layers, or trying to find things to buy for every single person I love. I will never like so few hours of daylight and what feels like months and months of nonstop gloomy weather. This weekend I realized that the magic in Christmas for me is in the eyes of kids, flour all over my clothes,  and people with hearts bigger than their kitchen. Magic is less present for me than it use to be in big events anymore, like Christmas morning. I found the Christmas magic this weekend by trying to get through Wal-Mart to shop as fast as I could without accidentally taking someone out with the cart. I love trying to wrap dozens of packages as quickly as I can. I love surprising people I love and giving them the things that they deserve, but that only 'magic' can bring them. I love seeing the people I love excited, and I love when people who don't know each other team up to make someone else's day.  I may always be a fourth of July kind of a girl, but this weekend definitely reminded me that Christmas is it's own kind of special.

What Happens in Vegas

I was in the second grade the day that the twin towers fell.

I had just graduated high school when a man from my community murdered one of my friends.

I was getting ready to start college when I heard about a man who had opened fire in a midnight showing of a movie in Aurora, Colorado, where one of my co-workers had family who had planned to go to the showing.

I had just finished my first semester of college when someone entered an elementary school and killed twenty children and six teachers. Eleven days before Christmas.

I was a junior in college when I learned about, studied, and pondered over the mysterious case of Elliot Rodger.

Today, I was 23 and in my second year of grad school when I learned that 50 people were killed and over 500 are injured after a shooting in Las Vegas at a concert early this morning. One of my best Omaha friend's parents were at the concert. My friend who lives in Los Angeles reported a gloomy, sad, scared vibe today throughout the city. It seems as though the older I get, the closer to home these things become. My life has had these unpredictable and scary events for as long as I can remember, and I can't tell if the world is actually getting scarier, or I'm just getting older.

Keep in mind that the list I gave doesn't include EVERYTHING that's happened in my lifetime, and it certainly doesn't include things that are tragedies but with more natural causes, like hurricanes or earthquakes.

For the most part, these tragedies have, as shameful as I feel saying it, disappeared. They are no longer on my radar, even though there's a family out there who celebrates Christmas each year without one of their children, someone out there who struggles through September 11 every year and remembers the bravery of their spouse, and, right this very second, people who do not know if their loved ones came home from that concert last night. All because of....?

I don't know the because. I don't know why these things happen. Honestly, I don't even know where to start looking. Is it on purpose? Did someone truly, in their right mind, want to kill 20 kindergartners? Is it mental illness that does not allow them to think clearly? (This is not an excuse, but I do enjoy studying the brain, and it is real stuff when people have things like biological changes, undiagnosed tumors, etc. in certain parts of their brain.) Was this person just really, really, angry about some unrelated circumstance and that's how they took it out?

I believe that gun control is a serious issue in our country. I believe that mental health is also an issue in our country, and our healthcare laws don't do us any favors. I believe that many, many factors influence situations like today and the people who make such sad choices. What I also know is that a political decision, law, or party affiliation does not have the power that people like to give it. If you think that 'if everyone abided by this law or voted this way, this issue would be fixed' then you are wrong. (Hint: criminals don't follow laws. Making things illegal does not stop the use of them.)  However, I'm not all that knowledgeable or interested in politics. I try really hard to pay attention to educate myself enough to vote, but they just do not come naturally to me, and I don't believe they should have to. I trust that there are important and educated people out there (some harder to find than others) who are destined for political office and I am just destined to know the very, very minimum of it all. I don't believe that it is my responsibility to be knee deep in politics all the time. However - that's not to say I don't have responsibility.

A few things that I believe that are relevant today:

1. I believe that God creates people of all talents, skills, and interests in this world. Just because you do not understand it or even like it does not make it bad, but it means that we have to come together, as no one can do it alone.
2. I believe that, even if I wanted nothing more, and had the time and money to hop on a plane there may not be a job for me in Vegas right now. There might be. But there also might not be.

More importantly...

3. My proximity to the disaster does not excuse my inaction.
4. Hate does not drive out hate, it only magnifies it.

Let me be very clear here: What happens in Vegas DOES NOT STAY THERE.

I have seen on Facebook all day today posts about needing people to donate blood, as there are hundreds of people fighting for their lives in Nevada right now who need it. I'm not sure how the whole blood thing works - can they transport it that far? If not, maybe this isn't a job for my friends on the east coast reading this.  Financial compensation, in almost any scenario, can always be used. Now, some of us are graduate students who don't exactly have a lot to give, or anywhere to give it. That's okay too.

I have seen several posts today about 'keeping your thoughts and prayers because they wont fix the loss of 50+ lives' (that number has gone up since I started writing this) today, and that's true, that we can't expect prayer to do all the work. We are responsible for action. But, if you are the praying type, you know that prayer. does. work. You should do that. Now and Always. But not everyone was meant to be a prayer warrior - some people are meant to serve behind the scenes with prayer and be on the front lines in other, equally as helpful and skilled, ways.

Perhaps the biggest takeaway I wish this world would understand is about unity. I have seen so many posts, articles, pictures... captioned with 'We as a country have got to learn how to be together or this will never stop.' And that is exactly right. What I think that most people don't understand, though, is that many times, that isn't about racism, or a fight over religion, or issues like abortion or gun control. Unity does not begin by you standing up to say that you can get along with someone who is very different from you, but it starts with the people who are the closest to us. One person making this world a better place does not start with anything but being nice to the person next to you. It means developing friendships, learning about others, and living with people, not next to them.

You may have heard of the research project called Six Degrees of Separation. Google will be much more helpful to you if you want to look into this more, but it was basically a study done that found that you are, at no time, farther from any one person on this earth by more than six 'friend of a friend's.' Obviously there's probably no way to prove this is exactly correct, and this study was also done in 1930, so the population of the world has maybe grown and changed since then. But what is it like to consider that you might be that close to someone involved in any one of these situations, regardless of their status in it? What if your kind word, your inclusion, your willingness to be vulnerable and try something new with or for a total stranger, meant you had an effect on those around you that changed the rest of their life, and maybe the paths of the lives around them? My friend Brenna was excellent at this type of pond rippling kindness. We should all be able to do this.

A commencement speech from the University of Texas at Austin in 2014 has gone viral on YouTube (I'll attach the link below) and it begins with the simple command of making your bed each day because this is a task accomplished. Whether you choose making your bed or not, I don't think really matters here - I think that the key is diligence. Admiral William McRaven tells about his own challenges during his training in the service, one particularly rough night where his group spent the night up to their neck in cold mud - teeth chattering so loud they couldn't hear one another. He claims that one member's singing, which ultimately led to the singing of many, got them through the night, despite the voices of their superiors telling them to stop singing, or they would regret it. He says he believes that it is only the smallest acts required that will really change the world.

I am not saying that prayer and kind words will stop the violence in this country, because they won't. But I can't imagine that they wouldn't help. In my opinion, this battle has three parts - hope, prayer, and action. Any two without the third will not get us very far. Our country seems to come together best in the face of tragedy, so it would be really cool if we could figure out how to come together before these things happen. Even if today is the very last shooting in the entire world forever, I'm still going to spend the rest of my life wondering why humans want to kill other humans, because that very question has changed my life in so many ways. I'm always going to wonder how my actions in middle school P.E. could have changed the fate of the person who killed my friend - what could I have done differently? Even if my actions can't change the past, they may be able to change the future. One minuscule action from the several million people in this country could turn into something really great. What if we, the diverse body of this country, used the tune and song that we sang the very best to make this world just a little better?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U6OoCaGsz94&app=desktop