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

Fully Charged

I live my life by my iPhone.

Yes. I do mean in the stereotypical 'millennial way'. I get most of my news through Facebook and Twitter (I can make arguments for these, but that's for another day.) I peruse through Instagram when I'm in the doctor's office, and I am, on occasion, caught Snap chatting. I like to be connected. My phone is among one of the most important possessions that I have.

But - it's also important to me in like an actual functioning adult kind of way. My budget apps and online banking are on my phone. I link my iPhone calendar to my Mac calendar and school calendar, so I can schedule meetings on my phone and they show up everywhere. All of my prized pictures (if you've seen my Facebook you know I love pictures)are stored there. My weather app that I check daily, and of course the clock app so that I always know what time it is in Madrid, Hong Kong, and so that I can get up for school every morning - not to mention my apps for ESPN and MLB, as well as all the airlines so that I can check myself into my flight without finding a printer. (this is one of my most prized adult tasks. I feel so accomplished whenever I have a boarding pass on my phone.)

I can count on one hand the number of times since I have had a cell phone that I have let it die. I am ALWAYS prepared with an extra charger. My parents know if they text or call me, they'll hear from me within half an hour if I don't answer. I am, in fact, so anal, that when my phone rarely DOES die at night, I wake up on my own in the morning (because you know it's my alarm) because I just know. Creepy, right?

Sometimes I think it would be a good idea for me to take a break from my phone. I try to leave it in my backpack during class, but I last MAYBE four hours tops. That's where my to do list is. I schedule meetings on my phone. I literally cannot.

This week, I've started wondering: What if I treated my God that way?

God and I have our time every morning for about half an hour before I have breakfast. I will admit - some/most of these reasons are selfish. I am an introvert and devout planner at heart and it gives me a surpassing peace to start my day off by talking to God about all the things I have going on that day (Spoiler alert: Grad school does not cater to introverts. It is Friday night and I am sitting on the couch wrapped in blankets, and I am HAPPY about that.) Most of that time in the morning is spent journaling - occasionally I will use a devotional book to journal about a specific topic. But rarely am I good at reading my bible, or better yet - listening. My journal time is very similar to my phone - I cart my journal and bible around with me everywhere, but I have not yet learned the art of listening to God instead of talking to him. Which is, actually, kind of odd for me to think about. I sometimes struggle to list my strengths (ok, usually I struggle) but I really think listening is one of them. I want to work with trauma survivors in my future, and I think that's why. I like to listen, and I like to help. So why do I not want to listen to the Ultimate Helper?

When I was in undergrad I was in a bible study about a book called The Circle Maker. Unfortunately it also happened to be my hardest semester so my attendance wasn't that great, but in essence, the book is about two things - praying boldly. and praying a lot. I think I have the latter down. But the first one, I'm not so hot on.

My prayer to God tends to be: 'its whatever you want - help me to deal with whatever that is' because I learned in May of 2012 that what I pray for is not always what happens. That's not to say that He isn't listening, because he definitely is. It's just that many times,  God's plans are bigger than yours and you DON'T know what's best. (Picture the moms who tell their kids that they cannot have ice cream for dinner. The kids don't understand why that's important, but the mom does, and she has bigger plans for them than to have horrible eating and grocery shopping habits when they're 20. Case in point: my mom always had us choose cereals below a certain number of grams of sugar, and I have only bought child sugar cereal once in my adult life. Cinnamon Toast Crunch doesn't count.) My mom wanted the best for my sister and I (and still does) and I appreciate her teaching me healthy habits.

What if I lived my life with God fully charged? What if I even did like 75%? What if I told him boldly what I wanted and I asked for it more than once. There are a few things that I currently 'pray circles around' - that I have been praying for since I was probably in high school. It gets downright exhausting to pray continually for something that you feel like God is just IGNORING.And it's not that He doesn't want to, or can't, or doesn't feel like it. It's that He's just BIGGER. and that's all. And that can seem really, really, unfair in our eyes, because sometimes I look at my life and think about the things that I want the VERY MOST IN THE WHOLE WORLD. and I wonder how God could not feel the exact same way.

I tend to shy away from bold prayer because the first time that I ever boldly prayed for something I wanted was moments before my mom called me to tell me that Brenna had been found and she did not make it. It was like getting up the courage to ask for something you've wanted deeply and for a long time, and being shut down in a harsh, heartless, and mean way. And it made me terrified to ever ask for anything again. But... I am slowly realizing that I HAVE to get over that.

My inspiration for this blog post came partly from the fact that I'm snuggled up on my couch with my favorite blanket but MOSTLY from Emma - the little girl I post [constantly] about. Emma has had a rough couple of months with her health and an even more rough last few days. I don't know a lot about Emma's health other than her diagnosis or understand a lot about what her parents post (I google a lot of things). But I do know that I love that little girl so much, I can't even find the words to express it. When it comes to Emma's health, I haven't known what to pray for. (Good health? Ok, that's specific, way to go, self.) I don't know what the right scans results are or what the spinal pressure should be. I just don't. But that doesn't stop me from being 'fully charged' about it.

I want Emma to come dance with me again. I love feeling her little hand on my knee at dance when she is uneasy, so she knows that I won't get up and walk away without her knowing. I love how unbelievably excited she gets when we go backstage, she can hardly stand it. I want Emma to go to kindergarten and play with her friends. I want Emma to be the reason why kids learn empathy because they learn how to play with a child in a walker. I want Emma to play with her baby dolls and make me fake hamburgers in her kitchen. I love Emma because of the way she changes hearts and minds.

So this morning, I told God that. And it may have come in a slightly angry and frustrated tone. And you know what? Man, it felt good. I don't know what the future holds for her or for any of us. Christ could return tomorrow for all I know. But if you aren't praying boldly, why are you praying at all? If I'm stuck in my 'ok God, help me to deal with whatever you decide" that doesn't get our relationship anywhere besides me being mad at him for not doing what I want.

My friend Meg explained this beautifully to me several years ago and I have never forgotten it. If I went to her house for dinner, I might want her to make a chocolate cake, so I might tell her that. But she might already have vanilla cupcakes in the oven. So she would thank me for suggesting it, but let me know that she's already got something planned. But now she KNOWS that about me. And I know what you're thinking. "God knows what I want - why should I have to tell him?" You're right, he does. But you owe him the service of TELLING him that - you don't build relationships by KNOWING, you build them by WORKING. (Hint: this means it isn't easy.)

The difference between living my life on 50% battery and fully charged is that (I think) if I live at fully charged, the things that matter the most to me will be the things that matter most to God. Which is, truly, the way you want to live. It's the same (times a million) as getting along well with a teacher, or your RA in college. Things go better when you have important people on your side. I want God's priorities to be mine. The first step for me in being fully charged was to write this blog. I think that people think I have all these ideas for all these wise things I want to say when I write these, but 0% of the time that is how it works. Normally Im just chilling (probably on my phone) and I'm like, hmmm, you know what? I should blog. So I just start typing and I see what comes out.

Tonight, my lesson is to pray boldly about the things I want in life: my upcoming test, my little dance buddy, my future as a therapist. Even if I don't know what I want - I can be better about boldly not knowing. I know that someone needed to be reminded of this - I sure did. My goal is to work hard to be as fully charged with God as I am about scrolling through my social media accounts when I'm bored, or relying on my phone for math problems or time change.
Sometimes I need reminded - you are 50 times happier by learning to make God's will your own than deciding He'll just be background noise in your struggle with yours.

16 Things I've Learned In Grad School

About a year ago I posted an article encompassing 24 things I learned in college that I felt were valuable enough to share. I have recently felt as though there is a similar list, but this time revolving around grad school. Some of the things on the list are the same, but some of them are not, so pay close attention.

1. Technically, I'm not in grad school

My teachers really find it necessary to remind us of this (we had a lecture last year about how to correct your awkward uncle at Thanksgiving when he says this, I have never used it, but maybe someday... I really don't care what people call it.) Technically, a doctorate is 'professional school' and a masters is grad school. This isn't really advice, but you never know when this little tidbit may come in handy. I will continue to refer to my program as grad school through the course of this blog, simply for the sake of consistency and simplicity, but I thought you should know this fun little fact.

2. Roommates are everything.

Unlike college, you likely can't hide from your roommate in grad school because more often than not they are in the same program. Leah and I have all of the same teachers, assignments, projects, and almost the same schedule. AND - I currently have the best roommate I've ever had. Leah ad I are POLAR OPPOSITES. We study differently, socialize differently, cook differently, and most importantly, have consistent disagreements about whether we should break the noodles in half when we make spaghetti. BUT. Coming home to someone whose company I genuinely enjoy has made all the difference in a smooth transition to a new city and new school. Sometimes we are really only bonding over dislike of a subject or assignment, but the grad school roommate bond is rock solid and it makes all the difference in the world.

3. Your free time is not actually yours 

When I started college I remember being overwhelmed with the amount of free time I had. Not that most of it wouldn't be spent studying, but still. No one was telling me how or when to do things and it was kind of scary. (Looking back, I would have had a LOT of free time had I known how to structure a day like I do now. But whatever.) In grad school, you have much less free time (I spend way more time actually in class than I did in college, and have about four times the homework) but the twist is that, LOL, I don't have any time that's mine. There are lots of times when I'm not scheduled to be somewhere but the school can just tell me I'm doing this event for a class on a Friday. You don't have free time ... it's more 'rented' if you will. For the low price of tuition (which is like three of your limbs)

4. You truly learn how to get along with people you don't like.

I don't know about anyone else but this is what my professors PREACHED in college. Group projects will teach you how to get along with people you don't necessarily care for. That was false. They taught me how to save my own butt when I didn't like the people I worked with because they didn't do their work (which is a valuable skill) and how to learn how to avoid them for group projects in the future, (also a valuable skill) which was easy because I would usually never see these people again. In grad school, there are 62 people in my class. Not all of us get along. But we have at least learned (for the most part, or we will) how to work together. I have at least three group projects per class, per semester. Some days we don't really like each other all that much. But we're all here for a common goal, and we're doing our best. We learn how to utilize the planner, the best speaker, the logistical thinker, and the person with the most artistic talent to improve our success, not make us perfect equals.

5. You deserve The Bachelor

I will be the first to admit that The Bachelor is, debatably, one of the dumbest, most unrealistic, shallow TV shows in existence. THAT BEING SAID. Do you know what got me through spending 20 hours a day at school? Knowing that my roommate and I had an hour every Monday night reserved just to gossip over the people on the show, and then creep on their respective social media sites to see what they thought of the episode. Then go back to our rooms and continue to study. You have to take a break from the deep stuff. Or you will die. Not really, but it will feel like it.

*Note: You don't have to choose The Bachelor. Any shallow show of your choice is really okay. Just choose one. You owe it to yourself.

6. Career Fairs are good for your health 
a. The wellness of your ideal future job. I HATED these in college. I knew I wasn't doing anything with my undergraduate degree and they were a downright waste of time. HOWEVER. When I went to one at Creighton I did talk to quite a few people and get quite a few business cards of people who maybe I wouldn't want to work for in terms of practice setting, but these may come in handy in the future.
b. the wellness of your desire for free things. Everyone loves free things. Why not, you know? I'm always running out of pens.

7. Learn to be wrong, and learn to do it well. 
This is especially important if you are in school for something that is health, teaching, or people related. There is a reason it is taking you more than just four years of lecture halls to learn your trade. You may have some sort of fieldwork, clinical rotation, or something similar. It is important that you understand you need to be wrong and need feedback about your performance with clients, patients, or students in these positions. If you didn't, you wouldn't be in school.

8. Do not underestimate the importance of good library study spots 
One thing I really like about Creighton is that their professional school library has an excellent and wide variety of places to study. Large classrooms, tiny cubicles, wooden booths, couches (mostly for napping). You must find the perfect spot. This is not undergrad where you can get your assignments done in a couple of hours. On the weekends it is likely that your butt will be in the same seat for the next ten to fifteen hours. The only thing worse than studying anatomy for ten hours is if your butt hurts while you're doing it.

9. Your backpack should function very similar to an IKEA shelf 
... In that it is organized to the owner's eye but also a little terrifying and overwhelming to someone who is unfamiliar with it. I would recommend specific compartments for snacks, permanent markers, chargers, lunch boxes, wallets and personal items, feminine products, etc. (You do not want to pull out your professional name tag only to send tampons flying in the direction of your professor) Similar to the concept of your locker in high school, maybe your car in college, your backpack is your best friend for at least 15 hours per day. You need it. Treat it well.

10. Understand sleep and it's important components 
In the blog I wrote about college, I wrote about getting enough sleep. For some people in college, that was not possible based on their program and how much they needed to study. For me, I did get enough sleep because I am such an unpleasant person when I do not get enough sleep. Sometimes, it is not possible to get enough sleep, and instead of freaking out about how little sleep you will get, it is actually easier just to accept the fact. My practicums in the spring made me so nervous I would toss and turn and only end up sleeping 2-3 hours, which just increased my anxiety because I was over tired. Do your best to take a deep breath, drink lots of water, eat something high in protein, and remember that whatever it is, you are confident and capable and can get through it. (One of my favorite moments of that spring was my first kinesiology practicums on about 45 minutes of sleep. I don't even remember it, whether that be because of my panic or my lack of sleep, who can be sure?)

11. Practice on a variety of patients, if this applies to your profession
If you are getting your masters or doctorate in something such as accounting, I would recommend skipping this step. There really is no need for strangers to let you practice your skills on them. Math is pretty much math. (I could be wrong about this but it seems to make sense) But those of us in professions revolving around health, people skills, and bedside manner, it is necessary for us to practice our skills on adults, children, people who don't speak English.... the list goes on. You must practice on LOTS of people to really understand what you are doing prior to a practicum. Stretching the rotator cuff muscles of a four year old is very different than doing it on a large, grown, man. Practice.

12. Dunkin Donuts 
This is perhaps the most important of the steps, so please pay attention. Dunkin has a happy hour for their iced coffee from 2:30-6:30 every day. Check your local store before quoting me on this, but it's pretty important. My roommate and I pretty much text about the following things, in order of their importance:
1. If the other one would like Dunkin.
2. What type of coffee the other one would like at Dunkin
3. Whether or not we should get a couple large coffees with no ice to use the rest of the week at Dunkin
4. Whether we are out of Ziplock bags
5. Where and when we are watching the Bachelor this week

13. Learn that your grades are a different kind of everything. 
I HATE when people tell me my grades don't matter because my future employer won't care. Some people in the workforce tell me that they agree with this, and I've heard people say that employers asked about their GPA. Regardless, grades DO matter, because you spend all your time working for them, so saying they don't matter just feels really frustrating. The most important thing you need to realize is that to an extent they do, and to an extent they don't. I don't learn a whole lot from taking tests, I learn a whole bunch through practicums. You have to be able to take your grades with a grain of salt - look at them when it matters, and ignore them when they don't. It's a skill.

14. Embrace the chaos.
Although pretty much all you do in grad school is things that revolve around school, so it would seem like your life is pretty singularly focused, it's really not. There are mornings when it seems like Leah and I can barely make it out of the house with our lunch, backpacks, coffee, and a solid idea of what we've got going on that day. One time last semester Leah tried to get coffee ice cubes out of the tray (we freeze them for easy and yummy iced coffee) and right as she tried to do that the ice tray broke in half and coffee went flying all over the kitchen. I am someone who is a planner and needs to operate on a schedule, but I've learned that if I'm not the perfect combination of flexible and really on top of it, school will ruin me. Sometimes you just have to embrace the chaos.

15. Understand pizza and it's wide variety of blessings and values. 
Other than Leah just being a great roommate, one of my favorite things about her is that when I text her or ask her "What do you want to do for dinner?" She KNOWS that isn't an actual question. The simple answer is always "Pizza." We try to eat healthy, to eat protein, to not eat five slices in one night. We drink our protein shakes in the morning and go to the gym a couple times a week. But sometimes, you've had a hard week and you just need Domino's. This almost always happens on a Thursday night for us, and man, is it good.

16. You. Can. Do. It. 
These programs are downright stressful, overwhelming, and tear-inducing. Last semester I remember coming out of a practicum in anatomy and I wasn't even sure if the cadavers were laying on their stomachs or backs. Just remember that whatever your fear is (failing a class, messing up a practicum, etc.) that millions (ish? That's a loose statistic) of people have gone before you and few have done whatever you're fearing. And, if it does happen, you are a competent and excellent adult who will handle the situation with confidence and grace. Whatever it is, you can do it.

The Princess

It is currently two in the morning on May 25th, and I am struggling to get my words together. (One idea might be that it's two in the morning, go to sleep?) Usually I know what I'm going to say by now. But tonight I don't. Five was supposed to be a round number, even things out. If you've made it through all these holidays, all these birthdays, and at least two new transitions in life, you can make it through anything, right? If you are reading this and you are new at grief, let me be the one to break it to you that it is not linear, nor does it pretend to be, nor can you pretend that it is. Grief does what it wants, has it's own plans and ideas. Grief actually has a very similar temperament to a tired two year old. 

This past fall I moved to Omaha to pursue a clinical doctorate in occupational therapy. There were exactly zero things about this move that left me with familiarity. I had a new roommate, new apartment, new city, new school, new classmates, and a new curriculum. All of it was new, and all of it was scary. Overall, it's been a good move. But it's definitely had it's challenges. I've never slept less and studied more, and I really think it's been a long time since my grief has been this bad. I don't know if I'm longing for the familiarity, and that makes me think of all those nights right after Brenna died where I felt the same way, or what the deal is. But it's been a rough six months with grief. 

This fall one of the things that I found peace in was an organization called Dancing Beyond Limits. It is a dance class for kids with special needs, physical or cognitive, and they were of all ages. Beautifully chaotic is how I would describe it to you. During the semester I was paired with Emma, a four year old currently undergoing chemotherapy for a brain tumor. Because of the location of the tumor, Emma does not walk or stand on her own, and the left side of her body tends to not listen as well. (These are legit her words. Once, I asked if Lefty was doing his job like he's supposed to in dance class and she looked me directly in the eye and told me he didn't want to.) Emma is smart, sassy, and strong, but also humble, kind, and joy filled. Emma loves Starbucks, the Huskers, and Rapunzel. She goes to Boston every few months for scans and she gets excited to ride on the airplane. She likes stickers, watching Mickey Mouse on her iPad, and she can scoot across the room using one hand faster than I can. (I know this because we race at dance when she doesn't feel like walking)  

What Emma doesn't know is the impact she's had on me over the last eight months or so. It was probably spring break before I stopped crying on Sunday afternoons when I had to come back to Omaha. Change is HARD. But usually, the drive would calm me down before jumping back into the week again, and I would go straight to dance class to maximize my time at home... and in would come my little princess, hair always accompanied by a ribbon or bow, and she almost always says "Ge Wha?" and she tells me the new and exciting thing in her life from that week, like shoes, her brother coming to watch her dance, or her new baby doll. Emma has no idea how much easier she makes it for me to be in Omaha, and although it's because she's sweet, I think there might be more to it than that. 

Four months after Brenna died I went back to my high school to watch the homecoming ceremony for the class below me. Although always a fun ceremony, this year it had a different feel to it - because the queen from the previous year wouldn't be returning to present the crown to this year's winners. Instead, each candidate was holding a purple balloon. I remember watching Brenna a year earlier during homecoming week. She loved to dress up, loved to be in the parade, to wave at everyone. She was a sweet, humble, and kind person who genuinely was in her element during that week. Two days after she died I sat in my high school auditorium with many friends and classmates as my friend Tyler talked about the honor it was to be paired with her for the event. She didn't know how perfect she was. 

One of these days, I will get to see her again and we will get to rehash it all - boys, jobs, college, life. I will tell her how the things went that she missed out on, and she will be my tour guide in heaven. I already have a million people I can't wait for her to meet. Unfortunately and fortunately, that day isn't here yet, and I miss her all the more every day. I do my best to be sure that her legacy outlives her life, not that Dustin's actions are able to do the same. Although I think 'closure' is like the stupidest and most insulting term ever, I have found some small pieces of it - like little stitches of it. It's not permanent, and it's not the same, and it actually kind of hurts, just like real stitches would, but it's progress. 

In the last five years I have made peace with many things about the awful, awful day where my friend lost her life to someone else's selfish and scary choices. I have made peace with the day that I laid in my bed and cried with my mom when our local newspaper printed every last detail of what happened to my friend before she was pronounced dead. I have made peace with the scene and sounds of watching my friends fall sobbing and shaking into the street when they heard the news. I have made peace with the nine months that followed of court dates. I have made peace (almost all the way, not totally) with the sound of a helicopter over head, the police yelling into an abandoned building for my friend, and even my own ignorance to think that this could be just a normal 'hit and run accident' despite the yellow caution tape around the field and a van that vividly read "Crime Scene Investigation" I have, mostly, made peace with the loss of her. But a lot of days, I still struggle to make peace with the loss of her life.

And maybe that's why moving to Omaha was so hard. I am doing something that Brenna was never privileged to do - earn not one, but two degrees. Live on my own, learn how to be an adult, and have interests and hobbies in all the things that God has provided for me. It seems so unfair, somehow, that that's just how it ended. Loss of life seems unrealistic. I imagine how wonderful of a wife and mom she would have been, all the people who would have been positively impacted her on the rowing team at K-State, and the number of kindergartners who would later graduate high school and remember her as the best teacher ever. It makes me frustrated to think how on earth God's plan could include this. How could anyone think this world would be better off without her? 

But in the end, I know that isn't the case. I know that God does not control, He is in control. And that means that sometimes, things don't work out the way you wanted it to, but it opens your eyes to the world around you just a little bit more. I currently hang out with a four year old every week who is going through chemotherapy. She inspires me more than she'll ever know. She has spent much of her life in treatment, but you should see the look on her face when she gets to choose a new baby doll. 

My 18th birthday fell two and a half months after Brenna died, and I spent that evening at her house with many of my friends. Her parents invited us over to go through some of Brenna's things and take some to college with us. In grief time, two and a half months is like, five seconds. I look back and applaud the incredible bravery and trust I know this must have taken for them. That night, I got a sign out of Brenna's room that simply reads "Celebrate Everything." It was ironic at the time, because it felt like nothing was really worth celebrating. But over time, the sign has proved itself, and it currently hangs above my door. When I am in a trying time in life, I often see it and remember to be thankful, just like my four (now five, as of yesterday) year old friend. I know that Brenna would have LOVED Emma - and it makes me happy that Emma has slowly filled, in her own little way, the princess shaped hole in my heart. 

Pictured below are two of the most influential people in my life. I think the crown fits them both.