Not the Road to Calvary I Was Expecting: Ruby's Birth Story

While pregnant, I tried not to think about labor and delivery. It scared me. All I knew is that it was going to hurt A LOT and somehow I was supposed to work through the pain to get to the "goods" of delivering my baby girl. I thought of birth as a medical procedure and that I needed modern medicine to take care of me so that I wouldn't have to suffer or to feel as little pain as possible. It was about a week prior to birthing Ruby that I had an attitude 180. I learned so much about the birthing process and what medical interventions can do to help and how they really can be too intrusive. I found that labor wasn't going to be one long, agonizing contraction and then a lot of pushing--there would be breaks in between contractions, I could get up and move around, I could even listen to my favorite music! Something beautiful happened within me and I began to be joyful about labor, not just about finally having my little girl in my arms. 

I woke up at 2am on Thursday, Sept. 27 with some contractions. I moved to my rocking chair in the nursery at about 3am and stayed there until 730am. My ritual for dealing with the contractions was to rock in the chair and, when one came on, sniff a scented stuffed lamb that we received as a gift for Ruby (it smells like lavender), start the contraction timer on my cousin's phone, and go to my meditative happy place. I was able to sleep soundly in between contractions...you know, all 7 mins at a time  The remarkable part of this phase of early labor was that I finally was able to find my happy place after having spent months trying to find it to no avail. What did my happy place end up being? My parents' living room with Jess and I on the couch and my mom in her recliner. My dad was also in his office down the hall and would periodically pop in and my sister was upstairs and came down once. But all sorts of people came to visit us there as we all awaited the arrival of Ruby. It was great because it is a place that I know vividly and am so comfortable in. 

All three of us (me, Jess, and my cousin Paula who was my doula) got us for the day at 830 and got ready to go to my non-stress test, which was totally stressing me out. By the time we got to the appointment, my contractions were 6mins apart but I thought I would be sent home--I didn't think that this was the real deal at all (neither did Jess or Paula, I later came to find out, because I was coping so well). Well, as it turns out, I was 4-just-about-5cm at my appointment and my provider determined I was in active labor. I also won the battle about my due date--it was put on all of my sheets that I was 40w5d at the time I went into labor (another story...this one's already going to be long). Anyway, I was sent to lunch and to walk around and I was to report back at 3p. So we went out for pizza. At one point while in the restaurant, I scared most of the wait staff because every time I had a contraction I would close my eyes, hold my rice sock (literally a sock filled with rice and scented oil to be used as heat or scent therapy) to my nose, close my eyes, and go to my happy place. In the end, they treated us to a dessert with a birthday candle and we all sang happy birthday to Ruby!

When I reported back at 3p, I had progressed to 6cm so I was admitted. The next part traumatized me and was the only part of labor that brought me to tears. My hospital's policy is that every woman admitted for labor has to have a hep lock in the event that she needs an IV. I was GBS positive so I definitely needed an IV so I had been preparing myself to deal with the needle...but to no avail. The first nurse tried sticking my left wrist, but the vein blew, at which point I thought to myself, "I just told you I'm scared of needles, why would you say this aloud?", so she tried sticking my right hand. That vein also blew and so she called over another nurse. At this point I just started bawling. I absolutely could not stop crying but somehow kept still enough for that nurse to successfully stick my left hand. It took 30mins to get the hep lock in place and 10 more for me to recover. 

Having finished that, I was sent off to my labor room with all the support and praises of the nurses for wanting to use all other methods of coping before having an epidural. Let it be known that I am not against epidurals nor having one (at any stage of labor) but I knew that there were other methods of coping that would be better for me, especially since once you have an epidural, you have to stay in bed and I knew that laying down/reclining was not the most comfortable way for me to deal with contractions, hence my initial basis for not wanting an epidural. Anyway, so once in the delivery room, we set up shop--got out the birthing ball, set up my laptop and started playing music (my specially made "labor and delivery" playlist of all of my favorite songs), had my focal points on hand, and put my rice sock on the bed. I was able to sit on the birthing ball for all of the fetal monitoring and other questions and answer sessions they put me through. It was kind of funny, different people would be talking with me and then I'd have to cut them off as I had my contraction and then would pick up right where we left off when the contraction was over. It felt so good to be so incredibly lucid. I was coping so well no one could really tell when I was actually having a contraction. 

At 7:30, my attending doctor decided that they couldn't get a good enough read on the fetal monitor and that I would have to lay down in the bed so they could. Another of my hospital's policies is that every woman must have continuous monitoring unless recommended for intermittent monitoring, which happens basically never. Well, side-lying hurt like nobody's business because my hips are out of line, which is how the doctor wanted me to remain for the rest of my labor. This clearly was not an option for me. So my nurse and I negotiated that since I was completely healthy and had a non-complicated pregnancy and was going without an epidural that if we gave them 20mins of continuous monitoring that I would then only need to be monitored intermittently. I came to find out that I was only the 2nd woman in the history of that hospital to successfully negotiate intermittent monitoring. So, those 20mins were very hard for me, but they were so good. Jess and Paula were each on one side of me and my nurse would put her hand on my hip for some opposing pressure every time I had a contraction. I got through it because of those three and my ridiculously awesome playlist. At one point, "Tiny Dancer" came on (which is probably my most favorite song) and I started singing along and I sang the entire thing, even through my contractions. It was just such a happy, joyous environment and it made it all the better for me. 

At 10:45 I was 7cm, 100% effaced, and +1. After a few more contractions, though, I decided that I was too tired to do the rest of this labor unaided, so at 11p I decided to get an IV of the narcotic fentinal and an anti-nausae med as I was having some pretty bad acid reflux. I got "beer goggle eyes" with the first dose of fentinal and so I had to close my eyes. Well, the big joke in my house has been the Packers/Seahawks game (we're Packers fans) and had seen one meme of Stevie Wonder with the caption "Roses are black, Violets are black, Everything is black, Touchdown Seahawks!" and I impersonated that while I had my eyes closed. At a later dose, Paula was tying my bandana onto my head and it ended up looking like a babushka. I was fairly incoherent at this time, so while Paula was comparing me to Little Red Riding Hood, I was babbling about babushkas and porch-sitting Pittsburgh grandmas and started singing "Matchmaker Matchmaker" ala Robin Williams in Mrs. Doubtfire. Good times were had by all! And there are some pretty hilarious pictures from all of this. 

At midnight, I was still 8cm and my doctor was getting antsy to get me going. She started demanding that I be put on pitocin because not only was I not progressing but Ruby was in Right Oxciptal Postterrior position meaning the crown of her head was facing to the right which is not a good position for coming out. My nurse went to bat for me and got us an hour to try other positions to help Ruby move. I had to move into another side-lying position which seemed to help her move quite a bit, but left me in a lot of pain. I had my last dose of fentinal at this time. Just before 1a, without my knowledge (although this was for the better and Jess and Paula knew), I was put on pitocin...just as the fentinal wore off! These were the worst contractions ever--having ridiculous pitocin contractions with no medication is no fun! However, it was also a really productive time. My whole body was shaking all of the time and it was very hard to get to my happy place. At this point, I gave up actually making it to my happy place and just imagined my mom and saying to her, "Don't go yet, I'm bringing Ruby to you. I'm bringing her as fast as I can." I started bearing down without knowing or trying and the nurse was very concerned because they didn't think I was fully dialated yet. As it turns out, I was which was at 2:22a. At some point before I moved into a comfortable sitting position for pushing or after, I'm not quite sure, I remember saying that I just didn't have anymore to give, that I couldn't do anymore. I was assured that I could do more and would have to--I hear most women go through this sort of thing, a moment when thy just want to give up, when it all is too much to bare. I call this the "God moment", when you meet your Maker and just turn everything over to Him. Reflecting on my labor, I thought this moment was so profound, that at my moment of surrender I said I didn't have anything else to give, that I had spent myself for the sake of another. And that is when God took over. I couldn't give anymore but He can give endlessly and it was with His strength, His perseverance, His love, His joy that I continued.

 At 2:45 they could see Ruby's head, just a tiny bit. Around 3:05 they could see about 3cm of her head and thought that I would deliver her head on the next contraction. Now, in each contraction I would push about 2 or 3 times. On this contraction, I went for the third push which should have delivered her head. Instead I delivered Ruby in entirety! Literally we went from seeing some hair to having a baby in the doctor's arms. So, at 3:07a on Friday Sept. 28th, after exactly 45mins of pushing, Ruby Mae Anastasia was born. 

I also noticed that there were about 15 people in the room besides Jess, Paula, and I at this time. We joke that they just shouted down the hallway for anyone who wasn't doing something, but in reality they had a bunch of the med students in there as part of their observations and training--I did deliver in a training hospital, after all. The looks on everyone's faces were priceless! I'm so glad I saw them LOL. It very much looked like everyone was thinking, "Holy shit! This is not how the video depicted it!". 

So then for the repair. It was officially recorded as a 2nd degree repair but it was just about the worst 2nd degree tear you can have before it is a 3rd degree. I tore in an unusual way, too, so the doctors had to call in a specialist to teach them how to do the types of stitches they needed to to repair me. I continually had to remind the doctors that I was unmedicated and could feel everything they did so I needed more lidocain. A great distraction was holding Ruby in my arms while it was happening.The two doctors and their sidekick would talk with me and ask me questions totally unrelated to what was going on, so that was nice. The sidekick and I were even able to joke a bit! In all, it took them an hour and a half to repair me.

This was absolutely the coolest experience of my life. I loved labor! Sounds kind of odd, I'm sure, but I never felt like it was an ugly process that I had to get through to get the awesome gift of Ruby. Instead, I felt like labor was such a joyous event and that Ruby was the cherry on top. Not at all like the road to Calvary that I thought it would feel like. Of course, Our Lady of Sorrows is Ruby's patroness and I could feel her presence. I totally feel like the most accomplished woman in the world. Also, this has done loads for my confidence. Absolutely every nurse and doctor that saw me in recovery (and everyone that had been in the delivery room) not just complimented me but made sure I knew how remarkable I was and what an incredible job I did. Honestly, I never thought much about all of it. I just did it because I had to and I wanted to. And honestly, I have a skewed sense of pain and have a high pain tolerance, so when I say 4 on the 1-10 scale, normal people would say 6, so I really never did think much of it. So anyway, I've never thought much about my capabilities until giving birth to Ruby. I realized that I am much more capable than I give myself credit for and that if everyone else can see it, I should too. So I've started to and it was made life with Jess and with Ruby that much better. I feel awesome! I feel awesome not just because my confidence has been boosted but because I have come closer to my God. For the first time in my life, in my meditation of the Passion I did not unite myself to the sufferings of Christ--I united myself to Christ's self-gift and in that there is true joy and pain doesn't matter. I did walk the road to Calvary, but not as one suffering, rather as one living. 

Fade to White

The first Lent that ever really meant something to me, the first that truly impacted my life was 10 years ago. I describe that Lent as starting something new in me. I can describe this Lent similarly.

This Lent has been entirely different from any other experience I've had. A complete re-model, a re-do, a building up and starting over. The difference between this Lent as starting something new in me and the first Lent that started something new in me was that 10 years ago, I went after the change and decided to be someone different. This Lent, the change was not my idea, at least not to the extent and in the way that I am receiving it.

Maybe that is the real difference, most Lents I go after, I give and sacrifice, but this Lent I am receiving. Isn't that truly what Good Friday is about anyway? Receiving the Body and Blood of the Lord as He gives Himself up for and to us. I've started receiving Him in a new way. And it wasn't my idea or my doing. I thought I was going on the good way already-- my prayer life was vibrant, my faith flowed over into every other aspect of my life, I've consistently put love of the Lord above everything else in my life and not capriciously, but sincerely and truly.

Yet I find all of this melting away around me.

Something new really is begun in me and really it started before Lent. It began with this someone new growing inside of me and as this child grows so am I. And it is not just the change of becoming a mother, it is a breaking down of everything I have ever know spiritually and building it all back up into something deeper and truer. My desires, for life and faith and God, are melting away, my reasonings for those things are melting away, my habits in those things are melting away. Life and God as I knew them are melting away. And I am happy.

I do not know where this change is taking me, I do not know where it leads. Sometimes it feels dark, disturbing, and never-ending. But mostly it just feels like a washing away to white. "They have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb" (Revelation 7:14).

Today nothing spectacular is going on in my life and I don't expect that anything will. I have no big sacrifice to offer today, have no most excellent way of prayer, nothing. So I just stand at the foot of the cross and allow the Blood of my Lord to wash over me. It's what He wants. It's why He gave His Blood. He wants this for all of us.

Free At Last, I Am Free At Last

I was told love is the cure, that all I must do to find freedom from my bonds, my chains to "the habit" was to fall in love. To direct oneself outward, the easiest path is to fall in love with another person, be in relationship. I heard this from a friend who heard it from a priest. But we hear it all the time from the world-- love (in the shadow of lust and infatuation) is the cure to any problem you might have and it only has to be love a little bit. I'm sure the priest was well-intentioned and now I can see the higher wisdom in his words, but falling in love was not the cure to my addiction.

Love was the problem. Not because I could not "fall in love" (some friends described me as boy-crazy), not because I did not desire that, and not because I was not in love with the Lord. Contrarily, it was love of the Lord that brought me to this place of desiring to destroy this addiction and sin in my life. No, the problem of love was that I did not believe I was lovable. I did not believe I was beautiful or could be loved. And that fueled the infinite, fiery pit of addiction in my soul.

Only someone infinite could extinguish that hell and fill me.

Love was the answer. Not love for or from the Lord or another person, but self-love. I could list every minute problem, weakness, and failing I had, I could come up with every reason possible why I was not lovable or beautiful. It took Infinite Love for me to realize that it was not He who did not love me, but me who did not love me. I gazed upon the Crucifix like Mary Magdalen gazed upon Christ when caught in adultery and felt how she felt-- Love was standing before me, forgiving me, inviting me deeper, and I had one choice left, whether or not to forgive myself. The Magdalen followed Christ the rest of her days, even following Him to the Cross because she found she could not remain unforgiving to herself when so infinite a mercy was being poured out upon her. In a moment that can only be described as the Divine rushing wind in the small whisper of the Holy Spirit, I said, "Theresa, I forgive you for being too weak to stop masturbating."

Love is still the answer. Even though I have fallen in love and married a wonderfully godly man, my struggles have not magically left me. Those envious, parasitic temptations still vie for a place in my soul to dwell, but I recognize them now. I see them as they are now and I see me as I am-- Theresa, fallen yet good.

The chorus of "Martyrs and Thieves" (by Jennifer Knapp) begins:

So turn on the light and reveal all the glory

I am not afraid

To bear all my weakness, knowing in meekness

I have a kingdom to gain

I am a slave to sin nor to my own mercilessness anymore. I am free. And I am running and fighting, inching however slowly towards that Kingdom. I have left my chains and old ways behind.

For the First Time, In Technicolor

The day I found freedom from my addiction haunts me. It haunts me like a beautiful mysterious lady haunts you after a simple hello. And I desperately want to have a conversation. I had given up on conversation right before this. I had tried talking and conversing for so long and still I was saddled with this ugly, hidden "habit"; this thing that made me less woman in so many ways and made me certainly not worthy of God, and it seemed there was nothing He was doing about it.

I self identified not as Theresa but as Masturbator. It had been with me for so long-- 20 years of "the habit" itself and approximately 10 of those 20 in actual addiction-- that it seemed like who I was. I could no longer see Theresa as separate and innately different from Masturbator. I didn't think God could either.

But, as is often the case, I was wrong.

The day I found freedom from the addiction to masturbation hit me like I imagine dying and going to heaven to be like. The old self not just melts but is violently ripped away and you are submerged into so much glory there is no possible way for you to take it all in, except in eternity. The veil had been lifted. As though I were the in the nitty underground of a black and white picture, I saw color for the first time.

I Got Married!!

Just a little note to say...I GOT MARRIED!! Yay! It happened back on Thanksgiving weekend and I have been busy settling into my new life for the past few weeks now and loving every minute of it! Thank you, Lord, for the gift of my husband who is my best friend and for the gift of imaging You through marriage. May You bless us and help us be evermore a light of Your love and glory. All for the greater glory of God! All for the Sacred and Eucharistic Heart of Jesus, all through the Sorrowful and Immaculate Heart of Mary, in union with St. Joseph. Amen!

My new project

Joy Anderson, a friend of mine and my household sister, studied at Franciscan University of Steubenville with me and was also a Theology and Catechetics/Youth Ministry major wrote a "Princessology" as her senior thesis (please check out her blog).This Princessology has been on my heart and mind for a long time and last year I had her e-mail me what she had (I was a youth minister at the time and thought that perhaps I would be able to implement something for my girls based on it...that didn't happen). About 6 weeks ago I began teaching Religion at a Catholic high school and a few weeks in some girls approached me about started a girls lunch group where we could be women and learn about being women of God together. At the time I had to turn them down as I was overloaded as it was and had no idea what to prepare for them (not to mention planning my wedding...). I was going through some papers several weeks later and found the Princessology and read through it again. It was a Divine incident. I had the perfect material for a girls' lunch group!

The problem. The Princessology currently only covered three princesses. Joy designed the Princessology around Disney princesses because the are the most universally recognized and their stories are well-known, but she only had time to analyze three of them: Aurora (Sleeping Beauty), Belle (Beauty and the Beast), and Ariel (The Little Mermaid). We all know that there are many more Disney princesses! Snow White and Cinderella to name two! Not to mention the "unconventional" princesses like Nala (The Lion King) and exemplary Disney heroines like Wendy (Peter Pan) and Alice (Alice in Wonderland) and several lesser known Disney princesses such as Eilonwy (The Black Cauldron). I knew what I must do. I must put all of my talents (and majors--Theology, Catechetics/Youth Ministry, English Writing) together and expand the Princessology.

This is my project--expand the Princessology in quantity of both princesses and content. I currently have a list of 25 princesses (including Thumbelina and Anastasia--non-Disney princesses) that I am researching and analyzing seeing if they fit as individuals into the Princessology. Also, in Joy's tradition, I am attaching Marian virtues to each princesses and other virtues as they fit. What I will also be doing creating is a "test" to find out which princess you are--containing elements of both your personality as compared to a princess's and also a spiritual dimension to see where or how you wish to grow in the Lord.

This could potentially be a great break-through for women's ministry. I guess we'll see how it goes with the girls' lunch club! I will keep you all updated with the Princessology progress and will share parts of it on here from time to time as well.

2% for pansies

It seems this has come up quite a few times the past few months, so I thought it was worth posting about. If nothing else, you'll get a kick out of it.

I have a pretty all or nothing personality. I'm either all in or I'm all out; there's not a lot of fence-sitting when I come down to it. This can most blatantly be seen in my choice of milk. I like Skim or I like Whole. None of this 2% for pansies or anything in between. All or none. Recently, my milk choice has come up in conversations, usually revolving around my visit and what I'd prefer (although there have been those rare conversations where milk just comes up). This began the hamster wheels a-turnin' about my personality.

When I deal with issues in my life, I deal with them in one of two ways: I either confront the entire situation or I hide from the whole thing. I don't deal well in parts. In fact, I get really impatient when I deal with things in part or I only get part of the answer or can only do part of something at a time. I want it all now or I don't want any of it!

God has been using this to get me to trust Him. It works well to my advantage and then it normally backfires. I trust Him totally, so long as I can know the entire plan upfront. He's teaching me to totally trust Him with only some of the info. So far so good. Life's crazy like that.

Home

This week I'm in Philadelphia visiting relatives and it has just reaffirmed something that I've been thinking a lot about lately. That is home. What exactly defines home or makes us feel at home? And what about homesickness?

I've lived in the same state, same town, same road, same house, same bedroom my entire life. To any normal person, home would be my house and my family, and for the most part, that has been true in my life. Then I started college and everything began to change.

Until my senior year of college, each semester I lived in a different dorm with different roommates. Then I lived in a house with four girls. This past year I lived in a different house with five different girls. This year I'm living, yet again, in another new house with two new girls. I have not had consistency or stability in my living conditions in 5 years (soon to be a 6th).

I began realizing that home is not in my house or living conditions, it's not even with the people I am living with. So where is home? What is home?

Society likes to tell us that we need elaborate, well-decorated buildings to call home. We need nice home furnishings and a spouse and a couple kids, and the ability to entertain guests. This is all part of the need to fit in and to be comfortable, which feeds materialism or at least a focus only on this world, taking focus off of eternity, our true goal.

Not to be morbid, but someday each of us will die. What happens then? What has everything we have collected into our comfortable lives here come to? This world is passing. While it's nice and good to have material possessions, and good quality ones at that, if we put all our eggs in our basket here, we'll miss out on the forever. We have to invest in our future, which happens to be heaven and eternity with God.

Home is really wherever God is. Home is heaven. And we need to be working towards that everyday. Put your eggs in the basket of eternity, not in the biodegradable basket of here and now.

So this homesickness I've been feeling pretty intensely for the past few years is really my desire to be with God kicking into high gear. Of course I will never feel completely home on this earth, I wasn't made to be here forever! I was made for heaven.

All in God's Timing....

So I know I said the next post would be "Home" but I lied. That happens every now and again, I'm working on it. In the meantime, you'll have to bear with me.

If you've ever heard the saying "All in God's timing" I'm sure you're about as sick of it as I am. It always seems to be said by people who really have no idea what you're going through or how you must feel and they're just trying to get you off their back because they don't know what else to say.

Here's a good question: Why am I still single? Where is my boyfriend? When is it my turn to be in a relationship? "All in God's timing" I'm continually told. What does that mean anyway? God's outside of time, so how does He have timing? And if He is abiding to our time system, why isn't His time like my time? Maybe His watch just stopped, maybe one of those angels should help Him out.

Now being honest, I know that part of "God's timing" is me trusting that He's got it all under control and learning to be patient. I think I've been pretty patient. It's been almost 5 years since I've been in a relationship, and believe me, I'm not bitter. I guess I'm starting to get impatient with being patient. Funny how that turns out.

Lately, I've had a few brushes with God that have truly shown me how good His timing is. So, I guess for now I will just continue to wait and trust that His timeline is as mapped out as I'm told it is.

Becoming ok with where I am

Think back on your life. I'm sure you can pinpoint a few things you wish you could have done or places you could have gone. Sometimes it's really hard to get over these things. For me, I wish I could have gone to the high school in the next town over.

I went to a Catholic elementary school in the next town over from mine. I spent 9 years with the same basic group of kids, learning, living, and growing up. When 8th grade came around, everyone was concerned with where they would be attending high school. My parents wanted me to go to a Catholic high school, and to some extent, I wanted to, as well, but the nearest Catholic high school was 1 hour in any direction from me. This initially was not a concern to me, but as 8th grade continued on, I realized that I would be leaving all my friends. I also realized that my life had been completely in the next town over- school, dance, piano lessons, plays, friends. Since I was losing everything, I decided I did not want my life to be in another town, I wanted my life to be in my town so I would not be risking anything. Reluctantly, my parents agreed to let me go to our local public high school.

So high school began- I at my public school and my friends at their public school. This really did not deter our friendships (at least the close, real ones), but it did put a strain on them. I always felt like I was missing out on something because I so desperately wanted to be with my friends at their high school. Because I hail from rural PA, even though my friends were only in the next town over, they were in a different school district than me, so I would have needed to come up with some extraordinary reason to switch schools. Oh and I tried.

I tried to talk my parents into moving to the town- that failed (my dad has owned our house since the 70's). I wanted to play soccer, which my school did not yet offer- that also failed. I looked at the curriculum and tried to find things in theirs that I wanted, that would help me advance, that I could not take at my school- that failed. All four years of high school I tried everything I could, but everything I tried failed, and it all came down to the fact that my dad did not want me to go to a big high school (theirs was about 3x the size of mine).

Don't get me wrong, I had a great time at my high school. I made some close friends, was involved with just about every club you can imagine, played sports, involved with music and drama, newspaper and poetry magazine, everything. I was on the high honor roll, held 3 offices, 2 editorships my senior year, and was captain of my soccer team, as well as defensive MVP. I participated in everything, lettered 13 times, was involved heavily with my Church and youth group. I was always doing something, especially hanging out with my friends and going on adventures. Something that haunted me my entire time, though, was an unconscious decision I made my freshman year- I didn't think 4 years was long enough to create the kind of friendships and bonds that I had made in 9 years during elementary school, so I decided I wouldn't really try.

The phrase, "God has a purpose for everything" is tossed around a lot, and it always applies. A lot of good came out of me going to my high school. Recently, I sponsored one of my closest girl friends from high school for her Confirmation. I was also able to participate in so many different things and was not made to choose between them. I knew the names of everyone in my graduating class. So many good things, but part of me still wishes I could have gone to high school with my elementary friends.

The close friends I had in elementary school are still my close friends today. One girl and I have been friends since we were 3 and another and I became best friends at the lunch table when we were 12, bonding over Hanson. What makes it hard is that I am so close to these people, they know everything about me, and I love them so very much that I want to be able to share everything with them, and I was denied sharing 4 years with them that I felt I should be able to share with them. But those friendships are also the strongest today because I didn't go to high school with them. It taught us that friendships transcend school halls and seeing each other every day, something my high school friendships tend to be lacking. We all got exactly what we needed and experienced exactly what we were supposed to experience. And we still are.

I have a few mottos in life, but one my mom taught me by living it: don't miss any opportunities. I may feel like I missed a lot in high school, but really I took an opportunity that was presented to me and got so much more than I could ever have imagined. In 7th grade, one of my close friends moved away and her mom said to us, "Distances don't break up friends, people do" and I whole-heartedly believe that. Although I wish I could have gone to high school with my friends, I am learning that what I got was exactly what I needed and brought me to where I am today. God knows better than I do.

This leads into the next post Home very nicely...


P.S. If there's anything you want me to write on, message me. I'm like a jukebox, I take requests!