5 ways life changes after a personal disaster

Life is constantly changing. Sometimes the changes happen so slowly that we can't even notice them until we look back months or even years down the road. But sometimes the entire world shifts around us. Something terrible happens that brings our worst fears to fruition and makes us confront the deepest darkness of human existence. Not only does our world change; we change.

1) Priorities
Things that used to seem so important now seem so trivial. We wonder why we ever even wasted our time thinking of those things... but secretly wish we could return to a time when those fickle thoughts were our biggest worries.

2) Faith
Disaster changes our faith in one of two ways: it can bring us closer to God, or cause us to distance ourselves from Him, and I think that depends largely on the outcome of the disaster. We can thank God for his intervention, his persistent strength, his overwhelming love, or we can question Him. We ask "What kind of a God would let such terrible things occur?" or "Why me?" or simply "Why?"

3) Finances
Finances are definitely a necessary evil. Medical disasters or natural disasters incur almost insurmountable costs, especially at a time when the last thing we should be thinking about is money.

4) Relationships with others
Hard times can bring us together or make us withdraw into ourselves. Big family fights? Bound to happen. Stronger bonds formed? Definitely. Our relationships are built by standing by each other day by day and learning who's going to be there and who's not. We learn who are our true friends and who are only there for fair weather.

5) Relationships with ourselves
One word: Regrets. The most important relationship a person can have with a human being is with him/herself, but disasters wreak havoc on mental health. We wonder what we could have done better, who we should have treated more kindly, words we wish we wouldn't have said, trips we wish we would have made, things we should have prioritized, things we thought were important but weren't and so on. My gram always said, "We live in our minds." Disaster can make the mind a scary place to be.

To be honest, disaster changes everything, but our lives are small stories woven within the bigger story of time. Disaster is one part of a story, and the best, most impactful stories deal with disaster. Romeo and Juliet died, Simba lost his father, Cinderella was a servant to her stepmother, Marlin lost his wife, Nemo had a disability, and Jesus (the greatest story of all) suffered on the cross... but the important thing to remember is that He rose again.

Disasters might happen in a second, but they change us forever... hopefully for the better.

source

Give in

A morning in the mind of an over-thinker

Some people are confident in their decisions. They go through life, content with the way it's going and willing to accept things the way they are.

And then there's people like me. Who have to question every. single. thing. and analyze every. single. situation. 

7:00 AM: Wake up. Wonder what kind of day it's going to be. Wonder if I forgot to do anything the night before. Wonder if anything happened the night before. Check Facebook/Twitter/Instagram/Pinterest/Email to find out.

7:15 AM: Get out of bed, try to pick out an outfit for the day. Wonder what the weather's going to be like. Wonder who I'm going to see. Wonder if the outfit looks too casual. Wonder if the outfit isn't casual enough. Wonder if I wore the same outfit too recently. Wonder if I should wear the other clothes that I have. Change outfits... more than once. Decide this one is probably good.

7:30 AM: Go to the bathroom to get ready. Get face ready for makeup. Wonder if any pimples developed. Wonder if anti-acne makeup actually causes pimples. Wonder if anti-acne makeup is part of an evil marketing plan. Remember something stupid I said three years ago. Wonder how girls ever get their eyeliner even. Wonder whether people with contacts get sick more often than people without contacts.

7:45 AM: Wash hands of makeup. Remember some article I read when I was a kid that claimed vigorous hand drying kills more germs than air drying.

7:47 AM: Start doing hair. Remember a chemistry lesson about chemical bonds in hair that cause it to be curly. Wonder if anyone will be able to tell that I haven't washed my hair today. Wonder what people think about people who don't wash their hair.

8:15 AM: Finished getting dressed and ready. Wonder how much perfume is too much perfume. Wonder if I'll come into contact with someone with a perfume allergy. Remember reading somewhere that midwives can't wear perfume because pregnant women are extra sensitive to smells. Wonder if I'll hate my perfume when I'm pregnant.

8:18 AM: Try to decide what to have for breakfast. Remember reading somewhere that people need to have protein within an hour of waking up. Wonder if cheese counts as a protein. Wonder whether I can make scrambled eggs in the microwave. Wonder if I put onions in the scrambled eggs if my breath will smell like onions all day. Think how disgusting onions and toothpaste would be together. Mentally invent an onion breath breathalyzer machine.

8:23 AM: Decide to have a sweet potato with cheese. Decide cheese is a protein. Start putting school supplies in backpack. Wonder what homework I've forgotten. Think about what I'm going to say in class during discussion time. Plan something witty, intelligent, interesting, relevant, and funny.

8:35 AM: Eat sweet potato. Wonder what I'll change into if I get food on my shirt. Think about a time I had food on my shirt and was embarrassed. Think about how I can't wear white. Wonder how anyone is able to wear white without making an absolute mess.

8:45 AM: Finish eating sweet potato and put it in the sink. Think about how much I'll hate washing dishes later. Wonder if that questionable noodle soaking in a dirty pot is actually a parasitic worm. Mentally compare parasitic worms to the children's toys that expand in water.

8:47 AM: Walk to get my backpack and coat. Wonder if I'm going to be late to school. Wonder what I would say if I was in fact late.

8:49 AM: Leave the house to walk to school. Put music on my phone and put headphones on. Wonder if I'd be able to hear someone creeping up on me with my headphones on. Resolve to turn the volume down. Think about people who run into stuff while texting and walking at the same time. Laugh. Wonder if I look like a crazy person.

8:55 AM: Start thinking about who's going to be in the office when I get there. Wonder what I will say to them when I get there. Think of ways to convey genuine interest in them without making small talk.

9:00 AM: Start planning out the day. Make a list of goals and eagerly anticipate checking them off the list.


Two hours in the life of an over-thinker! And half of that has to be bottled up, because, really who else would understand the connection between scrambled eggs and an onion-breath breathalyzer. PLEASE tell me I'm not alone!

The Power of a Purse

There's some unwritten rule about being female that goes something like:

So, the search begins. It has to be big enough to hold everything, small enough to not get in the way, organized enough to be able to find stuff quickly, and it's appearance must sum up everything you are as a person.

Simple enough.

So, for the last two years I've been using a purse that was made by an artisan in Costa Rica. It was perfect; not too flashy, long straps resembling a backpack, small pockets on the side for easy storage, and a huge pocket on the inside for whatever my heart desired.

Until... (dun dun dun)

The straps started ripping.

Ty's grandma sewed one strap back on and then the other strap started to go, and I was just coming to terms that I may have to replace my bag. And then my mom says, "What do you think about Coach purses?"

And I say, "I think the C's all over the bags are a little gaudy. Like, we get it, you're rich enough to afford a designer handbag."

Then she says, "Well, do you want one?"

She'd already found her bag: a black Kate Spade purse that's structured, simple, and totally Mom. So when her boss gave her a Coach purse as a Christmas bonus, Mom didn't need it. So I got it. Because Mom's cool like that.

What I didn't anticipate about my new life-carrier was how I'd feel while holding it: embarrassed.

I don't like what designer bags represent: flashiness, superiority, excess money, and a little bit too much emphasis on what others think about the purse I'm carrying. Maybe other women don't feel the same way when carrying a fancy purse, but I sure do.

Also, I feel a little ridiculous holding a Coach purse when I'm wearing sweat pants.

Anyway, I promise I'm not just raggin on this super nice purse my mom gave me, and there's really a super deep point I'm getting to here (as deep as one can get while talking about purses) and it's this:

All purses look the same on the inside.

Let's face it. A purse is just a glorified tampon/receipt/cell phone/credit card/old gum catcher, no matter how expensive it looks on the outside.

The purse that started it all.

40 days to change my life

How can I possibly even sum up Lent in a blog post? It's one of the biggest times of the Catholic Church, and a preparation for the event in Christianity--the event that gave us a future after life--the event that saved us.

Lent is a period of preparation that's intended to mirror Jesus's time in the desert. He was continuously tempted to commit sin, but he said no, even when his body was weak, even when he was exhausted, even when it would have been about a million times easier to just give in.

Lent is a period of transformation, where we admit we're flawed, that we have issues that we constantly battle with, and that we are constantly failing. So we have to meditate on our Lord, and the ways that we can better serve him. We have to learn to control our bodies and human urges through fasting and self-denial. We have to be selfless and give to others. We have to draw closer to God through prayer.

The farther we get from our sins, the closer we get to God.

So here goes, we have 40 days. Let's make it count.

Extra Resources

On how to fast

On why we should fast

On Lent

On making the most of Lent

FAQs about the lenten season (including Ash Wednesday)

The above links are from Catholic Gentleman and Catholic.org. Catholic Gentleman's a great blog, but it is male-centric. If you're looking for a female perspective, I'm sure there are lots of great resources out there!

Driven

Let me begin by saying that Denver is way too freaking far away. If someone could just hurry up and create a teleportal or pass me a Harry Potter wand so I could apparate and disapparate, that would be really nice.

I'm not complaining, I promise. I love going there. I love hanging out with my brother, and meeting the people who are taking care of him (he has a nurse named Kelsey!), and seeing all of the improvements he's been making there. Just, you know, teleportation would be real cool.

So we were told that Ty's car is most likely totaled, so we've been searching for a new vehicle for us. It had to be new enough that we wouldn't constantly be putting work on it, low enough mileage so we wouldn't have to buy a new car for a while (preferably never), safe because I am definitely not invincible, and family-friendly so when one day far down the road we have a child, a carseat will fit in the back seat. Well, commence about 10 hours on Craigslist research. We had a couple of ideas, but in a thirty second phone call, Ty's stepdad, Brian, found us a car.

 

It's a dark gray 2013 Chevy Malibu with 53,000 miles. And of course, since he's our hookup at Burtis Motors, we got a really good deal on it! If you're ever in the Garden City area and looking for a car, definitely go and talk to Brian. :)

He also gave me his and Tami's old GPS after I complained about getting lost every stinking time I drive through Oklahoma because I have no cell phone service. It came in really hand on my drive to Denver!

Our dear family friends/cousins, Mark and Angie Goudy, took me out to lunch at Tequilas and introduced me to some pretty (s)auceome cheese sauce. (See what I did there?) They actually picked me up from Tami and Brian's house, drove me to Garden, paid for my meal, waited around for all of my paperwork, helped me figure out the car, and gave me a 5 hour energy for the road. Do I even need to say that they're some of my favorite people?

Tami and Brian had let me stay at their house the night before so I was pretty well rested.. and cuddled up.

Extra points if you can find the dog.

There he is!

Their dogs, Bandit and Chopper, definitely made themselves comfortable.

I finally made it to Denver Friday evening, and my car drove like a dream. We hung out Friday evening and Tucker asked if I could hang out in the room with him. The hospital wants to have someone in there with him at all times, so since I was in there he didn't have to hang out with a CNA overnight. One of the CNAs brought me some heated blankets, and I slept pretty well on this chair that actually makes a better bed than a chair.

The next day was Tucker's first trip "off-campus." So, the plan was to take him out to lunch at a restaurant nearby. The weather was absolutely beautiful (much better than the storm they're having now). It was so warm, in fact, that we were all good without jackets. Anyway, we went to this super cheap and delicious Chinese place and then to Safeway for some snacks.

Sweet and sour chicken and peace signs FTW.

(He said I couldn't put the picture on Facebook, but

I'm pretty sure I got a loophole with the blog.)

We had some ice cream afterward, hung out some more, and I ended up leaving on Sunday with Mom in an effort to outrun the winter storm that was supposed to come that afternoon.

Here's a glance at our trip out of Denver.

We tried to take a picture together at the Kansas-Colorado

border, but it wasn't really profile picture material

to say the least.

Remember how awesome I was saying the Goudy's are? Well, I had been borrowing Grandma's old car from my aunt, and had left it in Denver so it would be there for her to get it, and Mom had let me borrow her car for this past weekend. Anyway, the Goudy's drove Mom's car from Tami and Brian's house to Leoti so it would be a little closer for us to get.

Mom hopped in her car and I drove off in mine to make the last stretch to Stillwater. It was AWFUL. 

I'm glad I made it safe, and I had a really scenic view of the sunset:

... but I had no cell phone service for most of it, and the GPS took me on a turnpike that cost a dollar... and they didn't take cards... and they didn't take the size of bill I had... so I got a bill. I turned off the GPS because I was annoyed with it, and I was only 20 miles from Stillwater... and I got lost. Stretched out my trip by at least 45 minutes. 

I stopped at Wendy's for supper at 11:30, pulled up to my apartment at 11:40, and got into bed with my 4 for $4 deal at 11:50. 

Not too much to complain about except for my one dollar bill and extended trip. I got home safe and was ready for a day off... and you all know how productive my day off really was. ;)

Thanks for reading!

Still love my tattoo. :)

Permanence

The Rolling Log

The ninja warrior show is AWESOME. I love it, and I'm not ashamed. I love all of the yelling in some indeterminable Asian language. I love seeing people's greased bodies perform amazing feats. I love seeing people splash into the dirty water and come up looking embarrassed. (Maybe I enjoy that last thing more than I should.)

There's a part of that show, that strikes me as incredibly similar to my experience with life. The rolling water log. So here's the deal, no one knows how to handle that stinking log until they're on it. You probably have a coach (or two) telling you about the proper log-rolling techniques, and all the while you're thinking about how you're going to do it--imagining what it will be like to stay atop that rolling log, what it will feel like to be successful. And then you get on. And it's nothing like you thought it would be. You're scared--of falling off, of getting hurt, of embarrassing yourself. For a second, a glorious span of time, you're getting it, you're making that log your you-know-what. Then there's that second that changes everything. You lose your footing and you know you're about to fall. And then it happens, you're flying through the air with no idea how it will all turn out. And you hit, hard. You don't want to get back up, have no idea how to handle the failure, the pain, the uncertainty of it all, and the loss of your pride. When you stand up, nothing will be the same again.

So, wow, that's pretty deep for a stupid round thing that spins around in water, but it's true for me at least. And while I'll probably never try that spinning trap of wooden death, I've felt that way in life at least a million times.

It's hard to know that everything I try at, I'll probably fail, that somewhere in some unknown point in the future, I'll be flying through the air again waiting to see where I'll land and how things will look when I get up, but maybe that takes some of the pressure off... Maybe we're living for that second of pure bliss when we feel like we've got it all together.

Ink

When I was sixteen I begged my mom to let me get a tattoo. I said I'd like to do it with her permission, but if she said no, I "knew a guy who knew a guy" who could give me one. She said no. I asked again. She told me to ask my father. He brushed it off like it wasn't even worth his time to explain why not. I asked mom again. She said no, and that I should talk to other people about it. (Probably because she was tired of hearing me ask.) So I talked to my aunt, and she said that if I waited until I was 18 and I still wanted it she would pay for me to get a tattoo. (That'll be about 60 dollars, btw.)

So I waited until I was 18. I had this great idea that I would get a tattoo on the inside of my hand--a heart on my ring finger. I asked Ty to get a matching one with me. He said no. I asked him again. He said no. So I said, "That's fine, I'll go get one and convince you later." And so I went to this tattoo shop in Manhattan and they said "no."

What?!

Apparently they didn't want to give a tattoo with that placement. Utterly stumped, I put the idea of a tattoo in my back pocket, kept adding to my Pinterest board of tattoo ideas, and went about my merry little non-log-rolling-but-still-log-rolling life.

On Christmas, life threw me off the log. Hard. And I don't know if/when I'll ever get up. And, frankly, it's not about me, so I guess that's kind of besides the point. But I've been thinking a lot about life, and how impermanent our earthly lives are. My uncle reminded me the other day of the whole toilet paper roll life metaphor, and it's scarily true for me at 22. I'm terrified of how true it will be in another five years (if I'm blessed enough to be around that long).

I thought of all the things that mattered to me in life. God, my husband, my siblings, my family. Writing is the best way I can express that. So I got this idea to brand myself as a God-loving, life-living, adventure-seeking, agriculture-advocating, writer. And while I hope to do that through my actions, I've also done it visually, with a tattoo.

It's a metaphor.

Of course, I'm a writer, and a pictures worth a thousand words. The heart with a cross shows not only my love for Christ and His love for me, but how God so lovingly crafts us and starts our life. He knits us in our mothers' womb. He breathes breath into our very souls. So there's the ECG. The representation of our heartbeat, the sign that we're alive. Then the feather quill. The most beautiful writer's utensil. Created from a living animal. A symbol of how God put animals here for humans' use. And the symbol of a writer. We are able to write our own stories in life, with the gift of God's love. 

It's crazy to think that a few black lines etched into my skin with a needle could mean so much. And maybe to everyone else it is just a picture containing just about every cliched tattoo there is, but it's my brand, my life, my motto. 

Afterthoughts

I walked into the shop a nervous, anxious, adrenaline-filled, clean-skinned, tattoo noob.

 I came out with a beautiful piece of art that I'll cherish. One of the most permanent things I can do on this earth, and even then, it's fleeting. Thanks to Joe at Religious Ink in Stillwater, OK for helping my post-it note drawing come to life.